Chapter 3 : Gang Threat

Two days after Nathan''s discharge, they came for Howard.

He was leaving the hospital after a double shift. Exhausted. Thinking about Nathan. About the dinner invitation he hadn''t accepted but couldn''t forget.

The parking garage was quiet. Too quiet. His footsteps echoed on the concrete.

Then other footsteps joined his. From behind. From the sides.

Howard stopped. Turned.

Three men surrounded him. Big. Muscular. Dressed in dark clothes. No hospital badges. Not staff.

"Dr. Nan." The one in front spoke. Voice flat. Cold. "We need to talk."

"About what?" Howard''s heart was pounding. But his voice was steady. Years in emergency rooms had taught him how to sound calm when he wasn''t.

"About Nathan Chen. Your patient."

"I can''t discuss patients. HIPAA violations..."

The man stepped closer. "This isn''t about HIPAA. This is about survival. Your survival."

Howard''s mind raced. Their posture, their eyes—this was something else. Nathan''s world.

"What do you want to know?" Howard asked.

"How bad were his injuries? The truth."

"He had rib fractures. No internal bleeding. He''ll recover."

The man''s eyes narrowed. "That''s the official report. We want the real story. Any weaknesses? Any vulnerabilities we can exploit?"

Howard''s stomach tightened. These men wanted to hurt Nathan. Use medical information against him.

"I told you. Rib fractures. That''s it."

"Don''t lie to us, doctor." Another man stepped forward. "We know he had abdominal pain. Could be spleen injury. Could be something worse."

"It was ruled out. The CT was clean."

The first man grabbed Howard''s arm. Fingers digging in. "We have ways of making people talk. You''re a doctor. You know about pain. About how much a body can take."

Howard''s training kicked in. Assess the threat. Three against one. All bigger. All armed, probably. He could see the bulge of weapons under their jackets.

He was going to get hurt. Maybe killed.

But he couldn''t give them what they wanted. Couldn''t betray Nathan. Not even to save himself.

"I''ve told you everything," Howard said. "Now let me go."

The man smiled. A cold, humorless smile. "Not yet."

They dragged him deeper into the garage. To a service area. Away from cameras. Away from witnesses.

Howard struggled. But they were too strong. They pinned him against a concrete pillar. The cold seeped through his scrubs.

Howard almost believed they were bluffing.

"Last chance," the leader said. "Tell us about Nathan Chen''s condition. Any weaknesses. Any medications he needs."

Howard thought of Nathan. Of his hands. His smell. The way he''d looked at Howard in the hospital room. Like he saw something real beneath the surface.

"I can''t," Howard said.

The first punch landed in his stomach. Hard. Professional. Aimed to hurt but not damage organs.

Howard doubled over. Gasped for air.

"Talk."

"No."

Another punch. To the ribs this time. He felt something crack. Or maybe just bruise. The pain was sharp. Bright.

He slid down the pillar. The concrete was rough against his back.

The men stood over him. Shadows against the fluorescent lights.

"We can do this all night," the leader said. "You''re a doctor. You know how much damage we can do without killing you."

Howard''s mind went to medical facts. Rib fractures could puncture lungs. Abdominal blows could cause internal bleeding. Head trauma could mean brain damage.

He was going to die here. In a parking garage. For protecting Nathan.

For protecting the man he loved, even if Nathan would never know.

The thought gave him strength. He pushed himself up. Leaned against the pillar.

"Go to hell," he said.

The leader''s face tightened. He nodded to the others.

They moved in.

Then headlights cut through the darkness. A car screeched to a halt. Doors opened.

More men. But different. Better dressed.

Nathan stepped out of the car.

Howard''s breath caught. Even hurt, even scared, the sight of Nathan hit him like a physical force.

Nathan looked at the three men. Then at Howard. Bleeding. Leaning against the pillar.

Something changed in Nathan''s face. A cold fury. More dangerous than any anger Howard had ever seen.

"Get away from him," Nathan said. Voice quiet. Deadly.

The leader of the three men laughed. "Chen. We were just having a conversation with your doctor friend."

"He''s not my friend," Nathan said. "He''s mine."

The word hung in the air. *Mine.* Possessive. Final.

Nathan moved. Fast. Too fast for a man with broken ribs. He grabbed the leader. Slammed him against a car. The impact echoed through the garage.

The other two men moved to help. But Nathan''s men were faster. They had guns drawn. Pointed.

"Drop them," one of Nathan''s men said.

The weapons clattered to the ground.

Nathan turned back to the leader. "Who sent you?"

The man spat blood. "Go to hell."

Nathan''s fist connected with his face. Once. Twice. The sound of breaking bone.

"Who sent you?" Nathan asked again. Calm. Deadly.

