A Different Light Chapter 1
Authors: Sairalinde & Anorienbean
Pairing: David Wenham/Craig Parker
Rating: Adult for graphic m/m sex Warnings: None for now,
Archiving: Saira's Library, Here With Me, Mirrormere, OEAM, others please ask first
Feedback: Yes, please. We live for it. Send to: sairalinde @ hornofgondor.com, or thechroniclesofosgiliath @ yahoo.com
Disclaimer: None of this happened except in our fantasies. We are in no way are implying anything about the sexual preferences of either of our main characters, or any other peripheral characters used in this story.
Summary: A wealthy businessman is forced to do volunteer work and meets a handsome social worker who changes his views about the homeless and about love.

//Indicate thoughts

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David looked up at Dom, not believing what he was hearing.

"Lemme get this straight, you come in here to *my* office to lecture me about some comments I made about homeless people to some stupid gossip rag?" David asked glaring at his young assistant.

"Yes, what you said colors not only you in a bad light but the entire corporation. No one wants to buy something from someone who says that there are, and I quote, 'no innocent victims in this world, if you lost your house and your car it's your own damn fault, why should I have to give you anything? I didn't make your mistakes for you. I say if you made your bed, lie in it and leave the rest of the world out of it.'. THAT has been splashed all over TV, radio, magazines...David, you simply can't make statements like that no matter how much you believe them," Dom said looking up from his notes.

"Why? Why can't I say what I believe? What makes me any different than anyone else?" David asked shifting some papers on his desk.

"Because many people believe that the rich should care about others less fortunate," Dom answered softly.

"That's bullshit," David snapped getting angrier. "Why *are* we having this conversation in the first place?"

"Well...I have signed you up for some charity work to undo some of the damage," Dom said looking up at the other man.

"Charity? Fine...have Nancy cut you a check or something...it's tax deductible right?" David said distractedly as his eyes scanned over the paperwork on his desk.

"Um...not exactly," Dom answered sheepishly.

"Not exactly?" David said looking up from the papers on his desk. "How *not exactly* it's not tax deductible?"

"Well...no and it's not money...I signed you up for volunteer work," Dom said, cringing before the words left his lips.

"YOU DID WHAT???" David roared standing up from his chair. "I don't have time for that shit...you just take my name off whatever the hell you signed me up for. For God's sake Dom.... ....I am working on the merger, there is no way I have time for that! And since when did my assistant start acting like my conscience?"

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David sighed as he glanced at the address on the note Dom gave him and seriously wondered if it would be safe to park his car in front of the place. It wasn't exactly the type of neighborhood to have a silver Mercedes parked along the street.

Frowning as he parked the car, he hesitated for a moment before reaching for the envelope with the check and opening his door. //In and out, should be a piece of cake. I'll just go in, talk to this Parker fella' in charge of the dump, give him the check and leave. Then I can get back to my office and try to finish looking over the paperwork that arrived from legal this afternoon on the Marquez merger. Dom damn well knew I don't have time to volunteer.// His frown grew more pronounced as he thought of his young assistant. He was a talented kid but this was NOT one of his smarter moves, though he suspected it was the PR department crawling all over Dom for David's behavior. Not like it hadn't been the first time he'd been quoted saying something that came back to bite him in the ass. Dom was just doing what was right for the company…for David's company…and he could not fault the kid for that, even if he did want to throttle him.

Crossing the sidewalk, David pushed open the door and stepped inside. The shelter was as full as it could probably safely get. People in tattered clothing milled about, talking, though most were sitting at tables hunched over their meals, on yellow plastic trays like the ones from public schools.

Shaking his head, he started across the room toward a large scarred brown door, with a sign in large block handwritten letters that said 'office'. As he moved, he tried to avoid bumping into anyone, and tried not to think about where most of these people slept the night before. //Was their own damn faults. I refuse to feel sorry for them.//

David stopped before the large door and straightened his tie, then knocked swiftly. //Let's get this the hell over with so I can get out of this dump.//

Craig looked up from his notes and moved the phone to the crook of his shoulder. He'd been on the phone for over an hour trying to find a job…any job…for Karl, one of the shelter residents. He was a good man who'd ran into hard times, and had desperately been seeking work. But it was hard to find someone who would hire a man with no permanent address…or one as recognizable as the homeless shelter. "Come in," he said loudly across the small room, in the general direction of the door.

