BE ALL YOU CAN BE
Title: Be All You Can Be
Author: emelwhy
Pairing: Brian and Justin
Author's Notes: My spin on the S4 vigilante story arc.
Before S4 premiered, I took all the spoilers we had been discussing on QAF groups and used them as a basic framework for the following story.
We already knew there would be a gay bashing (but we didn't know who would be bashed), that there was a new character who would show up, named Cody, and that he would form a vigilante group that Justin would join. (But we had not yet heard their name). We saw spoilers about the filming Of Cody and Justin's fight with a straight guy on the street. We heard about Justin's haircut and even some vague rumors that Justin would have a final confrontation with Hobbs. There was even speculation beforehand that Stockwell would be brought up on charges.
I took all that and concocted the following story about Justin and the “Queer Guardians”
"Going out to play soldier again?" Brian's voice startled me and I looked up quickly from lacing my Doc Martens.
"I thought you were busy working on the Brown Athletics account," I responded, thinking that I was really spaced not to be aware that Brian was standing next to me in the bedroom.
"Taking a break," he said, walking over to the edge of the bed where I was seated. "I told you that if you and the safety patrol kids wanted to pose for some of the ads it could be arranged."
I looked up at him and smirked.
He knew that we called ourselves the "Queer Guardians", but he loved to make up other names for us.
"Yeah, right. None of us are exactly buff jock types."
"Crew cuts and military togs can be very macho...even with a bunch of little Babylon bar boys and horny artistic types ...and it can be VERY sexy. Especially the hair."
He sat down next to me as I finished tying the knot on my bootlace, and touched a hand to my head. Gently, he brushed his palm backward across the top of my short hair then moved forward and then back again.
Brian has always been a very tactile person. I love to be touched.
You do the math.
Since I had let my hair grow long, Brian had found various ways to touch it, stroke it, caress it.
When some of us in the Guardians decided to get military style cuts as sort of a "fuck you" to the homophobes, I was actually afraid I was in for a barrage of sarcasm, if not disapproval, from him.
I had never hesitated about telling him when I had originally joined the group.
He'd seemed to understand what I was trying to do, or what I needed to do. He didn't object. He just looked at me, cocked his head to the side, nodded and smiled slightly. Then he went back to checking some ad copy on his Mac PowerBook.
I took his silence and his demeanor as tacit approval. Either that, or he was once again letting me plot my own course and learn for myself whether I was headed in wrong direction or not.
Yes, telling him about the group was easy. But not about the hair.
I should have known better.
The first time he saw it, he stared stone-faced and touched my head gingerly. Then he started to rub back and forth, slowly and seductively.
"Nice, " he finally said in a husky whisper. "That feels really nice. How's it feel to you?"
"Uhhhh..."
That's all I could say.
The sensation of his hand pushing my brush cut back and forth sent prickly but pleasurable sensations down my neck and then my spine. I caught my breath and said, "Brian, I..."
Nothing more was spoken. I plunged my lips onto his and before I knew it, my newly acquired uniform - tan nylon flight jacket, shocking pink muscle shirt, khaki cargo pants and shiny black boots - was scattered about and we were wrapped around each other on the floor of the loft.
That was the first of many times Brian had let his hands roam over my shorn head and now he was doing it again.
"Trying to keep me here?" I asked.
"Me?" he responded. "Far be it for me to keep you from your appointed rounds."
"I'm not a mail carrier," I chuckled as I tucked and bloused the cuffs of my pants into the tops of the boots. "Besides, this will be the last night. I'm quitting. That's what I was thinking about when you came into the room. I'm telling Cody that after tonight, I'm
through."
I grabbed my jacket and threw it on, trying unsuccessfully to fasten the zipper.
"It's not …the whole thing is…it's just…" I stammered.
"Not what you expected?" he asked, reaching over to insert the zipper in its track and zip it up part way. "Not what you had in mind when you went off on your crusade?"
I looked into his eyes and we stared at each other for a few seconds.
