Author's Note: I want to try something new. I'm curious if I can be like Stephen King (has anybody noticed the pattern, or my obsession, yet?) and keep the chapters about the same length. So each one will be between twenty and thirty pages. This doesn't apply to Virgil's journal entries, though. Anyway, enjoy this next bit and thank you to all those who reviewed.

P.S. How was my spell-check/grammar-check on this one?

Book I

From the Diary of Virgil Hawkins (1)Pg. 21

Chapter One: Breaking and MendingPg. 26

Chapter Two: The Trial, Part OnePg. 44

Chapter Two: The Trial, Part One

"Virgil, why do you look so guilty?" Robert Hawkins gestured for his son to come sit beside him. "I already know of your love for Richie; you confessed it long before this, remember?"

Virgil nodded. "I know… but I've never said I loved him in front of other people before. It feels… weird. Like I'm televising it or something. I like keeping it a secret. Somehow, when I don't do that, it feels like I'm either jinxing our love or showing it off like a trophy. I don't know why it feels like that, but it does. And the last thing I want to do is hurt our relationship."

Robert leaned forward. "Do you trust Richie?"

Virgil blinked. "Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

"Are you afraid he will forget you or move on?"

"No!"

"Are you thinking you'll move on?"

Virgil's lips parted. "No…No. I would never leave Richie."

"But?"

"I… He… We're only sixteen. Things change. What if after the trial or… or right after he comes back, we have a fight or something? I have to be really careful around him. If I say the wrong thing, I'll hurt us. And I don't want to hurt us. I love him."

"What you say to others isn't what determines Richie's love for you, or your love for him. It's what the two of you think and say to each other that matters."

Virgil stared down at his hands. "I know."

"And don't treat him like a glass vase, Virgil. Treat Virgil the way you want to treat him the rest of your life. The problem with some people is that they act out of character when they're dating, then expect the person to still love them when they get married and revert to what they were before. Do you think Richie will need you to walk on eggshells around him the rest of your lives?"

Virgil shook his head, and when he did that, he smiled. "Okay. I'll treat Rich like I always have."

His father nodded. "If you try to outthink the future, Virgil, you'll only end up hurting yourself and those you love."

Virgil stood. "I guess I'll go out for a walk, if it's okay."

"Stay in the well-lit areas," his father reminded him.

"I will, Pops," Virgil answered, thinking, Static goes where he's needed, not where it's necessarily safe. Not that there's been that much metahuman activity lately. Maybe they're tired of getting their asses kicked by Dakota's funky fresh hero. Virgil allowed himself a grin, but didn't really, in his secret heart, believe that explanation. Hotstreak, after all, would never be afraid of him. And neither would Ebon.

But it made him feel good to pretend that they were afraid of him, so he let himself play with the idea for a night.

---------------oOo-------------

Richie was again sitting in the leather chair facing Batman. Virgil's question- have you seen the face behind the mask? - had started him thinking. It can't be that hard to figure out who Batman is. I mean, all I'd have to do is do a little sniffing about. Then he shook his head. I don't have time for that. Soon I'll be going back to Dakota. I don't have time for anything right now except worrying about the trial… and Backpack.

"Thank you for helping me. I didn't realize how schizo I was starting to feel. It's such a relief to be able to know what I'm thinking without having to think in two voices." He laughed a little. "That sounds nuts, but I promise I'm sane now."

"It was easier than I anticipated," Batman answered. "You wanted to be whole again, and perhaps that's why." He studied Richie for a moment. "What else do you want to tell me?"

Richie closed his eyes for a moment. "Backpack may be dangerous. What I mean is that something might be wrong with him." He described his dream, giving his opinion that maybe he'd just dreamed the robot and nothing was wrong.

"But?"

"But the feeling I filled with during the dream was… something I've felt before. That argues both for and against the theory that I imagined Backpack into my dream." Richie swallowed. "I can't describe the feeling precisely, but I remember the only time I felt it before last night. While I was under Brainiac's control, I felt-" if I can tell about everything else, I can say this- "like a whore. Filthy. Used. But also strangely aroused. That was my feeling last night. I told Backpack- or what I thought was Backpack- what I felt. He questioned me, assured me I wasn't a whore, and left when I asked him to. I woke up and saw you standing by the window." Richie realized he'd been leaning forward and he sat back, waiting to see what Batman would make of his dream.

"List the reasons you think Backpack could have actually been in your dream."

