Flip

Flip Part 11

"Fluke!" Terry breathed through the SCBA, pitching his voice as low as he could manage, listening to the exchange of air through the regulator. God! they sounded so much like Darth Vader in those things. "Fluke! I am your father! And no! You can not have the keys to the Millennium Fuckup!"

"Don't I wish! ...The fuckup is whoever keeps starting these things!" Philip answered through his own mask as he stirred the trash they were standing in with the pikepole he held in his gloved hands. He couldn't help himself as he relaxed, concentrating only on the job at hand. He found it surprisingly easy to let the `father' comment slip. Terry's grin was infectious. "If I ever catch the fuckers, I'll kick their asses!"

"Was that kick..." Terry eyed his younger crewmate evilly. He was seeing something he'd feared was gone forever, a smile on Flip's face! He only wished the shared joy of losing themselves in what they were doing, standing hip deep in partially burned garbage, could go further, "...or kiss?"

"Smartass!" Philip shot back. He watched as Terry stumbled while pulling the hose around to get at another hot spot they'd uncovered. "Having trouble with your hose?"

"There's nothing wrong with my hose!" Terry quickly flooded the area and moved on to the next one. "Well, nothing my wife can't help me with!"

"Don't you mean viagra?" Philip grinned back behind the clear face-piece. "It must be tough at your age... Hey!" He turned quickly just as the stream of water struck, soaking his gear and almost pushing him back against the side of the dumpster they were wading through.

"Awright!" Bill shielded his face as he peered over the blackened metal side to check on their progress. "If you two are done dumpster diving... We need to get y'all cleaned off before I'll let you two back into my Engine." He shook his head and started to make his way back to where the rest of the crew was standing around the pump panel. "Y'all smell worse than my first girlfriend!"

"How could you tell!" Terry handed the nozzle over the side and then began climbing out of the dumpster himself. He started to reach for Philip, then backed away to avoid the boy's booted feet as they swung over the side. He glanced from Philip to Bill. "Must'a been the one who went `Moooo'!"

"Keep it up, jackass!" Bill opened the nozzle and directed the hard stream of water at his two crewmen, washing the refuse off of their fire gear. "I'd shove this hose up your ass, but then there wouldn't be any of you left. Once I washed all the shit away!"

Philip stayed silent through this latest exchange between his station captain and his new lieutenant. He stole a quick look at the lightening eastern sky. Everybody was getting punchy by that time. Hell! They hadn't seen the station since they'd left. They had started with that car fire and then some local firebug had decided to play with four dumpsters, one after the other....Engine Ninety two was finishing with the fourth one. For all their joking, he knew they all wanted nothing more than to catch the people responsible, just once!

"Earth to Flip!" Bill spoke. "Let's get this beast back in service... We'll hit the hydrant on the way home.... Don't say it!"

"OK," Terry responded meekly as he and Philip struggled out of their equipment. "But how we gon'a find one? You forgot the dog again!"

"I figured we'd use you! Smartass!" Bill retorted, not missing a beat with his lieutenant. "God knows you've lifted your leg on enough of them!"

"Hey! When you gotta go, you gotta go!" Terry smiled back at their station captain, sharing some private joke from their past. "Just be glad I stopped humping your leg and started humping Cindy's instead!"

"Philip?" Bill got the attention of the thoroughly confused boy placing his gear into the big red truck. He figured an explanation was in order. Just he wanted to do it on `his own' terms before Terry had a chance to, "Terry was quite a whore-dog! Used to fuck anything on two legs...that is, before Cindy got him so pussy whipped, he had to marry the poor girl!"

"Hey! I am not pussy whipped!" Terry came back gamely. "In fact, Cindy says she was a war bride! Well, there were guns there anyway! Can you imagine her dad said he'd beat my a..." he quickly saw the blood drain out of Philip's face and the sudden resurgence of anger smoldering behind his eyes, "...Fuck! I'm sorry, Flip... I should have kept my big mouth shut."

"No, it's OK." Philip pushed a fake smile onto his features as he climbed into the cab to join the other crewmen. He silently cursed the `real world' for breaking into the refuge the job was giving him. "It's not your fault."

"OK." Bill shot his lieutenant an unspoken warning glance while he finished securing their `trash-line' back in its hollow in the bumper of the engine. Finished, he quickly moved toward the driver's door and pulled himself up behind the wheel. "Let's get going before anything else happens this morning!" He pulled the mic up to his face, "Engine ninety four clear of the scene! Will advise when in service!"

"Received. Engine ninety four clear of scene, zero five twenty eight." Philip barely listened to the steady, somewhat bored sounding voice from the county dispatch center so many miles away. Terry's last comment and his own flash of angered pain had jarred him back to what waited for him when he had to go home. God! How he wished he could stay in the cab of that firetruck forev.... No! Philip flushed with guilt and anger at himself then. He was being selfish and knew it! The whole reason he was there was to do good for others in a way that would count the most and was fun on top of it, but that refuge wouldn't mean a damned thing if he wasn't there for his mom and Marty first! He felt the truck slow to a stop along the side of the road they were on and started to get up.

"No, Flip." Bill had turned in his seat and placed a restraining hand on Philip's shoulder. "The others can fill the tank. What are you thinking about so hard? You kind'a zoned out."

"Nothing," Philip responded quietly, shrugging with frustration. "I don't know.... It's so wrong! I'm laughing my ass off with Terry and m...my mom...and M...Marty...."

"Now listen to me, Philip," Bill broke in quietly. He sighed louder as he absently kneaded a kink his fingers found in the young man's shoulder. "You've been through way too much to get down on yourself for losing yourself in this job. Your problems will still be there for you to face, ....but so will we. Not everybody in this department will like what you are but they don't matter. Only Terry and I matter. We're your officers. As for the others, they'll come around. They can't help but respect what you've done, so don't worry. I'll see to that!"