"Something like that. It's just that…that I realized I had this anger. Still! After a year! This anger inside and I didn't want it to control me. Then when Jo-Elle got bashed after the benefit drag show at Woody's, I thought maybe I could channel it. Do something for the community …and for me. Something positive."
"Become a peacekeeper?"
"Yes. The cops weren't doing anything. That smug get-along-go-along crowd at the Gay and Lesbian Center wasn't of any use. Sure, they issued a statement deploring it. But drag queens aren't politically correct, are they? Even one who was left for dead in an alley and is still in a coma. No use wasting political capital on him. Even when others got roughed up, our so-called leaders were useless."
"Then along came Cody?"
"Yes. I believed in him, Brian. In what he said he wanted to do. To take back the night for us. To make the streets safe. To stop the hate."
"It's hard to stop hate with hate."
"I don't HATE anyone."
"No. No YOU wouldn't. YOU couldn't. Others could and would."
He moved back, looked up and down like he was inspecting me.
"So have you channeled your anger?"
"I…I'm trying."
Reaching out a hand to my left shoulder, he brushed off some imaginary lint.
"Just make sure it doesn't channel you."
He reached up with his other hand to adjust the fit of the jacket.
"There," he said. "My soldier boy is ready for his last tour of duty. Be all you can be, Sunshine."
He touched his lips to my cheek and then turned back to the desk and his work.
.................................
I didn't tell Brian my real motivation for quitting.
Cody had a gun.
He'd shown it to us two nights before when our group was walking through the warehouse district, talking about what we would do if we finally encountered the bashers.
Cody said he was ready and he pulled a long barreled black revolver from inside his jacket.
We were all startled and he seemed pleased by our reaction. "Come on," he said, his brown eyes blazing. "Come on. I'll show you what this can do."
He darted down an alley, beckoning us to follow, and when we got behind one of the old brick buildings he pointed to some empty storage boxes that were piled against a wall.
Taking aim, he fired off six shots in quick succession.
The bullets ripped holes into the cardboard, all within an inch of one another.
"Just think if that cardboard was the chest or head of one of those bastards..."
His voice was low and thick. A couple of the guys - Kyle and Adam - grinned, their faces filled with what looked like admiration and awe.
Nathan, Eric, Davis, Matt and I stood there in shock.
Cody turned to me. He must have sensed that I was uneasy.
"Hey! Justin! Did I scare you? I'm sorry, man. Hey, I'm just fooling around. Letting off steam. You know. It's okay. It's safe. I grew up with guns. This was my dad's. Remember? I'm a country boy from Sagertown."
He moved closer, flashed his ingratiating smile, fixed his eyes at me.
"It's cool, dude. It's cool. It's just for defense."
"Sure, Cody," I said, wanting so badly to believe him but feeling like I was being played - played like a fiddle. Manipulations by a fiddler was a feeling I was all too familiar with and didn't like.
When it was time to split off on patrols, Nathan grabbed my arm and said, "Come on, Justin. It's you and me tonight."
Nathan - little, tough, sweet Nathan.
A year older than me, but thinner and a few inches shorter, his flaming red hair was cropped even closer than mine. Soft-spoken, he was almost painfully shy. But when you looked into his bright green eyes you realized that this kid had experienced things most people hadn't, and because of it, he was no pushover.
Nathan had been born in Belfast, had grown up in a neighborhood wracked by the worst of "the troubles", as he called it. Afraid that his ten-year-old son was getting too involved with older friends who were acting as runners for the IRA, Nathan's father had shipped him off to America to live with his aunt and uncle.
We walked a few blocks in silence until we were across the street from the sleazy dive where Brian had confronted Jason Kemp's killer.
"I don't like the gun, Nathan," I finally said.
"And you're thinking I'm happy about it, Justin Taylor?" he asked in the lilting style that was the only Northern Irish thing that remained in his speech, his accent having left him years ago.
