DATE NIGHT

a “Zero at the Bone” short fiction by Jane Seville

Author’s ote: This short story takes place right after the epilogue of “Zero at the Bone.” During that epilogue,
Jack referred to a going-away party for a colleague that he had to attend, and D volunteered to accompany him to
the party.

“Jack, come on! We gonna be late!”

Jack came out of the master bathroom, teeth brushed and hair combed. D was putting on a jacket and fidgeting with
himself. “Relax, it’s a party, we don’t have to be there at nine on the dot.”

D nodded. He looked a little nervous. “Uh…I look all right?” he muttered.

Jack grinned. D had on Jack’s personal favorite of his jeans, dark blue denim with just the right amount of wear,
and they fit him like they’d been sculpted to his ass. He’d paired them with a white button-down and a dark gray
jacket. Jack stepped up and straightened the lapels, mostly just for an excuse to touch him. “You look hot.”

D grumbled. “Don’t wanna look hot. Jus…ain’t met most a these folks before, don’t wanna be no embarrassment.”

“You could never be an embarrassment. I wish I could get you to wear some color, though.”

“You the colorful one,” D said, nodding towards Jack’s red turtleneck.

Jack took a step back. “You’re all jittery. Relax, huh? It was your idea to come with me. It isn’t too late to back
out, you know. I can go alone, I don’t mind.”

D seemed to consider this, then flapped a hand. “Nah. Lot a yer friends gonna be there…guess I oughta show my
face once in awhile, huh?”

Jack’s chest swelled with absurd emotion as he watched D putting on his watch, patting his pockets to check for
wallet and cell phone. He had no illusions. D wasn’t coming to Abe Avendale’s goodbye party because he was
dying to meet Jack’s colleagues. He was doing it for Jack, because he knew Jack liked to be social and he was
getting shit from some of his co-workers about having an imaginary friend for a partner. Only Portia and her
husband had met D, and he’d been physically glimpsed by a couple of nurses, but other than that, the only way Jack
could prove that he didn’t live with Harvey the Rabbit was the photo of D he kept on his desk.

Jack smiled. “Maybe I ought to help you take the edge off before we leave,” he said, reaching for D’s belt buckle.

“Hey!” D said, shoving at Jack’s hands. “We gotta get goin!”

“We’ll be fashionably late,” Jack said, dropping to his knees.

“C’mon, Jack,” D said, but his protests were rapidly weakening at the prospect of a spontaneous blowjob. “Ain’t the
time…” He sucked in a breath as Jack grabbed his hips and abruptly swallowed him to the root. “Fuck,” he hissed.

“Don’t have that much time,” Jack muttered, getting back to it fast. D’s hand was in his hair, his hips making
shallow thrusts into Jack’s mouth. D was right about one thing tonight; they didn’t really have a lot of time.
Luckily, it didn’t take long. Jack went at D hard and fast, smiling to himself at the groans he was able to pull from
him, until D grabbed his head and came into his mouth, gasping.

Jack stood up. “Feel better?”

“Shit,” D muttered, blinking. He tucked himself back in and zipped up. “Goddamn, doc. A little warnin maybe,
huh?”

“We better go.”

“We ain’t goin nowhere,” D said, grabbing Jack’s arm as he passed.

“We aren’t?”

D smirked. “Not until you brush your teeth.”

The party was at Portia’s house, since Abe and his wife had already shipped half their house to Tucson. Jack pulled
up behind a Pathfinder with the license plate “BRAINDOC.”

“How come you don’t have one a those?” D asked, nodding at the license plate as they got out of the car.

“Because I’m not an arrogant asshole,” Jack grumbled.

“O-kay. Sorry I asked.”

“No, it’s just…that’s Kyle McInerney’s car and I can’t stand him.”

D sighed as they walked up the sidewalk to Portia’s house. “I ain’t gonna know nobody in there cept Portia and
Andy, am I?”

“I doubt it.” Jack stopped walking. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, turning to face D.

He shook his head. “I know. I get that yer givin me an out, Jack, but come on. I can face down armed hitmen but a
party’s too much? My manly honor’s at stake, here.”

Jack smiled. “Okay.” He leaned in and kissed him. D was blushing a little when he drew back. “Come on, let’s
get it over with.”

Portia answered the door, smiling widely. “Here you are,” she said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Everyone’s
been asking if you were bringing him,” she murmured in his ear.

“Well, here he is, but go easy on him,” Jack whispered back, stepping past her into the house.

“So glad you could come, D,” Portia said, giving him a welcoming smile. “Jack’s friends are dying to meet you.”

“Uh…thanks, I guess,” D said, as he and Jack moved past her into the house. Portia and Andy had a big house,
contemporary and quirky, that showcased Portia’s affinity for big, bold colors. There were at least thirty people
milling about in the great room and kitchen. Jack heard his name called a few times as colleagues hailed his arrival.

“That’s Abe over there,” he muttered to D, nodding toward Dr. Avendale, a tall man with a bushy salt-and-pepper
beard.

D smirked. “My. Ain’t he right out of a Normal Rockwell painting?”

Jack chuckled. “I’ve always thought that. All he needs is a bow tie.”

“Should we, uh…go say hi? Y’know, bein it’s his party n all.”

“Let’s get a drink first,” Jack said, spotting Andy over at the kitchen island, pouring drinks.

“Oh, dear fuckin Lord yes,” D muttered.

Jack led the way through the pack of people, nodding at colleagues and breaking a path in front of D, who was
practically imploding, he was hunched into himself so much.

“Hey, Jack!” Andy exclaimed as they approached, tossing out his hand for a quick grip-and-grin. “And D, holy
cow, never thought I’d catch you at a party like this,” he said.

D shrugged, relaxing a bit in the company of someone he knew. “Well, ya know…gotta show my face once in
awhile, guess.”

“You want a beer?”

“Oh, you bet.” D took the beer from Andy’s hand while Jack poured himself a gin and tonic.

“Hey, Jack!” exclaimed a slick-looking man, sidling up to the island.

Jack smiled and shook the man’s hand. “Hey, Rob.” He nodded at D. “I don’t think you’ve met my partner,
Anson.”

Rob, whoever he was, extended a hand and grinned, his eyes wide and surprised. “Whoa, so you exist after all!
Well, hell! I guess I owe Stefan twenty bucks!” He laughed a kind of good-natured-guy-at-party laugh. It made
D’s skin crawl.

“Nice ta meet you,” he managed.

“We were starting to think Jack made you up!”

“Uh-huh. Got that impression.”

“Thought maybe that picture on his desk came with the frame!” More guy-at-party laughter.

D’s tight smile was starting to hurt. I get the drift, buddy. Move on. Jack stepped in just before D could pop off
with a rude remark. For example, “Let see how made-up my fist feels in yer face.”

“So, Rob, we’re going to go say hi to Abe. Nice seeing you.”

“You bet, Jack. Nice to meet you, Adam.”

“Anson,” D muttered under his breath as Jack pulled him away by the upper arm.

“Sorry,” Jack murmured. “He’s actually a pretty nice guy.”

D grumbled. “If you say so.”

Having met everyone he was supposed to meet and endured more “we were starting to wonder if you existed” jibes
than he thought was reasonable for one man to endure, D slipped away to get another drink, leaving Jack talking to
one of his colleagues.

They were nice people, most of them. But they weren’t his people.

But Jack’s your people. And he’s…well, kinda like them. What’s that tell ya?

D sighed and swigged half his beer. He didn’t know if he’d ever be comfortable in this world, Jack’s world. He
wanted to be, for Jack’s sake, and he couldn’t very well ask for the same effort from Jack. Jack couldn’t be
comfortable in his world when he didn’t have a world anymore. The whole idea of all of this had been to get away
from the world he’d been trapped in and make a new life.

He leaned in a doorway that led off toward the bedrooms, tucked off in the shadows, happily sequestering himself
from the conversation all around him. He watched them, unable to shake the predator’s instincts that catalogued
each of their heights and weights, which hand was their dominant hand, who would be a challenge in a fight, who
would lay down and surrender.

Jack stood out like a spotlight was shining on him, at least he did to D’s eyes. He had an easy sincerity about him
that made everyone else look forced and ill-rehearsed. His smile was...well, what it always was, namely D’s light in
the window.

He didn’t know how long he stood there mooning over his fella, but his reverie was interrupted by a tug on his
trouser leg. He looked down to see Portia and Andy’s six-year-old daughter, Ellen, standing there looking up at him
with a serious expression. He’d met her a couple of times when he and Jack had been over here. “Well, hey there,”
he said.

“Hi, Mr. D,” she said.

“Ain’t you s’posed ta be in bed?”

“Yeah. Don’t tell, okay?”

“Okay.”

She grabbed his hand. “Come to my room and play. I wanna show you my Lego building.”

D let himself be dragged off. Legos sounded like more fun than the party, that was for sure.

Ellen’s room was a primary-colored, cheerfully disorderly little girl’s Fortress of Solitude, filled with books and
stuffed animals and hand-drawn pictures on the walls. He saw Portia’s red braids jutting wildly from her head in
Ellen’s crayon-rendered family portraits.

She looked to be in the midst of a Lego engineering project on a par with the Great Wall of China. D sat cross-
legged on her fluffy yellow rug. “So whatcha got goin on here?” he asked, cocking his head at her Escher-like
confabulation of rooms and openings.

“It’s the castle for Miss Pattycake,” she said, holding up a troll doll with bright neon pink hair and a dress that
looked like Ellen had made it from a scrap of her drapery fabric.

“Oh, Miss Pattycake, huh?” D said. He took his cue from Ellen and started putting more blocks on the castle,
wherever he saw a spot. “This all right?”

“I’m just making it bigger now,” she said. They continued their construction in silence for a few moments. “You
go with Uncle Jack, right?” she said.
“What you mean, go with?”

Ellen rolled her eyes theatrically. “You know. Like Mommy goes with Daddy. And, uh…like cereal goes with
milk. You know.”

D smirked. “Oh. Yeah, I s’pose I do.”

“How come you don’t come over with him?”

“I did tonight.”

“But not the other times.”

“What other times?”

“When he comes for dinner. He’s by himself then.”

“Oh.” D looked down at the little Lego cubes in his hands. He knew Jack was over here a couple of times a week,
naturally Ellen would have gotten used to seeing him alone. “Well, I got a job that means I gotta be away a lot.”

“My mommy’s a doctor,” Ellen said. “She fixes kids’ bones when they fall down or get broken, and if I don’t
wanna get broken, I have to be careful when I ride my bike and I have to wear a helmet.”

D nodded. “That sounds like real good advice,” he said, his tone serious. “Y’know, Uncle Jack’s a doctor, too.”

“I know. He fixes people’s faces. Sometimes little kids are born with faces that didn’t get made quite right and he
fixes them.”

“Yep, he sure does.”

“And then my dad stays home to take care of me but when he’s typing fast I’m s’posed to be quiet as I can and only
go get him if I need to reach something high or I hurt myself.”

D grinned. Andy was a stay-at-home dad, but he did some freelance translation work for the UN. “That so?”

“Uh-huh. But if he’s only clicking and not typing fast it’s okay if I talk to him or ask him to play Lego.” She
passed him an action figure that was some kind of elf guy. “What’s your job?”

“Well…guess you’d say I catch bad guys.”

“Like a policeman?”

“Yeah, kinda. Do you know who the FBI are?”

Ellen’s eyes got big. “Like Mulder and Scully!”

D frowned. “How you know them? That show’s way too grown-up for you.”

“My daddy likes it and he has a poster on his wall in the office. Do you catch aliens?”

“That’s all made up, you know. Ain’t no such thing as aliens. But there are bad guys and I help catch them.”

She nodded, so serious like she was conducting a job interview. “I hope you’re careful,” she said.
D looked at her little face and suddenly felt like crying. If he shut his eyes he could see Jill, his own little girl, and
how she used to say that to him when he was leaving for duty. He blinked fast and pretended to be enthralled by the
elf figure he was holding.

“Did you get sad?” Ellen asked.

“Huh?”

“Your eyes look all shiny.”

“Oh. No, I’m okay, honey. Just…” He smiled. “I had a little girl once, myself.”

“Where is she?” Ellen asked, excited, maybe hoping for a playmate.

D regretted bringing it up. Surely he shouldn’t tell a six-year-old about his daughter’s death, that could scare her.
And he didn’t know how much Portia and Andy had told her about death, it wasn’t his place to tell her things she
wasn’t ready for. “She, uh…lives far away,” he stammered.

“Oh. With her mom? You got divorced, huh?” Ellen said, nodding.

“Yeah,” D said. At least that was the truth.

“And then you met Uncle Jack?”

“Yep, that’s right.”

“Are you married?”

D flushed. “Uh…kinda, I guess. Might as well be.”

“My mom says boys can marry boys and girls can marry girls but some people don’t think they can.”

“What do you think?”

She shrugged, absorbed in her Lego metropolis. “Boys are icky, I wouldn’t wanna marry one. But that’s just me,”
she said.

D burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s jus you, is it?” he said.

Ellen giggled. “Yeah! But Uncle Jack is nice. He’s not as icky. He smells good and he doesn’t pick his nose.”

“Two of his better qualities, yeah.”

“So it’s okay if you wanna marry him, I guess.”

“Well, I appreciate the support.”

Ellen jumped up. “Uncle Jack!” she yelled. D turned around to see Jack leaning in the doorway, grinning. Ellen
waved at him. “We’re playing Legos!”

“I see,” Jack said, crossing his arms, his eyes twinkling. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

“The, uh…the lady needed some Lego assistance,” D intoned.

Portia appeared at Jack’s side. “Ellen Marie! You are supposed to be in bed, young lady!” she scolded.
D got up. “Nice talking to you, Ellen.”

“Night, Mr. D,” Ellen said, allowing herself to be bundled back into bed.

D followed Jack back out into the hallway, but instead of heading back to the great room, Jack buttonholed him into
a side corridor that led to the guest room. He turned D’s back to the wall and stood close before him. “You making
new friends?” he murmured.

D’s hands wandered to Jack’s hips. “I bailed. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I know you hate parties. You met everybody, made some small talk. More than I expected, even.”

