Staying Straight

Author Notes: Thank you to all of you who have read this story. Special thanks to RodiSquall, who helped me get started, and to those of you who have cheered me on to the end. Please enjoy.

EPILOGUE: Harley and Jo

The neighborhood on the North side of Little Shangri-La was known as Victor's Hill, and it was probably the nicest part of the entire quarter. It wasn't upscale, not by any stretch of the imagination, but the streets were lined with cute, prim rowhomes and townhomes, black-barked trees that were white with petals in the spring and vibrant, verdant green through the summer, and streetlights that weren't decorated with cameras every other block. Jo had become intimately familiar with these streets, but then, a few months living somewhere combined with his innate memory for road maps would do that. Now, he rode up the road on his little black Vespa with confidence. He knew which roads were fastest to the grocery store, how best to get to the city center from here, and of course, which route was the clearest way home.

This was home now.

In the eighteen months since the failed jailbreak, Jo and Harley had made some big changes. They gave up the lease to their shared efficiency the next time it came up for renewal, especially because the landlady had found out Harley was living there and moved to double the rent. Dan had sworn her up and down the block and bullied the receptionist into letting them use the elevator to move out, and crammed them into his two-bedroom flat. They saved every penny they could from there, and a scant three months after the first anniversary of the riots, they were homeowners.

Jo was still in school, but he'd taken a part-time job as a trainer at a local gym. Sure, he didn't care for teaching rich people who were too lazy to work out on their own, but he found he was teaching a lot more people who just didn't know what to do, and he happened to like that. It paid for his books, put fuel in his scooter (a stepping stone to the motorcycle he still dreamed of), kept the lights on, and prevented Harley from working too much overtime, and both he and Harley knew it would be temporary. There would be better someday, it was just a matter of striving for it. Jo thought he was getting good at reaching for the future. Today was just another day of that.

Their house was in the middle of a row, a little white townhouse with a pointed roof, grey shingles, and big windows. It had two bedrooms – theirs, and one for sleepover visits from Gage – a tiny porch just big enough for Jo's Vespa and Harley's gardening tools, and a front yard loaded with waist-high lilies and delphinium, ivy creeping up the banister and front wall, and a huge planter pot overflowing with lavender, thyme, and mint from its many openings. When Jo passed through their front gate and took in the pleasant scent of Harley's garden, he knew in his very soul that he was in the right place. Each step to his door was cherished, as much as every day he got to walk that path.

He opened the door and dropped his gym duffel. "Babe, m'home!" His voice was loud in the foyer, but when Harley didn't respond, Jo peeked up the steps. Harley, however, poked his head out of the kitchen, his Bluetooth headset still on. Harley wiggled his fingers, but pointed to his headset before ducking back out, already talking to whoever was on the other end.

"Yes, yes, I should be able to squeeze you in tomorrow. I'll be in the office by nine. For the time being, please shut it down completely, and please don't run any further defragmentation programs. I would rather not completely reinstall Windows..." Jo followed Harley's voice in and saw him set up at their kitchen table with his work laptop open and a calendar and manifest open on the screen, and a textbook open beside it. There was a casserole dish visible in the oven, and the scents of roasting chicken, garlic, and lemon rolled through the room. Jo smiled to himself and put a piece of paper in the textbook to mark Harley's page, then shut it and set it aside as Harley kept trying to tell his customer how to not destroy their computer. He was still talking when Jo sidled up behind him and slipped his arms around his waist. He leaned in to kiss his neck a few times, forcing him to suppress a giggle, then whispered into his free ear.

"I'm gonna take a shower now that I've gotten your back all sweaty." He released him, only to feel a pinch on his tank top before he could turn and was tugged back towards Harley. Harley pushed the mouthpiece on his headset away, kissed Jo on the mouth, then released him while mouthing a 'see you in a minute.'

Harley was still struggling to turn Extreme Dataflow around, but the business had been fully in the black for four months now. Jo had no idea just how impressive a person could be, because Harley was bearing the weight of doing all of the front-end work for the business and most of the back-end (Ken still handled the books, though Harley kept track of all the data for him), while still taking a full course load in working towards his Bachelor's of Science in Information Technology (minoring in Computer Sciences with electives in electrical engineering, and Harley wouldn't let him forget it). Jo only knew what he was taking because he explicitly told him, because that was still all geek to him. Jo suggested that maybe Harley should hire someone to help him, but both he and Ken struggled to trust new people, but Jo did worry about Harley handling everything by himself, especially while taking eighteen credits of weekend and evening courses each semester and summer and winter courses to boot. Harley was often exhausted, but he promised Jo that he'd hire new help as soon as the right person came along. Until then, he trekked through, powering through his days and still doing everything he could to show Jo just how valued and loved he was. Even today, dinner was cooking, the house smelled great, and Harley had been waiting for him. There for him.

