Author: Rebellecherry
Summary: A summer love between a Straight Edge stripper and unstable rookie cop burns out as their two lives move in different directions, but their romance is never really forgotten not even five years later. Memories of that hot summer followed them for years.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, the whole concept has probably been done, but it wouldn't leave me alone so here it is.
Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, Favorited and followed this story. Special thanks to lamentomori for helping me with pacing problems and for giving me constructive feedback on the chapters, even before they were submitted.
Present Day
Punk's morning was off to a great start, he had written Vince a letter, he'd done his morning yoga, he was making himself breakfast, he'd gone out to water his plants. He looked around at the upscale Hollywood Hills neighborhood, with the stuck up neighbors he hated the place, and was planning on moving soon, his best friend had offered him in a room in his house if things got too heavy for him out in LA. Things were getting better the helicopters had moved away the reporters were no longer camped out on the lawn. His whole past was tabloid fodder his boyfriend was in jail on embezzlement charges. The police had finally stopped harassing him once they started building a case against Vince.
Punk was no longer important to them as he'd only met Vince after he'd stepped down from day to day operations with the company so he wasn't a target for the case. They'd already decided that they were going to put him on the stand at the trial. Which was fine with Punk, considering what the defense said about the information he was sitting on, he'd be the key to Vince walking and having the truly guilty punished. Punk shook his head at the policeman in the car that was supposed watching the house but was clearly watching his eyelids his thoughts going to another officer he'd known a long time ago. He had been protected and served numerous times, though he tried not think of that time especially not now when things were so bleak with the trial and all he couldn't deal with the what if's right now.
The old lady from across the street blew her horn again as she drove by for her ten o'clock tea at the country club. He sighed looking at what he was wearing he didn't notice that he'd been out in just his sweats, which left little the imagination they were low slung on his hips low enough to let the world know that he enjoyed the smooth look and manscaping was one of his pastimes and the material was worn and even though she was old as fuck he was sure she could see the outline of his cock from the road. He figured he'd done the old bitch a solid, he was sure she'd not seen a cock since her husband died, which was probably around the time Punk was born which made the whole thing pretty fucking gross.
"Punk," a voice hissed from out of nowhere, he turned to find the source of the voice.
There in the bushes was small brunette, who was so familiar to Punk.
"April?"
She jumped out and grabbed his hand and ran him to the back of the house. They ran to the middle of the property, "There's no time to explain."
"What the fuck?" he asked as she jumped into the pool taking him with her just before what felt like a small tremor rocked the place.
He didn't hear the boom because of the water in his ears, when April pulled him out he saw the falling debris, smelled the smoke.
"I'll explain everything later I've just got to get you up the trail there's a car waiting we've got to get you way the hell away from here," she said.
Punk was thankful he'd worn shoes, but he hated his choice of wardrobe, now that he'd gotten wet the pants were even more see thru.
"Could you?" April gave him her jacket, "I haven't seen this much of you since you worked at the club. You know underwear is not over rated."
"I didn't expect you to throw me into the pool then take me on a nature walk after my house went up in flames," Punk said.
"Expect the unexpected," she said.
"How'd you know that was going to happen?" Punk asked.
"We had a feeling that the situation would escalate," April said, "she's getting desperate. My superiors decided that it'd take more than LA's finest to keep you alive long enough to make it to trial."
"Your superiors?" he asked, "you're a computer salesperson."
They'd come to the end of the trail about half a mile from Punk's house in the hills. She stopped running him. Punk wondered how she could run so well in those low heeled shoes over rocks when he was tripping in his sneakers every step of the way.
"I'm FBI," April flashed her badge, "I have been since they recruited me at seventeen."
"Damn," Punk panted.
"I need a minute," he said as a black town car pulled up.
"Car's here I'll explain on the ride," April said.
Once they were in the car Punk couldn't stop staring at her, it was like he didn't know her anymore and she was one of his best friends. He'd known her for many years, since he used to baby sit her when he still lived at home. She lived with an aunt down the block from Punk's parents, and the woman worked crazy hours April was often shuffled off to daycare until Punk's mom worked it so he could earn a little extra cash and her aunt could save a bundle on daycare by leaving her with him. She'd been a child of immigrant parents who had more kids than they could support.
They'd kept in contact during all the shit with Raven and then with Adam and Amy. April had shown up at the club one night four and half years ago to reconnect with Punk. She hadn't talked much about what she'd been up to work wise other than the vague mention of her degree computer science and her job with a software company that brought her San Francisco.
"Does Celeste know?" Punk asked of April's wife.
April shook her head, "She'd be in danger if she did. I'm doing what I can to keep my family safe, and that includes you ."