“It ain’t the people. Most of em seem nice enough. It’s just…”

“I know what it is,” Jack said, ducking his head to grab D’s lowered eyes with his own. “You think you can’t be one
of them because of who you used to be. You think there’s nothing you can have in common with them. But it isn’t
true, you know. You must have thought the same thing about me at one point.”

“Yeah, I did. But somehow I don’t think most a them are gonna respond to our technique of getting ta know each
other,” D said, smirking.

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure. I swear I caught Evan Gennarro eyeballing your ass,” Jack said, sliding one hand down
to the body part in question.

D snorted and flapped a hand. “I saw that guy eyeballin everyone with a pulse.”

“Regardless. He can’t have you.”

“No, he cain’t.” D smiled at Jack. “Let’s get outta here.”

“You want to go home?”

“Nah. Just wanna go somewhere else. Little more…private, maybe.”

A slow smile crept over Jack’s face. “Oh, it’s like that, is it?”

“You bet it’s like that,” D said, answering Jack’s smile.

They made their goodbyes, Jack bidding Dr. Avendale good luck in Tucson. Portia walked them to the door, and for
the first time in his memory D didn’t feel awkward accepting her kiss on the cheek, to the point of giving her one
back. He certainly owed Portia some consideration, since he was well aware of how much support Jack got from
her and her family during D’s long absences. He saw Jack smile at this gesture, and then they were out the door.

Jack drove, not speaking. He seemed to know where he was going. D’s hand rested on the back of Jack’s neck, his
fingers riffling through his hair.

They ended up at an out-of-the-way club in the Short North, a quiet hideaway with a couple of musicians noodling
on their instruments and somehow generating music. This neighborhood was heavily gay and there were about
equal numbers of same and opposite sex couples at the tables, on the dance floor, at the bar, tucked away in the
shadowed semicircular booths.

D went to the bar and got them drinks, then joined Jack at a corner booth, sliding in next to him. Jack sat close, his
hand resuming its place on the inside of D’s knee. They didn’t talk, just sipped their drinks, watched the other
people in the bar, and let their hands and eyes do the conversing.
Jack seemed lost in thought, turning his glass around on the tabletop, a vague smile lurking at the corners of his
mouth as D brushed his nose through the dark hair at Jack’s temple, smelling his shampoo and the sweet/salty scent
of his skin. “You mean what you said to Ellen?” he finally murmured, turning toward D, which left them practically
bumping noses.

“What’d I say?”

“That we were more or less married.”

“Hmm. You makin a suggestion?”

“No.” Jack turned his head back to the front.

D watched Jack’s profile. “Maybe I was.”

“I don’t need that from you.”

“What, a proposal?”

“Yeah.” Jack faced him again. “I don’t need it.”

“What if I wanna make it?”

“That’s up to you. But we can’t be more honest than we are already.”

D lifted one hand and smoothed it over Jack’s hair, feeling a tug deep in his belly. “It ain’t about needin somethin,”
he said. “It’s about bein somethin.”

Jack sighed, then slid away from D. “C’mon,” he said. “Dance with me.”

D watched him get up and face him. “Huh?”

“Dance. You know, like that?” he said, nodding over his shoulder to the half-dozen couples who were moving
slowly to the lazy music.

D wanted to protest, to decline, but he knew he didn’t have grounds. Nobody here would bat an eye over two guys
dancing. It was dark and smoky and nobody would even notice them, like as not. So he just nodded, and got to his
feet. Jack led him to the small open area where the other couples were dancing; he turned around and they folded
against each other, neither one really leading or following, hands on shoulders and waists without form. D shut his
eyes as they swayed together, Jack’s temple pressed against his and his body warm against D’s.

After a time everything else faded away, and it was just him and Jack, moving together naturally, holding each other
with gentle restraint that they wouldn’t have had at home, just enjoying the closeness without rushing ahead to a
more intimate embrace. Jack felt strong and relaxed, and it wasn’t long before D was too, Jack leading him into
easy contentment here just as he had always done.

To leave a comment on this story or either of the two preceding, please click this link:

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For your reference, a Zero timeline.

June 2006 - D takes the contract on Jack’s life.

Summer 2006 - D and Jack on the run.

Fall 2006 - The trial, Jack’s testimony, Jack and D part.

Christmas 2006 - Jack goes to Redding and finds the letter from D

May 2007 - D and Jack are reunited

June 2007 - D and Jack move to Columbus

November 2007 - The epilogue of Zero takes place

Time After Time

A “Zero at the Bone” short story

March, 2008

D always felt smaller at Jack’s hospital. He didn’t go there often, but whenever he did,
he felt profoundly out of his element. He’d barely been sick a day in his life, he’d been
away when his daughter was born, and most of his injuries had taken place on the job
and had to be treated in the field with whatever he had to hand, so hospitals weren’t
places he was too familiar with, or keen to become so.

This was Jack’s world, a world he couldn’t share with him. A world of white-coated men
and women who were much smarter than he was and could rattle off hundred-dollar
words that blew by him like speeding semis on a highway. But it pleased Jack to
pretend that D could ever fit in here among the Lexus-driving surgeons and the kind-
faced nurses and the tiny patients bearing their terrible conditions with more courage
than D could fathom, so he made himself tolerate it.

He wouldn’t be here at all if he could have gotten Jack on the phone, but it had gone to
voicemail all morning. He must have had surgery this morning.
D was halfway down the hall to Jack’s office when he was hailed.

“D? Wait up a second!” He turned and saw with no surprise Portia jogging towards
him, her red braids bouncing on her shoulders, dressed in scrubs and electric blue
Dansko clogs. She grinned as she caught up to him. “What are you doing here?”

“Came home early, wanted ta come surprise Jack. You seen him?”

“Oh, he’ll be thrilled! He was in surgery all morning, he ought to be back soon.”

“Thought I’d take him ta lunch or somethin.”

“More like have him for lunch,” she said, winking. D felt the blood slam into his face at
Portia’s typical frankness. “He might be able to take the afternoon off, I don’t think he
has another procedure scheduled.”

D nodded. “That’d be good.” What he had to tell Jack wasn’t suitable for lunchtime
conversation.

Portia was watching his face. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, sure. Why’d ya ask?”

“Oh, no reason.” She smiled again. “Jack’s been so looking forward to having you
home again. Been a long trip this time, huh?”

“Three weeks, yeah. And it ain’t exactly my favorite thing neither, Portia.”

D saw all the things Portia would probably have liked to say to him flicker behind her
eyes, but then they slid past him. “Well, here he is now,” she said.

He turned and felt that becoming-familiar swelling in his chest at the sight of Jack
coming down the hallway, dressed in his own scrubs, his nose buried in a chart. Jack
looked up and saw D standing there, and his whole face lit up in a way that made D
wonder for the millionth time how he could ever leave town again. Jack walked faster,
grinning, not slowing down as he drew near but instead throwing both arms around D in
a tight bear-hug that D couldn’t help but return. “You’re home early,” Jack said against
his cheek.

“Yep,” D said, pulling back. “Can I steal ya for lunch?”

“Hell, it’s Friday and I’m done for the day. You can steal me for the weekend.”

“Hmm. That is a steal,” D said, smirking.

“You want to come for lunch, Portia?” Jack said, looking past D. D turned and shot
Portia a look that Jack couldn’t see.

She didn’t miss a beat. “Thanks, but I can’t. I’ve got three pre-op consults this
afternoon. Two compound fractures, one broken kneecap and a partridge in a pear
tree.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. Let me just grab my stuff and we can go.” He touched D’s arm
once again and walked back to his office door.

“Thanks,” D said, keeping his voice low.

“You don’t need any hangers-on.”

“You really got them consults today?”

Portia smiled. “All I have this afternoon is paperwork, D. You guys have a good time.”
She winked at him again and went off down the hall.

Jack followed D to his car. “Where’d you park?” D asked.

“Screw it, you can bring me back later. Let’s just go.” They got in D’s car.

“Yer awful impatient.”

Jack smiled, not his public-consumption friendly-doctor smile but his private, D’s-eyes-
only sexy slanty smile. He reached over and slid his hand over D’s knee. “Want to find
out?”

“Damn,” D said, half under his breath, the heat of Jack’s hand traveling up his leg.
“Where you wanna get lunch?”

“Nowhere. Let’s go home.”

“Aw, Jack, I’m starvin.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t going to get anything to eat,” Jack said, his eyes twinkling.

D looked at him, his hunger quickly receding into irrelevance. Jack could always get his
blood up, no question. He backed out of his parking spot and roared out of the lot,
turning onto Livingston Avenue. Thank god it was less than a mile to their house. It felt
like a lot longer, though, with Jack’s hand creeping up his thigh.
He careened into their driveway and they both tumbled out, Jack fumbling for his house
keys, D crowding up behind him as he got the door open, both of them half-falling
through the doorway, grabbing at each other before Jack could even get the door shut.
Jack dropped his briefcase and coat, his tongue already in D’s mouth before he’d freed
his arms to yank him close so D couldn’t even get out of his own coat. “Shit, doc,” D
gasped. “You been eatin yer Wheaties fer sure,” he managed between bruising kisses.

Jack grinned again, the crinkle-lines at the corners of his eyes bunching up. “No shit,”
he said, then suddenly he bent and grabbed D around the thighs, and D let out an
undignified squawk as he felt his feet leaving the floor.

“Jesus, Jack!” he exclaimed, stunned to find himself slung over Jack’s shoulder like a
sack of potatoes. “What the fuck6put me down!”

“Make me,” Jack said, proceeding across the living room.

“When’d you get so fuckin strong?” D stammered, the blood rushing to his inverted head
as he stared at Jack’s ass flexing as he climbed the stairs. It wasn’t that surprising. D
was an inch taller but Jack outweighed him by a good twenty pounds, most of it muscle
that seemed to love piling itself onto Jack’s body in the same way it resisted building up
onto D’s lanky skeleton.

“What do you think I do when you’re gone for weeks on end?”

“Beat off.”

Jack snorted. “Besides that.”

“If I hadta guess I’d say work out.”

“Damn straight.” He snorted again. “Pardon the pun.” Suddenly D was flying through
the air, whipping back over Jack’s shoulder. He landed on his back in the middle of
their bed, Jack looming over him looking smug as hell. “Ask me how long I’ve wanted to
do that.”

“What, carry me off and have yer way with me like some kinda caveman?”

“Exactly.” He bent and kissed him hard and all too briefly. “You stay still, now.” He
yanked D’s coat out from under him, then opened his shirt buttons and got that off him,
too. He bent and pulled off D’s shoes, socks and finally pants, leaving him naked on the
bed. D just lay there and let him, being a good boy and surprising himself with how
much it was exciting him to just let Jack take total control of him. It wasn’t the first time,
but it was definitely the most insistent.

Jack straightened up and started taking off his own clothes, slowly enough to be
torturous, keeping his eyes locked on D’s the whole time, watching as D’s breathing
sped and his chest flushed with arousal as Jack revealed himself to him piece by piece.
D never tired of Jack’s body, of losing himself it, of feeling it wrapped around him. He
could just hold it for hours, feeling the pulse of Jack’s blood, hearing the rush of the life
coursing through him, his warmth and his scent and the silky sweetness of his skin
against D’s. Watching Jack unwrap himself like a long-anticipated present was better
than all the Christmases he’d never celebrated.

D woke up alone in bed, but he could hear Jack’s footsteps on the stairs. He rubbed his
eyes and sat up as Jack came back in carrying a couple of sandwiches on a plate and
two beers. “Still hungry?” he said, coming back to the bed.

“Bout ready ta eat this6what the hell ya call it?”

“Duvet.”

“Fuckin blanket, Jack.”

“Well, don’t eat it, it was expensive. Here, it’s roast beef.”

D took the sandwich and devoured it, his stomach remembering it was supposed to be
hungry. Jack just reclined against the pillows and watched him. “That was some hot
sex we just had,” he said.

“Mmm,” D mumbled, his mouth full of roast beef. “Did okay fer a warm-up.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “Just a warm-up? You got plans, cowboy?”

“Wouldn’t you like ta know.” He polished off the sandwich in three more bites and took
a swig of beer to wash it down.

“You didn’t mind?”

D looked at him. “Mind what?”

“You know. The way I just kind of6manhandled you.”

D blushed. “Seem like I minded?”

“A person can not mind during the act but mind a whole lot later.”

“Huh,” D said, lying back and putting his plate aside. “Guess6times I jus want that.”

“Want what?”
He shrugged. How could he articulate this to Jack when he could barely do it in his own
head? “Fer you ta jus6ya know. Take me.”

“Really?”

“Jack, I got a lot on me, all the fuckin time. Responsible fer people’s lives and shit,
wonderin when I’m next gonna get shot at, or any a my team, wondering who’s gonna
be the next6” He stopped short of saying her name, but he could see by Jack’s face
that he knew what D had been about to say. “Anyway. Times I jus wanna be helpless.
Jus let you do whatever you want and gimme what for like I ain’t got no say. That make
any sense?”

Jack nodded. “It makes perfect sense. I’m just surprised you’d admit it.”

“Well, if I cain’t tell the man fuckin me, who’m I gonna tell? Portia?”

He laughed. “She’d be thrilled to hear every detail.”

“I bet.” D reached out and twined his fingers through Jack’s. “But6thing is, darlin6I
got somethin ta tell you that you ain’t gonna like.”

He saw Jack stiffen a little, bracing himself. “What?”

“I ain’t back early. Not really. Just back fer tomorrow. I gotta leave again Sunday
mornin.”

Jack just stared at him, then sagged, his eyes full of miserable resignation. “For how
long?”

D sighed. “Three fuckin weeks.”

“Three weeks! Anson, you’ve just been gone for three! They can’t make you do that!”

“I got to, Jack. It’s real important. Me n Frank gotta go overseas. I shouldn’t even be
takin these couple days, but I told Myerson if I’m gonna be gone again fer so long I
gotta see my man fer jus a bit.”

“So I ought to be grateful I get just this time with you?”

“I don’t like it anymore’n you do.”

Jack held his gaze for a moment, then disentangled his hand and turned away, getting
up off the bed and pulling on his sweatpants. He stood for a moment, hands on hips,
his back turned. D could almost see him getting himself under control. “If you have to, I
guess you have to,” he said.
“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” Jack finally faced him again. “Well, I was going to suggest we go up to
Gallery Hop tomorrow, but if I’ve only got you until Sunday morning then we’re not
leaving the house.”

