This story is based on two gay men. You must be above the legal age of 18 (or as stipulated by your country/state) to read this story. If this story is illegal in your area, PLEASE DO NOT READ IT. This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity of the characters to any person is clearly a coincidence. All other usual disclaimers apply.
Please send your feedback or criticism to mikeinstudio9344(at)yahoo(dot)com.
The Game
Chapter Six - Damages and Plans for Escape
McCall turned around in time to see the terror and despair touching those lovely eyes. So he was the bad guy again. He set Danny back on his feet, his eyes never leaving Jake's.
Jake flinched at the open challenge. Within seconds he masked the emotions with his curtain of calmness, looking at Danny. What lay behind it hovered between them like a mute aura, haunting him with its utter aloneness, its wistful, never-can-happen effect.
He jumped in with words he didn't know were on his lips until he spoke them. "Hey, buddy, my name's Brendan, and I play a fair game of football myself. I played on my varsity team. We can play right outside the house, so your dad can see us and know you're safe."
Jake's head snapped up at the impulsive offer, his dewy eyes searching his - distant again. Star-being's eyes, filled with suspicion and doubt. Shadows inside his soul, and not giving him an inch of trust.
But Danny's thin, intense face grew eager and alive with a naked longing that overcame his natural timidity. "What's a varr-city?" He asked with an odd lilt, trying to imitate his accent.
McCall grinned. "Varsity. It's my university. U.C.L.A."
"What's You-see-ell-ay?"
He mentally adjusted to a six-year-old's level. "UCLA is a really big school in America, in my hometown. It's the University of California, Los Angeles Campus. See? U.C.L.A."
The little dark face lit even brighter, grabbing on to the only point vital to him. "He can play football! Daddy? Can I go play? Please? 'Pleeease?' He says you can watch..."
Jake's glance said it all. Hunted. An animal in a net, trapped between the demons of doubt, wishing to give in to the natural longing of his son, and fearing the resentment of the child he'd sacrificed everything for. "Danny..."
The bell jingled again a cheery sound cutting the tension like a butter knife: softly does it. A happy-faced man in his mid-thirties poked his head inside the door and grinned at Jake. "Hey Jake. Donna said you'd be happier for Danny to train with us if we're sight?" He pointed to the grassy field before the hill McCall slept on each night.
Strangely, Jake whitened at the words; but within moments he gained control and smiled. "Thanks, Ken. I appreciate your thoughtfulness." Jake turned to Danny. "How's that sweetie?"
But McCall heard his voice quaver. Equilibrium wasn't yet restored. Jake Silver was a man on the edge of one hell of a precipice, and McCall would be there to catch him when he fell, whether Jake trusted him to be there or not.
Danny whooped. "All right! Let's go, Brendan!"
"I don't think we need to bother Mr. McCall now, Danny."
McCall caught the boy's quick, longing glance as Ken Richards headed across the road; his arm slung his son's shoulder. "It's no bother." He said smiling at the boy. "I'd like to play." Yeah, he remembered too well sometimes watching the kids playing with their dads and wishing his dad could be interested - or sober enough - to play a game with him. But drunk and abusive, ignoring him unless he had to thrash him again for some boy's misdemeanor, he'd still known who his dad was. His dad wasn't the role model he'd longed for. Danny wanted a dad who 'could' play sports like a 'boy', he had wanted a dad who could play with him at all, even if he play like a baby girl. They both want the same thing, but with different preference.
Danny's face had lit up like the Sidney Harbour Bridge during the Olympics. He was a man who played sports like a 'boy'. "Thanks Brendan!"
McCall grinned. "High five." They slapped hands.
"That's Mr. McCall to you, Danny. Respect your elders - and strangers." Jake said, cool. Reminding him who he was. 'Keep your place'. And in Jake's opinion, his place was nowhere near his son.
He shrugged. "Let him call me Brendan. Doesn't hurt anyone." In fact, it was the first time in years anyone had used his given name. It felt good. Like he was normal member of the human race, with people who knew him, or like him.
