Chapter 9
John huddled on the edge of the bed in the safe house that they’d been escorted to, with Misty on his lap and Dean sitting beside him with an arm protectively around his shoulders. He still felt cold after that incident in their house. That assassin could have killed either him or Dean, and had meant to kill both of them. Feeling the tremors that wracked his body, Dean cast him a worried look and tightened his grip on his lover. Poor John had simply been through too much in the last month or so. He was close to falling apart, and the biker worried desperately that he might be headed for a nervous breakdown. John just wasn’t cut out for this kind of life.
The door of the safe house opened, and they both tensed. But to Dean’s delight, it was Cindy and Carol who walked through it. The F.B.I agent and her psychiatrist wife walked over to the two men, who watched them silently. “I’ve got good news and better news,” Carol said lightly, smiling at them.
Dean lifted a brow. “Oh? We could use some good news,” he said grimly.
John said nothing, merely looking up at Carol questioningly. She grinned. “Well, you’re getting it. The assassin spilled the name of the person who ratted you and at least a dozen other people out who were in witness protection, and he’s in federal custody as we speak. So that leak is definitely plugged. But even better…You won’t have to testify.”
Startled silence, as they both gaped at her. “What? Why?” Dean demanded incredulously.
She shrugged. “Because Escobar Maneta is dead,” she replied simply. At their bug-eyed stares, she explained: “He was knifed to death in the maximum security prison he was in this morning. He was supposed to be in solitary to keep him safe, but a lifer managed to shiv him when he was being taken on his daily exercise walk. They think the guards were paid off to look the other way, as there was no way that anyone should have been able to get close to Maneta. The reason that we’re not unhappy about this is because Maneta already spilled the beans – which is probably why he was killed. He gave us the list of names that we wanted, of almost everybody in his organization for immunity against the death sentence for killing an F.B.I. agent. Somebody in his drug cartel was not happy with him, and arranged the assassination. So you guys don’t need to testify since Maneta is dead. And even better, since he ratted out his cartel, no one is going to want to get revenge for him. That means that you two are low on the list of the cartel’s ‘need to kill’, and might be off of it altogether. They’re not going to come after you because they don’t care about you. You’re safe.”
“Oh, God,” John moaned, his shoulders slumping as what Carol had just told them finally sank in. “Jesus.” He buried his face in Dean’s shoulder, and his lover stroked his hair tenderly.
“It’s okay, baby,” he crooned, kissing John’s hair. “It’s okay.”
Cindy brushed past her wife and came to kneel in front of John. She took his hands in hers. “John, listen to me. I know that you probably think that you’re acting like a baby right now, reacting like this. But it’s normal for someone who’s been traumatized as you have. Your whole life was stolen from you not once but TWICE. And you’ve been in deadly danger all this time, ever since you witnessed that murder. You have the right to break down and lose it, and it will actually help you in the long run. People who keep this kind of thing inside tend to be the ones who become unstable mentally, because it will break loose somehow.”
John lifted his head, wiping at his eyes ineffectually. He looked down at her, into her compassionate eyes. “Well, it's not easy being the only one losing it,” he remarked hoarsely, casting a sideways glance at his lover.
Dean looked startled, and then his lips lifted in a crooked, wry smile. “Baby, I’m terrified too,” he replied. “When I saw that guy holding a gun on you, I almost lost it. That sight is gonna haunt me for a long time to come, believe me. Just because I’m not crying doesn’t mean that I’m okay. Hell, the only reason I haven’t started bawling too is because I thought I should try to be strong for you. But if you want, I could break down too. Maybe we could both use a good crying jag.” He went on seriously.
John blinked, taking in his words. The thought of Dean bawling like a baby seemed incongruous, to say the least. And he didn’t want to see the biker break down here and now, not in front of Cindy and Carol. “Maybe later,” he told his lover.
Dean grinned faintly and leaned forward to lightly kiss his mouth. He clutched at his lover’s broad shoulders, feeling a little better. Being with Dean always seemed to help. They only broke apart when they heard a discreet throat-clearing in front of them, and John turned faintly pink as Cindy shot her wife a chiding glance. “I wouldn’t interrupt,” Carol said, her lips twitching, “But there is something else I’d like to tell you guys. Two things, actually. One…” she fished out a card and handed it to Dean. “This is our phone number and e-mail address in D.C. We both hope that you’ll stay in touch, because we really did come to see you as friends. And two…you’re being moved again, of course. But we’ll only change your last names this time, and since Maneta is dead and nobody is going to be actively looking for you…” her eyes found John’s, “It will be fine if you take up your former profession. In other words, John…you can teach again.”
He felt as though he’d taken a hard blow to the sternum. But a good one, too. He felt punch-drunk and giddy. “I can teach?!” he yelped, his voice breaking. Dean smiled beside him, glad to see the expression of delight on his lover’s face.