"If you say so...." Philip whispered bitterly. "But... why?"

"I know so," Bill came back. "I grew up in the far east. I was the only blond-haired blue-eyed kid for miles around. Let's just say, I don't have much use for labels or anything else that people hate."

He silently let his thoughts trail off and watched as the rest of his crew reentered the cab of the engine. "Engine ninety four in service."

"Received, engine ninety four," the disembodied voice answered through the radio speaker. "Engine ninety four in service, zero five fifty two. Engine ninety four, public service S.O."

"Great!" Bill pulled the big engine back into their lane and punched the accelerator. He reached for the cell phone and handed it over to Terry. "I wonder what the damn sheriffs want now!"

"Hello, this is Engine ninety four. Yeah, we were told to call?" Terry rolled his eyes quietly at the others in the cab with him. His eyes suddenly grew narrow. "No! Shit! What?...He did?...So they caught the little shit? Well, he'd better keep that piece of shit in the car when we get there.... Yeah he's here with me.... Yeah, I understand.... We'll tell him first."

"Philip?" Terry sighed as he replaced the receiver. "It seems someone from your school paid us a visit this morning and decided to tag your car...."

"What!" Philip almost jumped up against the seat belt holding him in the rear facing jumpseat. "Fuck! Fuck! The fuckin' bastards!"

"Relax, Flip! ...They were caught!" Terry yelled suddenly to get his voice through the redhead's full blown temper. He smiled at Philip, watching him slow down as the others seated around him returned to upright. "Jeeze! Your English teachers would be proud of your vocabulary!"

"But! ...You!..." Philip found himself giggling crazily, along with everybody else as Terry's jab quickly deflated his ballooning rage. God, they were punchy that morning. "Oh fuckit! ...You said they were caught? Who...how?"

"Jamie, Jeff, and Peter dropped by the station this morning....." Terry smiled grimly, trying to catch Philip's eyes with his own.

"They did it?" Philip almost felt himself snapping. He was almost aware of the tension building again.

"No! ...No, no!" Terry dissembled quickly. "They caught the shit trying to mess with your car and chased him down. Well, Pete and Jamie did...."

"Yeah, right!" Philip snarled uncontrollably as his rollercoaster of emotions plunged into rage again. "Like they'd...."

"They did!" Terry barked in frustration. "Look, I don't understand you.... I don't think any of us do. But just this once, accept it for what it is. Now just stay calm and let Bill and I handle it when we get there. And don't worry about your car... it's why we have insurance."

"Yeah, Terry and me." Bill grimaced evilly at his lieutenant. "Sounds like your English teachers would be proud too!"

"Me, I, whatever!" Terry's face flushed brightly in the dark cab. "I'm an engineer, not a... Oh, just bite me!"

"God damn it!" Doctor Lewis snarled in frustration, looking at the ICU nurses tightly holding the black-haired boy's arms. The blood streaming down his raised arms from inside his elbows and the loose IV catheters told him the tale as soon as he entered Marty's room. "I told you all to watch him! What else did he pull out?"

"Lllett me go!" the youth screamed weakly. "Bastards!"

"Just the IV's." The chief nurse grimaced as she continued holding direct pressure over one of the former IV sites, willing it to clot off. "He didn't get around to the foley and we stopped him before he could tear the stitches holding the chest tube in! Stop fighting us, Marty!"

"OK." Robert Lewis let his calm return. He couldn't figure out if he was angry with his staff or at the boy for trying to ruin all his work. In the end he decided he couldn't be angry at either. It wouldn't do any good anyway. "Tell me what happened... I thought he was out for a while."

"We were mixing up his next drip...getting ready to hang it." The nurse quickly forced Marty's arm down and let her assistant secure it tightly to the bedrail. At least the bleeding had stopped. "He must have fought off the sedative, `cause he woke up screaming, and when we got in here, he had pulled the IV's and had started on the chest tube."

"OK, it's my fault." Robert shook his head slightly, amazed. He'd given a fifteen year old boy enough sedation to drop a horse, only to have him surface right through it. "Sorry about that. I should have ordered continuing the restraints. Let's keep him tied for a couple of days. Now let's see if we can get a new line. I'd like to avoid a central if I can."

"I think we're lucky there, barely." The nurse silently traced her finger along a vein, clearly visible, trailing over the boy's biceps and disappearing into his shoulder. She smiled ruefully. The only good thing she could think of about dealing with fit youngsters was the ease of finding their veins. They tended to stick out easily. "I think we've got a good one right here."

"No!" Marty whimpered, the panic coursed through his voice. "No sleep.... Let me go...."

"Marty?" Doc Lewis smiled down into the boy's glazed eyes. "Do you remember how you got here?"

"My dad?..." Marty breathed out explosively and struggled against his bonds again, He directed a kick at one of the others holding him. It fell short by the distance of the missing lower leg. "I killed my dad... I killed everybody...."

"Marty! Stop it!" Robert tightly gripped his patient's shoulder. He had to try to get through to the boy's hazy mind. "Your dad killed himself! He made his choice.... Don't let him make yours too! I promised Flip I'd take care of you. You aren't alone!

"Flip?" Marty screwed up his face in concentration. Another surge of adrenaline shot through his body. Had something happened to his friend too? He felt the surge pass just as quickly as it had come. Nothing had happened to Philip... He could see that much in the older man's expression....

"Yes, Flip!" Robert smiled again. "That boy'd probably tear down these walls if we let anything hurt you. Even you! ...Now relax. You just keep thinking about your friend and I'll take care of those bad dreams for you."

Doctor Lewis quietly turned away and backed out through the door, carefully stepping around the CPS caseworker who'd watched everything from the hall. "I'll be right back with new orders written up...."

"So, are you sure you want to take that boy on?" Mrs. Bailey turned to follow the black doctor back to the nurses' station, shuffling her CPS report back into her briefcase. "If you ask me, he'll need some time down at McGreggor."