"It does if he learns to trust everyone who offers to play with him." Jake hissed, in a fierce undertone. "And remember, Danny, Mr. McCall 'is' a stranger. We do know Mr. Richards, and surely he can show you all the moves you need."
"Can't I play with Brendan?" Danny's piping voice thickened with the tears in his eyes as he looked up at McCall with sudden doubt, fear and suspicion. "Don'tcha like Brendan, Daddy? Is he one of those bad guys? The Stranger Danger guys who wanna take me away?" With the words, Danny shuffled backwards towards his father, his thin body shaking. "Are you gonna hurt me or Daddy?"
Poor little Danny. Trembling with terror, he was still trying to move behind his father, to be protected...
Jake had done a hell of a number on him. Not that he blamed him, but couldn't Jake see what damage passing on his fears and well-founded paranoia was doing to this child?
McCall squatted on his haunches. "Danny, your dad's right to warn you of the danger - there are a lot of people like that in the world - but I would never hurt you or your dad. I'm here to help you. I'm your friend." He held the boy's gaze unwavering, willing him to see a truth his father refused to recognize.
If anything, Danny whitened more. "D-Daddy said that bad guys say things like that to make you go with them..."
"Yes. They do." He admitted. "That's one of the things you learn as you grow up, Danny. You learn who to trust. You learn to listen to your instincts..."
Danny sniffed, and wiped his eyes on his school-jumper sleeve. "What's that? In..."
"Instincts." He repeated gently. "They're those things that talk to you, that tell you when something or someone is good or bad, nice or scary." He reached out, touching Danny's shoulder. "There's a voice in your head when I touch you, isn't there? It's either saying 'Brendan's a nice guy' or 'I don't want this creepy guy talking to me. I don't trust him.'"
Danny nodded solemnly. "I hear it."
McCall smiled at him. "You don't need to tell me which it is, but your dad will always need to know when you hear the voice saying that bad-guy thing to you, okay? It's your body's warning system, telling you something bad is gonna happen to you if you don't get away. You should always listen to it."
Danny's tear-wet face broke into a tremulous smile. "My voice likes you, Brendan. My voice says you're a cool guy."
McCall grinned at that. "My voice says you're a cool guy too, Danny." He winked at the boy who held up a hand. He slapped it in another high five.
Danny lifted his face to where Jake watched them - his face damp as his son's and just as pale. "Daddy? I...I don't think Brendan's a bad guy... and... and" his face grew so uncertain, so lost "...and, well, Ethan's got somebody who knows how to play with him..."
Jake closed his eyes in agony. "Go on sweetie. Mr. McCall will be you in a minute." Jake's voice sounded flinty, filled with the anguish of fear and turmoil hiding inside his eyes.
Danny whooped again, and bolted out, yelling for his friend.
The door slammed behind him. McCall stood waiting. When Jake didn't or wouldn't speak, he took the initiative. "You won't have any cause for fear - or regret - in letting me play with Danny."
Jake's eyes didn't open. "If I see even the smallest reason to worry, McCall, you'll be dead in seconds." He put out a trembling hand out to him, his eyes open and filled with a magnificent fire. A vivid-eyed tiger protecting his young. "Give me your keys and your wallet."
Without a word he handed them over.
"And... and the other thing you had on your hands a few minutes ago. And any other you have hidden on you." A shaking defiance, Jake's nostrils flared and his cheeks white. "You are not playing with my son with that thing on you."
McCall swore beneath his breath. Great. The Glock was the easiest weapon to reach in crisis, there to protect Jake and Danny, but there was no way Jake'd believe that.
He handed over the semiautomatic, his throwing knife and the small second pistol to satisfy him, but kept the sleeping dart made by the Nighthawks' chemistry department and doctors. He had to have some protection for Danny if...
"You make one move away from that hill and the police will be here in two minutes. I'm friends with the local lieutenant."
He'd expected a threat of some sort. "I'm not going to hurt him or take him from you, Jake." He said quietly. "Listen to your heart. Listen to your instincts. You know me."
