This story is a work of FICTION. The events described are my own invention. Any similarities to actual events or persons are strictly coincidental. The author retains the copyright, and any other rights, to this original story. You may not publish it or any part of it without my explicit authorization.
This story contains depictions of consensual sexual acts between teenage males. It is intended for mature audiences only. If you find this type of material offensive or if you are under the legal age to read said material; please proceed no further.
Comments are always welcome at: hailcaesar2011@hotmail.com
A Light in Dark Places Chapter 10
I thought the next day would be awkward but it wasn't. Tyler acted like nothing had happened and he's so endearing and easy going that I couldn't just ignore him. We settled back into our routine of classes, therapy and nights in the music room, for arts and crafts. Wendy was back to normal, or as normal as I'd ever known her, the façade of strength was back up and she'd relaxed her motherly grip, even if it was only a little bit.
The news seemed to dominate everyone's attention that week. The vice-president's body lie in state, in the U.S. Capitol and the state funeral was held at the National Cathedral. Wendy, Tyler and I gathered with the other students to watch it on TV. Tyler kept pointing out different aspects of the cathedral, he knew it well, his school, St. Albans, was in the shadow of the majestic building and he sang in the National Cathedral Boys Choir.
"I didn't know you sang," I said, during a gap in the coverage.
"That's because I shower alone," Tyler giggled.
"Oh you are so getting payback," I teased.
"Payback for what?" he asked.
"That little incident at church, `oh Pastor Monica, Peter can play the piano,'" I said, mocking Tyler's voice.
"Well, you can play, right?" he shot back.
"Yeah, and evidently you can sing, I'm volunteering you for the choir," I smiled.
Tyler and I attended church together every Sunday and had been welcomed as part of the congregation.
"Hey Peter, isn't that your mom and dad?" asked Wendy, bringing our attention back to the TV. I'd shown her a picture of my parents, shortly after we'd become friends.
"Yeah, that's them," I stated, as the camera panned over my parents, sitting a few rows behind the president and first lady.
We watched the rest of the funeral, listening to the speech and seeing if we'd spot mom and dad again. It was a sad occasion, the Vice President, Mitchell Clark, was a widower with no children of his own, who had dedicated his life to public service. His wife died shortly after he'd been elected governor of Ohio and he threw himself into the job. He eventually ran for president only to drop out after losing the New Hampshire Primary. He was a bright man and he'd run a clean campaign which had earned the respect of his opponent, who later asked him to be his running mate. All of that had been snuffed out by a heart attack.
While I watched the funeral, I couldn't help but feel sorry for the man who had lost his wife, had no family and gave everything to his job. What was the point of all that if you didn't have your family to enjoy it? I didn't know it then, but that question wouldn't just be an academic exercise for me to ponder. Several days later, I was lying in bed, sleeping, waiting for my nightmare to come, as it did like clockwork, but instead, I was woken by a knock on the door.
"Yes ma'am?" I asked, as I opened the door to find Dr. Collins.
"Peter, I need you to get dressed and come down to my office please," said Dr. Collins.
"Is everything alright?" I asked.
"Everything's fine, I just need you to get dressed and come down," said Dr. Collins.
"Ok," I agreed.
I stripped off my pajamas, found a clean pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, then ran down the stairs, where I got a big surprise.
"Stewart, what are you doing here?" I exclaimed, on seeing my dad's aide, standing with a man and woman, about his age, in business suits, with squiggly rubber wires sticking out of their ears.
"Hey Petey, it's good to see you," said Stewart, giving me a hug, "this is Agent Sarah Martinez and Agent Brian Stark, they're with the Secret Service."
"Hi," I said to the agents, "Stew, what's going on, are my mom and dad ok?"
"Fine, everything's fine, in fact, your mom wants to talk to you," said Stewart.
He pulled out his cell phone, dialed the number and handed it to me.
"Stewart?" said mom, when she answered.
"No mom, it's me," I replied.
"Peter, oh sweetie, it's so good to hear your voice, how are you?" asked mom.
"I'm ok, mom what's going on, is dad ok?" I asked.
"He's fine, I'm sorry for waking you up like this, we didn't mean to frighten you," said mom.
"It's ok, what's going on?" I asked, curiously.