Without waiting to see who was on the other side, he went back to his notes as the manager of the building supply company finally managed to pick up his end of the phone. Calling in favors was one of Craig's least favorite ways to pass his day….but Karl needed help. And that was what Craig did….he helped. As a social worker, it was his job…and his passion.

David heard the voice on the other side and scowled at the door for a moment. Stepping inside, he was almost overcome with a feeling of claustrophobia. The desk took up one entire corner, not because it was a large desk but because the room was so small. Black metal file cabinets lined one wall and a small couch took up one wall beside the door. As David's eyes moved over the stacks of files on the desk, his gaze landed on the man sitting behind it. He was talking on the phone and drumming a pencil against an open folder. He stood in the doorway not wishing to loom over the dark haired man, then when he looked up David felt something tug at him. The man had the most stunning blue eyes he had ever seen. Their gazes met for only a moment before David felt the need to look away. //Keep your mind on target, David. Get in here, give him the check, get out of the volunteer work and go back to the office.//

Craig dropped the pencil in his hand the second his eyes met his visitor's. His first instinct was to simply hang up the phone and greet the man before him, but a small voice inside him warned him not to let Karl down. He sat perfectly still, stunned into silence, until the cornflower blue eyes that belonged to the red-headed man in front of him abruptly turned away. His breath caught in his throat and he had to use every ounce of concentration in him to figure out that he'd managed to at least get Karl an interview. Quickly thanking the supply company manager, he hung up the phone and stood, offering his hand. "Sorry about that," he said with a smile, thinking that he'd never in his entire life seen a more handsome man than the one on the other side of his desk. "I was trying to line up an interview for one of our residents. I'm Craig….Craig Parker. And you must be….Mr. Wenham?"

David stepped forward and took the proffered hand, immediately feeling as if he had touched a live wire. As warmth spread up from where his hand joined with Craig's, he forced a smile over his shock. "Yes, I am afraid there has been a mix up....my assistant who contacted you made a mistake," David said smoothly as he withdrew his hand reluctantly. Craig was quite simply one of the most gorgeous men he'd ever seen. With dark hair and long dark lashes that framed the most incredible blue eyes he'd ever seen, and a friendly smile that could light up the darkest of places.

Craig studied David for a moment, trying to find his voice again. His hand stayed immobile over the desk, as if it were waiting for David to take it for just another moment or two, until he realized what an idiot he must look like and quickly let it drop back to his side. "A mistake?" he asked, curling his fingers in on themselves and still feeling the warmth of the other man's hand. "He told me…." He paused, and lifted his other hand to gesture toward the chairs. "Wait. I'm sorry. Have a seat. I'm sure we can fix whatever mistake was made. Let me find my notes…" He shuffled nervously through the papers on his desk, until he finally came up with a single yellow sticky note. "Here….your office said you were here to volunteer?" //Please, let him be here to volunteer. Just so I can watch him for a while.//

David sighed heavily as Craig asked him to have a seat. "Look, I'm sorry they made a mistake, but to make up for it...I brought this. I'm in the middle of merger right now, and Dom...and my assistant, just shouldn't have volunteered MY time without asking me first," David said holding out the envelope containing the check. He was confident that Craig would accept the check and he could go back to his office and never....ever set foot on this side of town again.

Craig studied the envelope for a moment, then looked back across the desk to meet David's gaze. //He's just going to hand me a check and walk out the door? That's *it*?//"Mr. Wenham," he began politely, "Is that a donation? Because if it is, I thank you for the gesture, but what we really need is someone around here to help. That's what I was told you were coming here for, and….well, I apologize, but I honestly need a volunteer more than I need money right now."