Richie frowned. "He worries about me. Back when I was two people, BP didn't trust Gear. And I don't think he completely trusts Virg, even though he used to. I'm not sure what happened between the two of them, but I don't think V trusts Backpack, either."

"Perhaps Virgil's lack of trust stems from what Backpack did to repress your pain."

Richie was nodding even before Batman had finished. "Probably. It makes sense, anyway. But I don't know what reason BP has to mistrust V. Unless of course they fought over BP's decision to protect me from pain. They've been talking recently- BP told me that he hooks himself up to the computer in the gas station and talks to V that way. It's entirely possible that they had some sort of fight."

"Is Backpack capable of fighting?"

"He's capable of thinking, so he's capable of disagreeing with people. He had I have never fought- at least not outright- but that doesn't mean it isn't possible."

"What do you mean, at least not outright?"

So Richie explained how he had blocked Backpack out of his mind so he could search for Gear without being disturbed. "I didn't care of BP saw what I was doing, but I didn't want him to keep talking to me. It was hard enough to concentrate without that."

"Continue with your reasons."

"Well, BP wouldn't stop at much to take care of me. If he found a way to reach me over a hundred-mile distance, he would do it, if only to reassure himself that I was safe. Also, he knows I like talking to him, and he would want to comfort me." Richie was frowning again. "He's never invented something without me before, but that might only be because I'm not at his side. This is the first time we've been far apart for more than a day. And he's been anxious about my safety since the incident at the meeting hall."

"You have used words like anxious and worried. Does Backpack have actual emotions?"

Richie nodded at once. "Of course he does. I don't understand where they came from, any more than I understand how he gained artificial intelligence, but I don't doubt he has them. He was hurt when I locked him out of my mind, and he relaxed once I apologized."

"Can you read him completely at all times?"

"Unless we're far away from each other, yes."

"But you can block him."

"It was a precaution I built into his system when I decided to try the mental link, just in case something went wrong." Richie blushed slightly. "It isn't that I didn't trust him back then, but…" He shrugged. "I've seen enough science fiction movies to be wary of too much technology."

"Are you positive that Backpack had a personality before you were attacked by Brainiac?"

Richie shivered, but his voice was firm. "Yes."

Batman nodded, accepting the affirmation. He didn't speak for several minutes, and Richie took the opportunity to chew at the problem a little more. When Batman spoke again, Richie hadn't found any new angles or questions.

"There is no way to know if Backpack came into your mind until you return to Dakota. When does that happen?"

"Two days from now. That's when the trial starts."

"And where will you stay once you return to Dakota?"

"The police haven't said. I'm hoping they'll let me stay with V, but I can't count on it. More than likely, I'll be stuck in another foster home until the trial's over, one way or the other." His smile was rueful. "It's a shame; I was just starting to like certain things about my life here."

"I'll see what strings I can pull for you."

Richie grinned. "Would you? Thanks. It means a lot to me. I know you and Virg are closer than you and me, but…" His smile turned shy. "I want to be trusted by you, too, someday."

"Has Virgil told you who I am yet?"

Richie shook his head.

"Well, maybe someday we'll talk about that."

Richie's smile changed again, shining and uncomplicated. "Okay."

Batman glanced out the window. True night had fallen some time ago. "You should get some sleep. I'll return you back to the foster home in the morning. But first, I need you to answer two questions for me. First, why do you fight crime in Dakota?"

Richie blinked at the abrupt change of subject, but then, seeing that Batman was serious, considered the question. He thought of justifying his answer, but decided the Dark Knight's demeanor spoke of a desire to have a short, concise response to his question. "I fight crime because I like fighting alongside V. He doesn't need my protection, but he sometimes needs my inventions. And I love being able to help him."

Batman nodded. "Very few superheroes started out battling criminals because they wanted to help the innocent."

Richie thought he knew why The Batman had started fighting crime, but he kept his mouth shut.

"The second question is this: What will keep you from turning into a criminal in order to follow through on your reason for crime-fighting? In other words, what will keep you from killing someone so you can fight alongside Virgil?"

Richie's eyes lost their focus. "Huh." He sat in silence for a full three minutes before he looked at Batman again. "There are two things, but I'm not sure if the second one is strong enough yet. I hope it gets there. I would never turn into a criminal first because of my love for Virg. He would be forced to bring me in if I did something stupid like forgetting the difference between right and wrong. I would never want to put him in that situation. Second-" he blushed- "I've given my life to Christ. I can't kill people because that would make Him cry and would be a deliberate sin against Him and against God." He stared at his hands. "I only said the prayer to ask him into my life the night you came to see me, though, so I'm not sure if my faith is strong yet."