"Haven't I seen enough of that? Rocks, guns, bombs? And all before I could even walk?"
"It's gotten out of hand," I said as I stared at the customers going in and out of the bar - scruffy young hustlers and their johns. "Cody has gone too far. It's become too personal. The past few weeks it's like he's LOOKING for trouble, baiting people, causing fights."
"And you'd be knowing that very well, wouldn't you?" Nathan challenged me, looking directly in my face.
I knew what he meant. Cody had provoked a confrontation on the street with a straight guy. The guy had made some remarks and things escalated. He'd gotten in my face and shouted that all fags should die of AIDS and suddenly I was back in the hospice more than a year before, hearing Chris Hobbs fling the same hateful words at me. I did nothing then. This time I reacted.
"The last guy who said that to me left me to die in a pool of blood," I yelled and punched the man square in the face. Then, as a crowd gathered, Cody and I ran.
"Did it make you feel good punching that guy, Justin?" Nathan asked.
"No," I muttered. "I felt confused. I felt weaker."
"Hmmm," Nathan said. "Anger'll do that. Hate'll do that. Cloud your judgment. Make you do things you never thought you would. Believe me. I know. I've seen it. I've done it. But people like Cody... Ohhh now! THEY love it. Gives 'em a rush I think. It's like sex for them. Though I'm thinking there's nothing like sex."
He smiled and winked and it made me laugh.
"That's for sure, Nathan."
We were both quiet for a moment.
"So what're we going to do about this, you and me?" Nathan asked, blowing on his hands to keep warm.
"I don't know. But I think I can't be part of this much longer."
"I'm thinking that, too, Justin Taylor. I'm thinking that, too."
-----------------------------
So here I was, two days later, headed to the diner to join Nathan and figure out what to do next. I was determined to be done with the Guardians and maybe, just maybe, Nathan and I could convince the other guys, too. As for Cody, I feared it was too late to change him.
I found Nathan sitting at the counter, being fussed over by Debbie.
"Well here's my other hero!" she exclaimed as she saw me approach. "I'm so fuckin' proud of you guys. Can I get you some coffee, too, Sunshine? You boys need to stay awake!"
She continued to chatter as she filled our cups.
"I don't know how you kids do it. You doin' your shifts here, helpin' Brian with his new agency AND bein' back at the Institute again - and believe ME those people at that school were goddamn smart to let you back or I woulda gone over there to give them a fuckin' piece of my mind! And YOU, you little Irish hottie, studyin' to be a physical therapist, workin' at Woody's as a bar-back on weekends, and then as a shampoo boy at Jorge's Salon. All that AND both of you protectin' the community, too. …."
Her voice started getting scratchy and she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
The bell rang at the pickup counter.
""Keep your fuckin' shirt on," she shouted.
She turned back to us.
"I'll be right back, babies," she said sweetly, then rushed off to spew more curses at the poor cook.
"She's different, that one," Nathan laughed.
"I don't know who cried more when Jorge shaved off our hair," I smiled. "Jorge or Debbie."
"Well, didn't I offer her some of mine for a new wig?" Nathan replied.
We both laughed. Then suddenly we were silent, thinking about what we had to do.
"Deb can be a bit over the top, but are we letting people down if we quit?" I mused.
"And what will we be doing if we wind up killing somebody? Or getting one of ourselves killed?" Nathan asked.
Before I could answer there was a commotion at the door and Vic and his new boyfriend Rodney burst into the diner.
"Sis! Sis!" Vic called out. "Have you heard the news?"
"Vic, honey, what's wrong? Are you all right? Is it Mikey? Is Ben all right?" Debbie tore around the side of the counter, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Nothing like that," Vic said, trying to catch his breath. "Oh, hi, Justin, Nathan. You two don't know either? We heard it on the car radio on the way back from the movies, and drove straight here."
"Heard WHAT?" Debbie shouted. "Victor Grassi, I'm losin' my patience. WHAT the fuck is going on?"
"It's Stockwell," Rodney interjected.