Jake turned away. "My instincts have been wrong before."
He silently cursed Eduardo de Souza for his hatchet-job on Jake's innocent love and trust. There was nothing he could say to fix that. "Do you have any more stipulations or can I go outside and teach Danny some football now?"
Jake scowled at him. They both knew Jake was painted into a corner. If he played with his son, he couldn't go anywhere, couldn't run without him knowing, at least during the day, but if he said no, Danny would resent him for years. The good daddy giving his son what he needed, vying with the haunted man's need to keep his son safe from Falcone's clutches.
Needing to reassure Jake, He said, "I swear to you, Danny couldn't be in safer hands." If only Jake understood that he'd lay down his life for the kid. Go down as the last resort, take your targets down with you, but at all costs save your subjects, the people you'd sworn to protect. It was standard Nighthawk policy as well as his own personal vow. If you couldn't prove your belief in that credo, you didn't make it past the first round of recruitment. "Your son's safety is sacred to me."
Jake looked down at the wet clay beneath his fingers, now a half-sodden lump from too much water and too much unconscious pounding. "Just remember that." He said quietly.
"I do." He said softly. Testing him. "I remember everything. Do you remember? Do you?"
Jake turned on his wheels and began shaping the clay with distracted fingers. "Just go. Please." His voice was weary, gentle and sad. He turned his face and scrubbed at his cheek with a clay-smeared hand, smudging his cheeks. A dirty angel wiping at tears he was too proud to show him or use to gain sympathy.
He couldn't push Jake anymore.
But he'd call in the team to move into the local perimeter at least. And Anson had to come in on this as well, with a second team. He had no choice if he wanted to keep Jake and Danny alive.
His gut churning, he followed Danny's path out the door, knowing it wouldn't be long before Jake shut the shop and followed them, watching him as he'd been watching.
With his Glock in his pocket.
McCall had almost pulled a gun on Danny - and not just a gun. A Glock 18 with a release button for automatic firing...
Whatever McCall did for a living these days, he was a consummate pro. Instincts honed to a razor's edge.
Jake still felt the tremors down his spine. Did McCall draw to protect him or himself? And if he was so wired that he'd pull on a little boy, what would happen when the real danger came?
He couldn't let his son be here when it happened.
'Trust me, Jake Do you remember? Do you?'
Watching them through the window, he stifled the pang of wistfulness. Oh, he remembered all right - and ached.
After a decade that seemed more like a century, he was back, and he'd made a little boy's dream come true. For the first time, Danny could look at a friend playing with his dad and not feel wistful... and even McCall couldn't be that good an actor. He was having as much fun as Danny, teaching him to pass and catch, kick the ball and take a tackle.
Much as he was terrified to trust him, McCall was acting like a normal dad out there. The kind of dad Danny sometimes longed for with his sweet, innocent baby's heart... and he knew that, if McCall's recollection of this day would be hazy in hours, it would shine in Danny's memory for years to come.
McCall was damn right, damn him. Danny was suffering because of his stifling overprotection. He had to take risks... and though his mind screamed that this one seemed too big to take, his heart and deepest instincts cried out that McCall was here to help him, to help Danny.
'Listen to your instincts. You know me.'
He stifled a sigh and moved to return to his wheel, when the phone rang. He grabbed the receiver, placing it between his shoulders and ear for balance as he washed his hands. "Hello?"
"Hey, Jake it's Donna."
The smile on Jake's heart came through his face. Donna Richards was the mother of Danny's best friend Ethan, and the closest thing to a friend he'd ever known. "Hey."
"Did that guy find you? Mr. Tall, Dark and Gorgeous, not to mention Ruggedly Mysterious?"
Donna was the first person to know that he is gay. It won't be abnormal for her to start imagining things about Jake and himself.
He sobered immediately. "Yes."
"Do you know him? Donna whispered as if McCall could hear. "I thought he might be an old lover come to play catch-ups..."