Carol nodded. “Yep. We’ll be relocating you to Wisconsin, and you already have a teaching license under your new name. There’s a good school district where you’re being sent, one that needs the services of a great pre-school teacher like yourself. And the school administration already knows that you’re gay and married to another man. They took the news with surprising equanimity, maybe because of your glowing record as a teacher. They know that they’re lucky to have you.”
“My glowing record? But I thought…”
Carol grinned. “Yes, it’s a glowing false record, but it’s based on your real life record. Don’t worry about it. Now we’ve had all your stuff packed up from the house and are shipping it to Wisconsin as we speak. You’ll be surrounded by familiar things when you get to your new house. Two agents are waiting to drive you up there, and we brought you little kitty carrier for Misty. Yes, you can take her with you,” she added as John’s eyes lit up even more. “We won’t separate you from your family this time. Here’s your identity packets…” she handed over the familiar manila envelopes, “And there are credit cards and some cash in there. “All I have left to say is enjoy your new lives, you two, and we hope to hear from you one of these days.” She added as she put an arm around her wife.
Cindy smiled at them. “I second that,” she said. “Please let us know when you’re settled in. Maybe we’ll come and visit you in Wisconsin one of these days. That is, if you can stand the thought of our whole tribe descending on you again.”
“We’d love it,” John replied happily. “Wouldn’t we, Dean?”
“Sure,” the biker replied, although perhaps not as enthusiastically as his lover.
Carol chuckled at his tone. “Anyway, have a good trip guys. We have to get going – I have to report back to D.C. now that your whole matter is settled. Come on, Cin.”
“Goodbye, John, Dean,” the psychiatrist said. “Good luck in your new life together.” The two women left the safe house.
John looked at Dean, hugging the squirming kitten to him. “I can teach again,” he breathed, joy sparkling in his eyes.
Dean smiled, reaching out to run a thumb along his bottom lip. “That’s great, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m really glad for you. So Wisconsin, eh?”
John laughed. “Yeah, looks like we’re gonna be cold a lot.”
Dean’s eyes took on a wicked gleam. “Yep. Guess we’ll have to keep each other warm, huh?”
John felt his breath catch in his throat. "Yeah,” he agreed simply. “We will.”
Six months later: John pulled into the driveway of the solid, pretty single-story house that he and Dean were now living in. It was white with red trim, and had a large tree in the front yard. The teacher dreamed of having a tire swing there one day, because he was hoping to eventually talk Dean into adopting a child with him. For now, though, they had their cats (Misty had been joined by a bull-headed little tom kitten who’d been named Goober by Dean), each other, and the friends they’d made since moving here. Not to mention Carol and Cindy, who they kept in touch with long distance. He felt great contentment as he got out of his car, seeing a familiar figure swathed in a heavy overcoat, shoveling their walk after the most recent snow. Dean had turned at the sound of his car and smiled as his husband got out of the car and began to pick his way up the walk toward him.
“Hey, honey, how was your day?” he asked cheerfully.
“Great. The little hooligans are awful as usual,” John replied happily.
The biker chuckled. “I’d worry except that you always sound so happy when you say that,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Masochist.”
“Yes, I am,” John replied simply. “Anyone who deals with a lot of little kids is. Oh, well.”
Dean shrugged. “Hell, I like a few masochistic tendencies in my man,” he teased.
John took in a sharp breath, and then shook his head. “Evil man. Anyway, how was your day?”
“Great. We finished putting together that custom Harley today. It looks beautiful. I took some pictures; I’ll show them to you later.”
“Okay, I’d like to see them. You do amazing work, Dean,” John said as he stepped into the cleared patch and went in for a kiss.
“I like to think so,” Dean replied when their lips finally parted. “I snagged you, didn’t I?”
John snorted. “If we hadn’t witnessed a murder, who says that I wouldn’t have just used you for good sex and then sent you on your way?”
Dean cocked his head. “Because I’m irresistible?” he asked cheekily.
The teacher sighed. “Yes, you are,” he agreed, giving in.
“Hey, baby, look at it this way. Yes, we lost everything and had to go into witness protection; but we gained each other. And that was worth everything we went through,” Dean remarked, making John’s heart melt. “I love you, John,” he added, looking down into the teacher’s expressive eyes as he said this.
“And I love you, Dean,” he replied. A smile, then another kiss.
But finally Dean pulled back reluctantly. “It’s too cold out here for this,” he told John. “Let’s go inside, pet the kitties, and make some cocoa. Then we can ‘keep each other warm’. What do you say?”
“I say that’s the best ideas I’ve ever heard,” John replied fervently.
Dean laughed and slung an arm around his waist. “Come on, baby. I want to be ‘teacher’s pet’,” he said, and John’s laughter sounded out on the cold still air as the two men went into their house and shut the door behind them.