"I can't go into it on the phone honey, for now I just wanted you to know that you'll be coming down to Washington for a couple of days," said mom, "I want you to be a good boy, listen to Stewart and he'll bring you down, then your father and I will explain everything."
"Mom, I'm not five," I complained, in regards to that `good boy,' remark.
"You'll always be my little boy, now, let me talk to Stewart and I'll see you in a few hours," said mom.
Stewart spoke to mom for about a minute, then turned his attention back to me.
"Ok Petey, let's get going," said Stewart.
"Don't I need to pack?" I asked.
"Nope, it's all taken care of," said Stewart.
"Dr. Collins?" I asked.
"It's alright Peter, I spoke with your mother before I woke you, you'll only be gone for a few days, I'll tell Tyler and Wendy not to worry," she smiled.
"Ok, then, let's go," I said, shrugging my shoulders.
Agent Martinez led me out to a black SUV. There were two of them and Stewart and I were loaded into the first. The windows were tinted but I could see other Secret Service agents emerging from the shadows and getting into the second car. The engine started and we quickly approached the main gate.
"All posts, be advised FOX is on the move, departing SHERLOCK HOMESTEAD, eta Pittsfield, forty minutes," said Agent Martinez, speaking into a small microphone sticking out of her sleeve.
"Isn't it an hour to Pittsfield?" I asked.
"Goes a little faster when you have a police escort," said Stewart.
Just as he said that, we pulled through the gate and a Massachusetts State Trooper took position in front of us. He led the procession with his lights flashing and siren blaring.
"Ok, more importantly, who is FOX, what is SHERLOCK HOMESTEAD and most importantly, what the hell is going on?" I demanded.
"The Secret Service assigns codenames to its protectees and classified locations. You're father is TIMBERWOLF, your mother is TULIP, you were assigned FOX and the clinic is SHERLOCK HOMESTEAD," said Agent Martinez.
"Oh, ok. Stewart, why does my family need Secret Service protection?" I asked.
"Your mom made me swear to let them tell you when we get to D.C." said Stewart.
"Yeah, but..." I objected.
"Just relax and enjoy the ride," said Stewart.
There was no use arguing, I sat back in my seat and watched the dark countryside pass by in silence. When we arrived at Pittsfield Airport, we were waved through the gate and onto the tarmac. We pulled up to an executive jet, painted in the same blue and white color scheme as Air Force One, with United States Air Force painted along the fuselage. There was no time for further examination though, Agent's Martinez and Stark, hustled me aboard. The plane started to taxi to the runway before I even had my seatbelt on.
I tried to ask Stewart more questions but he just threw a pillow at me and suggested I try and get some sleep. The odds of that happening were pretty slim, I'd been rousted out of bed, collected by a team of Secret Service agents and put aboard an Air Force jet, all while no one answered any of my questions. I didn't know what was going on but that didn't stop my mind from running at top speed to try and figure it out. Fortunately it's a short flight from New England to Washington, an hour and a half after takeoff; we began to make our decent into the D.C. area. I'd flown into the nation's capitol dozens of times but this view was different, the angle was wrong, we weren't heading for Reagan Airport, I was informed that we were landing at Andrews Air Force Base.
Another Secret Service team was waiting for us, I climbed into another black government SUV and we pulled out of the base, where we met up with another police escort. I'd never traveled through Washington so quickly before, usually the streets are clogged with traffic, but we weren't even stopping for red lights, our escort was taking us straight through. I also knew enough about D.C. to know that they weren't taking me to my parents Georgetown home. We got off the Suitland Parkway at Capitol Street, passing the US. Capitol as we made our way towards Pennsylvania Avenue, past the White House and into the parking garage of the Hay Adams Hotel.
We went right through the lobby to the elevators. I noticed a handful of Secret Service agents in the lobby and there were two more in the hall when I stepped off the elevator. We walked towards them and one of them held the door open for me and my small entourage. We entered a palatial suite; I recognized some of my dad's staff from his capitol office, a few additional agents and some serious looking guys carrying folders embossed with the White House logo. I didn't have time to look around long; my parents came out of a room with Uncle Jack.
"Oh, Peter," said mom, she hugged me warmly the minute she saw me.
"Hi ya tiger," dad smiled, getting his hug as well.
"Mom, dad it's so good to see you," I greeted.