"You don't have to be ashamed of faith, Richie. You're lucky you can still have faith in light of your super-intelligence."

"There's an order to the universe that the Darwin theory, among others, can't explain to my satisfaction."

Batman nodded and stood. "Can you find your way back to your room?"

Richie nodded, rising. "I'll be all right."

Batman turned away. "I'll expect to see you ready at dawn."

"Okay." Richie took a few steps towards his room, starting to think longingly of the spacious bed. Even though he had only awakened a short time ago, he wasn't surprised to discover that he was tired. Putting two halves of your mind back together can't be easy.

"Richie?"

The teen stopped and turned back, gazing at Batman questioningly.

"Don't try to think in the two voices you named Richie and Gear for a few weeks, if you ever try again. Doing so would be like poking at a newly-healed wound."

Richie had a brief vision of sawing at a set of manacles that held Richie and Gear together. He banished it at once. "I won't."

"Good. Get some rest." Batman swept from the room.

Richie stood where he was for a moment, then retired to his bed. He slept soundly, and didn't remember his dreams in the morning.

----------------oOo-------------

After another uneventful patrol, Virgil slipped into his bedroom. Tomorrow was the lat day of school, and Virgil didn't much care if he slept though most of it. Patrolling alone again had awakened a hunger in him that he couldn't stand. I can't call Rich; he needs his sleep after all that confusing stuff… but I can read his letter. He stood by his bed for a moment. Actually, it will kind of like reading it for the first time, because I don't remember anything he said. Frowning, he tried to remember anything Richie had said, but after a moment he gave up. What was on my mind the last time I read this? He couldn't remember. Well, at least I'm focused this time.

Virgil, now clad in only boxers and a tee-shirt, settled himself in bed and took the carefully-folded page from the drawer in his nightstand.

Dear Virg,June 12, 2003

I love you. I'm so blessed to be loved by you. The phone calls at night aren't long enough for me to be able to tell you everything, and I'm also afraid the wire is being tapped, so don't trust it. You deserve to know a few tings about me.

First, and most important, no matter what happens in the trial, no matter where they send me, I love you. I'm a little afraid- the whole long-distance thing is a curse- but we were friends before we were ever lovers, so I pray that will keep us together. I can't imagine being with anybody but you.

Okay, now that I sound like a soap opera sob story, moving on. You mentioned that no metahumans have been attacking in Dakota, that Static has been catching bank robbers and the like. Well, here's my theory on that. They might be planning something big. I know they've never seemed that organized before, but Ebon can be pretty convincing when he wants to be, and maybe he's finally fed up with Static. I hope Static thinks of this possibility. And you mentioned that Gear hasn't been seen lately. Maybe the Meta Breed is going to take advantage of that, thinking that Gear won't be there to have Static's back. I hope Gear comes back in time to help Static.

I'm so very homesick. I miss you like a spring misses flowers.

Again with the sob story. I must be turning into a bad-novel writer.

On again. I know I told you Dad was abusing me after the principal called me into his office, but I wanted to tell you that he's been doing it for as long as I can remember. Dad, I mean, not the principal. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before this. Can you ever forgive me?

Do I seem different? That might be because I am. I'm turning in a sappy-minded teen. But there's also a part of me- it almost feels like a separate half in my mind- that is analytical and wishes only to warn others about terrible things that might happen.

Love always,

Richie

Virgil put the page down and stared up at the ceiling. What's wrong with this picture? He folded the letter carefully, then unfolded it, looking for an answer to the feeling of off-ness that was assailing him. Something's wrong here. Why didn't I catch it the first time? What was wrong with me?

He read the letter again, paying special attention those statements that struck him as off. Richie sounds… unsure of himself. But not like when he's nervous about something. He sounds… weak. Or as if… Virgil struggled for a moment. It's as if he's trying to put a false personality in this letter. Yes! That's it! This isn't my Richie talking. He frowned. Richie told me he was split in half. Could this be whatever half was the weaker one? Then he dismissed the notion. I feel as if Richie is purposely putting a false front up, especially because some things sound just like him.