He was imaging things alright. Dear Donna, couching it as 'best friend' questions, in case McCall was the reason he was here. Jake closed his eyes and offered a silent apology for the lie he was about to tell. 'For Donna's sake'... "No. But - but, Donna - its turned personal." he said, keeping his voice light as if he and McCall were an item. "If I need to leave the Bay suddenly..."
"I'll be thrilled that you've finally decided to get a life, sweetie. Consider the house closed up and the business taken care of for a few weeks, until you contact me." Donna's return voice was teasing, cheerful. "By the way, I found a new piece of technical wizardry to amaze you. I bought one, and organized for yours to come to you through the mail. It should come today, I think. Enjoy it, okay? And don't even think of paying me. It's a gift."
Jake sighed, both in relief at the information and Donna's careful wording down the phone line. A new cell every two months, untraceable to him because it was always in Donna's name and billed to her address, spelt a six-letter word he was addicted to - safety. "Oh, that's so sweet. Thanks, Donna. And ..." he hesitated, then said it, "And thanks for sending Ken and Ethan here to play."
"I'd want that too, in your shoes." Donna said simply. "Jake, I'd like to ask a favour. A big one."
"Name it." he replied without hesitation, rubbing moisturizer into his dry, cracking hands. Donna had given so much through the past two years.
Unexpectedly, Donna asked, "Do you trust me?"
Jake frowned. "Of course."
"You - you know Ken and I can't have any more kids..."
"Yes." Jake put aside the bottle of hand cream. He knew that for Donna to mention the painful subject after almost losing her life giving birth to Ethan, this had to be serious...
"We're going camping this weekend... and Ethan's decided it's not enough, just having us. He... he wants a friend to come. More specifically, he wants Danny..." Donna's voice trailed off. "Jake..."
Words sprang to his lips - words he could never say to Donna. His friend didn't plead for her son, a child as precious to her heart as Danny was to him.
How could he let Danny go, but how could he say no? Ethan had probably already told Danny... and again, Danny will chalk it up for another thing to resent him for. He'd seen it in Danny's eyes - he'd seen it in Ken Richards's face, in Donna's - even in McCall's eyes, bare minutes ago.
'Damage.'
Scalding tears filled his eyes. The thing he'd worked so hard against - what he'd sacrificed his world for - was happening. He hadn't protected Danny; he'd infected him with his fears. Fears justified in truth, but fears no six-year-old should know about, let alone act upon, or hate his father for.
He had to let him go.
'You have a day, two at most.' Dared he risk it? If Falcone's men were as close as McCall hinted...
A sudden, blinding thought hit him. 'I can plan our escape while Danny is away.'
As if he could hear the cogs turning in his mind even from a hundred meters away, McCall glanced at him, intense, searing with heat - and knowledge. Yes, McCall knew he'd run and he will be there to stop him.
"I think Danny would love it, Donna. Thank you."
His friend's voice sounded choked up. "No, Jake - thank you for trusting us with Danny."
Jake felt almost sick. At least Danny would have one night with Ethan. It wasn't a proper goodbye, but it was something. "Don't go in too lonely a spot, will you? I'd worry about that."
Donna was an intuitive person, and had already picked up on the unnatural tension. "Of course, Jake. We haven't booked yet. At this time of the year we don't need to. We were just going to drive off into the sunset tomorrow morning."
'Perfect.' "Sounds good. I'll, ah, need to know, the, ah, exact location when you arrive. If it can be an, um, open kind of place, Donna? Where there's lots of space for him to run?"
To his credit, Donna didn't gasp at his impeccable English suddenly descending into broken um-and-uh speech - their devised signal. "Of course, Jake. I know Danny likes to run free."
"Sometimes I think he'll, um, take off and fly on his own if I didn't watch him. Let me know if he's too much trouble and I'll, um, come and get him." He laughed feeling a trickle of sweat run down his spine. The code had been practiced so many times; but now that the time had come, neither of them was ready for goodbye.