"It's good to see you too, son," said dad.
"Ok, now can someone please tell me what's going on, this feels like some kind of weird dream," I stated.
"Right, folks, can we have the room please?" asked dad.
Immediately the gathered staff, filed out, leaving me alone with my parents. They sat me down on the couch, each of them hugged me again, then dad explained the reason for my summons.
"Peter have you been following the news, you know that the vice-president died?" asked dad.
"Sure dad, I know I've been in the back woods for a while but it's not that back woods, we do have TV," I smirked.
"Ok wise guy," dad grinned, "earlier this evening, the president called me to the Oval Office and asked me to serve as vice-president."
"You're shitting me?" I exclaimed.
"Peter, language," mom chastised, dad just laughed.
"That was my reaction at first too," said dad.
"Dad, that's incredible, I'm so proud of you," I stated, as I gave him another hug.
"So you approve then?" asked dad.
"Approve, dad, you can't say no, the president asked you to serve," I explained.
I may only be 16 but I am pretty patriotic. The way I'd been raised, public service wasn't a punch line, it was a noble calling and when the president asked for your help, you gave it.
"Don't worry, I said yes," dad smiled.
"So that's why you brought me down here?" I asked.
"Yes," said dad, "this is going to affect all of our lives and it's important that you be here and get an understanding of what's going to take place in the next couple of weeks. The president is going to make the announcement in the morning; we'll leave here and be taken to the White House, where the presentation will be made in the East Room."
"Wait, you mean me and mom have to be on TV with you?" I asked.
"There's nothing to be nervous about, all you and mom have to do is stand by my side," said dad, "you know the drill."
I was fairly familiar with it. I'd been a prop in all of my dad's campaigns, voters liked to see a man's family before they cast their ballots. It wasn't a bad thing; I'd had fun on some of those campaign trips, most of them in fact. This would just be the first time I'd be on national television.
"There will be a reception at the White House tomorrow evening and then we'll gear up for my confirmation hearing, which will start next week," dad continued.
"When can I go back to the clinic?" I asked, suddenly feeling nervous. I'd done the D.C. thing with my parents in the past, I wasn't really comfortable with that part of my dad's job, the people just seemed so phony.
"You'll go back to Massachusetts, with Agents Martinez and Stark, the day after tomorrow," said Mom.
"I have to take them with me?" I asked.
"Peter, your father is going to be Vice President of the United States, that puts you at some risk, it's for your own protection," mom explained.
"Yeah but they can't turn the clinic into some kind of armed compound, what about the other patients?" I asked.
"Don't worry about that," said Dad, "the Secret Service will secure the grounds, they'll have the entrances to the building covered and there will be some people inside in case of an emergency."
"How many are we talking about?" I asked.
"Agent Martinez said about a dozen," answered mom.
"A dozen? Twelve? I need twelve bodyguards?" I exclaimed.
"It's only for the time being sweetheart, once the conformation is over and your dad's sworn in, that number will drop to 8 and then probably to 3 or 4 when you come home," said mom.
"When I come home?" I asked.
"Well, yes," said dad, "Dr. Collins says you've been making progress and we have to prepare for that eventuality. That's something else your mother and I wanted to talk to you about."
"Ok," I replied, not sure what that was all about.
"Peter, son, we've been apart for too long, we've missed you while you were away at the academy and if you'd like, we want you to go to school here in Washington. The job I'm taking comes with a great house on the grounds of the Naval Observatory, I think you'd be really happy there," said Dad.
"Where would I go to school?" I asked, a little choked up by the fact that my parents were so eager to have me home.
"We've asked them to hold a place for you at St. Albans, its next to..." mom began.
"The National Cathedral, I know," I smiled.
"I take it you like that idea?" asked dad.
"Yeah, I have a friend who goes there," I smiled, thinking of Tyler.
"I'm glad son, this is going to be an adventure for our family, your mother and I want to share it with you as much as we can," said dad.
"Thanks dad, I'm excited about it to, I'm so proud of you, but wait a minute," I stated, as I came to a realization.
"Your confirmation hearing, they can ask you anything they want, right?" I asked.
"Yes, that's how the process works, I haven't been elected to this position and I could be called on to take the president's place in an emergency, the people have a right to know who they're getting. It's not that different then the campaign, you know what that's like," said dad.