“What’s at Gallery Hop?”

“Guy I know has a show opening at the Mahan Gallery.”

D’s eyes narrowed, that familiar sense of cold dread stealing up his spine. Nobody’s
gonna take him from me. Not ever. “What guy?”

Jack shrugged. “Guy I met at the dojo. Does these mixed-media collages with glass
and6” He broke off, seeing D’s face, and then shook his head, hard. “And oh yeah,
I’m sleeping with him. Is that what you’re waiting to hear?”

“I ain’t said that.”

“You were thinking it, and don’t you dare deny it.”

“I don’t wanna fight, Jack.”

“Then you shouldn’t have been looking at me like I was describing my next boyfriend.
There’s you and then after you there’s death, got it?”

“I wish ta hell you wouldn’t put it like that.”

“I wish to hell there was another way to put it that’d get through to you.”

“You got needs, Jack, and I’m gone so fuckin much6”

Jack whirled around from hanging up their discarded clothes from earlier. “Really?
Seriously? Your job keeps you away for weeks on end so therefore I get punished?”

“Who’s punishin you?”

“D, it’s a punishment when I can’t even mention a male acquaintance or colleague
without you looking like you’re imagining me sleeping with him. You have needs too,
and us being apart affects you just like it does me, but do you see me acting like you’re
going to start sleeping with Frank?”

D made a face. “Shit, Jack. You know I wouldn’t do nothin like that.”

“Neither would I, but you sure seem to think I might!”

“Ain’t you I don’t trust, Jack, it’s the rest a the guys in the world!”

“Not every man I meet wants to fuck me, you know!” They were both shouting now.

“How d’you know that? How can anybody not want ta fuck you, Jack?”

“I’m not that irresistible, for Christ’s sake!”

“I’ll be the judge a that!” D roared.

Jack just stared at him, then burst into mad, near-screaming laughter. “So, let me get
this straight,” he said, giggling. “We’re fighting because I’m just too damn hot,
according to you?”

D tried to fight it, but the smile was stronger. He crossed his arms and attempted to
look serious. “That’s right. Can ya work on that, please?”

“Sure. I’ll just stop brushing my teeth.”

“Maybe you could get an unsightly wart.”

Jack came over and slid his arms around D’s waist. “I can’t get too ugly. I need to keep
you interested.”

D lifted a hand and brushed a lock of Jack’s hair back off his forehead. “I’d love ya even
if ya had a third eye, Jack.”

Jack visibly melted. “How do you do that? Always say the right thing?”

“C’mon, Jack. I hardly ever say the right thing. But when I do, makes up fer all the
dumbass things I say.” He pulled Jack into his arms, tucking his face down into his
neck. “I’m sorry. I jus6I cain’t lose you. Cain’t help but worry bout somebody tryin ta
take you away.”

Jack pulled back and rubbed his nose against D’s. “Nobody could take me away unless
I wanted to go, and I don’t.”

D kissed him, slow and thorough the way Jack liked. “Even if I am a jealous, ornery
bastard?”

“I never said you were a bastard.”

D grinned. “Oh, you gonna pay fer that,” he said, grabbing Jack around the middle and
tossing him to the bed.
“Sunday morning? Really?” Jack murmured. They were lying languid among the
twisted sheets, twined tightly together in the aftermath of slower, less caveman sex.

D pulled him closer. “Fraid so.”

“What’s this in Europe that’s taking you away?”

He considered whether he should tell Jack the truth, but only for a moment. Jack was
the only one who always got the truth. “You remember JJ?”

“Who?”

“One a the assassins got hired ta take you out in Baltimore.”

“Oh yeah. The older lady, the poisoner.”

“That’s the one.”

“What about her?”

D sighed. “She’s dead. Somebody got ta her. And she ain’t the first. She’s the third
from my former profession ta turn up dead in the last month. Lookin like somebody’s
pickin em off.”

Jack’s head came up. “Are you in danger?” he said, an edge coming to his voice.

“No more’n usual. Best thing for it is fer me ta find who’s doin it and shut em down.”

Jack was watching his face carefully. “How did JJ die?”

“Double tap to the back of the head.”

He relaxed minutely. “So, not like6”

D shook his head. “No. Not like Jennifer Nang.”

“I almost hoped it was the same killer, so you could catch him finally.”

“Jack6can we not, please?”

“You need to be shut of that case. We need to be shut of that case.”

“I ain’t gonna be till I catch him.”

Jack seemed on the verge of further comment, then he just lowered his head to D’s
chest again. “I just want to lie here with you until you have to leave.” He stroked one
hand up and down D’s flank. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

D kissed the top of Jack’s head. “Right back ta you, baby.”

For your reference, a Zero timeline.

June 2006 - D takes the contract on Jack’s life.

Summer 2006 - D and Jack on the run.

Fall 2006 - The trial, Jack’s testimony, Jack and D part.

Christmas 2006 - Jack goes to Redding and finds the letter from D

May 2007 - D and Jack are reunited

June 2007 - D and Jack move to Columbus

November 2007 - The epilogue of Zero takes place

March 7, 2008, a Friday afternoon – “Time After Time”

Liar
A “Zero at the Bone” short story

March 9, 2008 -- Sunday morning

Sunday morning. That mythical morning of Jack’s imaginings involving lazy sunlit hours
in bed with coffee and bagels, reading the Sunday paper. Slow, languid kisses amidst
the warm and rumpled sheets, no need to rise, no obligations.

The number of times he and D had actually managed such a fantasy Sunday was zero
point zero zero.

They didn’t speak beyond what was necessary as they made breakfast in the kitchen.
D made the coffee, Jack made some toast and eggs, scrambled for him, over easy for
D. It wasn’t even 8:00. Jack wore only his robe, but D was fully dressed. His bag was
packed and waiting by the door. After breakfast he’d be leaving the house again, after
about thirty-six hours home, and wouldn’t return for at least three weeks. Jack was
trying and failing not to feel resentful. He’d made it through the last three weeks of
separation by thinking of the two weeks they were supposed to have had together now.
He’d taken time off work next week so they could go away. He’d imagined dinners
they’d make, movies they’d see, walks they’d take, conversations they’d share, and sex
they’d have. Now he had to find a way to get through this next separation without
knowing how long he’d have after that.

He knew that D didn’t like it any more than he did, but some part of him wondered.
Wouldn’t he find a way around it if he really didn’t want it this way? Couldn’t he do
something else?

Jack knew that the time would come when he wouldn’t be able to tolerate this lifestyle.
He was trying to be supportive. D needed to do what he was doing. He understood
that. But that would only take him so far. He didn’t know how long it would be before
his frustration with what it was doing to their relationship tipped the scales against his
understanding of D’s needs.

They ate in silence. It wasn’t angry silence, or tense silence. It was just resigned
silence. Nothing could be said that wouldn’t be depressing.

Jack got up and started to clear their dishes. D reached out as he walked by and
stopped him, then drew him close, his hands going to the tie on Jack’s robe. He slowly
pulled it loose and spread the robe, exposing Jack’s nakedness, sliding his hands
around Jack’s waist and resting his head against his chest. Jack put down the plates
and pulled D to his feet. They tilted into a gentle kiss, D’s arms around Jack underneath
his robe. Jack felt the heat rise in his chest, his blood pushing to the surface, his body’s
response to D familiar and reassuring. But they couldn’t go any further than that, not if
D wanted to make it out of the house before noon.

Jack followed him to the front door. He turned at the last minute, his eyes full of
sadness and reluctance. Jesus, how can I doubt that he doesn’t want to leave me?
Look at him. Jack stepped forward and they embraced tightly. He felt D turn his face
into his neck, breathing deeply, scenting him.

Then, out the door. Jack’s arms cold and empty. The bed upstairs too large again.

Sadness, irritation and resentment quickly gave way to boredom. Jack cleaned the
kitchen, changed the sheets on the bed, did the laundry, and finally ended up
reorganizing all the back issues of “Entertainment Weekly” languishing unread on the
coffee table.

Jesus. Get out of the house. Go for a run or something.

Good advice. Jack put on his running clothes, strapped his iPod to his bicep and
headed out. He ran around Schiller park three times, then back up City Park Drive to
Livingston, then turned around and headed back to the house. When he reached it he
didn’t feel like stopping, so he ran past and went around the park again.

By the time he finally stopped, his thigh muscles were singing opera and sweat was
dripping down his face.

Great. Now what?

He showered, standing under the spray until the water started to cool.

He’ll probably call tonight.

Jack toweled off, shaking his head. Was this what he’d been reduced to? Waiting by
the phone like a teenaged girl for his man to call? Wondering if the next call he got
would be from Myerson, informing him that D had been killed?

I can’t think about that.

At times he couldn’t help it. D’s job was dangerous. The idea of losing him was so
terrifying it made Jack want to throw up, then curl in a corner where nobody could see
him.

He dressed in jeans and a sweater and grabbed his keys. It was dark by now. He’d go
see a movie. That would take his mind off things.

It was almost eleven o’clock by the time Jack got out of the theater. He’d come down to
the Drexel, an art-house theater chain with old-fashioned marquees and bow-tied
ushers. It was in one of the best neighborhoods in town, but only a few blocks west was
some of the worst, so it wasn’t a smart idea to walk too far alone at night.

He’d parked in a lot a few blocks away, so he buttoned up his coat and set off. Within a
few minutes he was chilled to the bone. It hadn’t seemed this far when he’d walked to
the theater earlier.

He passed a gas station, darkened and closed up for the night. A scuffle from the
darkness made him stop. A voice cried out; more scuffling.

What the fuck?

The voice resolved into a woman’s cry. “Hey, stop!”

Jack fingered his cell phone.

The woman cried out again.

Call the cops.

What would he do?

You’re not him.

Jack grit his teeth and ran towards the scuffle. He rounded the corner and saw a fight
going on behind the gas station, dimly backlit by a streetlamp. The woman who’d cried
out was being restrained while another man, maybe her boyfriend, was beat up by three
men. “Hey!” Jack yelled.

The fighting men looked around. “What the fuck you lookin at, asshole?” one of them
shouted, his voice rough.

“Let him up,” Jack said, nodding towards the man on the ground. “What’s going on
here?”

The ringleader stalked a few steps toward him. “Oh, you want some too? Huh?”

Jack felt something stirring in his belly. Yeah. Yeah, he wanted some, too. “Let her
go,” he said to the man restraining the woman. She was staring at him with wide,
frightened eyes.

The ringleader advanced on Jack, trying to intimidate him with size and swagger and
attitude. To him, Jack probably looked like a regular suburban white guy, the kind who
would be intimidated by a street thug. Most suburban white guys haven’t faced down
armed assassins, though. “Who you tryin ta be, man? Some kinda hero?” the thug
snarled.

Jack shrugged. “Why not?”

The thug didn’t say anything else, he just threw himself at Jack in a clumsy, lumbering
lunge. His fist sailed through the air. Jack sidestepped it, grabbed the guy’s arm,
pivoted and jammed his elbow into his midsection, then flipped him over his hip. The
guy crashed to the pavement and lay still.

He looked up. The others, victims and attackers alike, were staring at him with open
mouths, as if a monkey at the zoo had started reciting Shakespeare. “Shit,” one of the
other thugs said.

Jack’s blood was up. Is this how it feels for you every day? Is this what you didn’t want
for me? “Come on!” he said, beckoning to the others. “Come on!”
The other two looked at each other. “Fuck this,” one of them said. They dropped the
man they’d been beating and ran.

Red and blue lights swept over the parking lot and Jack heard running footsteps. The
fleeing attackers were stopped on the other side of the gas station. A policeman came
running up to him. “Hey, what’s>”

Jack turned and walked a few feet away. He heard the woman’s shrill voice telling the
officer what had happened, she and her boyfriend were mugged, this man came along,
blah blah blah. Jack let the noise fade into the background. He stood at the edge of the
parking lot, listening to his heart pound.

The cop came up to him after a few minutes. “Can I see some ID?”

Jack handed over his wallet. The policeman took down his name and address and
handed it back. “What the hell were you doing?”

He shrugged. “I heard the struggle. I heard her yell. Came back to see what was
going on.”

“So you just waded right in?”

Jack shrugged again.

“Well, pardon me for saying so, Mr. Francisco, but that was really, really stupid.”

Yeah. I know. “Just trying to do the right thing.”

“The right thing is to call us.”

“I can handle myself.”

The cop glanced down at the ringleader, still out cold on the ground. “Yeah, I can see
that. Look, I don’t know what kind of a death wish you have. You watch too many
Chuck Norris movies or what? You got lucky this time. They didn’t pull knives or guns
on you. Probably didn’t think they had to. What the hell were you thinking?”

I really don’t know. “You’re right, officer. I’m sorry. Look>did I commit a crime here?”

“No. You defended yourself with appropriate force. But you shouldn’t have gotten
involved. You got a wife at home? Kids?”

Jack met the man’s eyes. “Husband.”

The cop didn’t seem fazed. “Uh-huh. And what would he say if he knew you were
jumping into street fights?”
He wouldn’t say anything, because his head would have exploded. “Yeah, I get what
you’re saying.”

“Good. Swear you won’t do it again, huh?”

Jack nodded. “I promise, officer.”

The cop didn’t look convinced. “All right, then.” Jack started to go. “Oh, hey.”

He looked back. “What?”

“Um>” The cop glanced over to where paramedics were loading the ringleader onto a
gurney. “That was, uh>nicely done,” he said, sotto voce.

Jack said nothing, just turned and continued on to his car.

Back at home, Jack sat in his darkened bedroom in the reading chair, thinking.

What were you thinking? Why’d you do it?

I just wanted to see what it felt like.

What it felt like to get stabbed or shot or pummeled to a pulp?

I wanted to see if I could do it for real. Not in the dojo. Not in a sparring session. For
real.

Goddamn, if he knew he would blow a fuse.

Jack’s head came up.

Jesus. Is that why?

The phone rang. Jack jumped about a foot, then snatched it up. “Hello?”

“Damn, that was quick. You weren’t sittin there waitin by the damn phone, were ya?”

Jack relaxed back into the chair. “Where are you?”

“Fuckin Heathrow. Hate Heathrow. We got four hours ta wait for our plane ta Berlin.
You in bed?”
“Nah, not yet. I was kind of hoping you’d call.”