"Well,..." Robert exhaled, "...we've got at least a week before you need to decide whether to commit him. Let's see what our psyche people can do out here first...and yes, I still want the boy...if you'll let me."

"OK." Marjorie Bailey smiled ruefully at the tall older man. "I'll make that my recommendation. But how do I write up what I just saw?"

"Look, It wasn't a suicide attempt..." Robert screwed up his face in thought. He didn't want to totally downplay what had just happened but didn't want to overplay it either. "...Just write it up as... Hell! I don't know.... What it was. I think it was more disorientation, a nightmare, than anything else."

"A nightmare?" Mrs. Bailey smiled through her cocked eyebrow. "I shouldn't, but you've got your week.... I may even get the state to pay for a psychiatrist as well.... But, personally, I think he'll end up down at County if not up in Rusk State Hospital."

"We'll see." Robert grimaced. He really needed this woman on his side if he was going to be able to keep his promise. "I don't think they can do anything more than we can. I still want the boy... I made a promise."

"Well..." She let a slight smile cross her features. "I need to process my recommendation first... He does belong to the state. I'll see you later this morning, I guess. I need to go get the boy's clothes... Just because he's now Texas's doesn't mean we're gon'a pay for everything."

"Would you like some company?" Dr. Lewis grinned hopefully. "I am technically off right now.... was all night."

"Let me call the officers at the boy's house." She reached into a pocket and fished around for her tiny phone, then remembered where she was. "...Ah...I need to use one of yours to let them know we are coming...."

"Philip?" Jeff spoke quietly, trying to get the redhead's attention away from where he was pacing around the little silver Toyota. He glanced from Flip back at the figure hidden in the Sheriff's cruiser. The looks Philip directed that way had chilled everybody to the core as soon as the redheaded firefighter saw the damage done to his car.

The odd lightness of everybody who tiredly crawled out of the engine upon its return had evaporated just as suddenly. What had scared everybody was how Philip had just looked at the slashed tires, broken window, and `Die Fag' sprayed across the driver's side of his ruined car. When the explosion didn't happen, everybody nervously backed away and left Philip to his own thoughts, the tension of his flexing muscles clearly visible trough his damp T-shirt.

"Hey, Philip?" Jeff softly spoke, trying to get the redhead's attention and quickly brushing aside Peter's paw that tried to pull him away in warning.

"What?" Philip snarled through his clenched teeth and rounded to stare defiantly from Jeff to the patrol car again. Bill, Terry, and the officer seemed to be in an intense huddle by the cruiser.

"I'm..we're sorry about what happened." Jeff's pleading eyes tried to catch Philip's. "I wish...."

"Why?" Philip turned back toward the others, his tone icy. This pity felt worse than their contempt had. At least then they'd left him alone. "Sorry you didn't think of it first?"

"No! Damn it!" Jeff blew out in frustration. He should have left well enough alone. "We're sorry we didn't get here sooner!"

"Yeah? ...Well..." Philip flustered about for a second. Why' kept screaming through his mind and loud voice as he gestured vainly at the police car. "That piece of shit, fuckin' coward...." He turned to face the cruiser's unwelcome passenger', his building temper finding its voice. "YOU FUCKIN' COWARD! ..."

"Flip!" Jeff started to reach out his arm but thought better of it. Philip had everybody's undivided attention now. "Com'on, calm down. Let the cop do his thing...."

"NO! YOU AINT GON'A DO SHIT, ARE YA?" Philip ignored the red that crept up to color the officer's face. Somehow he just didn't care any more. Only the rage mattered, it had almost grown to take over. "ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS HELP PEOPLE! AND THAT DICKHEAD FUCKS WITH ME? ...TURN THAT SONOFABITCH LOOSE! ...WE'LL SETTLE THIS RIGHT NOW IF HE'S GOT THE BALLS!"

"Boy?" the officer scowled at the short redhead. "You'd better shut up right now, or I'll be takin' you in too!"

"Pete! Jeff!" Bill snarled suddenly, breaking through the tension. "Get Flip out of here.... Take him inside with Terry!" He let his eyes shift toward Philip. "And you! Go with them, go cool down.... NOW!"

Philip shot his eyes from the cop to his station captain, the blood pounding painfully through his head. The acid burned up his throat again as he shrugged off Jeff's pleading hand trying to pull him around. His mom had always joked that he was headed for an ulcer and he idly began to wonder if she was right.

"Go on in, boy..." The officer quietly tried to ease the situation. Hell! They were supposed to be on the same side! Even if the kid was a faggot. "...I promise I'll do what I'm allowed to under the law. I've placed the fucker under arrest already,...don't make me have to arrest you too.... So why don't you do what Bill says?"

"Oh, fuckit!" Philip spat quietly and stumbled back through the man-door into the station meeting room/lounge, barely aware of a second patrol car's and a black four-door Chevy pick-up's arrival at the station. He quickly found a couch to collapse onto and tried to will his pounding head and queasy stomach to settle. The lack of release for his temper was tearing through him horribly. He suddenly bolted upright and headed out to the rear of the apparatus bays, past the silent trucks and his fellow station members. He wasn't at home but the station's old universal machine would do just as well....

He lay quietly back on the bench and set the pin in its highest weight setting. Hell! It was only two hundred fifty pounds, it was an older machine, but it was all he had... Now if everybody would just leave him alone. "Fuck that bastard! ...Fuck everybody!"

"OK." Jeff grimaced, then turned back from where he and Peter had followed Philip through the station. "Holler if you need...."

"Hell no!" Peter spoke up, his voice clouded with more heat than he'd intended. He quickly softened his voice as he restrained his best friend from leaving the small dark room. "You're talkin' shit now. We're not going anywhere.... At least we can spot for you."

