Touching Never

        by (armida19@hotmail.com)



        Rating: PG

        Fandom: Shanghai Noon, Chon Wang/Roy O'Bannon

        Archive: Yes.

        Summary: Unhappily ever after.

        Warnings: None

        Disclaimer: Shanghai Noon belongs to Spyglass Entertainment and Touchstone Pictures. No infringement is intended.

        Notes: Thanks to Sara for the beta and the endless patience -- I owe you one.





        Touching Never
        By Armida

        Summer was ending.

        As the season began to change, Chon could feel Roy slipping further away from him. It had come on gradually, like the approaching chill of autumn. They never spoke of it, but Chon could read Roy's restlessness in every forced smile, every lengthy silence. Chon felt helpless against the certainty that Roy was leaving him.

        Alone in the jailhouse office, Chon stared at the telegram in his hand. He reread it for the dozenth time, knowing that the seemingly innocent words could hold freedom for Roy. Now it remained for Chon to find the courage to use them.

        Physically Roy was still there. They still shared a home and a bed, yet bit by bit it was all coming to an end. Chon felt a sick panic at the thought of losing Roy, however a lifetime of loneliness had left him unprepared for the reality of being with another person. Chon's own experience of love and companionship was limited to these last few months. He felt adrift, and had to acknowledge his own fear.

        //Unlovable// an insidious voice whispered in the back of his mind.

        ***************
        (Four months earlier)

        Uncomfortable at being the focus of so much attention, Chon slipped away from the celebration to honor Pei Pei as soon as he could gracefully do so. Roy was in his element, retelling the story of their showdown with Lo Fong and Van Cleef at the mission to a crowd of eager listeners, each time embellishing the tale further. There seemed to be a glow around him and no one was immune to his charm tonight. Roy was light and energy and Chon ached for him with a quiet desperation. With effort, Chon tore his eyes away and walked into the darkness.

        Outside the barren and rocky clearing of the railroad camp, far from the firelight and revelry of the celebration, Chon lay on the soft grass of the hillside and looked up at the stars. Chon wished he knew what the future held for him, where his place was on this earth. Of one thing he was certain, he would not return to China. Chon admitted to himself that the answers to all of his questions could be answered in a word from Roy.

        //Will you stay with me?// he would ask, if he could find the words. Now past his 40th year, Chon was profoundly saddened to realize that he could defeat half a dozen men in hand to hand combat, but knew nothing of the human heart. He'd spent the bulk of his life in a barracks with a hundred other men who regarded him as a clumsy but entertaining nuisance, the target of everyone's scorn. He'd never been truly close to another person other than his uncle.

        Roy made him long for things he'd never known and of which he'd only dreamed.

        Chon closed his eyes and remembered the afternoon with Roy at Goldie's. Caught up in a haze of drunkenness and desire, they'd become lovers. Sex was not unknown to him, but he sublime pleasure of intimacy with someone he loved was a revelation. Chon naively believed that Roy cold not have been untouched by what they had shared, and at that moment, Chon had felt certain that his destiny lay with this man who had opened up his mind and his heart. Yet only a few minutes later, he'd heard the chilling words Roy had spoken to Fifi. 'He's not my friend. He's a Chinaman.' What was he to Roy, nothing more than a convenient warm body -- or something more?

        Sensing he was no longer alone, Chon opened his eyes and, as if his longings had conjured him, Roy was standing over him, silhouetted against the night sky. His heart constricted painfully.

        "I wondered where you'd wandered off to. What are you doing all alone out here when there's a party going on?" Roy asked.

        "It was too much. Everyone acting like I'm a hero."

        "I hear you, partner." Roy lowered himself to the ground and stretched out beside Chon. "I kind of needed a break myself from all the well-wishing."

        Chon turned to look at Roy, his profile barely visible in the starlight. "Oh come on. You love it."

        Roy laughed softly. "OK, you got me there. It's kind of nice being the good guy for a change. In fact . . . in fact, I think I could get used to it."

        Chon turned back to look at the stars, staring at the universe spread out before him until he felt dizzy. He was trying so hard not to hope . . .

        "You know," Roy continued, "they want us to become lawmen, and stay here in Carson City."

        "I heard that," Chon replied carefully.

        "I mean, the whole thing is crazy, asking me to be a lawman but, well, why not? Why not give it a shot? It's not like I have anything else out there waiting for me, and you told me you didn't want to go back to China. We make a great team. Just think, you and me, bringing justice and order to this town. How about it partner, are you game?"

        Chon could feel Roy's eyes on him, and he turned his head to find Roy so close they were nose to nose. Joy rushed over him and stole his breath.

        "How about it, Chon?" Roy lay on his side, their lips almost met and his breath whispered warm across Chon's face. Chon wanted to laugh out loud with happiness, to weep, to sing with joy. Roy wanted him.