David was stunned, a charity turning down money. "Excuse me? I'm afraid you've lost me completely....you don't want the money? I can assure you there is enough here to keep these bu....these...your patrons, fed for at least several months. The original agreement was for me to volunteer twice a week for a month...surely this check is worth more than that? I know MY TIME is worth it to me. I have a business to run," he said keeping his tone level and businesslike. He had gone up against many powerful CEO's in his time, none as gorgeous as this social worker but he was sure he could win him over.

Craig smiled and sat down, resting both elbows on his desk. He hadn't missed the word Mr. Wenham had almost used….one that he hated. Bum. These people where homeless and broke, and they needed help, not derision. They needed a helping hand, not someone to throw money and make them feel even more like a charity case. Besides, the shelter *did* need help. Not that they couldn't use the money as well, but most of Craig's paycheck went toward the shelter, and he had several patrons and grants. His words were true…they *did* need volunteers worse than they needed money. And he was fascinated by his guest, he had to admit to himself. "I understand, Mr. Wenham," he smiled. "But, I too, have a business to run. The only other reliable volunteer I have just left. She's been working herself to death, seven days a week, for months now, and needs some time to herself. I spent three hours convincing her to get some rest, since your office told me you'd be here, and willing to do what was needed. So, you see…you're my only hope. I need you here."

"Look, I am really sorry that they got your hopes up on a volunteer, but...honestly, I'm not volunteer material. Bottom line is, you don't want me here and I don't want to be here. That doesn't make for a good working relationship. So take the money....if you still need someone to be here I'm sure I can find someone on my staff. I just don't have the time, and that is being completely honest," David said hoping that Craig would take the offer. He didn't want to be rude and just tell him forget the whole deal. His words 'you're my only hope. I need you here,' did get to him...more than he'd care to admit. Much more.

Craig chewed on his bottom lip for a moment and shook his head. "I never said I didn't want you here," he said quietly. "Honestly, I think volunteering might do you a bit of good, if you don't mind my saying." He stood up again and leaned across the desk, squaring his shoulders as he steadily met David's gaze. "Mr. Wenham,… again…I don't want your money. I want a few hours of your time every week. That's it. It won't kill you, I promise."

David watched as Craig leaned closer and had to focus on his eyes because his treacherous mind kept wanting to focus on those perfect lips. So much in fact, that he had almost missed what he was saying. Shaking himself slightly and angry with himself for getting distracted, he frowned. "You didn't say you don't want me here but you won't. I'm not....I'm not cut out for the charity thing. Sure giving money, but...the volunteering thing just isn't me. I...I have very definite feelings about this. If this were an animal shelter that might be different but...the way I look at it, those people made choices in their lives that got them to this stage. Why should *I* or anyone else have to support them? There isn't any such thing as luck or divine intervention. You make your own way in this world. I don't *want* to volunteer here, and I don't see how you could want me to," he said standing up and heading toward the door. "You can keep the check or tear it up. Your choice, but I won't be returning."

Craig's eyes widened and he took a deep breath. "*Those people*?" he asked incredulously, even as David walked away. "They made their choices??? My God, you really don't get it, do you? No one is asking you to support them, or give them money. You're the one offering this damn check….I'm simply asking you to give up a few precious hours of your day and make sandwiches or phone calls, or ladle out a cup of soup or two. Is that too much to ask?" As he spoke, he quickly ripped the check in two and walked around his desk to stand beside his unwilling guest, wadding the pieces of paper up and tucking them into the front pocket of David's jacket. He couldn't help but wonder how someone so handsome could be so cold and unfeeling. "Let me show you out, Mr. Wenham. I wouldn't want any of *those people* to sully your nice, expensive suit."

David had expected Craig to get upset from what he said and simply stared at him completely unabashed. "It *is* too much to ask. I have little to no free time, Mr. Parker. What little I do have, I'd rather spend at home sleeping or reading a book and not making sandwiches for a bunch of people who have resigned themselves to let society take care of them," David answered as he started to push the door open and then stopped and turned back to Craig who nearly ran into him. "Just answer me this...do you *really* think you are helping them? Do you really think that they *want* more than this? If they did they would help themselves, not come to you for handouts," he asked barely keeping his anger in check.