“What’d you do today?”

Jack fiddled with the tassles on the throw rug sitting on the arm of the chair. “Nothing
exciting.”

“Aw, that’s just what I wanna hear. Nothin excitin. I got too much fuckin excitement.”

“Did laundry, changed the sheets. Cleaned the kitchen.” He hesitated. “Saw a movie.”

“What movie?”

“’The Counterfeiters.’”

“Was it good?”

“Yeah, it was really good.”

He heard D sigh. “I’m sorry ya hadta go alone, doc.”

“Me, too.” I beat up a guy tonight, D. I did it. What do you think of that? I might do it
again. You never know. I might fly off the handle and become a vigilante. Call it a
family business. What would you say if I just blurted it out like that?

“I jus>I know you were disappointed I hadta leave again so soon.”

“No. Don’t do that, D. Don’t make it all about my feelings, like you always do. You
have emotions, too.”

“Mine are too fuckin mixed up ta be a much use.”

“It gets really old being the healthy one, you know. But yeah, I was disappointed.”

“I was too.”

“I know.”

“I’m jus fuckin sayin.”

“I know, all right?”

“Shit,” D muttered. “Don’t know why I even bothered callin.”

“Why did you, then?”

“Cause that’s what ya do, ain’t it? Gone away on a trip and stuck on layover? Call
home ta let the wife n kids know yer all right?”

“I am not your WIFE!” Jack yelled into the phone.

“I know! Goddamn, it’s jus an expression!”

“You know how I feel about that, D. It isn’t just an expression.”

“I’m sorry, all right? Jesus, cain’t even make a fuckin joke>”

“Do I make jokes about your insecurities?”

“Jus about the ones you think ain’t important.”

I’m not even going to touch that one. “This sucks, D. Why are we at each other’s
throats all of a sudden?”

“Cause we’re pissed off that we barely had two days. I’m ready ta bite somebody’s
head off.”

Jack nodded. “Yeah.”

He heard D breathing. “I remembered why I bothered callin.”

He smiled. “Why’s that?”

“Wanted ta tell you I love you.”

Jack’s smile widened, “So you’re saying>you just called to say ‘I love you?’”

He heard D’s low chuckles. “Yeah. I jus called ta say how much I care.”

Jack burst out laughing. “Oh, praise the Lord! He made a pop-culture reference! I was
starting to give up on him!”

“You know what else?”

“What?”

“I mean it from the bottom a my heart.” Jack lost it. He rolled to the side, braying
hysterically, holding the phone away from his mouth so he didn’t deafen D. “Jack?
Jack!” He pulled himself together, gasping for breath. “Jack, Frank’s lookin at me
funny. I gotta go.”

“Okay>sorry>just>man, oh man>”
“Get a hold a yerself. Weren’t that fuckin funny.”

“It is when it’s you saying it.”

“If you say so. Look, I’ll be callin in a coupla days. You>take care, now. Watch
yerself.” D always said this when he was away. It brought Jack out of his laughing fit
quickly, because if there was one thing he had failed to do tonight, it was to watch
himself.

“D, wait a second.”

“Huh?”

“I love you, too.”

He heard D sigh. It sounded sad. “G’night, baby.” The line went dead.

Jack hung up the phone and sat quietly for a moment, letting his mind settle. He got out
of the reading chair and climbed into bed, but sleep seemed a distant hope.
A Very D
Christmas
A “Zero at the Bone” Holiday Story by

Jane Seville
Once upon a time, there were two men who were probably never
supposed to meet. Maybe they shouldn’t have. But you know how it
is. Shit happens.

One of the men was a surgeon. He had a nice, boring life, and it was
starting to strangle him. One day he saw something he wasn’t supposed
to see, and he became a hunted man. The surgeon agreed to stand up in
court and say what he had seen, so he had to be hidden away until the
day that he could help to take down his pursuers.

The other man was a hired killer. He was a self-appointed judge and jury,
only accepting hits on those who deserved death. But one day, he was
blackmailed into agreeing to kill the surgeon, a man who’d done nothing
wrong in his life. When he came face to face with the surgeon, the killer
found that he couldn’t pull the trigger. He promised to protect the
surgeon, and so the two ran for their lives.

They were chased. They were attacked. They had to hide. The killer was
badly hurt, and the surgeon had to heal him. The surgeon was
kidnapped, and the killer had to save him. They holed up and waited for
the day of the surgeon’s court appearance, and while they waited, they
fell in love.

Later there were car chases, and mysterious benefactors, and courtroom
showdowns, and blood and near-death experiences and sad
separations. But in the end, the killer found out that he was human after
all, and the surgeon found out that his life didn’t have to follow the rules,
and they both found out that love is a pain in the ass.

The surgeon and the ex-killer moved away together. They bought a
house. They tried to be normal. They tried to live happily ever after.
Some days that worked out. Other days, not so much. But that’s a story
for another time.
 A Very D Christmas

Jack didn’t think he’d ever seen D so nervous. He was sitting across from Jack, staring at the
phone that sat on the table between them, folding and unfolding his hands. He had a vague
frown on his face, like he was puzzling over something in his head.

He’d been waiting for D to do something for a good ten minutes now. The slip of paper bearing
the phone number was lying on the table next to the phone.

“D?” D looked up at him. “Are you going to do this?”

“Just…let me work up to it, okay?”

“You’ve been working up to it for weeks.”

“Well, maybe I’m not done working up. This isn’t easy, you know.”

Jack nodded. “I know.”

D picked up the paper and stared at the number. “It’s really her, huh?”

“Frank says it is.”

D shook his head. “Why’d you have to go and find her? It’s not your business.”

“I did it because I knew you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, and maybe there’s a good reason for that.”

“You don’t have to call her if you don’t want to. I just wanted you to have the option.” He
hesitated. “She’s your only living relative, D.”

“I got all the family I need right here,” D grumbled.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but wouldn’t it be nice to reconnect with her? She’s your sister.”

“What if she don’t want nothing to do with me?”

“I guess that’s a risk. But you won’t be any worse off than you are now, will you? And you
could gain so much more.”

“You are an overbearing nag, Jack.”

“You knew that when you took me. Quit bitching and pick up the phone.”

D made a disgruntled noise. “You just aren’t gonna be happy till I’m some kinda model of
emotional health, are you?”

Jack smiled. “Call it a pet project.” D’s mouth was still twisted into a doubtful frown. “D…she
lives in Indianapolis. It’s karma. We could go visit her.”

D sighed. “All right,” he said, and picked up the phone. He dialed the number, then turned on
the speaker and set the phone back on the table so Jack could hear, too.

It rang three times before it was picked up. “Hello?” A woman’s voice.

D cleared his throat. “Uh…yeah. Can I speak to Merle Mullins, please?”

“This is Merle,” she said, sounding dubious.

“Oh. Uh…okay.”

“Who’s this, please?”

“It’s, uh…Anson. Anson Dane.”

There was a long pause. D’s eyes flicked nervously up to meet Jack’s. Jack steeled himself.
Please, let this go all right for him.

“Anson?” Merle said, her voice trembling and pitched higher. “My brother Anson?”

“Yeah, Merle. It’s me.”

The woman on the other end of the line burst into tears. Jack’s heart tightened to hear it. D’s
eyes widened in alarm. “Oh…gosh,” he said, sounding adorably flustered. “Merle, I didn’t
mean to…aw, don’t take on so,” he said, as she kept crying.

“Anson,” she sobbed. “Is it really you? You’re alive?”

“Yeah, alive and well.”

“I’ve looked for you so many times and never found anything! It’s like you vanished off the face
of the earth!”

“You…you looked for me?” D said, misery crossing his face. His eyes flicked up at Jack, a world
of guilt and missed opportunities in his glance.

“Over and over. You know the Internet’s made it easy to try. I tried to find you with your Social
Security number and everything. I tried to find you through the Army, but they didn’t know
what had happened to you.”

“I know. I’m real sorry about that.”

“Where are you? Are you okay?” She was calming herself.

“I’m just fine. Real good, in fact. I, uh…I live over in Columbus.”

A pause. “Columbus, Ohio? You’re only two and a half hours away from me? When can I see
you? I could come out this weekend…oh no, wait, I can’t, Dana’s got a soccer tournament…”

“Hold up, there,” D said, smiling a little. “Let’s take a breath, huh?”

Amusingly, Jack could hear Merle doing exactly that, taking a deep breath. “You’re right, of
course. I just can’t believe I’m hearing your voice after all these years,” she said, choking up
again. “Anson…you know about Kenneth?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“After the bombing you just vanished, I didn’t know if you’d been in touch with him.”

“A couple of times, yeah.”

“Oh, Anson…I’m so glad you found me.”

D had the good grace to look a little shamefaced at that, being that it hadn’t been him who’d
found her. But Jack could see that he knew enough not to say so. The last thing she wanted to
hear just now was that this hadn’t been his idea at all. “Me, too,” he said. “Wasn’t sure you’d
want to hear from me.”

“Of course I’d want to hear from you! I want to see you. Besides my kids, you’re my only living
blood relative. That’s important.”

“Reckon it is.”
“I won’t ask where you’ve been all this time, it’s probably a long story. What is it that you do in
Columbus?”

“I work for the FBI, actually. I’m kind of a consultant.”

“And are you married again? Do I have any nieces or nephews?”

D glanced up at Jack again. “Well…I ain’t married, exactly. I’m, uh…” He hesitated. “I’m gay.”

“But…you were married,” Merle said. Jack didn’t hear any disgust or judgment in her voice, just
confusion, which was understandable.

“I know. I kinda came around to who I was later in life, you might say.”

“Oh, I see,” she said. There still wasn’t any negative tone to her words, which seemed like a
good sign. “I hope you’ll be able to tell me more about that sometime.”

“Be glad to.”

“Are you with anyone?”

“Yeah, I am. My fella’s name is Jack, he’s right here with me.”

“And what’s he do?”

D smirked a little. “Just as much of a busybody as ever, aren’t you?” he joked. “He’s a doctor.
Maxillofacial surgeon. We got a nice place here in town, moved here little over a year ago.”

“Oh, Anson,” she said, sounding choked up again. “You don’t know how many times I
wondered if you were dead, or missing, or had just walked off into the wilderness like that guy
in Alaska, or a hundred other things. You could have called me, just to let me know you were
alive,” she said, a mild note of scolding entering her voice.

D’s jaw worked, and Jack realized that he was fighting back emotion. “I wish I had, Merlie,” he
said. “I’m real sorry.”

“It’s all in the past,” she said. “I’m just so glad you’ve called now. I’m hate to do this, but I have
to go. My daughter Dana’s got a soccer game. But let’s talk again real soon, and make plans to
get together, okay? I want to hear everything.”

“I want to hear about you and your life too,” D said. “Here, let me give you my numbers.” He
rattled them off, and Jack was mildly surprised to hear D give her not only the house number
but his private cell number, which only he and Megan had. “You call back anytime when you
got some time to talk.”
“I will, you bet on that,” Merle said. “I just can’t believe it’s really you,” she said, her voice
quavering again. “You take care. We’ll talk soon.”

D nodded. “Real soon. Bye, now.”

“Bye, Anson.” She hung up.

D leaned back in his chair, both hands rising to smooth themselves back over his hair. “Hoo
boy,” he said.

“I don’t think that could have gone better,” Jack said.

He shook his head, looking at the ceiling. “She looked for me. She was waiting for me. She
wanted to find me.”

“I know.”

“All this time I was thinking…aw hell, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking she was glad to be rid of you, or she was mad you hadn’t been in touch and
had written you off.”

D sighed. “Yeah, maybe.”

Jack got up and sat next to D, resting his hand on his knee. “She’ll call back.” D nodded. “And
you’ll talk to her.”

D looked over at him with that weary look that said quit being parental on my ass. “Yeah, of
course I will.”

“You never know. Maybe we’ll end up going to her house for Christmas,” Jack said, grinning.

“Yeah, that’ll be the day,” D snorted.

three weeks later….

“I can’t believe we’re going to her house for Christmas,” D muttered as he drove west on I-70
toward Indianapolis.

“Christmas Eve.”

“Whatever.”
“I think it was very nice of her to invite us.”

“At least there won’t be tons of other folks there,” D said. “Said she wanted me all to herself
this first time.”

“When’s the last time you saw her?” Jack asked.

“Goddamn. Guess it’d have to be…Jill and Sheila’s funeral,” D said, his voice going quiet. “Last
time I saw any family. Last time I had any family. Till now, that is,” he said, glancing at Jack
with a sidelong smile. Jack smiled back and ran a hand over D’s shoulders, letting it rest there.
“You ain’t said nothing about seeing your family,” D said, his tone careful.

Jack sighed. “No. I sure haven’t,” he said, injecting what he hoped was a tone of finality.

D made a noncommittal noise. “Guess what’s good for the gander ain’t good for the…uh, the
other gander.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Well, you’re pushing me to connect with my family but I ain’t allowed to even mention yours.”

“You lost touch with yours because of circumstances beyond your control. I chose to lose touch
with mine because they’re assholes.”

“You’ve said that you kinda miss your mom sometimes.”

“Let it go, D.”

“Just wondering what you’re gonna nag me about, now that I’m back in touch with Merle.”

“Oh, I’ll think of something.”

The GPS guided them to a pleasant middle-class neighborhood of two-story Colonials and ranch
houses with playsets out back. Most of the homes seemed to have lights or decorations in their
yards and on their porches. Finally they pulled up in front of a mock Tudor, neat and tidy, with
a Subaru Outback and a Prius parked in the driveway. D parked the car, shut off the engine and
just sat there for a moment.

Jack watched his face. “Ready?”

D took a deep breath, then let it out. “Ready.”

They got out of the car. D had a bag with some gifts in it, Jack was carrying a bottle of merlot
they’d gotten from a local Columbus vineyard. They were just walking up to the front door
when it opened. A tall, rugged man was standing there; he was about forty and pleasantly
handsome in that suburban-dad way. Jack sensed D drawing himself together a little. “Well,
hey, Martin,” he said.

Martin, who Jack guessed was Merle’s husband, smiled broadly and extended a hand. “Anson.
I’ll be damned. Part of me wondered if you’d really come.”

“Well, here I am,” D said, shaking his hand. “You’re looking well.”

“You, too.” Martin glanced at Jack.