"He's out as Chief! The Commission met tonight and forced him to resign!" Vic continued. Nathan and I looked at each other in confusion.
The big question after Jim Stockwell lost the election was whether he would stay on as police chief. Councilman Deekins would not be sworn in as mayor until the first of the year and it appeared that Stockwell intended to stay even after the inauguration. Only the Public Safety Commission could remove him, and though Deekins would become chair of the panel, the new mayor would be only one vote on a six person board made up of Stockwell supporters.
'WHAT?" Debbie exclaimed. "You mean Mayor Rudnick and that pack of hacks finally had the balls to give that bastard the heave ho?"
"There's more," Rodney interrupted. "Word leaked out…"
"They unsealed a grand jury indictment this afternoon." Vic continued. "Stockwell has been officially charged with being an "accessory after the fact" for covering up the Jason Kemp murder. The commission had no choice."
Rodney looked at his watch.
"It's 11:05. It should be on the news right now."
Nathan ran behind the counter and turned on the small TV perched on the shelf. A reporter was in mid-sentence.
"…going live now to a hastily convened news conference at City Hall."
Mayor Sid Rudnick appeared on the screen with the Mayor-elect standing next to him.
At that moment Nathan's cell phone rang and he moved away from the TV to answer it.
The Mayor repeated most of what Rodney and Vic had related to us. Then he said:
"In deference to Mayor-elect Deekins, the commission will wait until he officially takes office before making a decision on Mr. Stockwell's successor, giving due consideration, of course, to his recommendations."
"Justin," Nathan whispered in my ear. "That was Matt on my cell. Something's up. Something real important. He and Davis should be pulling up right now.
I looked out the window and saw Matt's VW Rabbit screech to a halt in front of the diner.
Nathan grabbed my arm as Rudnick continued with his statement.
"…in the interim though, with Councilman Deekins approval, the commission has appointed an acting chief."
"Nathan!" I shouted as he pulled me toward the door. "What's the hurry?"
"Something's happened," he replied. "They've cornered a basher in Schenley Park and the guys are afraid of what Cody might do."
As Nathan pulled me out the door, I saw Vic, Rodney and Debbie staring at us and then Debbie turning back quickly toward the television.
The last words I heard from her, as the door shut was "Holy SHIT!"
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As Matt sped down Liberty Avenue, Davis explained what was going on.
Somehow Cody had gotten a lead on someone he was sure was responsible for the attack on Jo-Elle and for some of the other assaults. He and the other guys had laid a trap in the cruising area in the park.
We raced up Overlook Drive and parked next to some other cars where the road ended at a turn-around circle.
The guys led Nathan and me down the path toward the lake.
We could hear Cody's voice on the other side of the bushes that shielded the area from public view and made it a popular pick-up spot.
As we emerged into the clearing, we could see Eric and Adam holding someone spread-eagled on the ground, while Kyle had his hand on the guy's head, pushing his face into the grass. Cody stood over them with his gun. There was long thin object lying at Cody's feet.
"Justin! You're here," he exclaimed. "Good! Look what we caught. This stupid ass breeder took our bait and walked right into our ambush. His two buddies got away. The fucking cowards. He tried to slam me in the head with that lead pipe. But the guys were waiting for them in the bushes. Fuckers. We'll get the rest of 'em."
I looked down at the pipe. Cody's words sent a chill down my back. I could hear Brian's voice shouting my name, see the bat coming at me, hear the impact. I shuddered.
"Justin, are you all right?"
I felt Nathan's hand on my back, then I was aware again of Cody's voice.
"Come here, Justin. See what we got. It's my gift to you."
I looked at Cody in confusion. Gift?
Cody's voice was excited and intense. His words shot out in rapid succession
"I know you've been upset. Questioning. Are we failures? Are we doing the right thing? Well now we've done it. We caught the bastard. And now we'll show all those fucking breeders they can't shove us around, they can't attack us. Because there WILL be consequences. There WILL be justice. OUR justice, Justin. YOUR justice."