Craig's breath caught in his throat as David turned around. Those blue eyes were even more startling up close, and his anger drained away for a moment, leaving him incapable of speech. Then the words registered, and he stepped back away from the other man quickly. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't think I was helping them," he said firmly. He thought about telling him about Karl, who'd been a foreman for his father-in-law's construction business, until an accident that had taken the lives of not only his father-in-law, but his brother-in-law as well. The accident that had closed the company down, caused his marriage to crumble, and had made it almost impossible for Karl to get another job until all the investigations were closed and everyone was cleared. Or about Elijah, who'd made a bad error in judgment, gotten hooked on drugs when he was young, served time, and who, even though he was now clean and sober, couldn't get hired to save his life because of his record. David was right…some of the people at the shelter *could* try harder….but others had simply tried and tried until it was almost impossible for them not to give up and wonder what there was to get out of bed for every day. Craig was there to make sure they did get up, did *try*…day after day. David, however, didn't seem to be the type that would want to hear any of that anyway. Craig couldn't help but wonder what had made him this way, but decided he didn't need another case to work on….his hands were already way too full. "Never mind," he said, reaching around David and opening the door. "You wouldn't understand. Take your check and go home to….to your books and your sleep, or…whatever it is you go home to. I've got work to do."

"I probably wouldn't understand," David said softly, almost feeling guilty from the look in Craig's eyes. For a moment he hesitated and looked down. "Just so you know I wasn't going home. I was going back to the office. I haven't been home in weeks in fact. THAT is why I can't do this. I don't have the *time* even if I had the desire," he said turning quickly and shoving the door open. Just as he started making his way toward the exit he spotted someone standing by the door and immediately recognized them. "Fuck," he murmured and stopped abruptly. "Going to make damn sure I'm gona volunteer huh?" he asked glaring at Craig beside him.

Craig almost apologized for his behavior when David said he hadn't been home in weeks. Maybe he was just having a bad day. Just as he opened his mouth to say he was sorry, that maybe they got off on the wrong foot, the other man glared at him and spoke again. Craig glanced across the room and knew immediately what David meant. Standing just inside the door, was Billy Boyd, a reporter for The New York Times. David was one of the city's top businessmen; it would stand to reason the earnest young reporter would recognize him at once…and most likely write a feature about it. Craig could see the headlines now - "Rich Tycoon Lends A Helping Hand To Those In Need." If they only knew. Turning his gaze back to David's, he crossed his arms over his chest. "I did *not* call him, if that's what you're implying. Either someone recognized you, or he's here for another reason, or *your* office called them to try and boost your image. But it WASN'T me."

David scowled at first, not believing him but the blue eyes that stared back at him, held nothing but honesty. Shaking his head he knew he was trapped. Either way he would *have* to volunteer, after his last remarks to the press, and now Boyd seeing him here like this. There was no way out. "Fine. When do you want me?" David asked hanging his head in defeat. If Dom wasn't so damn good at the rest of his job he'd go back to the office and fire his ass....or kill him.

//When do I want you? How about right now? How about you close that door, take off your shirt, and….damn. Don't go there, Parker. He's sexy as hell, but *so* not your type.// Craig almost laughed at himself. He apparently didn't *have* a type. He'd had very few relationships in his life, and none that had worked well…or lasted. These days, the shelter was his life…and sometimes, it was more than he thought he could handle alone. He was almost afraid that David's attitude would make the residents feel even worse about themselves and their situation, if that were possible. But he did need the help. And he couldn't get over the feeling that somewhere behind all that money and power, was a warm heart, a man who could do so much good, if only he could take a moment to stop trying so hard to gain even more money and more power. "Dom said you'd have the rest of the afternoon free…and all day on Saturdays. So…did he get that wrong too, or can you stay now?"

David barely kept from rolling his eyes. "Yeah he sorta did...but...hell, I'll make a call and...do you mind if I change clothes? I sorta stand out in my work clothes," he grinned deciding to just give in a little. Dom couldn't have known that legal would have finished with the paperwork on the merger so early. "I'll need to go back to my office to finish going over the paperwork for a board meeting tomorrow...but I'll stay and help this evening," he said against his better judgment. He knew he was betraying himself because of the way Craig looked at him. The man was simply disarming with the way he looked at David. Probably the way he looked at anyone, which was probably how he accomplished his work. He made you *want* to do the right thing, even if it isn't what you want. He waited for Craig's response, even as he saw Boyd furiously writing notes across the room.