"O''Shaughnessy," the man gasped. "Patrick O''Shaughnessy."

Nathan''s expression darkened. "The Irish. Of course."

He turned to Howard. The fury in his eyes softened. Just a little. "Can you walk?"

Howard nodded. Tried to stand. His ribs screamed in protest. He stumbled.

Nathan was there. Catching him. Holding him up.

The touch was electric. Even through the pain. Nathan''s arm around his waist. Solid. Strong.

"I''ve got you," Nathan said. Voice low. Just for Howard.

He helped Howard to the car. Opened the door. Eased him into the passenger seat.

Then he turned back to his men. "Take care of them."

Howard didn''t want to know what that meant. He closed his eyes. Breathed through the pain.

Nathan got in the driver''s seat. Started the car. They pulled out of the garage. Into the night.

Silence for a few blocks. Then Nathan spoke. "I''m sorry."

"For what?" Howard''s voice was rough. From pain. From emotion.

"For this. For my world touching yours." Nathan''s hands tightened on the wheel. "I should have protected you better."

"You didn''t know."

"I should have." Nathan glanced at him. "Are you hurt bad?"

"Ribs. Maybe cracked. Nothing serious."

"We''ll get you checked."

"I am checked. I''m a doctor. I know what broken ribs feel like."

Nathan smiled slightly. "Stubborn."

They drove to a brownstone in the West Village. Not a hospital. Not Howard''s apartment.

"Where are we?" Howard asked.

"Safe house. For now."

Nathan helped him out of the car. Up the steps. Into the house.

It was elegant. Sparse. Expensive furniture. No personal touches. A place for hiding, not living.

Nathan led him to a bedroom. "Sit. Let me look at you."

Howard sat on the edge of the bed. Nathan knelt in front of him. Gently lifted Howard''s shirt.

Howard''s breath hitched. Not from pain. From the intimacy of it. Nathan''s hands on his skin. Careful. Gentle.

The bruises were already forming. Dark purple against pale skin.

"Does this hurt?" Nathan asked, pressing lightly.

"Yes."

"Good. Means they''re just bruised. Not broken." Nathan''s fingers traced the edges of the bruises. "I''ll kill them for this."

"You already did something to them."

"Not enough."

Howard looked at Nathan. Really looked. The anger in his eyes. The protectiveness. This was the man he''d loved.

The thought should have scared him. But it didn''t. It felt right. Like coming home.

Nathan got a first aid kit. Cleaned the cuts on Howard''s face. His touch was expert. Gentle but firm.

"You''ve done this before," Howard said.

"More times than I''d like." Nathan''s eyes met his. "This is my world, Howard. Violence. Retaliation. It''s ugly."

"And yet you''re gentle with me."

Nathan''s hand stilled. "You''re different."

"How?"

"I don''t know." Nathan''s gaze was intense. Searching. "But you are. From the moment I saw you in the ER. You felt... familiar. Like I''ve known you forever."

Howard''s heart ached. He wanted to tell him. *You have known me. I''m Lynn. I came back.*

But he couldn''t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Instead, he reached up. Touched Nathan''s face. The stubble rough under his fingers.

Nathan''s eyes darkened. He leaned into the touch. Then he caught Howard''s hand. Held it.

"This is dangerous," Nathan said. "Being with me. It''ll always be dangerous."

"I know."

"Do you?" Nathan''s thumb stroked Howard''s palm. "This isn''t a game. People get hurt. People die."

"I''m a doctor. I know about death."

"Not like this." Nathan''s voice was rough. "Not because of me."

Howard leaned forward. Ignored the pain in his ribs. "Then protect me."

Nathan''s breath caught. "I will. With my life."

The promise hung between them. Heavy. Real.

Then Nathan leaned in. Kissed him.

It wasn''t gentle. It was desperate. Claiming. A kiss that said *mine* without words.

Howard kissed back. Just as desperate. Just as claiming.

For a moment, they were Lynn and Nathan again. In a different life. In a different body. But the connection was the same. The need was the same.

Then Howard gasped. Pain from his ribs.

Nathan pulled back. "Sorry. I forgot..."

"It''s okay." Howard breathed through the pain. "Don''t stop."

But Nathan did stop. He helped Howard lie back on the bed. Covered him with a blanket.

"Rest," Nathan said. "We''ll talk in the morning."

"Stay," Howard said. "Please."

Nathan hesitated. Then he lay down beside Howard. On top of the covers. Not touching, but close enough to feel his warmth.

"Sleep," Nathan whispered. "I''ll watch over you."

Howard closed his eyes. The pain was still there. The fear was still there.

But for the first time since he woke up in Howard Nan''s body, he felt safe.

He was home.