“Oh, uh, this is my partner, Jack Francisco. Jack, this is Merle’s husband, Martin Mullins.”

Martin shook Jack’s hand. “Jack, nice to meet you. Welcome.”

“Thanks.”

They went into the house. “Merle? They’re here!” Martin called. Jack heard hurrying
footsteps, and then D’s sister Merle came into the living room. She drew up short when she
saw D. She was slender and tall, and Jack saw the family resemblance in her sharp features.
She and D had the same eyes.

She smiled, her chin trembling. Jack watched D’s face, where an answering smile spread, a real
one. D’s smiles were rare, and rarer still were the real ones. In this one, Jack saw the man D
had once been before life had scoured him clean of warm family feeling, the man he was still
rediscovering. Merle didn’t say anything, just strode forward and enveloped D in a huge hug,
her arms tight around his shoulders. D just stood there for a second before recovering himself
enough to hug her back. “Anson,” she murmured.

“It’s good to see you, too, Merlie,” D said.

Jack and Martin stood to the side, watching. “This means a lot to her,” Martin said, quietly.
“She’s thought him lost for a long time.”

Jack nodded. “He’s been lost for a long time.”

Merle drew back and beamed up into D’s face, hanging onto his upper arms. “Damn, I have
missed you,” she said.

D nodded, and Jack saw his mouth tightening in the way he had when he was controlling his
emotions. “Me, too.”
Merle looked over at Jack. “Oh, and you must be Jack!” She grinned and hugged Jack, too.
“It’s good to put a face with the voice.”

“Likewise,” Jack said, hugging her back. “Good to finally meet you.”

Jack noticed two kids lurking in the background, staring wide-eyed at their uncle. He knew
from conversations they’d already had with Merle that she and Martin had a daughter, Dana,
who was eleven, and a son, Jesse, who was thirteen. “It’s okay, guys,” Martin said, motioning
them forward. “Come and meet your uncle.”

They inched forward. Merle pulled them closer. “Anson, this is my daughter Dana, and my son
Jesse.”

“Hey there,” D said. “Jesse, I met you once before. You were just a baby, though.”

Jesse was peering at D with a puzzled expression. “You don’t look gay,” he said.

Jack and D both laughed. Merle and Martin looked mortified. “Jesse!” Merle said. “Remember
what we talked about?”

“It’s okay, Merle. You don’t think so, huh, Jesse? What were you thinking I oughta look like?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Sparkly?”

D laughed again. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“No, it’s – it’s cool,” Jesse said, thrusting his chin forward, determined to be cool.

Dana was looking at Jack with blatant fascination. “Is this your boyfriend?” she asked.

“Uh…yeah, although I like to say ‘partner.’ This is Jack.”

“Hi, guys,” Jack said. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for having us over.”

Dana shrugged. “Whatever,” she said, putting on an air of preteen nonchalance, but she kept
shooting them glances out of the corners of her eyes.

“Can I get you guys a drink?” Martin said, falling into comfortable Host Mode.

“I’ll have a beer if you got it,” D said.

“Sure do. Great Lakes okay? I’ve got Christmas Ale. I think I got the last six-pack in Indiana.”

“My favorite.”
“Jack?”

“I’ll just have some coffee if there’s any handy.”

“You bet. How do you take it?”

“Light and sweet.”

Martin nodded and set off on his mission. Merle was still beaming at them. “Why don’t you
come in and sit down?” she said. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour.” She relieved D of his
bag of gifts and Jack of his bottle of wine and they went into the living room. Jack sat down
next to D on the couch. Merle perched on a chair across from them. Jack could feel D’s
tension; he wished he could reach out and take his hand, but he didn’t want to be too forward
in front of D’s family. Merle and Martin were being aggressively easygoing about everything,
which in Jack’s experience meant that underneath it, they were tense, too. In a way, it was
unfortunate that D and Merle had spoken on the phone a number of times since that first
contact; they’d exhausted the usual catching-up topics that could have gotten them over these
first few awkward moments.

D was looking around. “Nice place.”

“Thank you! We could have gotten a bigger house in another neighborhood but the schools are
better here and I don’t know, I just hate those McMansions, they’re just so soulless, and we
have such nice restaurants in this part of town, and the traffic isn’t as bad as in some of the
suburbs, and…” She trailed off. “I’m babbling.”

D nodded, smirking a little. “Yeah, you sure are.”

“I just can’t believe you’re really sitting here.”

Jack saw him swallow hard. “Me, neither.”

Martin came back in with their drinks. He handed Jack a mug and D a pilsner glass full of beer.
D reached up for it and his jacket pulled away from his side a little. Jack’s eyes widened at what
he saw concealed beneath it. He wore his gun? Here? Seriously?

Martin had paused with his hand in the air, and Jack could see that he and Merle had seen D’s
sidearm at the same time Jack had. D glanced between them, puzzled. “Something wrong?”

“You’re, um – armed?” Martin said, clearing his throat.

D glanced down at himself. “Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess so. I barely think about it anymore.”
Martin shifted, obviously uncomfortable. “Anson, I don’t mean to be rude, but I think we’d
both prefer it if you didn’t wear that in the house.”

D looked like he’d lost his place in the script. “Yeah. Of course. I’ll, uh…put it in the car.” He
got up quickly, nearly knocking noses with Martin, and put his beer aside. “I’m sorry,” he
mumbled.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Merle said, holding out her hands, placating, seeing D’s discomfort. “I’m sure
you’re so used to carrying it, and…well, it’s perfectly understandable, and…”

“I’m sorry,” D repeated. He headed for the doorway, then hesitated. “Jack, you mind coming
with me for a sec?”

“Sure.” Jack got up and followed as D damn near bolted from the house, yanking off his jacket,
then his shoulder holster as he went down the steps and out to the driveway.

“Keys,” he barked. Jack fished them out and tossed them to him. D opened the trunk and put
the holster and the gun inside, then slammed it shut. He leaned on the lid.

“What?”

D shook his head. “I ain’t fit to be here.”

“I think you’re overreacting.”

He straightened up. “I just took a goddamned Glock into their nice house with their nice family
and their nice kids, Jack! I didn’t even think twice about it. What kind of person does that?
Who thinks that’s normal?”

“Someone who carries a gun every day. It is normal to you, D.”

“Yeah, and what’s that say about me? That I live the kind of life where you gotta pack heat
every single second in case someone starts shooting.”

“You and every other law enforcement officer in the country. Don’t be such a drama queen.”

“Goddamn it, you know I fucking hate it when you call me that.”

“Don’t act like one and I won’t have to call you that!”

“I shouldn’t be here,” D said, rubbing his hand over the top of his head. “What the hell was I
thinking, that I could be part of her life again? That I could know those kids? Be Uncle D or
whatever? Bullshit. I can’t live like normal folks.”
“Oh yeah? What do you call our life back home? What’s not normal about that? Last
weekend, we went out to dinner with Portia and Andy, we argued over which movie to go see,
and we did a bunch of laundry. Whoa, it’s so freakish, I can hardly stand it!”

“It’s different.”

“How is it different?”

“Cause you know, Jack. You know about me and who I really am.”

“Who you were. And there are other people in your life who don’t know. Portia and Andy
don’t know. You play Legos with Ellen, for crying out loud! How is this different?”

“It’s different cause these people are family.”

“Oh, don’t be telling Portia she isn’t family. She’ll have your ass in a sling.”

That surprised D into a laugh, before he remembered he was supposed to be brooding and got
quiet again. “I dunno, Jack.”

“So you brought in a gun. Not the best idea ever, true. But it’s understandable. You took it off.
It’s okay. Nobody’s judging you.”

“I’m judging me,” D muttered.

“Which is always the damn problem anyway.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

Jack shivered and hugged himself. “Can we go back inside now? I’m freezing.”

D finally looked up and met his eyes, then walked over and rubbed his hands up and down
Jack’s upper arms. “How’s that, better?”

Jack smiled. “Little bit. I’d still rather go in the house.”

D sighed. “Yeah, all right.” He leaned forward and kissed Jack’s lips, letting it spiral out and
linger. Jack didn’t feel quite so cold after that. “Thanks, doc.”

They went back in the house. Merle and Martin welcomed them back; no mention was made
of the gun incident. They sat down again, picked up their drinks, and everything resumed as if
someone had just un-paused the recording. Holiday music was playing, the Christmas tree was
glittering in the corner, and there was an honest-to-God fire going in the fireplace. “Damn,
Merlie,” D said. “You got yourself quite a setup here. Right out of a Christmas card.”
Merle chuckled, but she blushed at the compliment. “I love Christmas. I always try to make it
nice.”

“Do you open presents on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning?” Jack asked.

“Oh, we’re Christmas morning people, but the kids always get to open one gift on Christmas
Eve. There isn’t much suspense, it’s always new Christmas jammies. We might make an
exception tonight, though – seems Santa might have left a couple of things for you at our house
by mistake,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Aw, geez,” D said, looking at his feet. “You didn’t have to go and do that.”

“You did it!”

“Yeah, but – we didn’t expect anything.”

“We don’t give gifts because we expect a return,” Merle said.

“What’ll you do tomorrow, then?” D asked.

“Well, we’ll open presents in the morning here, then we usually spend Christmas day with
Martin’s family. Most of them are local. He’s got two brothers and a sister, they have kids, too,
so we go to his parents’ house. It’s the typical stuff. Big dinner, more presents, board games
and hot toddies and sledding. We all usually stay over. The kids love having a big sleepover in
the den with their cousins.”

D nodded. “That sounds – real nice.”

Jack could hear the little catch in D’s throat as he said that, and felt it in his own. Merle’s
description of the Mullins family Christmas sounded more than nice. It sounded like the kind of
idyllic holiday he’d never had, ever, and he knew that D and Merle hadn’t grown up with it,
either. Jack’s holidays as a kid had been pretty solitary. He’d gotten gifts, and his mother had
cooked a dinner, but there had been no family but his own, whom he’d despised more with
each passing year, and sometimes it had just felt like something he had to get through.

“I know it was never like that for us, Anson,” Merle said, quietly, her thoughts obviously running
parallel to Jack’s. “I never knew people actually had holidays like that, like you saw on TV and
in the movies, until I started having them with Martin’s family.”

“She’s taken to it very well,” Martin joked.

Merle gasped, as if a brilliant idea had just occurred to her. “You two should come!”
“Oh…well…” D stammered.

“No, really! You could just spend the night here, and go over there with us tomorrow! They’d
be very welcome, wouldn’t they?” she said to Martin.

He nodded. “My parents are more-and-merrier sorts of people.”

“We don’t want to intrude,” D said.

“Don’t be stupid. There’s no intruding.”

“We really can’t,” D said, and he sounded honestly regretful. “We gotta get back home. Jack’s
got surgery the day after Christmas.”

“You’re having surgery?” Merle said, her eyes going wide with alarm.

Jack smiled. “No, I’m performing surgery. I have a very long procedure scheduled. I need to be
well rested. I really should be at home tomorrow so I can go to bed early.”

“Oh. Well…that’s a shame. We understand, of course.”

“I wish we could stay,” Jack said, meaning it. They had small plans for the holiday, just dinner at
Portia and Andy’s, but he’d never experienced a holiday like what Merle and her family would
have. He was curious – and envious.

“Can I ask about this surgery? Why is it so long?” Merle asked.

“It’s a boy I’ve performed several surgeries on. He had some serious injuries to his face, and
we’ve been reconstructing the bone structure in stages. This surgery is a big step. I’m
realigning his nasal passages, moving his cheekbones and I’m going to try and give him a new
eye socket. It’ll probably take twelve hours or more.”

“Oh,” Merle breathed. “That poor boy. What happened to him?”

Jack took a breath, a plausible and comfortable lie springing to his lips, but D spoke before he
could voice it. “The kid’s father hit him in the face with a baseball bat,” he said, his tone flat.
He took a drink of his beer. Merle and Martin just sat there frozen, shocked expressions on
their faces.

Before anybody could say anything to recover the mood, there were thumping footsteps from
overhead of someone – Jesse, by the sound of it – running down the hall. The footsteps started
down the stairs, but then abruptly turned into a series of deafening crashes. Jesse yelled in
alarm and there was a great bump.
“Oh God,” Merle said, jumping up and running out. Jesse was shouting and half-crying now, his
voice full of pain and alarm. Martin was close on his wife’s heels. Jack and D exchanged a
glance, then got up and followed.

Jesse was crumpled at the bottom of the stairs he’d just fallen down, holding on to Merle,
trying to be a brave boy but obviously in some pain and wanting to cry. Jack could tell almost
instantly that he wasn’t gravely hurt, just by the way he was moving, but that didn’t mean he
hadn’t sprained something or even broken something. Merle was murmuring to Jesse, asking if
he was okay, soothing him. Martin crouched at his son’s feet. “I told you and told you not to
run on these stairs in socks,” he said, his alarm turning quickly into irritation. He glanced up at
Jack and D. “We just had them redone; they were carpeted before, and this hardwood is very
slippery. We’re having a runner put up the middle after the new year.”

Jack moved closer and knelt by Merle. “Want me to have a look?” he asked.

Merle nodded. “Would you?”

Jack turned his attention to Jesse. “You know I’m a doctor, right?” he asked him.

Jesse nodded, sniffling. “Yeah. Some kinda face bone thing.”

Jack grinned. “Something like that. Want to show me where you landed?”

“Here,” Jesse said, motioning to his left side, his arm and leg.

“How bad does it hurt?”

“Pretty bad.”

“Move your foot for me.” Jesse did. “Wiggle your fingers. Does it hurt when you do that?”

“Not really.”

“Can you get up? Just over to this chair here,” he said, nodding to a wing chair in the hallway.

Jesse wiped at his nose. “Yeah, I think so.” He rolled to one side and heaved himself up, Merle
and Jack helping him. He lurched to the chair and sat down again. “I think it’s my shoulder, and
my ankle feels weird.”

“Okay,” Jack said, kneeling in front of him. “Merle, do you have any ice packs?”

“Sure,” she said, and disappeared into the kitchen.

D and Martin hovered nearby, not wanting to get in Jack’s way. He took Jesse’s foot in his hand
and moved it gently, feeling the bones. Jesse winced in pain. “Sorry about that,” Jack said.

“S’okay,” Jesse said, through clenched teeth.