Craig couldn't keep a small smile from touching his lips. Maybe he'd been too quick to judge David, he thought. He rarely had time to keep up with the financial section, so he honestly didn't know much about him. And people got off on the wrong foot with each other every day. "Go right ahead and change," he said, thinking that David looked perfect just the way he was, but, yes…he did kind of stand out. Though that was probably more from his piercing blue eyes and the perfect smile that was on his lips, than from the clothes. "And maybe we can start over?" He cleared his throat and held out his hand. "Hello. I'm Craig…Craig Parker. Thank you for volunteering your time to help us."

David could not help but laugh and took Craig's offered hand again...and just like before he felt *something* as their hands clasped together in a handshake. "I'm David Wenham, um...glad to help?" he said in more of a question than a statement. He was still very unsure about this whole volunteering thing, and if Boyd hadn't shown up he probably would have walked away, but then again, as he looked into dazzling blue eyes maybe not? There was something about Craig. //Something about the way he looks...the way he carries himself, I just can't seem to take my eyes off him. Maybe this won't be so bad?//

Craig laughed as his fingers closed around David's hand and he would have sworn his heart skipped a beat. Or ten. Moments later, he reluctantly let his hand drop and found himself simply staring at the other man, unable to think clearly. "Um……So….if you want to change, you're more than welcome to use my office. There's not a lot of privacy in the bathrooms sometimes, and the stalls are pretty small. Not that my office is much bigger, but…I think you'd be more comfortable there. Just be careful, and don't try anything silly….like trying to extend both arms at once. You'd likely knock your funny bone all to hell on one of the filing cabinets, it's so bloody crowded." //And oh how I wish I could be a fly on the wall to see you change clothes…// At that thought, Craig blushed furiously and looked away. "I'll…um….I'll go see if I can……help…..someone. Call me when you're ready and I'll show you around."

David watched Craig's face as he began to practically babble about the close confines of his office and had to suppress a grin when he saw a blush creep across his face. //This could be interesting.// "Thank you," he said not wanting to make Craig feel any more self conscious. Making his way back out to his car he put in a quick call to Dom and asked him to take the Marquez paperwork to Marton. He would catch up with him once he got back. Going to the trunk, he pulled out a gym bag that contained a few changes of clothes. Opening it, he was grateful to see a pair of clean jeans and a black t-shirt along with his hiking boots. He had planned a trip a couple of weeks ago, but he had not been able to get away that afternoon and had left the bag in the trunk. Returning inside the shelter he went to Craig's office and changed out of his suit. At least he'd be comfortable while he served up food. Maybe if he didn't talk much to the people, just served the food, and got on with it, it wouldn't be so bad. Especially if that meant he could get to know Craig a little better.

Craig tried to forget what a fool he'd just made out of himself, and went to find Karl to tell him the news about the job interview. He'd found him sitting on the small bed he'd claimed as his own a few weeks ago, and tried to put thoughts of what David would look like naked far from his mind. Not an easy task, he had to admit. But the smile Karl gave him when he told him about the job interview made it a little easier. He had a feeling that the interview would go well, and in only a few weeks, the sad eyed young man he'd come to regard as a friend would be finding an apartment of his own. Craig had a hard time *not* becoming friends and taking a personal interest in everyone at the shelter. Volunteers, included, apparently. With a resigned sigh, he leaned back on the cot and watched as several other shelter residents came to wish Karl luck. Closing his eyes for only a moment, he found his thoughts drifting back to David. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. If he kept daydreaming about the help, he'd never get anything done.