Jo, too, did his part. He made an effort to remember to clean up after himself, and after months of mild nagging, he was remembering to put his clothes in the hamper. He washed the dishes after every delicious meal. He was affectionate to Harley when he needed or wanted affection, and backed off when he needed space. He wanted to meet Harley's needs, to be everything he desired.

Even if they hadn't had sex again yet. That was perfectly fine with both of them. They'd made progress in lots of other ways. Jo found himself dwelling on all of it again as he stripped his clothes off and stepped into the shower to shake off the sweat from work.

Some days, he would descend the stairs and find Harley at the kitchen table, long awake, staring out their back window at their lawn chairs and rose bushes, and hear him whispering to himself, wondering if it was all real, if he was dreaming it, if he was just going to snap back and see monsters and demons again. Jo would kneel down next to him, put his forehead on his arm, and promise him, "It's real. We're here. I'm here. Look at me, babe. I'm as real as the sun."

He knew that he, too, would sometimes wake in the night and reach across the bed, just to make sure Harley was still there. Even worse were the nights he'd wake up in the witching hour, shaking off a nightmare and still hearing someone else's voice whispering in his ear:

"Pervert. Faggot. Idiot."

He'd sit beside the bed, knees pulled to his chest, trying to convince himself that everything he used to think wasn't true. Sometimes, he could, and he could crawl back into their bed, albeit as close to the far edge as possible, and sleep, but sometimes, he would shiver for hours, losing track of time in his head, until he felt Harley move behind him. Harley would turn slowly when his warmth ebbed out of the quilt, his good eye straining in the dark and the damaged side buried in the pillow, then extend a hand towards him.

"You are good. Nothing less than good. You know that, don't you?" Jo nodded silently, and Harley pushed himself up on his hands, just a little. "If you can't sleep next to me, why not in the other room? I won't begrudge you needing your space."

Jo slept a few nights on the spare bed, just to bear off the dissonance in his head, but at least there was silence. Every other night, though, there were kisses, there were smiles, there was Harley, and sound, peaceful sleep.

Downstairs, Harley had taken off his headset once he'd gotten off his call and turned on the radio as he went to finish dinner. He could hear Jo up in the shower, but only faintly. He twisted the dial to a news report, and settled at the cutting board, listening to the report over the steady rhythm of his knife rocking against the plastic.

"... our crime and justice update continues with the ongoing trial of Eugenie Maoh. Ms. Maoh was convicted on multiple charges related to gang activity over the past fourteen years, including first degree murder in causing the shooting death of Zack Ro, inciting the Ro Riots, and collusion with organized crime, as well as other related charges. Ms. Maoh has appealed her case on the basis that the testimony of her alleged partner, Dr. Neil Jenning, formerly a professor at Harbor University and a priest, was coerced. Dr. Jenning's attorney could not be reached for comment, as Dr. Jenning continues to serve his thirty-year sentence for assault, collusion, and other charges, after pleading down from murder and conspiracy to murder. The arrest and subsequent imprisonment of Dr. Jenning and Eugenie Maoh has been credited with causing a 7% drop in the violent crime rate for the past twelve months, lending credence to charges that their involvement with high-level organized crime had been a major factor in the rise of crime for the six month period of..."

Harley sighed over the report, repeating the same statistics as earlier when Genie Maoh's appeal had merely been rumor. "At least they're the taxpayers' problem now. It's merely a shame I pay my taxes." He hummed tunelessly and took up his knife again, shredding his way through a head of chard like tissue paper and thinking of the other good that had come in Eugenie Maoh and Neil Jenning's wake.

The city had begun to heal, and the people they knew who had been hurt by the disaster were all doing the same. Gage had gotten through the last surgery he would need a year ago, and though he still had a great big scar shaped like a sunburst over his ribs, he was healthy and active again, more so than the average fourteen-year-old boy. He played field hockey to get his energy out, and Jo still weight-trained with him on weekends and Wednesdays.

Steele had, with some help from Ken, finally gotten the previous Father Steele's Mustang fully restored and sold it, ensuring the mission would be funded for at least a few more years. Harley still volunteered sometimes, but as busy as he was, it was rare. Still, Steele had begun to make an effort to get out of his office sometimes, and he and Gage would come for movie nights, or they'd all go out for dinner and karaoke or to the arcade.