“Your ankle isn’t broken. You might have sprained it, but it’s probably just twisted. Let’s have a
look at that shoulder,” he said, half-straightening up. He put his hand on Jesse’s shoulder,
pulling the neck of his t-shirt aside.

Jesse stiffened, but not in pain. “No, wait…” he began, pulling away – but Jack had already seen
what Jesse was trying to hide. He automatically moved around a bit so his body blocked D and
Martin’s view. He replaced Jesse’s t-shirt.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. He met Jesse’s frightened eyes. “Can I see?” he barely mouthed.

Jesse dropped his gaze and gave him a tiny nod. Jack acted like he was still examining Jesse’s
shoulder. He drew up the boy’s t-shirt.

The bruise was angry and dark, spreading up his side and almost to his collarbone. It was a
blunt-force bruise, the sort that came from being kicked. There was another one, hand-shaped,
on his upper arm. Jesse swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing. Jack met Jesse’s eyes again, then
cut his eyes quickly in Martin’s direction, the question implicit. Him?

Jesse shook his head. No. Not him.

Jack nodded, relieved. If he’d come to his in-laws’ house for Christmas and happened upon the
fact that their son was being beaten by his father, that would qualify in his mind as a disaster.
Jack was a mandated reporter, and calling the police on Martin wasn’t part of his ideal holiday
schedule. In other news, Jesse’s shoulder seemed fine. “I think you’re just banged up a bit,”
Jack said, patting his arm. “Nothing broken.” Jesse didn’t seemed cheered by this, which was
understandable.

Merle reappeared with a couple of ice packs in dishtowels. “Here, put this on your shoulder,”
she said. “Is your ankle okay?” she fretted.

“Jack says it isn’t broken,” Jesse said.

“Oh, thank goodness. So, a trip to the ER isn’t in our immediate future?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Jack said. “We’ll just want to keep an eye on it and see if it
swells up.”

“Thank you,” Martin said. “It’s nice to have a doctor in the family,” he said, smiling.
Jack appreciated the sentiment, but he was thinking of Jesse. “Jesse, maybe you want to talk to
your mom and dad in private?” he said.

Merle and Martin exchanged a puzzled glance. “Why? What’s wrong?” she asked.

“What do you think?” Jack asked Jesse, holding the boy’s gaze. He saw Jesse take a deep
breath and square his shoulders.

“Yeah. I think that’d be good,” Jesse said.

“Jesse, what is it?” Merle said.

“We’ll be in the den,” Jack said, taking hold of D’s arm and steering him out of the hall.

“Jack, what the fuck?” D said, once they were out of sight. “Wanna tell me what that was all
about?”

Jack sighed. “Your nephew’s getting his ass beat. Repeatedly. When I was checking his
shoulder I saw bad bruises, at various stages of healing.”

D’s face darkened. “What if it was his dad? Should we have left him?”

“It isn’t Martin. Jesse didn’t seem fearful, just embarrassed. And if it were Martin, Jesse would
have fought harder to keep me from seeing the bruises with his father standing right there. I
think he’s wanted to tell his mom and dad, but he’s been too ashamed and he didn’t know
what to say.”

“Goddamn. Who’d beat up a nice kid like Jesse?”

“My guess is a bully. Some knuckle-draggers at school. They don’t need much of a reason. And
don’t start getting all Darth Vader about this, I see that face you’re making.”

“That’s my regular face. And what’s this Darth Vader shit?”

“You’re plotting to choke the life out of the kid who beat up your nephew.”

D snorted. “Whoever this kid is, he don’t know from bullies. I’ll show him a fucking bully.”

“I empathize, but it isn’t our place go around fighting Jesse’s battles for him. That could just
make it worse.”

D sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well – I find your lack of faith disturbing.”
Jack laughed. “Ah, D. Your pop culture lexicon continues to improve. Soon your journey
towards the Dark Side will be complete.”

D was starting to smile back when Merle and Martin returned, looking serious. “Well, Jesse
went up to his room,” she said. “Said he wanted to be alone. I can’t believe it! How could I not
have seen? How did I miss those bruises? What kind of mother am I that I didn’t notice my son
was in pain like this?” Her eyes filled with tears.

“I know we just met, Merle,” Jack said, putting on his best bedside manner, “and I apologize if
I’m overstepping, but I see this kind of thing all the time. You didn’t see because he didn’t want
you to see. No parent hopes to find out their child is having a problem. You weren’t looking for
it. And Jesse worked hard to hide it from you. It isn’t your fault.”

Merle sighed. “I’ll try and believe that.” She looked up at D. “I’m sorry for all this. I’m sure
you didn’t come here for Christmas so you could see all the family drama.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be part of a family holiday? Drama?” D said.

Merle smiled wearily. “Not usually for us.” She sat down, looking dispirited.

“Did Jesse tell you who’s been beating on him?” D asked, sitting next to her. Martin sat on her
other side, leaving Jack to perch on a nearby ottoman.

She nodded. “He said it was a couple of boys from school. And one of them goes to our
church. He’d make Jesse give him his collection-plate money. I asked him why, but he wouldn’t
say. I guess boys like that don’t need a reason when they get into a pack. But is it just him? Is
it just because – I don’t even know what could set them onto Jesse. He’s always had lots of
friends. He isn’t the weird loner kid or anything like that.”

“They call him a fag,” said a new voice.

Everyone looked up and saw Dana hovering in the doorway. “Dana, honey – what do you know
about this? Have you seen it?” Merle said, holding out her hand to beckon Dana closer. The
girl came in and sat down, curling close to her mother once she did. “What’s been going on?
How come you haven’t told us what’s happening to Jesse?”

“He made me promise!” Dana said, her lip trembling. “He said he could handle it, and he didn’t
want you and Dad to know.”

“Well, it’s okay now,” Martin said. “We know everything, so tell us about it so we can help,
okay?”

Dana nodded. “They call him fairyboy and fag. They wait till he’s by himself and they take his
backpack and they hit him.”
“Why would they call him those things?” Martin asked, frowning. “Jesse isn’t gay!”

Jack and D exchanged a quick look. Martin seemed like a nice, open-minded guy, but that
reaction was revealing. The truthfulness of a bully’s name-calling wasn’t the most pressing
issue right now. Not to mention that if they’d called Jesse something else, like ‘loser’ or ‘four-
eyes’ or whatever the kids were calling each other these days, Martin would probably not have
been worried about whether it were true or not. “That doesn’t matter,” Jack said, gently. “Any
boy who’s remotely different or doesn’t conform to some arbitrary standard will eventually get
hit with the ‘fag’ thing.”

“It’s just cause he wears glasses and likes books and stuff!” Dana said. “It’s stupid!”

“Damn right, it’s stupid,” D said to her.

“Sweetie, why don’t you go upstairs and get cleaned up, we’re going to eat soon. Tell your
brother to do the same, okay?”

Dana nodded, then got up and left. Merle and Martin watched her go, both of them looking a
little shell-shocked. Jack didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his place.

To his surprise, D spoke up. “So – that’s news to you, then?”

“All of it’s news,” Merle said. “What do we do about it? We should call those boys’ parents.”

“No, no,” Martin said, holding up his hands. “That’ll just make it worse for Jesse. He isn’t eight
years old anymore, Merle. He’s a teenager now. Parents don’t call other parents at that age,
he’ll get beat up worse.”

“What do you suggest, then?” she demanded, a note of stridency entering her voice. “That we
just throw him back to the wolves and say, them’s the breaks, kid? Man up and take it?”

“Maybe if we just told the school that this is going on, they could do something.”

Merle nodded. “I guess that’s something. I’ll call after vacation’s over.” She shook her head.
“We were going to go to the late church service tonight, but Jesse asked if we could skip it. One
of these kids, Tyler Young, goes to church with us. He said that Tyler’s the worst of the bunch.”

“You think this Tyler will be there tonight?” D asked, a glint coming into his eye.

“Probably. Most people go tonight if they only go one night the whole year.” Merle looked up
at him. “No, Anson. Don’t start thinking thoughts like that.”
“Like what?” D asked, playing innocent, although Jack recognized that look just as much as
Merle seemed to.

“You can’t fix this by going after a boy barely in his teens. Do you have any idea the shitstorm
we’d all be in for if you did that? And it wouldn’t help Jesse in the end.”

“Well, what would help Jesse?” D asked, frustration roughening his voice.

“I don’t know,” Merle said. “I wish I did.”

When they all sat down to dinner, it became clear that Merle did not mess around with holiday
cooking. There was a roast turkey with all the trimmings, bread and rolls, Jell-O salad,
homemade gravy, and Jack’s favorite: green bean casserole. “Oh, it just isn’t a holiday without
these crunchy little fried onion thingies,” he said, taking a large spoonful.

Merle laughed. “Isn’t it funny how that particular casserole somehow became so universal? I
always wonder how those fried onion people make a living. Do they sell any when it isn’t the
holidays?”

“This is quite a spread, Merle,” D said, looking a little overwhelmed. “You do this every year?”

“Actually, no. Since we usually have the big holiday dinner at Martin’s folks’ place on
Christmas, on the night before we have our own tradition. I always make baked potato soup,
it’s the kids’ favorite. But since we have guests this year, I thought this would be nice.”

“Awww, you didn’t have to change your traditions! I hate to deprive these poor kids of that
soup,” D said, winking at Dana, who giggled.

“I made it yesterday,” Merle said. “There’ll be leftovers for days. So don’t feel sorry for these
long-suffering children. I usually make a turkey for us anyway the day after Christmas because
everybody loves the leftover turkey sandwiches. I just won’t have to do that this year. So
you’re doing me a favor, really!”

“Oh, in that case. If you say so,” D said.

Merle sat down and picked up her wineglass. “Let’s have a toast, huh?” Everybody picked up
their glasses, the grownups with wine, the kids with milk. Merle met D’s eyes. “My long-lost
brother,” she said, her free hand reaching out to grip D’s. “It’s like a miracle that you’re here.”
Her voice hitched slightly. “Don’t ever get lost again, okay?”

“Hear, hear,” Martin said. They all clinked glasses and drank.
“Thanks, Merlie,” D said, sounding a little emotional himself. “Don’t you worry. I won’t get
lost. I got good reasons to stay found now.” He glanced at Jack, smiling. Jack squeezed his
hand under the table.

Jesse was watching them intently. “So – are you guys gonna get one of those gay marriages?”
he said.

Jack couldn’t help but laugh. “Not as long as we live in Ohio. For now, anyway.”

“What’s that mean?” Dana said.

“It isn’t legal in Ohio, sweetie,” Merle said. “Gay people can’t get married. Not to each other,
anyway.”

“Oh,” she said, looking puzzled. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” D said. “No, it ain’t.”

No one had a response for that, so they kept dishing up the food in silence for a moment.
“Anson, I don’t think you’ve told me how you and Jack met,” Merle finally said, as everyone was
digging into the turkey.

Jack suppressed a groan. He hated this part. He hated telling The Story. The story of how they
met, which was a near-total fabrication. Just once he’d have liked to say “Well, it all started
when D was hired to kill me,” just to see the expressions on people’s faces. He’d have hated it
less if it didn’t seem that D rather liked The Story. Every time he told it, it got a little more
detailed and he told it with more enthusiasm, like he was warming to the lie. Jack wondered if
D wished that The Story were the truth. He knew D would have liked to forget his past, and the
things he’d done, but shoving them under the rug and pretending they hadn’t happened wasn’t
the answer.

Now, however, D looked a little uncomfortable. Could it be that The Story lost some of its
luster when it was being told to a family member, instead of just a random stranger or
acquaintance who’d asked the question? “Well, Jack was a witness in a case I worked on,” D
said.

“Were you an expert witness?” Martin asked.

“No,” Jack said. “I, uh – saw something I shouldn’t have.” He hoped that’d be the end of it. Of
course, it wasn’t.
“He was in protective custody,” D said. “I was helping the FBI track some of the people he
needed protecting from. I guess we got to know each other during the times I was assigned to
guard him.” That much, at least, was more or less true.

“That sounds kind of exciting,” Merle said.

“It isn’t how it probably sounds,” Jack said. “It was a lot of sitting in hotel rooms, looking for a
way to pass the time. Anyway, once the case was over, D and I could start seeing each other for
real.”

Merle frowned. “D?”

“Most folks call me D. I guess that started in the Army. Heck, the other agents at my job call
me Mr. D.”

Merle chuckled. “How mysterious. Makes it sound like you were some kind of black-ops
assassin.”

D smiled blandly. “Uh…yeah. I guess so.” He laughed it off, but it was exceedingly
unconvincing. Jack tried to school his expression but he didn’t think he was doing a very good
job. Merle glanced from him to D and back again.

Dana, bless her heart, came unwittingly to the rescue. “There’s a girl in my class who still
believes in Santa,” she said, with a worldly-wise preteen eye roll.

“Yeah?” D said, glomming on to the change of subject. “Aren’t you a bit old for Santa?”

“She’s in denial. Dad says it’s not just a river in Egypt.”

Martin laughed. “That’s right, pumpkin.”

“Daaaaaa-aad, don’t call me that!”

“Oh, so sorry.”

Dana kept talking about the gifts she hoped to receive and the things she’d gotten for her
cousins. Jack watched D interacting with his family, his new family, for all intents and purposes.
He seemed to be remembering family life all over again, a kind of life he’d left behind years ago.
Jack realized with a jolt that if D’s daughter were alive today, she’d probably be in college.

“Well, let’s get to the cleanup,” Merle said, after the plates were cleaned by busy forks. “We
can have pie and coffee in the living room.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Martin said. “You’ve been slaving in the kitchen all day.”
“Thanks, sweetie.”

“I’ll help you,” Jack said, standing up, glancing at Merle. She shot him a quick “thank you”
glance.

“Anson, come upstairs with me. I’d like to show you something.”

“Um…all right.” Jack watched him follow Merle up the stairs as he stacked plates, hoping that
this wasn’t about to be the end of the warm family feelings they’d been enjoying so far.

D was under no illusions that Merle actually wanted to show him anything. He’d seen her
expression at their reactions to her crack about assassins. She led him into what was clearly a
guest room and closed the door behind him. D sighed. “All right, Merlie. You ain’t stupid and I
know what you’re gonna say.”