He scanned the letter, looking for those words and turns of phrase his mind told him were undeniably his Richie. He's trying to warn me about Ebon and the rest of the meta bums without really warning me. That's Richie all over.

The homesickness thing- Definitely not Richie. Even if he's homesick- and he probably is- he would never say it that way, with such falsely sincere poetry.

He worked in a way to explain how I knew about his father abusing him. That discretion is Richie, and yet the bit immediately after, the- forgive me- blonde airheadedness is so far from Richie's it's like he borrowed somebody else's brain for that bit.

And trust Richie to know I wouldn't get the act he was putting on immediately- he even wrote "Do I seem different? That might be because I am." The stuff he writes after that is not him, but his way of hitting me over the head with the obvious without seeming to is Richie all over.

And last, but certainly not least, he was trying to tell me about how he's been split into Richie and Gear. All with the utmost care for… what? Was he trying to be subtle on my account? Virgil had to laugh at himself. Rich would never do that to me. No, he must have been doing the Jekyll-Hyde thing because he was worried about other people reading this. I don't what he was afraid of revealing, but I know he had a good reason. I hope I get a chance to talk to him away from everyone else soon. I hate having to hide everything. It's bad enough we have to hide our superhero identities. I don't like it that we have to hide stuff about our real identities from everyone.

-------------oOo-------------

Richie prayed before he entered the court room. He had asked to be left alone for a moment, and had been granted a little privacy. Jury selection hadn't involved him, and so this, the third day of the proceedings, was his actual first day. Nervousness chewed at him, as did a need to see Virgil. Batman had tried to pull strings, but Richie ended up with a young couple in a suburb of Dakota. It wasn't bad there; they left him alone mostly, and didn't object to anything he did. But they wouldn't. All I do all day is sit in my room and either read my Bible or stare at the wall. I can't even write to V because it hurts too much. He shook his head and added, And it's frustrating having to act the ditz.

Richie closed his eyes and put all distracting thoughts out of his mind. God, please give me strength for this trial. Please protect me from fear. Please take care of Virg. Let me see him today and let us have some time alone. He can give me Your strength just by holding me. Thank You for Virg. Amen.

"Are you ready?"

Richie's eyelids drifted open. After just recovering his peace of mind he wasn't about to let someone steal it by hurrying him along. He met the eyes of the prosecuting attorney. "Yes."

She smiled; it transformed her face and made her look almost gentle, almost inviting. "You'll be fine. We may not even get to the end of the opening statements today." Her smile vanished. "But if you do speak today, remember to answer each question concisely. We don't want to give the defense any weapons."

Richie nodded "Don't worry. I won't forget."

The smile was back, even if it was for the briefest moment. "Follow me."

-----------oOo-----------

"Please state your name for the court."

The prosecuting attorney's voice echoed in the room, and Richie called on his strength and courage to answer calmly, "Richard Osgood Foley."

"How are you related to the defendant?"

This is just like answering questions in English about obvious plot twists and character traits. At least, it's like English since V's powers rubbed off on me. "He's my father." If it's just like that, why do I feel like my life hinges on these questions, simple though they are?

"Do you know what he is being accused of?"

"Yes." And yet, this is also like answering Mr. Lenning's questions; I need to be careful and concise in every answer I give.

"And what is that accusation?"

"He is being accused of physically abusing me, both at home and after a Ku Klux Klan meeting that occurred on June third of this year."

"Do you like being called Richie instead of Richard?"

Okay, where'd that come from? "Yes, ma'am."

Suddenly, her voice was that of a doting aunt. "Richie, how old are you?"

"Sixteen." Is she doing this to make me seem young and so more vulnerable?

"Does your father physically abuse you?"

Richie's stomach did a funny little flip. He had known, of course, that he would actually have to accuse his father directly. But it didn't make having to do it any easier. He felt like he was betraying his family, and that made him sick. "Yes."

"How long has he been abusing you?"

"For as long…" His mouth was dry. He swallowed, resisting the urge to clear his throat. That would make him seem nervous. Richie knew enough about trails to know that it was basically a question of his word against hi father's. If I don't seem credible, and if I don't seem innocent and in need of protection, I could end up with him again. That unstuck his voice. "For as long as I can remember."

"Who did you finally tell about the abuse?"

"Mr. Lenning. He's the principal of the high school I attend, Dakota Union High." Just talk, Richie. Quit trying to think so hard.

"When did you tell him?"

"On June third."

"Why did you tell him?"