I walked slowly toward Cody, my legs feeling like I was walking on the moon in an anti-gravity suit.
"There he is, Justin, he's all yours."
I looked again at Cody. It was a cold clear night and his face was illuminated in the moonlight. His eyes seemed glassy and his face was distorted in a leering smile.
I dreaded looking down on the ground, but I had to.
Kyle and Adam roughly turned the guy over on his back and I knew who it was before I saw him.
"Bastards!" the guy sputtered. "Fucking faggots…"
Then he saw me.
"Taylor!"
It was Chris Hobbs.
Suddenly I wasn't there in the park anymore.
Yeah, I could see Hobbs on the ground in front of me; his eyes filled with anger, lips moving and twisted in a snarl.
But I couldn't hear a word he was saying, could only see that face -that face behind a bat, a bat moving swiftly toward my head.
Funny, I don't remember ever seeing his face when it happened. But I could see it now. And I could hear what he said. "Take this, Faggot!"
Oh God! It was like it was happening again. I saw the gray concrete of the garage, saw the bat, heard it hit, felt it hit, felt the blood trickling down my face.
No, it wasn't blood. It was sweat. My forehead was covered and I was shivering. I snapped to the present and looked down to see Cody's gun in my hand and to hear his voice.
"That's it, Justin. Take it. Use it. Show this son of a bitch that he can't go around trying to kill queers. That WE have the upper hand now. Take him OUT, Justin."
"Cody, jeez man, no," I heard one of the guys say.
"Justin, you can't," Nathan whispered urgently from behind me.
He put his hand on my shoulder, but I walked away from him and closer to Hobbs.
For the first time since I'd known him, I saw fear in Hobbs' face. I was surprised that it gave me a rush of pleasure.
"Stand up, Chris," I said, pointing the barrel directly at his head.
He struggled to get up and Kyle and Adam grabbed his arms as soon as he was on his feet.
"This would be so easy wouldn't it, Chris? Just as easy as when you slammed me with that bat. But you would know it was coming. You'd be ready for it. Not like you did to me. Not like you did to Jo-Elle."
I moved toward him, still aiming the gun.
"You know, Chris, I'm not sure what was worse. Being hit? The pain? The recovery? The memory loss? My hand and all the therapy? The nightmares? Or just the plain simple FEAR that it could happen again and that there was nothing I could do to stop it."
Hobbs drew back slightly as I got closer.
"So now Cody has put ME in control."
We were face to face and the barrel of the pistol was directly below his chin.
"Or am I? If I shoot you, you'll still be in control. Damn you, Chris Hobbs. You'll STILL be in control, because you would have made me be just like YOU…a hater. And I'm better than that…better than you. Someone told me tonight to be all I could be. That's what I'm doing by letting you live and turning you in to the police."
I lowered the gun but continued to stare directly into Hobbs' eyes.
"What?" Cody cried out in back of me. "Justin! Christ! What are you doing? The cops won't do a damn thing. And even if they do, the courts will let him go."
Matt, the tallest of our group, walked behind Cody and put his hands on his shoulders.
"It's over, Code. It's over," he said, tightening his grip.
I thrust my face into Hobbs' so our noses were practically touching.
"I will do everything I can to make sure you go to trial and get convicted. And even if you get off again, I'll know I did the right thing and I'll know I'm more of a man than you'll ever be."
Davis and Eric moved in and stood on either side of Kyle and Adam who were still holding tight to Chris' arms.
I stepped back and looked down at the gun. Nathan was once again next to me.
"If calling the police is what you're up to next, its best we get rid of the gun, " he said softly. "Give it to me, before you shoot yourself in the foot."
I gingerly handed the weapon to him and he expertly opened the chamber and ejected six bullets, counting each as they landed in the palm of his hand. He then aimed the barrel at the ground and pulled the trigger. The hammer emitted six loud clicks.