        Instead he simply said, "Yes, Roy."

        "Well, all right then. All right then." Their lips met, and Roy shifted to lie on top of him, obscuring his view of the skies. Chon closed his eyes and accepted Roy's kiss, accepted his future.

        *********************

        So, they'd settled into their shared life as lawmen in Carson City. He loved Roy and it seemed Roy felt the same way. Carried away by the momentum of his feelings, Chon didn't want to question anything. Chon flourished in the confines of home and community, and for a brief, glorious time it had almost seemed that Roy was also content. They were partners and lovers, and Chon would never have believed that such happiness existed.

        A sheriff's life had seemed like a glamorous call to adventure, but Carson City was no longer a lawless frontier town. They had been given a small house -- practically a hovel compared to the splendor of the Forbidden City -- but it was the first place he could call his own and to Chon it was grander than any palace.

        Chon loved waking up there every morning, next to the man he loved. He loved the routine of riding into Carson City every morning to their office. He found challenges and excitement in even the most mundane aspects of being a lawman. He took charge of the day to day aspects of their job, as Roy had neither the interest nor temperament for administrative tasks. In a foreign country, speaking a language he had barely mastered, Chon had found his true home.

        "I love you," Chon had said that first night, but his answer was only silence. Their relationship had been defined by silence. Words only seemed to bring trouble.

        Sitting companionably on their front porch one evening, Chon had given voice once again to his feelings. "I thought about you my whole life," Chon said.

        Roy looked bemused. "What? Chon, what are you talking about? You only met me two months ago."

        "I mean I dreamed of finding you . . . that someday I would . . . " Roy's expression was not encouraging. Chon stopped, feeling suddenly foolish.

        "Chon . . . " Roy's voice had been pained and embarrassed. Chon learned to keep his silence. He told himself that the only thing that mattered was that he was with Roy, that Roy was the air he breathed, the heart that beat within him, the soul that gave his life meaning.

        *******************

        On a clear June day, they'd ridden back from the railroad camp. Under the shade of a large oak they'd reined in their horses. Roy had kissed him and pressed him against the smooth bark of the tree. "I love you" Roy had said, but there was no joy in his voice. The words seemed torn from him, and he hadn't met Chon's eyes. An aching pressure built in his chest as he finally began to understand that his love was a prison to Roy.

        Roy had only said those words that one time.

        *******************
        (One day earlier)

        Chon found Roy alone at the edge of their property, leaning on a fence, his eyes searching the distance in the fading sunlight. The chipped blue ice of his eyes was stark contrast to the warm pink and orange hues of the sunset. Chon stopped breathing, stopped moving, and just stared. Roy was the embodiment of everything he had ever wanted and knew he would never have -- but now he did have him. Making Roy stay with him out of guilt and loyalty was dishonorable, but for once Chon cared nothing for honor. His life had always been about sacrifice. He'd spent his whole life trying to do the right thing, doing as he was told. For once he wanted something for himself. He wanted Roy -- loved Roy -- and found it had been frighteningly easy to set his conscience aside and hold on to him for as long as he could.

        But what was he holding on to?

        Roy didn't acknowledge his presence, but from the angle of his head Chon could tell Roy knew he was there. He knew everything about Roy except the mysteries of his heart, and he did not know the words to ask. For a moment Chon was paralyzed by guilt, love and desire; his weakness shamed and angered him. Tentatively he approached Roy and placed a hand on his arm. He could feel the brittle tension of Roy's body and pulled his hand back quickly.

        "Tell me," Chon gently urged, but Roy as always pretended to misunderstand. He smiled at Chon, enfolded him in his arms and kissed him, but the light in his eyes was gone. What Chon now read there filled him only with sorrow. "Go" he wanted to say, but love and fear still kept him silent.

        "Go back to the house. I'll be there in a minute," Roy said.

        "All right," Chon said, but his complacency grated on him. For one more night, he would allow Roy the fiction he seemed so determined to preserve that everything was as it should be.

        He waited for Roy until close to midnight before heading to bed. Some time later, Chon heard Roy return to the house, heard his soft footfalls as he entered the bedroom. The mattress sagged as Roy sat on the edge of the bed, his back to Chon.

        Chon could reach over and touch Roy if he wanted, yet the distance between them now seemed insurmountable. The silence weighed on him, pressing against him, suffocating him -- until Roy's voice shattered the unnatural calm.

        "I wish I was the man you think I am."

        The words were like a physical blow, almost making Chon gasp with pain.

        "You are. You are everything." Why couldn't Roy see that? Why couldn't Chon make him believe that?

        "I can't be." Roy's anguished whisper cut Chon to the bone. Slowly, Roy shifted to face him. In the lamplight, his eyes were haunted.