"How are the kids?" he asked.
"Did you get the pictures I sent?" she asked her demeanor changing, "Brooke is totally trying to walk and Hayden is teething now."
"I did get them I meant to call, but things are a little crazy," Punk said, "I've been trying to stay away because…"
"I know," April said, "I get it. I know that you're not around much because of the things that are going on with Vince."
"When this is over I'll make more time," Punk said, "I'm just not safe to be around clearly. The explosion has got Vince's ex wife's finger prints all over it."
"I couldn't have asked for a better window to get you the hell out of there," April said, "we're going to relocate you. You're going into the Program until it's time for trial."
"The Program as in the Witness Protection Program?"
"Yes," she said.
"How are you going to explain why you've been away?"
"I'll tell her I'm on the road promoting the newest product," she said, "I'll video chat from a locked connection, where they can't track the location, but no one in my civilian life knows I'm with the Bureau."
"I have Brooke's picture as the screensaver on my phone," Punk smiled, "she's so cute."
April smiled, "She has eyes like yours."
It seemed as though they'd driven forever, when they finally stopped it was dark and Punk was half asleep, when they reached the non descript office building he was herded into a doctors office by an agent in a suit while April said she was going to change. The doctor checked him over.
"I'm fine, we were in the pool when the bomb went off," Punk snapped.
"Look I gotta do my job," the doctor said, "let's make this easy for both of us."
Punk endured a physical and was thankful that the doc was charting and he was being left alone when April came in dressed in drier clothes, he wanted the same thing for himself. The news was on covering the explosion in the posh Hollywood hills neighborhood.
"It has been confirmed at this time, there were no survivors in the explosion," the news lady was saying.
"So, that's it…" Punk whispered his mind spinning with panic, "everyone is gonna think I'm dead?"
"Well, it's either that or really be dead," April said crossing her arms, "and I mean really most sincerely dead. You take your pick."
"Vince knows I'm okay right?" he asked, "I don't want him to off himself thinking I'm gone and there isn't any hope for him getting out."
"He knows," April said, "I didn't lie to you when I said we were going to make this happen."
He shrugged the blanket off and stretched a little noticing the man standing behind April for the first time. There was no mistaking him, it was Jon, his breath caught on his throat. He didn't expect to see the man ever again, and he didn't expect to feel like no time had passed since the time he'd last saw him.
"Do you two know each other?" Dr. Sampson asked.
"No!" April said, "no they don't. If you're done checking him over, the three of us have some things we need to go over."
Dr. Sampson gave her a questioning look she just smiled what she assumed was her innocent smile but Punk should probably tell her that it was far from innocent.
"April!" Punk called, "Why didn't you tell me, you were bringing him in?" Punk asked.
She shrugged, "Wanted it to be a surprise, given your history with him and all. You're leaving behind everything. Why not give you back something you thought you'd lost long before this."
"I moved on since then," Punk said.
"Clearly," April said crossing her arms over her chest as she looked between the two men.
"How do you two know each other?" Jon asked it was the first time he'd spoken.
"I married Trish's little sister Celeste," April said, "We met when Punk was still dancing and Celeste was tending bar. We became best friends."
She'd left out most of the story, which he was pretty thankful for the less Jon knew about his connection to April the better.
"You let him live after calling you by your first name," Jon smirked.
"That's a privilege reserved for friends," she said, "though you haven't earned the right to use April, yet, you can call me AJ, since you are going to come into hiding with us, and you're not going to bitch anymore, I think I at least owe you that."
"Are you going to stop calling me Mr. Good?"
"I'm actually going to call you Dean Ambrose," she said reaching into her bag and chunking a passport and license baring that name, it was exactly like his own driver's license and passport, same picture, same details except the name and address.
"I like it," Punk said meeting Jon's eyes, "it suits you. What about me? I want to be Seymour Buttz?"
"I'm sure you would," she said, handing him an ID and passport he read it over Phillip Jackson, it was another attempt on her part to get him to resolve his daddy issues, which if you asked April had gotten him into this whole mess.
"You think you're so fucking clever," Punk threw them back at her after reading his new name.
"Thought it was pretty fitting," she said.
"You've got on here that I'm from Meridian Mississippi?"
"Yeah so what you can talk just like that cowboy guy that always came to the club?" she asked.
"It's a different dialect," Punk said.
"We'll work on it later, right now we've got to get on a jet, and fly to our destination," she said.
"You're not going tell us where we're going?" Jon asked.
"Nope," she smirked.
"Can I get some more clothes, something less comfortable and a bit drier?" Punk asked.