“I’ve got to ask you a question, and it isn’t easy for me. I’m sure it’ll be uncomfortable for you,
too.”

He braced himself. “Go ahead.”

“Would you talk to Jesse?”

D blinked, so surprised that for a moment he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “Okay, so I
guess I didn’t know what you were gonna say, after all.”

She frowned. “What did you think I was going to ask you?”

Well, if I really was a black-ops assassin, for one. “Uh…didn’t know. Just didn’t expect that.
You want me to what, now?”

“Look, I know kids will say anything. You wouldn’t believe some of the things I hear come out
of their mouths, even my own kids sometimes. It’s like they find your weak spot and just
hammer on it. And they’ve got this way of sniffing out your most vulnerable points.”

The light dawned. “You’re thinking maybe Jesse really is gay.”

“I’ve got no reason to think so. But what if he is? I just want him to know that’s okay, and he
can be open, and he doesn’t have to hide from us.”

“So why don’t you talk to him?”

“I’m afraid if I go in there he’ll just clam up again. But you…well, it might help him to see you
and talk to you, knowing that you’re gay and living openly.”

“That’s a pretty recent development, you know. I’m no great expert. Maybe Jack would be the
better person to talk to him. He’s way easier with kids anyway, that’s his job.”

“Jack’s very nice, but you’re his family, Anson.”

“Aw, hell, Merle. Jesse’s known Jack just exactly as long as he’s known me.”

She shook her head. “That isn’t true.”

“But we…”

“Anson, you think I’ve never talked about you to my kids? You think they’ve never heard about
their Uncle Anson, who won three marksmanship competitions in the Army? My brother Anson
who once hotwired our neighbor’s car so he could come pick me up after my jerk boyfriend
abandoned me at a party?” D smiled, remembering the incident in question. Merle took a step
closer and grasped his hand. “You think they haven’t heard our stories? The ghost we saw at
the old Parker House mansion? The time Great-Uncle Orry made us watch him cut the heart
out of a badger he shot?”

D laughed out loud at that one. “That was fucked up,” he said. “Kenneth puked his guts out.”

“And you snuck in my room that night with an old toy drum, beating it, whispering ‘the badger’s
heartbeat!’ Scared me half to death!”

He looked down at his fingers, intertwined with his sister’s. “You talked to your kids about me,
huh?”

“You and Kenneth both. Now they have the chance to really know you, and that is so precious.”
She smiled, her eyes glimmering, and abruptly hugged him again. D hugged back. “You really
have changed,” she said, muffled against his shoulder.

“What makes you say that?”

She drew back, smoothing his jacket over his shoulders. “You never would have let me hug you
this much, not since you were about twelve.”

“Guess not. I suppose I have changed some. Mostly cause of Jack.”

She met his eyes. “You really love him?”

D sighed. “Yeah.”
“He seems like a good man.”

“He is. Way better than I deserve.”

“Oh, stop it. You were a hero in the Army. You deserve everything.”

D’s heart ached with all the things Merle didn’t know about him. “You don’t know,” he
murmured. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

“We all have. But I know you. I know who you were before the world got you. That part
doesn’t change. You were the guy who defended the weird little geeky kids when the bullies
would get after them. You were the guy who played catch with that Down’s Syndrome boy at
recess when the other boys were calling him a retard and taking his lunch money.”

“Jesus Christ, the fuss you made over that. I played with him one time and you’d think I
adopted the kid, for all the times you talked about it.”

“It was one time more than anybody else ever played with him, and you don’t know the
difference it made. Those other boys all thought you were a god, Anson, because you were
tough and you rode horses and drove cars from the time you were ten, but mostly because you
didn’t give two shits what they thought of you. If you didn’t make fun of him, suddenly it
wasn’t so fun for them to do it, either. That one day of catch in the yard made his life easier for
years and years.”

D didn’t know what to say to that. Merle was making him out to be better than he was or had
ever been. The incidents she mentioned had happened, but she didn’t know everything, nor
did she need to.

“So will you talk to Jesse?”

He sighed, seeing her pleading eyes. How could he say no? “All right. Dunno what I’ll say,
though.”

“You’ll know what to say.”

D snorted. “I might, if I can have some time to consult my colleague.”

Merle smiled. “You take your time. It can wait till later if you want.”

“I’d rather do it sooner than later.” Merle patted his arm and hurried from the room. D shut
his eyes and took a deep breath, then went back downstairs. He could hear Jack and Martin
talking and laughing in the kitchen as they tidied up.
Leave it to Jack. Probably he and Martin are already best buds.

He knocked on the door jamb. “You guys doing all right in here?”

Jack looked up, smiling brightly at the sight of him. Jack always looked glad to see him. Before
Jack, it had been a very, very long time since anybody had been glad to see D. He was still
getting used to it. “Hey!” he said. “We’re doing great. Thought we’d get a head start on the
cleanup and spare Merle some of the grunt work.”

“Uh…you mind if I steal him for a minute, Martin?”

“Sure. I shouldn’t be letting a guest help with the dishwashing, anyway. I’m a terrible host.”

Jack put down his dishcloth and came to the door. “What is it?”

“C’mere,” he said, pulling Jack out of the kitchen and into the front living room, a more formal
space that was clearly seldom used. He shut the door behind him.

“What’s up?”

“Well, uh…Merle asked me to talk to Jesse.”

“Talk to him about what? The bullying?”

“She’s wondering if maybe…well…”

“He might actually be gay? I wondered, too.”

“She says kids, especially the mean ones, have a way of figuring out people’s secret weak spots
and using them against them.”

“She’s not wrong. Any other reason she thinks he might be gay?”

“Don’t think so.”

“He seems pretty interested in our lives.”

“Could just be curious. Like kids are.”

“But it could be more. It wouldn’t hurt for him to know that he’s got someone he can talk to.”

“That’s what she thought.” Jack nodded, his brow furrowing and his mouth making confused
little twisting motions. D smirked, recognizing the expression – it was his I’m trying to figure
out how to say something in a way that doesn’t insult you face. “And yeah, I know it’s kinda
fucked up that she’d pick me to talk to him.”

Jack flushed, caught out in the thought. “No, of course it isn’t. You’re family, you’re gay…”

“Kinda.”

“You’re kinda gay? Is that like being a little bit pregnant?”

“Well – I’m not exactly waving rainbow flags over here.”

“You don’t have to be. Are you sexually attracted to men?”

D harrumphed. “To you.”

“Don’t bullshit me, D. You’re not fooling anybody that you watched Fight Club six times in a
week to ponder the nihilistic subtext.”

He had him there. Brad Pitt had some goddamned abs in that movie. “All right, yeah.”

“You’re gay. Full stop. You’re living with a man, you’re out, you’re…you know, doing it.”

“Doing what?”

“Living the life of a gay man. Living in the world.”

“Oh. I thought you meant – well, doing it.”

Jack smirked. “Well, you’re doing that, too, but I don’t think I’d recommend talking to Jesse
about that just yet.”

“No. Definitely not.” He sighed and rubbed one hand over his head. “So what do I say?”

“I don’t know. Whatever comes to mind. Just talk to him.”

“About what?”

“Let him take the lead. Kids who have something to say will get around to saying it if you make
yourself open to hearing it.”

“I don’t know what to tell him.”

“The most important thing for a kid in a tough situation is to know that someone’s listening,
and someone understands. You don’t have to solve their problems. That’s not what they need,
mostly. What they need is to know someone cares, and that their problems are legitimate.”

D nodded. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.”

Jack smiled. “Either way, it’d be good to get to know your nephew a little better, won’t it?”

“Yeah. It would be.”

When he knocked on Jesse’s door, there was an immediate rustling. “Go away, Mom.”

“It’s, uh…it’s D. I mean, Anson.” It still felt strange to him to use his actual name.

More rustling, then the door opened. Jesse looked up at him, wide eyed. “Oh. Hey.”

“I thought we could maybe talk? For a minute?”

“Yeah. Okay.” He opened the door a little further and D walked in. It was a pretty tidy room
for a teenage boy. Some clutter on the desk and a few clothes on the floor, but presentable.
Not like the pigsty he’d expected. “Have a seat,” Jesse said, motioning to his desk chair.

D sat down, looking around. There were some video-game posters on the wall, and one smaller
one of a pretty girl, clearly some sort of celebrity that D didn’t recognize. Jesse sat down on the
bed, folding his legs yoga-style. “Who’s that, then?” D said, nodding at the poster of the pretty
girl.

“Oh,” Jesse said, blushing. “It’s Hilary Duff. I used to be really into her.”

“Not now?”

“Not as much.”

“Poster’s still up, though,” D said, teasing.

“I guess I’m kinda used to it being there.”

“So, uh – how’s the ankle?”

Jesse flexed it. “It’s okay. It’s a little bit sore. I wrapped an Ace bandage around it. It’ll be
fine.” He took a deep breath. “So my mom asked you to come talk to me, huh?”
“Why do you think so?”

“Cause whenever I have some kind of issue going on, she likes to find people who she thinks I
might like to talk to.”

“Would you rather talk right to her?”

Jesse made a face. “Not really. Anyway, that comes later. You’re the kickoff play. She’ll take
the field once the game starts.” He glanced up. “You like football?”

“I like it okay. You?”

“I like watching. Playing, not so much. I’m not that great at sports. My hands and feet don’t
talk to each other all that well.”

“That bother you?”

Jesse shrugged. “Guess I got better things to do with my time.”

D stared at his hands, which were fidgeting restlessly, his fingers pulling at each other as was his
usual habit. “Look, Jesse – this problem at school. With the bullies.”

“Yeah. Listen, it’s nice you wanna help and all, but I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“There ain’t no shame in it. Shame’s all on their side, or it oughta be.”

Jesse regarded him thoughtfully for a few beats. “Mom talks about you like you’re some kind
of legendary badass.”

“Well, I dunno about that. I was Special Forces in the Army. I guess I got some skills.”

“My teacher says that bullies single out kids who they think are different, even if they’re just
regular kids. But it seems to me like they pick out kids they think are weak.”

“Maybe so.”

“So why am I the weak one? I mean, what’s so different about me?” He spread his arms and
looked down at himself.

“It ain’t what’s different about you that gets them riled up. Ever notice that they always run in
packs?”

“Yeah. What’s that about?”

“There’s safety in numbers. They run in packs cause they got no confidence. Then it makes it
worse cause they all think they gotta act like a big man to impress the others, and be the alpha
male, and in their minds they think that means picking somebody and beating them down.”

“Did you ever do that? I mean, being in the Army’s pretty alpha-male, isn’t it?”

“I worked alone.”

Jesse held his gaze. “You didn’t work for the Army all this time, did you?”

D sighed. “What if I said I didn’t?”

“So were you some kind of – I don’t know, free agent? Like a ronin warrior?”

D shook his head. “You read too many comic books, Jesse.”

“That would be so sweet if you were.”

“I promise you, whatever you’re imagining is nothing like what my life’s been. It wasn’t
glamorous and it wasn’t exciting and it’s nothing you should be looking up to me for.”

Jesse was examining his hands. “What’s it like living with another guy?”

The question came out of nowhere, and caught D a bit off-guard. “Oh. Uh…well. Not really
sure how to answer that. I don’t guess it’s much different than living with a woman. Except we
can share socks.”

Jesse laughed. “My mom and dad fight over stupid stuff. Like taking out the garbage, and if
somebody spent too much money on something.”

“Yeah, we do that, too.”

“Anybody ever call you a fag?” Jesse asked, his voice going much quieter.

D watched the top of the boy’s head, feeling for him. “Not when I could hear.”

He snorted. “Of course they didn’t. Look at you. Nobody would dare.”

“Mostly people are polite to my face. Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in their heads,
though.”

“What do you do about that?”

“Well, it used to worry me. Jack says we can’t control what people think and it’s none of our
business. It’s only our business how they treat us.”

“But you guys are grownups. Nobody’s going to beat you up over it.”

“Oh, you think grownups don’t get beat up? Or even killed? You see it on the news all the
time. Me and Jack are lucky to live in a place where that doesn’t happen much. And I’ve been
trained to take care of myself, and I’m doing my best to make sure Jack knows how, too. Not
everybody’s that lucky. You don’t get to pick who you go to school with, or what kind of shit
they hear from their parents at home. I swear, if I hear one more asshole on TV talking about
the ‘homosexual agenda’…Christ. Most of the time my agenda is just to get through the
goddamned day.” He sighed, then decided he had to just take the plunge and ask. “Jesse, you
think you might be gay?”

Jesse’s head came up. His eyes were full of uncertainty and not a little bit of fear. “Why? You
think so, too? Why does everybody think that? Am I giving off some kind of gay voodoo
vibes?” His voice got more strident as he spoke, cracking several times.

D put his hands out. “No, no, it ain’t that! It’s just – well, I thought I had to at least ask.”

“Do I look like I like dudes? Seriously!”

“You can’t tell by looking at somebody. Would you think so to look at me? Or Jack?”

Jesse shook his head. “Honestly, I’m having a hard time believing that you do.”

“I didn’t always know. That’s the point. Did you know I was married? To a woman?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. When I was real young, before I went in the Army. Even had a daughter.”

“Mom said something about that. She died, right?”

D nodded. “Yeah, a long time ago. My point is that people don’t always know.”

“But didn’t you have some kind of idea, when you were my age?”

He sighed. “At the time I would have denied it. Probably with some fists thrown in for good
measure. But yeah, it was there.”

“I mean, you think I haven’t thought about it? When every guy in the world is obsessed with
being gay or not being gay and whether or not he’s gay or whether or not every other guy
around is gay? Every time you turn around there’s someone else saying it’s okay to be gay,
meanwhile if you so much as wear something purple to school you’re gonna get your ass
kicked.”

D’s head was spinning. He couldn’t fathom dealing with that kind of environment now, let
alone when he was Jesse’s age. “Shit, Jesse. I don’t envy you. Maybe it was easier back in my
day when it just wasn’t talked about, and it wasn’t the first thing everybody thought of.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” He went thoughtful for a moment. “I really don’t think I am.”

“Okay. Hey, nobody’s pressuring you to be gay.”

“I know,” Jesse said, smirking a little.

“Just saying. You know. If you were, you could – talk to me, maybe, if you wanted…”

Jesse was watching him, bemused. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”

D leaned back, his hands restlessly kneading his thighs. “Oh, man, you have no idea how much I
don’t. I ain’t no poster boy.”