David ran his fingers through his hair and set his gym bag in a corner beside one of the file cabinets. Stepping out of the office he scanned the large room for Craig and eventually his eyes settled on him. He was sitting on a cot with his eyes closed. David tilted his head to the side and looked at him for a moment, his eyes seeming to map out the contours of his face, down his neck to broad shoulders. Shaking his head at himself, he made his way across the room toward Craig, pointedly ignoring the watchful eyes of Mr. Boyd, who was still in a corner of the room jotting things down on his notepad. As he moved closer to Craig he saw his eyes flutter open and for a split second wondered if that's the way he looked when he woke up. //Don't go there, David. Don't. //

Not even realizing he was smiling, Craig stood up and shook his head. "Sorry. I just sat down for a moment and lost track of time. It's been a long day already." Running a hand through his hair, he forced himself to think about the shelter…and not David. "So, Mr. Wenham, do you think you can help me out in the kitchen? I usually end up doing a bit of everything around here, and kitchen duties usually relax me. I could use a hand, unless you'd rather lock yourself in my office and finish the stack of paperwork that's weighing my desk down."

David returned Craig's smile, "David...please just call me David. I would probably be better at paperwork, but I did change clothes, so point me toward the sandwich and ladle you spoke of earlier," he said smiling. If he was going do this, he was going to at least pretend to enjoy himself. Besides in the kitchen he didn't have to think about all these people and the reasons they may be there. This way he could at least push his personal feelings away. Following Craig into the kitchen he tried to relax a little bit. At least the knot of tension he felt almost constantly from the merger seemed to be easing up a bit. Just do some mindless work in a kitchen, and get his mind off the facts and figures that seemed to be driving him crazy lately.

Craig relaxed and his uncharacteristic nervousness began to recede as they began chopping up vegetables for a stew. He practically ran the shelter by himself….most people were willing to donate a few dollars, but never seemed to have a an hour or two to offer when Craig was overwhelmed. Even his most faithful volunteer, Miranda, had a husband and family to go home to. It seemed that lately, the only time Craig ever left the shelter was to buy supplies, and he'd even taken to asking Karl to do that for him over the past few weeks. His house was only a block away, and he went there to get a few hours sleep when he absolutely had to...usually in the early evening, before Mirry went home. When he was simply too tired to walk, though, (and that seemed to be happening more and more often), he'd crash on the couch in his office, though Mirry always fussed at him for that, saying that he *really* needed to get a life. At least he wasn't babbling around David anymore, so that was a good thing. Maybe this would work out after all. He needed the help badly, even it was only for a month, and he needed contact with someone who had a life outside of the shelter…someone to keep him grounded to the outside world, so he didn't become lost in the shelter like some of the residents.

David settled into working beside Craig as they chopped vegetables and he tried to think of something they could talk about. Curiosity getting the best of him, he looked up at the dark haired man beside him. "What made you want to do this sort of work?" David asked thinking that was a safer bet than asking if he had a girlfriend or boyfriend, though that question *was* on his mind. It was hardly something you asked someone you were working for, even if it was not a paying job.

Craig looked up from the potatoes he was peeling and shrugged. "I always wanted to help people," he said. "When I was a kid, I was always the one who wanted to be friends with the one kid who was lonely, wanted to make their problems better, and make their lives happier. So I went into social work, and most days, I love it. Other days, it's not as good, but it all balances out." //Damn, Parker. Stop looking into those eyes, or you'll cut off a finger. Though…I wonder if he knows first aid? He could kind of hold my hand, and…..STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT. You've had a one track mind since the minute he walked in your office. Get over it. He'll be gone in a few weeks, and probably thinks you're a charity case yourself anyway.// Mentally rolling his eyes at himself, he looked back down to the cutting board. "What about you? What made you get into the cutthroat business world?"

"Me?" David grinned. "It might surprise you to know that I grew up in a neighborhood not so different from this one. My parents were poor, and I worked hard in school, got a scholarship to Harvard, and ended up making my first million before I was thirty. That is sort of why I'm so uncomfortable here. It's not so much their situation...it is this whole idea of entitlement I guess. We were dirt poor yet we always had a roof over our heads, didn't always have much food but we managed. I see these people and wonder how they could have let themselves get to this point? If you *want* something better, then *do* something about it. We had people like that on our street and from my experience it had nothing to do with bad luck, or whatever but more to do with laziness. Why work when there is someone else to take care of all your problems?" David explained. He knew what he said might upset Craig but it was the way he saw it. Growing up he'd known people just like those on the other side of the kitchen door. People who'd rather take a hand out or government check than get off their lazy asses and *do* something for themselves.