When is this going to end? Richie resisted an increasingly-wrong urge to scan the courtroom for Virgil. I can't seem unsure or nervous. "He called me into his office and asked. Some of the teachers had noticed the bruises."

"Name the people you told about the abuse."

That's a strange question. Ah, well. Deal with it and get it over. "Mr. Lenning, Ms. Pettibone and V… er, Virgil Hawkins."

"Who is Ms. Pettibone?"

"My English teacher. She was in the office with Mr. Lenning when I was called."

"And Virgil Hawkins?"

Boyfriend or best friend? "He's… my boyfriend." I might make some of the jurors uncomfortable, and that's not a good idea, but I don't want the defense attorney to catch me in a lie.

"Tell the court how your father has abused you in the past."

"Objection!" cried the defense attorney. "We are discussing only specific incidents, namely the bruises that were seen by Mr. Lenning, Ms. Pettibone, and the injuries seen by Static."

"Sustained," the judge answered. "Continue, please."

Was that a blow to us? I can't tell. Where's my super brain when I need it?

"Where were the bruises that Ms. Pettibone noticed?"

"I had a black eye and a bruise here." Richie touched the side of his neck, near his hair.

"Let the record show that the witness touched the left side of his neck just behind his ear," intoned the prosecuting attorney. "Where did those bruises come from Richie?"

"My father hit me the night before. June second, this was."

"Why did he hit you?"

"He was angry. I don't really know what I did to upset him."

"Do you usually know why he hits you?"

"Usually, yes. Before I started hiding my friendship with Virg… Virgil I knew I might get hit every time he saw us together. I had no way of knowing how long his tolerance of African-Americans would last."

"Let's leave this topic for a moment and talk about the KKK incident."

The questioning went on for close to an hour. By the end of it, Richie felt dirty, exhausted and in desperate need of some time alone with God and alone with Virgil.

Not necessarily in that order.

But I can't have either, Richie thought as the prosecuting attorney thanked him. Now it's time for the cross-examination. God give me strength.

As the man stood, ready to deliver his barrage of questions, Richie snuck a peek at the courtroom. He saw Sharon, Mr. H… and Virgil, his eyes intense and his face worried and haggard. V hasn't slept well recently. Well, maybe after this I'll get to see him. Maybe tonight we'll both be able to sleep better. It was foolish, wishful thinking- Richie knew he would have to go home with the man and woman who were taking care of him- but that didn't stop the dream. Nevertheless, despite the fact that he might not get a chance to talk to Virgil, he was happy to see him. He relaxed slightly and felt as if he'd been given his second wind. Thank you, Virg. Thanks, Lord.

He turned his eyes back to the defense attorney as the man approached.

"Mr. Foley, please tell the court about late May of this year. Where were you?"

Richie vowed not to be put off by the question, but it was definitely one that wouldn't make him look like the perfect child. "I ran away for three days." Too bad that's not what really happened.

"Why did you run away?"

Good thing I thought about this beforehand. "I wanted to confess my love to Virgil, but I lost my nerve and just wandered. I slept in two homeless shelters, thought about leaving for good so I wouldn't have to deal with my father, then decided to come back home. For one thing, if I didn't come home, Mom would have worried. For another, Virgil would have been angry with me for disappearing. And third, I do love my father, in spite of everything, and there was a part of me that didn't want him to worry."

"Did your father hit you when you returned?"

"Yes."

"Now, Mr. Foley, do you think that no parent should discipline his child?"

"Discipline is necessary; abuse is not."

"Who are you to draw the line between needed discipline and abuse?"

"I'm sixteen, old enough to think for myself, even if I am a minor. And, last time I checked, bruising anyone, even if it's called discipline, is against the law in the United States."

"So you say every bruise you've ever had came from one of your father's beatings?"

"No. I've fallen. My phys ed teacher can attest to the fact that I am occasionally clumsy. "

"Are you saying that the sprained elbow you suffered when you were fourteen was a result of your father's abuse?"

"No. I was riding my scooter and lost control, skating into a pond." That was close enough to the truth to pass muster, but Richie couldn't help thinking of Slipstream, the Bang Baby who had picked him up like a piece and cotton and flung him into that pond.

"Then how are we to know the bruises you showed Mr. Lenning on June third were from your father? Perhaps you were just clumsy."

"First, you have my word. Second, on my neck, you could see the imprint of my father's knuckles on my skin."