"Of course. Can you pack his things? Pack a big bag for him - Ken's planning to take the boys fishing and you know how many times I'll have to take them change out of wet, filthy things. We'll pick him up fist thing tomorrow morning."
"Tonight might be better." He suggested. "Then if he gets upset at being away from me. We'll know while I'm close by. And it will, um, give me time with Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious..."
"Good idea. Ken and Ethan can pick him up. Eight o'clock do?" Donna was very quiet now. He knew Jake's suggestion had little to do with practicality for Danny's first night away and nothing at all about a budding romance.
"Yes, that will be fine. Thank you. I'll pack his gear now."
"The boys will have a ball."
But beneath the words, Jake knew that undercurrent of sorrow tugged at Donna's soul. 'I'll miss you.'
Jake swallowed the lump in his throat. He had no time for sentiment, no right to get so attached. If anyone went nosing around, and found out that Donna had helped him escape...
'She's safe.' She doesn't know the truth.'
As they'd arranged, Donna asked no questions, said nothing extraordinary in case anyone was listening to the conversation. He yakked for a few minutes about family and Danny and the school fete coming up, told a dirty joke and ended the call.
Old Harry Silver's words almost five years ago when he and Danny had arrived in the Bay area would keep him safe from prying questions.
'This is my grandson Jake, and his boy, Danny. They moved up here from Dunedin to escape the cold and Jake's ex-husband. He's a bit of a psycho, so they ran from him. If anyone asks about Jake or the boy, let us know, will you?'
His entrée into Renegade River life was assured with that part-lie. Jake met Harry Silver through old Dan Cassell. Dan had been his beloved friend in England - his one-time landlord and surrogate grandfather... the beloved old ex-spy who'd lost his life through his association with him. Harry and Dan fought their own unique war during World War Two. They were Special Operations Executive Pilots who'd smuggled goods, services and information to members of the French Resistance. They'd trusted each other with their lives more than once - and that utter faith had saved his life when he'd come to New Zealand.
With one look in his eyes, wise, seen-it-all Harry had seen all he'd wanted to hide, just as Dan had - and he'd created a "granddaughter" and "great-grandson", complete with his name, and birth certificates to prove they were New Zealand natives.
Within hours, Harry had become the only family he had, the loving grandfather he'd known with old Dan. Harry had been the security he'd lost too soon, the one flimsy barrier between him and the blasting tide of Falcone. He'd had Harry for two years, someone he could talk to, hold on to. Leave Danny with while he set up his studio. Then, suddenly and shocking as Dan's death, he'd had one gasp of chest pain and was gone, the last man he could completely trust.
If Donna thought his arrangements were to escape Danny's father, it was truth, but only Grandpa Harry had known the whole truth. Old Dan Cassell in England had sent him the full details, in case he ever needed to flee.
Answering Dan's "borders wanted" ad in rural England ten years ago - it seemed a lifetime - had been a gift from God. He'd never escaped Falcone last time but for Dan's elaborate arrangements for his safety.
Lying to Donna was for her protection. If Falcone or his men came here, Donna knew about Jake, past or present, beyond the number of the user account with the phone company.
McCall was watching him through the window. He felt him touching him with his gaze, even from this distance.
He looked for a moment, and turned aside, trembling. All McCall had done was push a stray lock of windblown hair from his eyes, yet he felt seared. It didn't matter how long he kept up the pretense that he didn't see McCall, didn't care, he felt it still... his deep-forest river gaze roaming his face and body.
He shivered again... but not in fear or loathing. God help him for the pure carnal reaction to McCall, for even wanting to drown in his summer-hot, twilit temptation.
Risking it all to be with McCall made no sense - none at all - but the man deep inside cried out. 'Stupid. You never forgot him and he's using it against you now.'
Fool. For a second time he was drawn to him, wanting his touch, his kiss - his body. And heaven help him, he wanted to trust him, even though he knew he would only betray him as he betrayed his country ten years ago.
Pretending to wash his hands at the small washstand, he took the minute he had before McCall checked on him again, to make one more preparation for his flight from New Zealand.