"If you...haven't...noticed..." Philip snarled between his lifts, "...I...don't need...you! I...don't need...anybody! ...The only...ones I...care about...are in...the hospital!"

"Bullshit! Philip!" Peter snarled back, trying to be heard. "You can say you don't give a fuck all you want! You and I and the rest of us know it's all bullshit! You care! You care more for this place,...this town, than you say you do, so stop trying to bullshit a bullshitter!"

"Yeah?" Philip cast a jaundiced gaze at the other two and let it slide away. "Maybe I used to... But that was before some shit I don't even know, made it clear where I stand." He swallowed back a lump that invaded his throat suddenly. "And you saw the look on that cop's face.... They won't do shit! ...Not for a fag. It doesn't matter what else I am."

"You want some bread and cheese with that whine?" Bill smiled to soften his rebuke as he pushed into the weight-room past the other boys. "Or you want some answers?"

Bill waited a minute, watching his youngest member settle upright. He took the silence as a yes to his second question. "OK. ...First, the shit's name is Alex, if you really care to know. His mom and dad are both station one members..." He raised his hand to quell the outrage before it started from any of the teens, "...and second, he and his friends will be held responsible for your car...but they'll have to answer for arson too, so don't be surprised if it seems like that part isn't being handled. I asked Freddie, he's the officer, by the way, to keep that quiet. Unless you want that splashed in the paper too?"

"The Paper?" Philip tried to blink away his renewed anger and confusion at what he'd just been told. "What arson?"

"Yeah, the newspaper..." Bill couldn't stop the slight grin that formed. Hell! He figured they'd both been up over twenty four hours already. So if he was feeling it, Philip must be worse off. The kid did most of the `heavy' work during the night, "...you know? Those things people read...even parents?"

"Yeah, I got that part," Philip replied sourly. "But what about...?"

"I was getting to that." Bill quickly let his light expression fade as he glanced up to include the other boys in his explanation. "The whole situation plus who y'all had caught, tipped me off. So I called the Firemarshal to come out here and I'm glad I did.... Once Jimmy showed up, ...I don't think you've met him yet, that was his black truck. ...That piece of shit started crowing like a chicken and rolled on his friends. I think we know who started those dumpster fires now!"

"What?" Bill let the outrage in the room run its natural course. Philip just shook his head in disbelief. "All that just to fuck with me?"

"Well, what's done is done...." Bill quietly extended his hand to help the redhead up. "You can't let it cripple you. I don't want to hear any more `fag' talk in this station any more,...from anybody. Y'all are firefighters and that's all!"

"Yep!" Peter and Jeff chimed in unexpectedly. "Philip may be a fa...gay, but he's `our' fff...gay."

"Ughhh...whatever..." Bill grimaced internally. It was a half-assed victory but he'd accept what he could get. "Well, Philip? Why don't you go get what you'll need out of your car? Jamie should be back soon with his dad's wrecker to take it over to George's body shop this morning...."

"Dr. Lewis?" the sheriff officer quietly stepped around the yellow barricade tape they'd set up the previous night. He glanced carefully at where he placed his feet on the house's front porch. The evidence for their reports of the incident had already been gathered and documented but he still found it best to step around the blood and spent trash from the Paramedics' failed attempts to save that perp's life. The ambulance crew had been careful to dispose of their `sharps' but he was still amazed at the used latex gloves and empty wrappers that littered the area. He had no idea whose job it was to finally clean the shit up but he knew he wanted to steer clear of all of it. "Mrs. Bailey? Y'all about done?"

"Almost!" Robert answered as he rummaged through the boy's dresser again and stuffed some more of his meager pile of underclothes into the sack Mrs. Bailey had provided for that purpose. He quietly found his eyes drawn back to the mutilated photo in its broken frame on top of the dresser; the destroyed family of five stared back. It had obviously been taken at some swim meet for school or for a club, he couldn't tell. But he recognized his patient immediately, holding a trophy over his head while his family beamed around his almost-naked form. If anything, Marty had been a bit bulkier back then. Kid must not have eaten very well the last few months or so. Robert quickly pulled himself back to the here and now. "What's going on?"

"I don't know." Mrs. Bailey shrugged slightly as she expertly folded another of the boy's baggy jeans and placed them alongside the others. She'd gained way too much practice at that chore in her own mind. She was charged with protecting children from their own parents but also working for an eventual reunion. That would be impossible in this case from what she'd seen of the extended families so far. Her only goals left to her in this case would be getting the teenager placed somewhere before he was put into group home or ended up in prison or a juvenile justice facility. Her breath caught in her throat, ... or dead on the streets.

She started with the Houston PD in early '73, cataloguing evidence and working with the Medical Examiner's office. Then she heard the name Dean Coryll and the world changed forever. Twenty eight torture-murders of young boys and teenagers, seventeen buried in the one damned boat-house along with a plastic bag of severed penises. That haunted her still. She knew that they'd found twenty eight bodies but they all knew there were probably more boys buried somewhere. They'd all been too numbed and overwhelmed to continue looking.... God knew their chaplains and ministers had worked overtime and for years to keep many of them sane after that investigation

She'd made her jump into CPS when it looked like the place to make a difference in the lives of `her' kids as she'd come to think of many of the cases. The young officer they'd met at the house was one of her brightest success stories. Derick's parents had fought and divorced, neither one wanting the boy they blamed for the disintegration of their marriage. He'd been pulled off the streets early, at the age of twelve, before he'd been found and sold or worse. The family he'd been placed with had shown the boy just what love could do and now he was a twenty two year old Sheriff's Deputy with a wife and son of his own.