Though Jo didn't work for Ken anymore, he still saw him if he happened to be at Extreme and Ken dropped by to pick up paperwork, and they were friendly. Ken mentioned that Lily was doing well in school, and didn't seem to have been affected by her mother's arrest in the slightest.

Dan had a standing brunch date with Harley and Jo every Sunday morning after Mass, and he and Jo were settling into a steady relationship as brothers and adults.

Harley and Jo did attend Mass every Sunday, though Jo still refused to take communion, and sometimes, they would go to the North side of the quarter to hear Father Shalimar give mass. Father Shalimar had returned from his "trip" after a few months, and his "second cousin" had vanished back to "Akron" to "continue recovering with family." Shalimar had a limp left over from the ordeal, as well as a few new scars on his arms, but he also had a kind smile for Jo and Harley whenever they came by, and lots of unspoken gratitude.

Jo and Harley, too, were healing, getting better, getting closer, and happier day by day.

Harley heard the water turn off upstairs, and went to peek in at Jo, lured in by the sharp scent of his soap wafting from around the curtain and under the door. Harley nudged the door open as Jo stepped out, toweling his hair, and Jo started when he saw Harley, then smirked.

"Oh, hey there." He cocked a sculpted hip and winked. "Checking out the merchandise?"

"I'm afraid I'm just here to help dress the display." He held out a fresh set of clothing, and Jo chuckled and accepted his pants and boxers.

"Thanks, babe." He started to yank them on, utterly in his element as Harley stood back to observe as he shimmied the elastic of his boxers up past his hip. He then deliberately wiggled his way into his jeans, and Harley laughed.

"Come, now, that's not fair. You're trying to put clothes on, not tempt me to remove them again." He turned to give Jo privacy, but Jo quickly hitched his pants up and reached out and caught his wrist.

"Wait a sec." He ran his thumb up the vein on Harley's arm, then stepped in and next to him. Harley seemed to lean in Jo's hand, his vacant smile shifting to something Jo knew was real and solid, and he managed a wobbly smile in return. "Today was the day." He stroked Harley's skin a few times. "You remembered, right?"

"I did, of course. I was waiting for you to text, or tell me." Harley squared his hips, his gaze moving over Jo's face, and lifted a hand to push a few wet strands of hair from his eyes. "How did it go?"

Jo's jaw clenched for a moment, then spread for a broad grin. "It went exactly the way you thought it'd go. I am officially off parole." He clasped Harley's hand tight. "Yana said I was free, and because I offended when I was a kid, my record's sealed. I won't even have to disclose it on a job application." His hand trembled – Harley felt it – and Jo laughed shakily. "I'm clean, babe, I'm on the straight and narrow for good."

"Straight?" Harley tried to look offended, withdrawing from Jo and crossing his arms, but Jo laughed and slapped his forearm.

"You know what I mean! I'm a free man!"

Harley's mock-irritation vanished into a warm chuckle, and he reached for Jo's shoulders, pausing just long enough for Jo to rest his hands on Harley's waist, and sank into a hug against him. "I know. It's wonderful. Congratulations, my love." He rubbed his cheek against Jo's, then leaned back to look fondly, tenderly, into his eyes. "How would you like to celebrate?"

"Celebrate? I thought this was the celebration." Jo squeezed Harley tight, then gestured out at their home. "I got you, we got this. You could throw a block party and I wouldn't be any happier than I am right now." He swept Harley up off his feet. "So, how about we continue this celebration downstairs, and you tell me how your day was?" Harley giggled and threw his arms around Jo's neck and touched his nose to Jo's.

"Shall we?"

And so they would.

Life wasn't perfect, but it wasn't meant to be. Yes, there were problems, money was tight, and they were both still a little broken in the aftermath of the road they'd traveled, but they were still traveling. At the very least, Jo wasn't bored, because there was always something new coming, a new class, another night with his friends, and who knew what would happen when they both were out of school, or what bump would rise in the road next. He knew for sure that he wouldn't face whatever it was alone.

Even when it rained, he didn't dream of being in jail anymore. He just woke up to Harley and a new morning and a new day and a new life. The straight path was everything he wanted it to be and better, and Harley and Jo would take every step side by side.

End Notes: This would be the end, but there will be an extended epilogue. Expect a few more chapters of our heroes enjoying the aftermath.

Thank you, all of you, for reading! Please let me know what you thought.