        //Just say it,// Chon thought. //Just tell me you are leaving. I can't bear this.// "Roy --" Chon began, but his words were silenced by Roy's mouth on his, his kiss hot and demanding. Despite himself, Chon surrendered to the deep, hard, openmouthed embrace. At least they still had this, the one thing that was still right between them.



        Reality returned to Chon through a dense fog, as if he were walking towards a place that he did not know. What had just happened had been entirely physical and raw. It was wonderful, but it wasn't the essence of what he wanted. Whatever magic they did have was not love, and it was no longer enough.

        "Roy, if you are unhappy --"

        "Shh. Please, Chon. Everything is OK. Go to sleep." With those words, he turned away to face the wall.

        Chon lay there for hours in dry-eyed misery, listening to the even sound of Roy's breathing. He was so tired, tired beyond sleep, tired of pretending; tired of wanting things from Roy that he was unable to give. This had to end. For the first time, Chon allowed himself to envision a life without Roy and, to his surprise, it did not seem as impossible as it once had.

        Roy had crept out silently as the sky began to lighten. Chon feigned sleep until Roy left, then he rose and watched silently from the window as Roy rode away. As always, the house already seemed sterile and empty without him.

        *****************

        Chon put the telegram down on the desk and stood. He knew what he had to do; there never had really been any question. The decision, once made, seemed to free him from months of paralysis.

        As had become customary, Roy was out on an unspecified errand and Chon had not seen him since that morning. He walked to the window and looked out into the street. A cold wind had blown into town overnight, and passersby had turned up their collars against the chill. Chon added more wood to the small stove in the corner.

        Early in the afternoon, the front door opened and Roy entered, studiously avoiding Chon's eyes as he removed his jacket and busied himself with hanging it on the coat rack.

        Looking at Roy was like looking at a ghost. Everything about him that Chon had fallen in love with was already gone. //I have done this to him.// Chon's heart froze. Any remaining doubt was swept away.

        "Roy."

        "Hey there, partner. I've just been out scouting --"

        Chon cut him off, sparing them both Roy's explanations. "That came from the telegraph office this morning," he said, nodding at the desk. "It's from Silver City."

        Roy picked up the slip of paper and read disinterestedly. "Payroll job, huh? Sounds like the one we had here last month."

        "Yes. They want someone to go out there." Roy's half hearted attempt to pay attention was painful to see.

        "When do you leave?"

        "I think you should go."

        Roy's head snapped up and he finally met Chon's eyes. "What?"

        "Go," Chon repeated. He did not have to say what they both knew: if Roy left, he would not return. Roy's eyes searched Chon's face, but he returned Roy's look evenly, betraying nothing. Chon had become an expert at pretending. After all, he had learned from Roy.

        Silence again, and Chon turned away, making a show of leafing through some wanted posters.

        "I should probably leave right away. I'll just ride to the house, pack a few things, and be on my way."

        //Don't explain, please.// "Good idea."

        Roy made no move to leave. "I'll probably be gone at least a week or two."

        //Just go. Stop talking. I'm making this easy for you.// "Yes." He turned to face Roy. "I'll keep an eye on things here."

        "Chon . . . " Roy walked over to him and put a hand on his arm. For a brief moment, in Roy's eyes Chon could read such an intensity of guilt, sorrow, longing, and desperation that Chon could only gaze back, numb and heartsick. Neither of them spoke, but the silence was pregnant with unspoken words. Chon felt a sickening fear that Roy would open up to him now, when it was too late. But, true to form, Roy's face went blank and he even smiled slightly. "All right, partner." He leaned in and kissed Chon quickly, his lips hot as a brand; a mournful voice in Chon's head intoned //last time//. Turning, Roy retrieved his coat and left without looking back.

        And just like that, he was gone.

        "'Sayonara,' Roy," Chon whispered at the closed door.

        ******************

        During the rest of the day at work, Chon could pretend that Roy would be there waiting at their house when he returned that night. Despite himself, he allowed himself one last fantastic hope -- Roy would be there waiting for him, his blue eyes shining, his lips quirked up in a grin. "I love you, Chon," he would say. "I want to stay here with you."

        The time for such foolish longings was over.

        Long after dark he lingered in the empty jailhouse, knowing that as soon as he rode home and came upon their dark, silent house, everything would be irrevocably finshed. As he sat, the fire in the stove burned down and the cold began to seep in. Chon shivered.

        //This is cowardly,// he thought. //I can't sit here forever.// With that he rose, trimmed the lamp, and headed out into the night.

        He expected the anger and pain would be unbearable, but instead he didn't feel much of anything at all other than an almost vague sense of relief that it was ended. Roy had his freedom. Perhaps now he would be able to find the elusive happiness that Chon hadn't seemed to be able to provide. He would try to feel no bitterness or regret. He was a fortunate man; he had a purpose in life and people he cared about. He was accustomed to loneliness. It would not be so difficult to bear, because for one summer he'd had the love of an extraordinary man.

        (end)

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