"Go ahead to the cars, I'll be right with you," he said evenly and jogged toward a grouping of large rocks at the center of a landscaped area near the lake.
We walked in silence around the bushes and up the path, the four guys hanging onto Hobbs, and Matt tailing Cody.
Before we got to the bend in the path that led up to the road, Nathan was at my side again.
"It's done," he said. "A few strong whacks on the rock to break the hammer and then a quick toss into the lake."
I looked him in admiringly.
"I'm not even going to ask how you knew what to do," I said.
"Best you don't," he agreed. "So what are we about? Is it driving this bastard to the cops you're intending? Or do we call ahead for reservations?"
I laughed and took my phone from my pocket.
As we turned the bend and came out of a grove of trees, bright lights suddenly blinded us.
"What do have here?" a voice said. "Hey, Sarge. Looks like we found them."
A few more steps and we could see we were facing the headlights of two police cars and the guns of four uniformed officers.
"Just put your hands were we can see them," the man I took to be the sergeant said. "Well, it looks like a little squad of the queer vigilantes out on a hunt. Catch anything, boys?"
"As a matter a fact we did," I replied, walking toward him with my hands in the air. "We caught a gay basher."
"Stay right where you are," the cop said. "You can tell it all to our boss."
"Heads up, Sarge. Here he comes now," one of the cops called out.
A dark unmarked sedan cruised into the circle and parked behind the squad cars. I could hear two doors open and close and then one of the cops said, "We found 'em, Chief."
I could barely make out a heavy-set man approaching from behind the headlights. As he got closer he said,
"its okay, Isbecki, I know this kid."
Suddenly I knew what it was on the TV news that had made Debbie shout 'Holy shit!'
"Well, young man. Solved another crime?" Pittsburgh's new police chief asked me.
"Um, I think so, Detective, I mean…. CHIEF Horvath," I stammered. "Uh, how did you know we were here?"
"Vic Grassi called me, at the behest of a certain crazy lady we both know," Horvath replied. "It seems Vic heard what you and your friend said as you left the diner. So your posse caught a suspect?"
Before I could answer, Chris Hobbs was shouting, "Don't listen to him. He's a lying little faggot. These queers kidnapped me and they were trying to kill me."
"Quiet, Mr. Hobbs," the Chief responded, walking over to Chris. "Oh, you seem surprised I know your name. Well, it's on a list I have. A list of people who have been arrested by the department for assaults similar to the one on Joel Zimmerman, better known to all of you as 'Jo-Elle.'"
Horvath walked over to Cody and stared at him.
"SOME of you think the department wasn't doing anything on this case. Well, we were. It takes time to gather evidence."
He motioned to the man who had gotten out of the car with him.
"Detective La Guardia ran that list and then got mug shots of everyone on it. Including you, Mr. Hobbs. Or did you forget you were photographed and had your fingerprints taken when you were arrested for assaulting Mr. Taylor here? You may have plea bargained your way out of a jail sentence, but that doesn't mean your records aren't still on file."
He strolled back to where Chris was standing.
"But the mug shots meant nothing with Mr. Zimmerman in a coma. The other harassment that occurred was done by people wearing ski masks."
"Ski masks!" Eric exclaimed. "We took a ski mask and a lead pipe from Hobbs when he jumped Cody. They're back in the clearing."
Horvath turned to Eric.
"Show Sergeant Isbecki where they are, son."
Eric and the officer walked rapidly down the path as the Chief continued.
"More evidence, Mr. Hobbs. But it's just icing on the cake. Because, you see, your victim came out of his coma this afternoon. It appears he was able to rip off his assailant's mask before he lost consciousness. We showed him the photos and he identified you. Cuff him, La Guardia, and read him his rights. Christopher Mark Hobbs, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Joel Zimmerman."
He turned back to me.
"You and your friends will have to give statements as to what occurred here tonight. One of the officers will talk to you now and you may have to come to the precinct house tomorrow. I'd suggest you check in with the crazy lady before you go home tonight. …and, um… tell her I took good care of you, okay?"