The only thing that would make her job easier would be a better way of dealing with the tortured gay youth she came across all too frequently. Many families didn't understand or want them in their homes and the state didn't allow homosexual foster parents for those kids. Even committed couples were looked at like they'd only want to rape a boy if they were allowed to shelter one. She saw the reality every day and thought the attitude was stupid; one could just as easily say that about the straight men in the families who took in a female child, but the rules came from the state and not her, so she did her best for her Gay kids too. Thank God Dr. Lewis had made that offer, she hoped his commitment and her recommendation would be heeded. Lord knew she didn't want to face that young fireman if the kid was placed somewhere else. She'd spend years trying to pick up all the pieces of that mess!

She turned back toward the doorway into the room and watched Derick pick his way through the trash-lined hallway. "What's going on, `D'?"

"The kid's grandparents are coming over with his little brother to pick up some clothes for him, Mrs. Bailey." Derick smiled wanly at the woman who'd saved his life ten years before, suddenly at a loss. How did he ever repay the person who tried to save the world, one child at a time? "You should know that the grandparents are saying some pretty damning things about the older boy."

"Com'on, Derick... I'm too tired to play `cryptic' games this morning." Mrs. Bailey smiled back to reassure the young officer. "Spit it out. What are they saying?"

"They're saying the older boy got beaten because he tried to rape his little brother." Derick grimaced. "Well, they implied that anyway... Just thought you ought to know before they get here."

"And what do you think?" Marjorie returned the grimace as she rocked back on her heels. If true, the boy lying in the ICU wouldn't be her problem after all. He'd be in prison.

"I honestly don't know, ma'am." Derick glanced uncomfortably from one shocked face to the other. "We've just started investigating from what I've heard but haven't been able to get a statement from the younger boy away from his grandparents yet..."

"Why can't you..." Robert broke into the conversation.

"On what grounds?" Derick shrugged his broad shoulders. "We don't have any cause to take him away from his remaining family."

"I'd appreciate it, D...," Mrs. Bailey brushed past the officer into the cluttered hall, "if you'd hang around.... I need to get my tape recorder for this. Make sure they come in the back door, no need for them to see the mess out front."

"Yes'm." Derick followed her with his eyes, then returned his questioning gaze to the doctor. "What?..."

"Don't ask me..." Robert found it his turn to shrug. "But something tells me that kid isn't in a position to, or able to, rape a blow-up doll... much less run anywhere... He hasn't had that leg long enough to do that yet."

"Well, I guess you'd know more about that than I would." Derick turned away before it turned into a shrugging contest and settled his ballistic vest through his shirt where it had begun to rub uncomfortably again. "I just let y'all know what I learned from my sergeant."

"Hey, Derick, was it?" Robert called after the retreating officer.

"Yes sir?" Derick stopped politely and turned in profile.

"Why don't you ask your sergeant and the investigators out here?" Robert swallowed back the nervousness he felt as he gave up trying to concentrate on Marty's pitiful underclothes. "I think Mrs. Bailey intends on staying when the rest of the family gets here, and we've already had one run-in with those people."

"Yeah, I think you're right..." Derick sighed and turned away again, reaching for the mic on his shoulder. He couldn't help smiling again as memories flooded his mind. "I know her very well... and if she has another child in her sights to protect? God help anyone who stands in her way!"

Dr. Lewis grimaced as he loaded the last paper sack into the back of his black Towncar. He suppressed an irrational urge to activate the red strobes of the lightbar that looked as out-of-place on his car as he felt in that driveway.

The other sheriff's deputies hadn't looked real pleased when they'd arrived back out at the house where one of their members had been wounded. In a way, he could understand their attitude. They had no fondness for dealing with domestic disputes, as they were called.... And for all he'd said to that young officer earlier, he was having doubts about the black-haired, beaten boy's innocence.

He quickly tried to push those thoughts away in shame as he watched the CPS worker huddled with the cops. God! Marty was a child himself, he reminded himself repeatedly.... And being gay', if he really was, didn't mean he'd rape his younger brother. Damn!' he thought, he'd started down the same road of stereotypes he'd fought against all his life!

He straightened up and stretched, reaching for the clear sky overhead and yawned before stealing another glance at the four paper sacks and the one carefully hung dark gray suit in the back seat, all the boy had to show for almost sixteen years of life. Robert could only shake his head in sad wonder. Gabriel Martin (Marty) Miller seemed to have disappeared from even the photo albums and family records they'd been able to glance through. He had a suspicion that Marty was smoldering in the lightly smoking trash-barrel behind the house. It was as if the boy's father had done his best to erase any trace of his oldest son before he finally erased himself after confronting the cops who'd come to arrest him.

Robert couldn't understand the hatred of a father for one of his own children, and suddenly found comfort in that lack of understanding. He didn't want to understand Marty's father any more, just rejoiced in the fact he could never bring himself to ever hate one of his own children, no matter what!

Dr. Lewis was quickly brought out of his quiet thoughts by the sound of the arriving green full-sized Chevy pick-up. He felt his hackles raise slightly at the sight of the same old man who'd yelled at them all the previous evening, as he exited the truck. He let his eyes move away from the old man to concentrate on the drawn face of the man's wife as she left the cab and then to the shock of black hair that followed on shaky legs to drag behind reluctantly.

Robert guessed the boy to be about twelve to thirteen if he had to guess and the resemblance to his brother in the hospital was remarkable. So much so, he had to stifle the insane urge to think of the kid as `Mini-Mart'. The kid's face seemed framed by hair even blacker than his brother's, if possible, and set off in contrast the plain white T-shirt and green cargo shorts the boy wore. He quickly sobered when his eyes made brief contact with the sunken blackness that seemed to form the boy's eyes. Any fire or life in them had buried itself deep within a defeated and hopeless soul....

"Kelly!" The old man spoke sharply as he stared at the gathered lawmen and Mrs. Bailey. "Go with your grandma and get what you'll need!"

"Ma'am?" Derick moved quietly out to lead the two into the house. "If you'll follow me around back? I think we'd better go that way." He jerked his head toward the yellow barricade tape and smiled apologetically in a silent warning.