The End
John huddled on the edge of the bed in the safe house that they’d been escorted to, with Misty on his lap and Dean sitting beside him with an arm protectively around his shoulders. He still felt cold after that incident in their house. That assassin could have killed either him or Dean, and had meant to kill both of them. Feeling the tremors that wracked his body, Dean cast him a worried look and tightened his grip on his lover. Poor John had simply been through too much in the last month or so. He was close to falling apart, and the biker worried desperately that he might be headed for a nervous breakdown. John just wasn’t cut out for this kind of life.
The door of the safe house opened, and they both tensed. But to Dean’s delight, it was Cindy and Carol who walked through it. The F.B.I agent and her psychiatrist wife walked over to the two men, who watched them silently. “I’ve got good news and better news,” Carol said lightly, smiling at them.
Dean lifted a brow. “Oh? We could use some good news,” he said grimly.
John said nothing, merely looking up at Carol questioningly. She grinned. “Well, you’re getting it. The assassin spilled the name of the person who ratted you and at least a dozen other people out who were in witness protection, and he’s in federal custody as we speak. So that leak is definitely plugged. But even better…You won’t have to testify.”
Startled silence, as they both gaped at her. “What? Why?” Dean demanded incredulously.
She shrugged. “Because Escobar Maneta is dead,” she replied simply. At their bug-eyed stares, she explained: “He was knifed to death in the maximum security prison he was in this morning. He was supposed to be in solitary to keep him safe, but a lifer managed to shiv him when he was being taken on his daily exercise walk. They think the guards were paid off to look the other way, as there was no way that anyone should have been able to get close to Maneta. The reason that we’re not unhappy about this is because Maneta already spilled the beans – which is probably why he was killed. He gave us the list of names that we wanted, of almost everybody in his organization for immunity against the death sentence for killing an F.B.I. agent. Somebody in his drug cartel was not happy with him, and arranged the assassination. So you guys don’t need to testify since Maneta is dead. And even better, since he ratted out his cartel, no one is going to want to get revenge for him. That means that you two are low on the list of the cartel’s ‘need to kill’, and might be off of it altogether. They’re not going to come after you because they don’t care about you. You’re safe.”
“Oh, God,” John moaned, his shoulders slumping as what Carol had just told them finally sank in. “Jesus.” He buried his face in Dean’s shoulder, and his lover stroked his hair tenderly.
“It’s okay, baby,” he crooned, kissing John’s hair. “It’s okay.”
Cindy brushed past her wife and came to kneel in front of John. She took his hands in hers. “John, listen to me. I know that you probably think that you’re acting like a baby right now, reacting like this. But it’s normal for someone who’s been traumatized as you have. Your whole life was stolen from you not once but TWICE. And you’ve been in deadly danger all this time, ever since you witnessed that murder. You have the right to break down and lose it, and it will actually help you in the long run. People who keep this kind of thing inside tend to be the ones who become unstable mentally, because it will break loose somehow.”
John lifted his head, wiping at his eyes ineffectually. He looked down at her, into her compassionate eyes. “Well, it's not easy being the only one losing it,” he remarked hoarsely, casting a sideways glance at his lover.
Dean looked startled, and then his lips lifted in a crooked, wry smile. “Baby, I’m terrified too,” he replied. “When I saw that guy holding a gun on you, I almost lost it. That sight is gonna haunt me for a long time to come, believe me. Just because I’m not crying doesn’t mean that I’m okay. Hell, the only reason I haven’t started bawling too is because I thought I should try to be strong for you. But if you want, I could break down too. Maybe we could both use a good crying jag.” He went on seriously.
John blinked, taking in his words. The thought of Dean bawling like a baby seemed incongruous, to say the least. And he didn’t want to see the biker break down here and now, not in front of Cindy and Carol. “Maybe later,” he told his lover.
Dean grinned faintly and leaned forward to lightly kiss his mouth. He clutched at his lover’s broad shoulders, feeling a little better. Being with Dean always seemed to help. They only broke apart when they heard a discreet throat-clearing in front of them, and John turned faintly pink as Cindy shot her wife a chiding glance. “I wouldn’t interrupt,” Carol said, her lips twitching, “But there is something else I’d like to tell you guys. Two things, actually. One…” she fished out a card and handed it to Dean. “This is our phone number and e-mail address in D.C. We both hope that you’ll stay in touch, because we really did come to see you as friends. And two…you’re being moved again, of course. But we’ll only change your last names this time, and since Maneta is dead and nobody is going to be actively looking for you…” her eyes found John’s, “It will be fine if you take up your former profession. In other words, John…you can teach again.”
He felt as though he’d taken a hard blow to the sternum. But a good one, too. He felt punch-drunk and giddy. “I can teach?!” he yelped, his voice breaking. Dean smiled beside him, glad to see the expression of delight on his lover’s face.