He moved over to Cody. "As for YOU, I've got my eye on you. One misstep, one more instance of taking the law into your own hands, and you'll be in cuffs, too.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------.
I called Debbie from Nathan's car. She understood that there was someplace else I had to be; someone else I needed to talk to.
As the elevator ascended to Brian's floor, I wondered if he was even there or out at Babylon. No matter. I had to change out of these clothes before I did anything else.
Sliding open the door to the loft, I was surprised to hear the television and see Brian seated in front of the screen watching an old black and white movie.
"Home so soon?" he asked nonchalantly.
"Not soon enough," I answered, discarding my jacket on a chair. "What are you watching?"
"'The Ox-Bow Incident,'" he replied, sliding over on the couch and motioning for me to sit.
"Oh, I know that story," I said. "We read it in the 10th Grade. It's about…."
"Bad guys and posses," he finished my sentence while looking at the screen.
"Yeah, and taking the law into your own hands," I said quietly as I settled in next to him. "It's a good story."
He turned to face me. "And do you have a story for me?"
From the look on his face, I knew Deb had called him before I got there. She probably chewed him out for letting me put myself in harm's way, not remembering how she had cheered me on earlier that evening.
"Yeah. Yeah, I have a lot to tell you, Brian - if you're willing to listen."
He clicked the television off with the remote and turned all the way around toward me, pulling his legs up on the couch and crossing them.
I took a deep breath and started talking, beginning with Cody and his gun, then telling him what happened in the park and ending with all the memories that had flooded back about the night of the prom and the bashing. I knew that the last part was as hard on him as it was on me. Perhaps harder.
He looked away when I related how I had relived every moment of the attack and I reached over, cupped his chin in my hand and slowly turned his face so that he was looking at me again.
"If you want me to stop…"
"No. No, I knew we would have to talk more about this at some point."
Brian reached over to dimmer switch on the side table, turned down the lights, then hit the mute on the television and we sat in the dark with only the illumination coming from the TV screen.
He put his arms out and pulled me close to him and he began to talk.
The words came haltingly at first. He talked about the shock and anger he'd felt when he saw the bat hit and me fall. Then he continued more rapidly about how he slammed Chris in the knee with the bat, how he cradled me on the floor, alternately yelling for help and pressing his lips to my bloody face. He talked about the frantic ride in the ambulance, about sitting in the waiting room with Michael and then his visits to my room while I was unconscious and later while I slept.
I put a hand on the side of his face, touching him gently.
He looked at me and whispered, "You're a brave fucking kid."
"Not as brave as you," I replied, stroking his cheek.
"Bullshit. It took balls NOT pull that trigger," he declared vehemently.
"You were the one who told me to be all I could be," I said. "When I was staring into Hobbs' eyes, I thought 'what would Brian do?' It was simple as that."
There was a barely perceptible flicker in his eyes.
"Then maybe I'm not all I can be, because I can see myself pulling that trigger and wiping that bastard off the face of the earth."
"But you wouldn't, I know you wouldn't," I said looking into his eyes. "Because in the long run, in the final analysis, you always do the right thing."
He shook his head.
"I'm not the hero you think I am."
I clasped my hands behind his neck and drew his face toward me until our foreheads touched.
"Yes, you are. You just need someone to remind you of it."
"Are you volunteering? Because it might be a long assignment," he whispered.
"However long it takes," I smiled.
"Maybe as long as a lifetime," he mumbled, biting his lower lip.
I grinned and pulled my head back to look at him.
"A lifetime is good."
"But you have to promise me something."
"I already promised that there would be no more violin music."
"No, there's something else. Promise me there'll be no more playing soldier, or cowboy or cop."
I nudged him backward onto the couch and eased myself on top of him, nestling my head under his chin.
"I promise," I said softly.
"Unless..." he added.
I lifted my head up to look at him.
"Unless what?
"Unless it's just you and me," he grinned.
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