"What the fuck!" the old man whirled back. "You sonofabitch! Don't you tell us where we can go on our own property!"

"Sir?" Derick stared back in surprise but kept his other emotions well hidden. `Contempt of cop' wasn't a crime, after all. "I just think it would be better...."

"I don't give a shit what you think!" the old man snarled. "I just want to know if you've hauled that fuckin' faggot off to jail yet? And if not, what am I paying my fuckin' taxes to you bastards for?"

"Sir?" A grim plainclothes officer raised his hand, trying to placate the situation before it could escalate. "We'll take action against your grandson when we have something to give to the DA...."

"Grandpa?" Kelly spoke quietly for the first time any of the officers remembered. "Gabriel...."

"Shut up, Kelly!" his grandfather barked. "That piece of shit ain't your brother any more! He ain't my grandson neither, and the sooner he's behind bars or dead, the better off we'll be! He helped kill your father and don't you forget it! Now get in the house!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH OF THAT!" Marjorie bellowed, causing everyone to jump and stare at her. Even the swarms of black grackles took to wing en masse, deciding to leave the ground to those crazy humans. She smiled, satisfied that she could still out-yell the best of them if she had to. She watched as Derick placed himself between the boy and his grandparents and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. When she spoke again, before anyone else could, she smiled quietly. "Kelly? Did your brother try to have sex with you? Did he rape you?"

"Wha...what?" Kelly's eyes grew wide for a moment only to be replaced with fear as he glanced at his grandfather, then up at the imposing dark green uniform hovering close to his shoulder. "Nnn...."

"Yes, he did!" The old man nearly jumped in his growing rage. "You get away from my grandson! Damnyou!"

"It's OK, Kelly." Derick shot a look at the older man, causing him to stop his advance to grab the boy away from the officer's grasp. Satisfied the man had stopped moving, except for his mouth, Derick looked back into the dark eyes of the boy and smiled warmly. All his own memories and feelings seemed to go into his gaze. "Nobody will hurt you, no matter what you say... We care about you, about what happens to you.... So we need to know the truth. Did your brother do what Mrs. Bailey asked?

"Did Gabriel ki...kill my...our...fff...father?" Kelly glanced back with pleading eyes.

"No," Derick replied quietly. He decided the truth was what the boy deserved if the tenuous trust he was trying to develop would endure through what had to be pure hell for the boy. "He shot himself, Kelly. He wounded a police officer, then shot himself.... Now, tell us the truth.... did your brother try to have sex with you?"

"Yeah!" The old man barked again, drawing Kelly's attention again. But this time with a faint stirring of life coming back into his eyes. "Tell them what that fuckin' piece of shit did to you..."

"Tell them how you had to fight him off like your father told us." Kelly's grandmother spoke up, her face pinched impossibly hard. "My son wasn't a liar!"

"But, grandma?" Kelly began to wail with the struggle written across his face. "Gabriel didn't do anything to me! He's my bro...brother! Why...why c...can't you love bo...both of us?"

"So your brother never did anything to you?" Derick glanced over to see his sergeant and the detectives moving a little closer, along with Mrs. Bailey. He breathed a little easier. The cavalry was that much closer.

"Nnnn...No!" Kelly flinched back, feeling the hard panel covering the officer's chest through the uniform shirt. He fought back the stinging in his eyes and the sharp pain coursing through the pit of his stomach. "He wouldn't do that.... He's the fa...fag, but he knows I'm not!"

"You little shit!" The intermingled outraged voices from the older couple struck the air like a savage whip-crack. "How dare you call your father a liar! You have no brother any more! He's gon'a burn in Hell and so will you! Get in the truck! It's time you learned what side you're on! Once and for all, you little shit!"

"I've had enough of this." Marjorie broke in calmly and motioned to the officers around her. She settled her hard, unflinching gaze upon the two red-faced adults who'd advanced on the shrinking boy again. "He's not going anywhere with you! Touch the boy and I'll see you both put under the jail! ...D? Take Kelly to your car for a minute."

"Grandma? ...Grandpa, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Kelly couldn't fight his tears any longer. "Please...please..."

"Kelly? Go with the officer. No one is gon'a lay a hand on you." Mrs. Bailey tried to smile through the storm raging in the yard.

"Grandma? ...Grandma?...." The boy's voice almost wailed now as the old woman almost spat his way as she turned back to the pick-up. "Please! ...Oh God I...I'm s...so...sorry! ...please...."

"You won't get away with this!" Kelly's grandfather snarled again to everybody and nobody at the same time. "You've turned him against his own kind! ...I have no grandchildren any more! I hope you're happy, you bastards! I should have known better than to trust y'all! ...Fuckers!" he swung back to glare at his grandson as he jerked himself into the truck."...Shut the fuck up, you little shit! You've made yourself clear enough!"

Dr. Lewis stared at the scene in complete speechless shock. He couldn't believe that such hatred for one's own family could exist and felt a deep sigh escape his body. He'd expected some ugly confrontation but this had been...? God, why? All the boy had done was tell the truth! Yet he'd paid a tremendous cost for that truth! Both boys had!

"Nooooo!" Kelly screamed at the retreating tailgate of the truck as it accelerated away in a small cloud of dust and rocks. He suddenly kicked down hard and sprinted away from the surprised officer. "I didn't mean it! ...Waaaiiiit!"

"Damn!" Derick grimaced and beat himself mentally, lurching after the youth. He watched as his sergeant and the two plainclothes men moved to intercept the boy. "Watch it! He's got a hell of a kick!"

Derick and his sergeant both almost reached Kelly twice but he spun away both times, evading their grasp. Derick tried again and found himself holding a piece of white cloth as he gathered himself up to follow the kid as he sprinted off into the trees. "Kelly! Stop!"