Craig stared at David for a moment, thinking that his words explained a lot about his attitude. Poor and homeless were two completely separate animals. He was sure that David didn't know what being *really* poor meant…what it meant to lose your job, your home, and your family in an instant. Without a doubt, the other man really did believe what he was saying…but he simply didn't understand. "I'll grant you that some of the people here could do more for themselves," he began. "But some are honest, hard-working people that have been through more than you can imagine. You're choosing to judge everyone by the way you see them now…not how they were, or how they can be in the future, and I have to say, David, that you're missing out on meeting a lot of good people, because you're too stubborn and focused on seeing only the bad. Maybe if you'd look for the good every once in a while, you just might be surprised."

David sighed and looked down at the small pile of vegetables they'd chopped up. Laying his knife down he turned toward Craig leaning his hip against the counter. "All right, I'll admit there are *some* exceptions. I'll grant you that, but you can't tell me they can all have had a bad thing happen that put them here. You said yourself; some of them could do more for themselves...that is all I am saying. I guess I am painting them all with the same brush and I *do* know better...but you can't tell me that some of these folks weren't here before you came and won't be here after you leave? *This* is all they want and...I really have a hard time comprehending that. Earlier you said you got someone a job interview right? That is one of the exceptions right? One of the people who *wants* to get back to where they once were? What about the others...they can't all be like him?" David asked. He didn't believe that *everyone* in the shelter had fallen on hard times through no fault of their own or that they all wanted to do better for themselves.

Craig put his knife down on the counter and shook his head. "No," he admitted, "they're not all like him. Some want a job…and their lives back. Some wanted it before, but have now simply given up. Others fought in a war they never asked to fight, got injured or sick, or just….found themselves in a bad place, and they *don't* want anything more than the surety that there will be a warm bed for them at the end of every day, or a friendly smile and a hello. Some of them are beyond my help, or anyone else's, but that doesn't mean that they should have to sleep under a bridge or inside a cardboard box. Not while I'm here, and will do everything I can to make sure they have one place in the world they feel safe and warm. Who am I to judge them?" He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down for a moment, then lifted his eyes to meet the blue ones before him. "And who are you to judge them, David? Who gave you that right?"

David listened as Craig spoke and when he turned to him, incredibly blue eyes met his own, and David almost forgot to breathe. For a moment he just stared at Craig and then shook his head. "No one I guess. It's just how I feel after seeing it first hand and not through those rose colored glasses you seem so intent on wearing. As long as there is a place like this...there *will* be people like them. Not the ones who are trying to make themselves a life, but the ones who gave up, who don't give a damn anymore and feel that because they have problems everyone else should take care of them," he said having to look away from Craig's eyes. "But...like you said who am I to judge them? I'll do what you ask of me for the rest of the month, and I'll not say a word to anyone else how I feel. That work?"

Craig sighed and went back to cutting the potatoes scattered in front of him. "That works," he grinned, "but I bet that someone here….I'm not sure who…..but *someone* will make you change your mind. If you still feel the same way at the end of your month of volunteering, I'll buy you lunch. How's that sound?" It sounded like a way to spend more time with David to Craig, but that was just icing on the cake. The man was damn sexy, and Craig had the feeling that the chances of them being friendly towards each other, as good as that sounded, were probably not in his favor. Maybe if he just met Karl or Elijah or…or someone, he'd at least soften up a bit. He couldn't help but wonder why that was so important to him, but it was. There had to be some way to make the real David Wenham come out….the one he knew was locked away deep behind those glittering light blue eyes. It probably wouldn't affect Craig either way….but it was his job to help people…even people who didn't realize they needed help. People like David.

David smiled, "Lunch sounds good...and if by some miracle you *do* manage to change my mind...I'll buy you lunch," he said going back to chopping carrots. //This way I win either way.// He almost grinned but continued to work. The evening passed more quickly than he thought it might. They cooked side by side in the kitchen but when it came time to start serving the meal David began to fidget a bit. //Nothing makes me nervous...why the hell am I getting nervous about *this* of all things?// He figured Boyd was probably still there, as long as his car was out front, he could make a decent bet that Boyd was still camped out in the dining hall. He wasn't sure if he could pull off cheerful and helpful and that he really *wanted* to be there.