“I guess – thanks. For the thought.”

“All right, then.” He harrumphed. “You aren’t supposed to know who you are when you’re
thirteen, anyhow. That’s the point of being thirteen.”

Jesse took a deep breath and shut his eyes. “So there’s this guy, Tyler Young. He’s the worst of
all of them.”

“Yeah, your mom mentioned him. Said he goes to your church.”

“Yeah. I asked Mom if we could just not go tonight, but now I’m thinking – I should go.”

“That so?”

“I shouldn’t hide, right?”

“No shame in hiding, Jesse. Not when the alternative is getting your ass kicked.”

“I can’t hide forever. And if I run it’s like admitting he’s right. Right?”

“Okay.”

“Would you come with?”

D’s breath caught in his throat a little. “To church?”

“Yeah. Would you and Jack come with us? I just think I might be able to deal with him a little
better just knowing you were there and you know ten ways to kill him with a straw, or
something.”

“Aw, Jesse. That’s bullshit.”

“It is?” he said, looking crestfallen.

“Yeah.” He smirked. “I know twelve ways to kill with a straw.”

Jesse grinned, and D’s heart sank. Looks like I’m going to church. Fuck me.

D stood with Jack in the front hall with Martin while Merle corralled the kids. After Jesse’s
request, there had been a flurry of activity involving the finding of dresses and the doing of hair
and the protestations of Dana, who was not on board with this whole trip to church to bolster
Jesse’s courage.

D was not really on board for an entirely different reason, but he was prepared to suffer. “You
sure this is okay, Martin?” he said. “I mean, I wouldn’t wanna make things awkward for you
and Merle in the future.”

“Why would things be awkward?”

“Cause you brought your gay brother-in-law and his partner to church, for one.”

Martin smiled. “Anson, it’s really okay. We’re Methodists. It’s a very inclusive congregation.
We have other gay couples who come to services. Everyone’s fine with it.”

D grumbled. The idea of a church that was “fine with it” didn’t really compute with him. “I
guess nobody’s gotta know.”

“There’s no reason to hide it,” Martin said. “You guys can just be yourselves.”

“This is me being myself,” D said. He glanced at Jack, who was uncharacteristically quiet. “You
okay, doc?”

He nodded. “Been a long time since I was in a church.” He was looking away.

D felt like an asshole. In his talk with Jesse and his worry about being gay in a church, he hadn’t
thought about Jack’s issues with religion. His family’s religious beliefs were a big part of why he
didn’t speak to them. He had more reason to feel uncomfortable being in a church than did D,
who hadn’t had much religion at all growing up. He moved a little closer, reached out and took
his hand. “I’m sorry, doc. I didn’t think.”

“It’s all right. I’m a grown man, I ought to be able to walk into a church on Christmas Eve.”

D looked at Martin. “Excuse us a second, okay?” Martin nodded, and D pulled Jack off into the
dining room. He turned toward him, put his hands on Jack’s face and kissed him. He felt Jack’s
surprise for a moment, then he relaxed into it, his hands coming up to D’s waist and his lips
opening to return the kiss.

They broke apart after a few moments, and Jack looked more like himself again. “What was
that for?”

“Just – you know. I love you.”

Jack cocked an eyebrow. “Who are you, and what have you done with D?”

He snorted. “Can’t a guy get mushy once in awhile?”

“Not without said guy’s boyfriend getting suspicious.”

“You were looking kind of antsy, and nervous, and I thought it might – you know, help.”

“So this was a calculated gesture designed to relax and reassure me, huh?”

“Well, it don’t sound too sexy when you put it like that.”

Jack grinned. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“I know this isn’t what you had in mind when you got me to call Merle that first time.”

“I didn’t have anything in mind except for you to connect with your family. That’s what you’re
doing. So I’m on board.”

“Anson? Jack? We’re ready to go,” Merle called from the hall.

“All right, then. Ready for this?” D said.

Jack squared his shoulders. “Lead on, MacDuff.”

The church wasn’t what D had been expecting. He couldn’t have articulated what he had been
expecting until they arrived and he found himself surprised, realizing he’d been picturing a
forbidding stone edifice that would loom over him, with giant doors that he’d have to haul
open, which might possibly shoot lightning at him with a cry of “unclean!”

In fact, the church was a low-profile mid-century building that you might mistake for an office
park were it not for the cross on the exterior and the stained-glass windows. Light spilled from
every opening, and the doors, far from being forbidding, were propped open. He and Jack
parked next to Merle and Martin’s car; no sooner had the group started across the parking lot
than people were waving and hailing them.

“Oh, Christ, I’m gonna have to meet people,” D muttered.

Jack chuckled. “You’ll survive.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see.” They followed Merle and Martin inside and took their lead. Hang up
coats, wipe snow off shoes, smile and nod. D watched Jesse, who was looking around
apprehensively; no doubt he was watching for Tyler Young, his chief tormentor. Dana saw
some of her school friends and bounced off to gossip with them.

A woman barreled up to them, beaming a wide smile, her arms out. “Merle, I didn’t think you
were coming tonight!” she exclaimed, hugging her.

“We weren’t, but we changed our minds.”

“Weren’t you having your brother over?”

“This is him,” Merle said, motioning to D. The woman’s eyes turned to him with frank curiosity.
“This is Anson, and this is his partner, Jack.”

D watched the woman for a reaction to that word ‘partner,’ but there was none. She just
grinned and seized his hand, shaking it vigorously. “So nice to meet you,” she said. “I’m
Dorothy, I’m an old friend of Merle’s. She’s been so anxious for your visit! And Jack, nice to
meet you, too,” she said, shaking Jack’s hand.

“We better head upstairs,” Merle said, herding everybody towards the stairs. “I’ll catch up with
you later, Dorothy.” She grabbed D’s arm and pulled him along.

“That one of your girlfriends?” D asked.

Merle rolled her eyes. “I can’t stand that woman. Your standard church busybody, up in
everybody’s business.”

Jack elbowed him, leaning close. “See, you aren’t the only one who has to fake it sometimes.”
They made it to the sanctuary. D stared; the place was decorated to within an inch of its life.
Roping, lights, candles, ribbons, Christmas trees – he counted at least four on first glance. The
whole place smelled like pine needles and coffee and candle wax. He found himself smiling. It
was kind of nice.

D felt Jesse tense up next to him. He looked down and followed the boy’s eyes to a group of
teenagers huddling up by the doors. They looked like ordinary kids. He’d expected hulking
thugs and ne’er-do-wells, but these kids looked regular. Not really any different than Jesse
himself.

What makes someone the bullied, or the bully? Damn, it’s a fine line. One toe over it and you
turn into what you despise. He knew a little bit about that. He nudged Jesse, who looked up at
him with a shrug.

Merle and Martin were greeting friends, making small talk. To D’s relief, Merle didn’t drag him
over to everyone she saw to introduce him, so he and Jack happily hung back by the coffeepots
with Jesse. Jack was looking around like he’d never seen a church before. “Is this like the
church you went to?” D asked.

Jack shook his head. “Not remotely. It’s so – cozy. People are smiling. It’s freaking me out a
little bit, actually.”

Jesse laughed. “I went to a Catholic service once with my friend Mike. It was super uptight. I
was like, you ought to come with me to where people are allowed to breathe.”

“When I was growing up, church was all about the fear of God,” Jack said, his voice dropping a
little. D watched his face. He very rarely talked about this. “It was hell and damnation. It was
what would happen to you if you didn’t toe the company line. Nobody looked glad to be there.
It was their penance to go.”

“Well, it’s not like I leap out of bed all excited to come here,” Jesse said, “but it isn’t so bad.
And there’s always food,” he said, taking a cookie off a platter on the table. The organ started
up, playing “Joy to the World.” Jesse jerked his head toward the sanctuary. “C’mon, we’re
supposed to sit down now.”

They sat in a row in one pew with Jack on the end. D sat between him and Jesse. He leaned
toward Jack. “Are they gonna expect us to do that wine and bread thing?” he muttered.

“You mean communion? No idea.”

“Well – I ain’t singing.”

Jack smiled. “Then just listen.”

So he did. He listened to the choir sing a carol. Then he listened to the whole congregation
sing a carol. He listened to the words. Everybody seemed to know what to say. He recognized
some of the prayers, but the rest was all just a bunch of God stuff that went over his head.
There was more singing. There were handbells. There was a lot more music than he’d been
expecting.

Then the preacher got up to give a sermon, and D braced himself for mind-numbing boredom.
To his surprise, the preacher talked for less than ten minutes, mostly telling some stories about
holiday giving and family bonds and stuff like that. Some people read from the Bible. More
music, damn. Then people were rustling and activity was going on up front.

Merle leaned over. “We’ll go up and take communion. You’re welcome to join but please,
don’t feel you have to.”

“We’ll just hang here, then,” D said. He watched as his sister and her family got up and joined
the line of people waiting to walk up to the altar.

“D, look,” Jack whispered, nudging him. He looked and saw two youngish, well-dressed men in
the line – then he noticed that the young men were holding hands. Right here in front of God
and everybody.

“Damn,” D said. “There’s something I never thought I’d see.”

They both went quiet, watching the couple’s progress up the aisle. The two young men were
greeted by others passing them. D saw a few people look at them and then look away, like they
were uncomfortable. But he saw just as many take no notice.

He felt Jack slip a hand into his. He resisted the urge to pull away, took a deep breath, and
laced his fingers with Jack’s. They stayed that way, linked hands resting between them on the
pew, until the end of the service.

Merle introduced them to the minister, but mercifully didn’t subject them to any further show-
and-tell. She and Martin were buttonholed into conversation by some friends. D looked
around for the gay couple they’d seen during the service; he spotted them in a group of
suburban-looking people, chatting and laughing.

Jesse was casting nervous glances at Tyler Young and his posse, who were shooting him
taunting looks. “Crap,” he muttered. “I’ll just get it double next time if they don’t get in their
licks tonight.”

D watched the little group slink out the side doors. “Where they going?”
“Probably to sneak smokes. They hide behind the pine trees by the playground.”

“Huh.”

Jesse was watching the door they’d just left through. “Maybe I’m off the hook for tonight.”

“I could go have a little chat with your pal Tyler,” D said. “I got a badge. I could flash it at him,
tell him the FBI’s started tracking bullies now. Put a little fright into him.”

Jesse giggled. “Oh, man. I’d give anything to see his face if you did that.”

“You want me to?”

“Hell, no. They saw you here with me tonight. They’ll figure out you’re my uncle and then
that’ll be it. It’ll just make it worse.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Plus I don’t think the FBI would be too happy for you to use that
badge to browbeat a teenage boy, D.”

D snorted. “Might be worth it. That little asshole’s earned himself some browbeating, if you
ask me.”

Back at Merle and Martin’s house, the kids headed to their rooms, leaving the adults to break
out the wine. “So that wasn’t too painful, was it?” Merle said, smiling.

“We survived,” D said. “So did Jesse.”

She sobered. “It’s just not fair. He’s such a good kid, and if that gets beaten out of him – well. I
won’t let that happen.”

“Just tell me there’s something you can do,” D said.

Merle sighed. “It’s so hard, Anson. It’s hard to know what to do that won’t just make it worse
for him. How can I take any actions that’ll make him more of a target?”

“Damn. The Gitmo interrogators could learn a few things from these schoolyard bullies. It’s
like a vicious cycle.”

“Yeah, it is,” Martin said. “Plus there’s the complication that the bad guys are kids, too, and
they’re not really responsible for how they’re acting.”
“The hell they’re not,” D said.

“Most of these kids will look back in ten years and be ashamed and sorry for how they acted.
It’s just that they were scared and confused and insecure themselves, and this was how they
expressed it.”

“That don’t make it okay for Jesse to live in fear.”

“No. And we’ll do something about it. I just don’t know what,” Merle said.

“Here’s an idea. Let him learn how to fight,” D said.

Merle frowned. “Fight?”

“Sure. Get him into some karate lessons, or something.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve read that boys who take martial arts can get hurt worse in
fights, because they think they’re invincible.”

“Don’t get me wrong. He shouldn’t be using any of that stuff in real fights. And a reputable
teacher will make sure he knows that. But learning how to handle yourself – well, it could give
him a boost. Some confidence. He might not feel so goddamn helpless.”

“What kind of fighting do you know?”

D and Jack shared a quick glance. “Yeah…I’m trained in Krav Maga. I don’t think that’s the way
to go. Just find a good karate dojo, there must be some in town. Ask around.”

Merle still looked dubious. “We’ll have to talk about that.”

“The best thing we can do is support Jesse,” Martin said. “Make sure he knows we’re here for
him. But if one of those kids lays a hand on mine again, I don’t care what else, I’m getting the
police involved,” he said, his face hardening.

D nodded. “Good. And remember, I know some intimidating FBI agents.”

“You know some?” Martin said, smiling. “I think you are one, Anson.”

I know a really good black-ops Secret Service agent, too. She could make it look like an accident
and nobody would ever know, D thought but did not say.
D was pleasantly buzzed on wine by the time they left. Jack had stuck to coffee all night, so
he’d be driving them home.

“It was so amazing to have you here,” Merle said, hugging D hard.

D hugged her back, much more easily than he had when they arrived. “You guys have a real
nice Christmas,” he said, shaking Martin’s hand.

“We will. And we’ll all see each other soon, right?”

“Oh, you bet.”

“Call me when you get home,” Merle said, fretting a bit. “So I know you got there safe.”

D chuckled. “Same old mother hen.”

They went out to the driveway amidst more good-nights and waves, until the door closed
behind them. “Well, D, looks like you got yourself some family now,” Jack said, clapping him on
the shoulder.

“Yeah,” D said, marveling at the concept. “Who’d a thought it?”

They got in the car. “It would have been nice to stay.”

“Maybe next year.”

“Yeah.”

D sighed, letting his head fall back against the headrest and loll to the side, watching Jack’s
profile as he backed the car out into the street and drove off. “Hey. Doc.”

“Hmm?”

“Remember when I said you were an overbearing nag?”

Jack snorted. “Which time?”

“Well – thanks.”

Jack looked over at him, then leaned close and kissed him. “Merry Christmas, D.”

“Merry Christmas, Jack.”