Date: Sun, 25 Feb 2001 15:34:33 -0600
From: William Webb <haztech@msn.com>
Subject: Flip pt11 (Corrected)

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)