Carol nodded. “Yep. We’ll be relocating you to Wisconsin, and you already have a teaching license under your new name. There’s a good school district where you’re being sent, one that needs the services of a great pre-school teacher like yourself. And the school administration already knows that you’re gay and married to another man. They took the news with surprising equanimity, maybe because of your glowing record as a teacher. They know that they’re lucky to have you.”
“My glowing record? But I thought…”
Carol grinned. “Yes, it’s a glowing false record, but it’s based on your real life record. Don’t worry about it. Now we’ve had all your stuff packed up from the house and are shipping it to Wisconsin as we speak. You’ll be surrounded by familiar things when you get to your new house. Two agents are waiting to drive you up there, and we brought you little kitty carrier for Misty. Yes, you can take her with you,” she added as John’s eyes lit up even more. “We won’t separate you from your family this time. Here’s your identity packets…” she handed over the familiar manila envelopes, “And there are credit cards and some cash in there. “All I have left to say is enjoy your new lives, you two, and we hope to hear from you one of these days.” She added as she put an arm around her wife.
Cindy smiled at them. “I second that,” she said. “Please let us know when you’re settled in. Maybe we’ll come and visit you in Wisconsin one of these days. That is, if you can stand the thought of our whole tribe descending on you again.”
“We’d love it,” John replied happily. “Wouldn’t we, Dean?”
“Sure,” the biker replied, although perhaps not as enthusiastically as his lover.
Carol chuckled at his tone. “Anyway, have a good trip guys. We have to get going – I have to report back to D.C. now that your whole matter is settled. Come on, Cin.”
“Goodbye, John, Dean,” the psychiatrist said. “Good luck in your new life together.” The two women left the safe house.
John looked at Dean, hugging the squirming kitten to him. “I can teach again,” he breathed, joy sparkling in his eyes.
Dean smiled, reaching out to run a thumb along his bottom lip. “That’s great, sweetheart,” he said. “I’m really glad for you. So Wisconsin, eh?”
John laughed. “Yeah, looks like we’re gonna be cold a lot.”
Dean’s eyes took on a wicked gleam. “Yep. Guess we’ll have to keep each other warm, huh?”
John felt his breath catch in his throat. "Yeah,” he agreed simply. “We will.”
Six months later: John pulled into the driveway of the solid, pretty single-story house that he and Dean were now living in. It was white with red trim, and had a large tree in the front yard. The teacher dreamed of having a tire swing there one day, because he was hoping to eventually talk Dean into adopting a child with him. For now, though, they had their cats (Misty had been joined by a bull-headed little tom kitten who’d been named Goober by Dean), each other, and the friends they’d made since moving here. Not to mention Carol and Cindy, who they kept in touch with long distance. He felt great contentment as he got out of his car, seeing a familiar figure swathed in a heavy overcoat, shoveling their walk after the most recent snow. Dean had turned at the sound of his car and smiled as his husband got out of the car and began to pick his way up the walk toward him.
“Hey, honey, how was your day?” he asked cheerfully.
“Great. The little hooligans are awful as usual,” John replied happily.
The biker chuckled. “I’d worry except that you always sound so happy when you say that,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Masochist.”
“Yes, I am,” John replied simply. “Anyone who deals with a lot of little kids is. Oh, well.”
Dean shrugged. “Hell, I like a few masochistic tendencies in my man,” he teased.
John took in a sharp breath, and then shook his head. “Evil man. Anyway, how was your day?”
“Great. We finished putting together that custom Harley today. It looks beautiful. I took some pictures; I’ll show them to you later.”
“Okay, I’d like to see them. You do amazing work, Dean,” John said as he stepped into the cleared patch and went in for a kiss.
“I like to think so,” Dean replied when their lips finally parted. “I snagged you, didn’t I?”
John snorted. “If we hadn’t witnessed a murder, who says that I wouldn’t have just used you for good sex and then sent you on your way?”
Dean cocked his head. “Because I’m irresistible?” he asked cheekily.
The teacher sighed. “Yes, you are,” he agreed, giving in.
“Hey, baby, look at it this way. Yes, we lost everything and had to go into witness protection; but we gained each other. And that was worth everything we went through,” Dean remarked, making John’s heart melt. “I love you, John,” he added, looking down into the teacher’s expressive eyes as he said this.
“And I love you, Dean,” he replied. A smile, then another kiss.
But finally Dean pulled back reluctantly. “It’s too cold out here for this,” he told John. “Let’s go inside, pet the kitties, and make some cocoa. Then we can ‘keep each other warm’. What do you say?”
“I say that’s the best ideas I’ve ever heard,” John replied fervently.
Dean laughed and slung an arm around his waist. “Come on, baby. I want to be ‘teacher’s pet’,” he said, and John’s laughter sounded out on the cold still air as the two men went into their house and shut the door behind them.
The End