"Yeah, but dad, you didn't have a gay son that tried to kill himself during your last campaign, everyone is going to know, aren't they?" I asked.
"I won't lie to you son, it will come out, I'll do my best to minimize questions about that but I'll probably have to address it," said dad.
"I'm going to be a national joke," I replied.
"No honey, we won't let that happen," said mom, "after you go back to the clinic, the White House will be handling the press, they'll see to it that there is a line that doesn't get crossed."
"I'm not so sure how that's going to work, I've met enough reporters to know that they're like sharks when they smell blood in the water," I grumbled.
"Well, it's late, there will be plenty of time to talk about this tomorrow, why don't you get some sleep, they're going to wake you at 7am," said dad.
"Ok, I am tired, where do I sleep?" I asked.
"Right through there," said mom, gesturing to a door.
I hugged my parents good night, got a kiss from my mom and then went to my room. The pajama's I kept at our D.C. home were laid out on the bed. I changed quickly and then opened the curtains, so that I could check out the view, my room overlooked the White House. I climbed into bed and had to force my brain to shut itself off, it was after two in the morning and they were going to wake me in a few hours, I felt like I'd need all the sleep I could get.
The bedside phone started to ring at exactly 7:00am, I answered it and found that it was a regular wakeup call like you'd get in any hotel. I put the receiver down and stretched, then climbed out of bed, just as Agent Martinez walked in with two women, one carrying a garment bag. The other woman walked right over to me, took my face in her hands and started moving my head about, looking at my hair.
"What's going on?" I asked, testily, "I could have been naked you know."
"Sorry, we'll knock in the future," said Agent Martinez.
"Don't worry sonny, I've got four boys of my own and three grandsons, you haven't got anything I haven't seen before," said the woman holding my face.
"Yeah, well, I don't go around introducing it to strangers," I grumbled, "who are you anyway?"
"This is Marcia Richmond, the White House barber," said Agent Martinez.
"Barber?" I asked.
"That's right sweetie, can't have you going on TV without a fresh haircut," said Marcia.
She was a pushy old broad, she took a hold of my shoulders and plopped me down in a chair, then spread a sheet under it. She started cutting my hair before I could stop her.
"Hey, don't you want to ask how I want it cut?" I asked.
"Nope," said Marcia, "I know what I'm doing."
"Yeah but..." I started to complain.
But she ignored me. I sat there feeling like I had when I was five years old and my mommy had to tell the stylist how to cut my hair. I didn't have any choice then and I didn't have any now. I didn't need to worry though, Marcia Richmond cut the president's hair and she did a bang up job on mine. When she was finished, I stood in front of the mirror admiring her handy-work; my chestnut hair had never looked so good.
"Now, aren't you glad you quit whining and let me work?" said Marcia, with a wink.
"Yes ma'am," I replied.
"And see, look how polite he is when he wants to be," Marcia smiled, "You're going to look so pretty for the cameras, just remember to smile."
After that, the women excused themselves and I was told to shower and get dressed. Before I could explain that I didn't have anything to wear, the woman who had brought in the garment bag; gave me a gentle shove towards the bathroom door. Everyone seemed to be in a hurry that morning.
When I emerged from the shower, I dried off and wrapped a towel around my waist, then stuck my head out the door to make sure I was alone. It was one thing for those ladies to catch me in my pajamas, it was another for them to see me in just a towel, a guy needs to have a little privacy. When I was sure that the coast was clear, I walked out to the room and found my clothes laid out on the bed. There were three suits to choose from, one navy, one charcoal and one black, I had four shirts to pick from, 5 ties and my shoes had even been polished to a shine that would impress a Marine Corps drill sergeant.
I have to say, the people around her may be pushy, but the service was first rate. I selected the navy blue, three button suit, a pressed white shirt, and a blue and gold stripped tie. I looked myself over in the mirror and thought that I looked like a million bucks. When I walked out into the main part of the suite, I found my mom and dad undergoing the same poking and prodding I'd endured at the hands of the White House staff. Someone tried to take my glasses and get me to wear contact lenses but that's where I drew the line. The whole concept of putting something directly on my eyeball freaked me out and I won that argument.
After that, it was time to head across the street, to the White House.