"Philip?" Eric Nevins cautiously opened the door to his son's bedroom and peered inside, noting the trail of discarded clothes leading to the lump buried under the covers of the sun-lit room. He'd heard him finally drag in that morning and then heard the muffled slamming of the metal weights that reverberated from the room out back. He'd rolled back over and merely sighed into his pillow, listening to his estranged son work out in what seemed to be angry silence that morning. God, the house had stayed so quiet afterward!

He had to make the most of this week he had, try to heal the rift with the boy who hadn't said a word to him for three years until that confrontation the previous night. He tried again a little louder. "Phil! Where's your car? ...Damnit! Talk to me! I know you don't think so but I care about you!"

"Mmmpgh...." Philip offered what his fogged brain felt was reasonable under the circumstances and stretched under the covers, careful to stay in the dark. It was bad enough the bastard was staying there that week without having to talk to him as well! The less he said the better it would be. "Body shop.... Got backed into.... Department will take care of it... It's none of your business. I'm not your business." Did he say that, was his mouth moving?

"OK, Philip." Eric grimaced as he reached out to grasp his son's bare foot, only to have it jerk away just as fast. The dirty, unwashed sole sweeping up the tendon to the heavy calf, lightly covered with red hair, tore at his mind as even that was drawn away from him. "It's almost three o'clock. We need to get down to the hospital. Your mom's doctors want to see us about six, before we can see her.... So go ahead and get cleaned up so we can ride in together. My car is still at Anderson."

"OK" Philip grudgingly sighed and pulled the blanket off his face. Damnitalltohellandback! His brain squalled at him unmercifully. It irked him to have to owe anything.... He stopped for a second to stretch a developing cramp out of his hamstring. Oh well, if that's what he had to do to see his mom... Bill said he'd take him to see Marty. "What did the doctors say?"

"Just that we should be there around six, so get up, buddy." Eric tried to force a smile at his son as he watched him get unraveled, muscles and sinews absently untangling themselves. God! He should have sent his ex-wife more money for a boy's gymnastics coach! Philip should be competing and not wasting his time playing fireman! It was time he grew up and planned for college and left the fire shit to those who could afford to do it. But first, he had to get Philip back! He silently shook his head in wonder and found himself smiling easily this time, despite the tension in the room... Tattoo and all! God! He wished he could have been there when Philip came home and his mom saw that for the first time; "I like the tattoo...."

"Don't ever call me that!" Philip muttered under his breath. "I'm not your `buddy' any more!"

"Sorry, Phil." Eric winced, then turned to leave his son to his rituals. "I do love you, you know."

"Well, that makes one of us." Philip blew out his cheeks and stood to move to the bathroom, gently pulling his testicles away from the sticky skin where he'd sweated under his gear that morning. He really should have cleaned himself up earlier but after forcing his anger back with his weight set, like he had so often in the past, he'd only wanted the bed and for a brief time he'd forgotten his father was there.

"Whatever, Phil..." Eric quickly left before he visibly slumped in front of his son. Well, son in name anyway. For the first time he began to have serious doubts about ever earning the boy's love again, but this was important to his ex-wife, so he was still going to try. "I'll be waiting, we need to hit the road in about an hour."

Philip remained silent as he quickly ran through his long-delayed morning routine and bent stiffly to start and adjust the water cascading from the showerhead. He ached all over but was glad he was at home and not at the station at that moment. His station officers were fanatics about replacing the fluid they'd sweated out of their bodies and would have given him a major dressing-down for the way he was gingerly moving right then.

He almost smiled as he stepped under the steaming water. He couldn't be any more `dressed down' than he was right then! He closed his eyes as he quickly soaped his face and hair, forgetting the shampoo nestled on its shower rack and had to place a hand out to steady himself as Marty's broken body swam before his eyes again. He slowly straightened back up and directed his head under the water so he could open his eyes again to banish the phantom that he felt powerless to protect, yet loved all the more.

He tried to force his attention elsewhere but it returned again and again to the pale fleshy tube emerging from the small patch of black, curly hair. Curving across the image's thigh, its smooth surface only interrupted by the ring of darker skin on the shaft, similar to his own and ending with the emergence of that quarter inch yellow tube, Philip thought again on what the doctor had said, "Won't be any secrets on one side of the relationship."

Philip thought the Doc couldn't have been more wrong as he continued washing as quickly as possible. Marty hadn't hidden his naked body but then it was probably well known in the locker of his old swim team. No, Marty had kept himself secret all too well!

Philip rinsed himself again and reached to scrub between his legs, jerking his hand away from his hard penis in revulsion at himself for the response to his friend's fading image. He hadn't even noticed it before but now it throbbed painfully with each heartbeat. Marty hadn't been naked for or because of him, he'd been beaten almost to death but when Philip closed his eyes to will himself soft, Marty's penis reasserted itself in his mind's eye.

"Fuck!" Philip hissed at himself as he slowly began stroking himself for the first time in what seemed to be forever! He felt some strange combination of anger and lust building up within his deep gut to the point that when he released himself all over the showercurtain in thick ribbons that seemed to move the plastic as they struck it in waves, he felt a wet heat on his cheeks that had nothing to do with the shower water and everything to do with a frustrated rage!

"Philip?" Eric knocked loudly on the bathroom door. The loud expletive worried him. "Are you all right?"

"Yes!" Philip lied, face burning as his mom smiled at him this time. "I'll be ready in a minute! Go away!"

"Philip?" Eric calmly watched his redheaded son pace the hospital conference room like a cat...no, he corrected himself, it was more like a leopard stalking the savannah. "You might as well sit down. Doctors are always late, it's just normal for them, I think."

"Fuck, yeah..." Philip breathed out quietly, "...but I just wan'a see my mom."

"I know." Eric smiled up at the young man. It was the first noise he'd gotten out of his son since they left the house. "They'll let you see her soon."

"Fine!" Philip held back his snarl as he sat in a chair opposite his father and fidgeted unmercifully.