Craig noticed that David suddenly seemed a bit on edge and realized why. He didn't really expect the other man to return on Saturday either way…one afternoon would probably be enough for him, and he'd miraculously have life-or-death meetings at the last minute that would prevent him from coming back. //Too bad, too. If nothing else, I've enjoyed spending the afternoon with him. He's actually a nice guy, I think. Stubborn as all hell, but nice. And they don't make them any more handsome than him.// Not wanting to force the issue, and undo all the good they'd accomplished in the last few hours, he decided to let David make his own choice. The reporter outside knew that one of the richest men in the city had spent the afternoon helping the homeless, and there really was no point in parading him around in front of everyone if it was going to make him uncomfortable. "Listen, I can serve the soup if you want to stay back here, or go home" he smiled. "You've been a huge help this afternoon, whether you wanted to be here or not, and I thank you for that. I could use the help out front, but if you want to go, I can get rid of Boyd for you. It's the least I could do since you were trapped here with me for half the day."

David shook his head thinking immediately that being trapped with Craig wasn't a bad thing at all. "I...I don't think I'd be very good at serving, at least this time. I...I'd be glad to clean up some back here before I go so you don't have so much left to do though. One thing I learned at a very early age was how to wash dishes," David said with a grin. He knew he was only doing it for Craig and that was probably not the lesson that Craig wanted him to learn here...but he'd be back on Saturday to let him at least try and change David's mind about the residents of the shelter.

Craig grabbed the ladle and carried the large pot full of soup across the small kitchen, where he sat it on the counter by the door. Wiping his palms on the sides of his jeans, he smiled and offered his hand up for one more handshake. //Yeah, I know it's stupid, but I'll probably never see him again. He's probably just waiting for me to get out of sight so he can slip past me and Boyd.// Wishing that David would be here when he finished serving, but not expecting him to in the least, Craig tried to hide the disappointment that was already threatening to erase his smile. "So….in case I don't see you again, David, I want to thank you again for all your help. It's been a pleasure…even though I didn't think it would be, judging from our first few minutes together. If you're not here when I finish serving, I'll understand. Though, I must confess, I was looking forward to seeing who won our little wager."

David looked at Craig oddly, though took his hand anyway. "Giving up already? I made a deal Craig...I never...ever...back out on a deal," David said, shaking the dark haired man's hand and trying to push away the reaction he had every time he touched Craig. "If I'm not here when you get finished it will only be because I *had* to get back to the office and finish going over the paperwork for the board meeting tomorrow...but I *will* be back on Saturday. I said I would, and I will," he said firmly.

"I hope so, David," Craig said, releasing the other man's hand and swallowing the lump in his throat. "I really hope so." He'd never in his entire life been so attracted to someone - especially after only knowing them for only a few hours. Trying to hide his blush, he quickly turned away, lifted the soup pot again, and made his way toward the swinging door, the sounds of the shelter residents getting restless already drifting toward the kitchen. He was looking forward to Saturday more than he cared to admit, and more than he'd looked forward to anything in a long time. Trying to push the thought aside, he worked on making himself believe that David would return as promised, but tried not to get his hopes up….just in case.

David watched Craig leave and then set about cleaning up the kitchen. After about an hour he had gotten everything clean and back in its place. He waited a few more minutes, drying an already dry countertop and glanced at his watch. He *needed* to get back to the office. Finally he slipped out of the kitchen and saw Craig talking to two of the residents from the shelter. Not wanting to intrude he quickly made his way for Craig's office, collected his bag and went back out to his car. Tossing his bag in the backseat, he slid behind the wheel and stared at the door to the shelter for a moment before starting his car and heading back to his office. He hadn't expected any of this, most of all hadn't expected meeting Craig. He wasn't sure what drew him to the other man so much, but he knew he wanted to get to know him better.

~~~
TBC