Eric smiled in relief twice. The first when his son finally sat in the seat and the second when the Doctors and staff started to arrive, thus preventing him from suddenly grabbing Philip's hands to stop the incessant table rapping the boy was doing.

"Glad to see you all again." The tall graying man who'd led the way into the room extended his hand to the others waiting for him. "Philip? It's good to see you here for your mom."

Philip slowly withdrew his hand from the other's grasp and quickly looked at the embroidered white coat the man wore to remind himself who the hell he was. He knew now what Oncology / Surgery' meant but scanned down as fast as he could to find Dr. Jerome Billings', followed by a bunch of capital letters he couldn't have cared less about past the M' and D' in front of the others. "Can I see my mom yet?"

"We will in a minute, Philip." Dr. Billings grimaced a little as he sat on the same side of the table that Philip found himself on and waited a second for the other men and women to settle themselves as well. "I want you to know that your mom is awake now and that the surgery went about as well as could be expected...."

Philip felt himself tighten up suddenly as he listened in silence. This was a `but' speech, even he knew that much! He couldn't contain himself anymore. "But?"

"But..." The doctor kept his voice level as he acknowledged the word his patient's boy had spoken with dread. "I wish I could tell you that everything was going to be OK now, but from what I could see, the prognosis isn't good." He glanced up at Philip's father. "Could you leave us alone for a moment?"

"Are you sure?" Eric started suddenly at the unexpected question. "He is my son.... I really want to be here."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Nevins, but this next thing only concerns your ex-wife and her immediate family now." Dr. Billings smiled to soften his rejection of the man across from his seat. He watched quietly as the man rose reluctantly and moved to the door. "Thanks. We'll all be out shortly."

"Now, Philip." The doctor turned back to face the redhead, recognizing the abject terror that started to wash across the boy's features. "Your mom and we have been talking and exploring all our options over the last weeks and she made her wishes known about what we should do if I found what I found today. You need to know that she loves you more than anything...."

"No! Stop!" Philip jerked himself out of the man's grip on his shoulder and almost spun out of the chair. "What are you trying to tell me? ...My mom's dying?"

"Philip?" Jerome let his voice hang in the air for a second. God, how many times had he done this, and yet it never got any easier. "Yes, she is. She had the choice of ..."

"Fuck you!" Philip tried to stand but found his legs, as strong as they were, just wouldn't hold him. "No!"

"Listen to me." The doctor remained still in his chair. Now was not the time for him to reach out again. The young man needed the space right then. "She had the choice of beginning chemo and dying here in terrible nausea or letting us take away the pain and going home to be with the son she loves for whatever time she has left, but in order for her to be able to do that, you have to agree to Hospice care as well. If you don't, we can't enroll her."

"No!" Philip snarled out suddenly. "I can't! You...you want her to die? You bastards! Fuck you!"

"No, Philip!" Dr. Billings raised his voice slightly, hoping to get through before the kid shut him out completely. This had to be done before Philip saw his mom. Her son needed to know and make a start handling the news, so the relationship wouldn't be poisoned. If the boy wanted to `kill the messenger' it was better off being the staff and not his family. "We don't want her to die but she will! The only question now is where and how! ...And with who? Us or the one she loves above all else!"

"But..." Philip sagged down into the seat and pulled his legs up to hug to his chest, dropping his head onto his knees. "Do I have to say yes, now?"

"No, you don't." Dr. Billings reestablished a grip on the broad shoulders that shook quietly. "I'm sorry, Philip. I wish I could have given you any news but that. The Hospice case worker is with your mom right now. I'll take you to see your mom now, if you're ready, and we'll get you any help you both need."

Philip could only allow himself to be led from the conference room in silence, passing his father in the hall unrecognized.

"M...Mom?" Philip let himself be led into her room, barely noticing as the doctor made sure they were alone. He stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed, shifting from foot to foot. He so wanted to embrace her, to feel the warmth within those arms but felt scared that the act itself would cause her to slip away from him forever.

"Come here..." She smiled as she extended her arms toward him. "I love you and I'm so sorry."

"No..." Philip dissolved into her outstretched arms and buried himself within them, pouring out the pain he felt in great wracking sobs. "No... I...love you...."

"Shhhh.... Oh, Philip.... My Philip....My Flip...." His mom just held her boy and let it pour out, trying to kiss away the streams on his freckled cheeks. "I'm so sorry.... Let it out...."

"Philip?" She gently kept stroking her son's back as he began to quiet in her embrace. She couldn't help but smile down at him through her own tears. He had tried to be so careful of the bandages he'd felt, even though she was mostly all still there. Her doctor had followed her wishes when he got done with the exploration and had left her in one piece. She gently raised his chin so she could look in those green eyes again. "Philip? I'll always love you...and so does you father. I want you to take care of each other after...."

"No, mom!" Philip sniffed and wiped his eyes; "I...I can't. He'll ha...hate me...I...I'm...I'm...."

"You're what?" She watched the struggle cross those sweet eyes as she rubbed her thumb under them. "He could never hate you."

"I'm sorry...." Philip barely managed to croak out through the tightness he felt everywhere within him. "I...I can't..."

"OK, Philip..." His mom quietly trailed off and continued to stroke her son's soft hair as she hugged his head to her again. "It'll be OK... You'll be OK...."

The end of part 11.

I'd like to thank Ed for his assistance with this story. Great Job, ED!

This chapter is dedicated to a good friend who suffered at the hands of his family from the age of 6 and to this day he's fought the great fight to break the cycle of abuse successfully. Well done, Joe, and keep up the good work!

I'd like to thank everyone who's responded to this story in the past, or attempted to. Please note the new E-mail address below (Just for responses to the stories I write). It is great hearing from you and I do try to answer every one.

My thanks to everyone. WillyB. (willyb184@aol.com)