"How can we know these bruises, especially the one on your neck, weren't caused by someone else? You boyfriend, Virgil, perhaps."

"First, Virgil and I weren't together yet. Second, Virgil would never hurt me." Richie could feel anger rising inside him like a black wave. He diverted it, letting it cover the fear that still bubbled inside him. I must not lose my temper. I must not show my fear.

"Tell us about the alleged beating and June third. Did your father actually strike you?"

"No, but he-"

"No. Was he even present when the beating took place?"

"No, but-"

"No. It seems to me, Mr. Foley, that you can't prove that he has hurt you and the one time you were beaten, he wasn't there."

Richie gaped at him, stunned by how quickly things had turned in his father's favor. What did I do wrong?

The defense attorney turned to the judge. "No further questions, Your Honor."

The judge turned to Richie. "You may step down, Mr. Foley."

Richie felt sick, but he refused to show it. He also refused to look at his father, who seemed to be trying to catch his eye. He stepped away from the witness stand and a bailiff led him through a door into a small room. There, out of sight of everyone, Richie collapsed in a chair and closed his eyes. I don't want to go back with him, God. If I have to, I swear I'll run away and never come back. Please keep me away from him. Please.

"Rich?"

The blonde's eyes flew open and he sat up straight. "V!"

Virgil was closing the door behind him. "The prosecuting attorney said we have five minutes. Then everybody has to go home for the day." He was at Richie's side then, and when Richie stood Virgil drew the other teen against his chest.

Richie leaned into the embrace, turning his head so he could touch Virgil's skin on his lips.

"That guy was a bastard," Virgil muttered, squeezing Richie. "Don't worry; after Static and I report everything that happened, he won't be allowed near you."

It was as if Virgil had read Richie's mind, and the blonde laughed. "How do you do that?"

Virgil held Richie at arm's length and cupped his boyfriend's cheek in his hand. "Do what?"

"Know exactly what's wrong with me and how to fix it?"

Virgil smiled. "There's nothing wrong with you, Rich; I just see what's wrong with the rest of the world and guess that it will affect you."

Richie blushed, his smile demure and his eyes hopeful. He pushed forward, seeking Virgil's lips.

The kiss was tentative on Virgil's part; he still didn't understand kissing completely. But he forgot any trepidation he might have had when Richie's tongue touched his lips. Virgil opened his mouth at once, instinctively, and when he felt Richie touch his tongue with his own, Virgil closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around his lover.

They stayed that way for a few moments. At first, Richie was leading, but then Virgil tried that role on for size. When they drew apart a little, Virgil whispered, "When this trial is over, I want you to teach me how to kiss like that."

"You already know, Virg. You were just doing it."

"But I was only following you."

Richie whispered, his lips almost touching Virgil's ear, "It's only fair that you have to follow me in one thing. Gear always follows Static."

When Virgil answered, his lips barely moved. "I thought Gear only followed Static so he could study his ass."

Richie laughed and went pink to the tips of his ears. "I knew you were reading my mind."

The door opened and they broke apart. A young couple stood in the doorway, and Richie nodded to them. They smiled at Virgil, and the man said, his British accent changing his words ever so slightly, "Whenever you want to visit, Virgil, it's all right with us. Richie isn't allowed to be out and about after dark- police orders- but you can visit any time." He took a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Virgil. "Here's our address and the buses to take to get there."

Virgil, surprised and overjoyed, took the paper and secreted it away in his pocket.

Richie was grinning. "Thank you."

The woman shook her head. "It's the least we can do. You've been through a lot; what kind of ogres would we be if we kept you away from the only person who seems to be able to comfort you?"

Richie looked at Virgil, and when Virgil drew him close, Richie closed his eyes.

"I love you, Richie. Please promise me you'll call if you need me."

"I will. Please tell BP I miss him."

"I will." Virgil kissed Richie's cheek. "And try to sleep tonight."

"I will." Richie hugged Virgil for another instant, then backed away. "Bye, V."

"Bye, Rich. I'll see you in the morning."

In the car, Richie said, "Thank you for not being angry. I don't know how most people are going to respond to Virg and me."

"It doesn't matter how most people react," the woman (Richie knew her name was Bernadette) told him. "All that matters is how much you and Virgil love each other."

All that matters is that V and I love each other. If only that was really true. As much as I'd love to think our love will stand against everything, that doesn't mean other people won't do all they can to see our love fail. We have to be strong as well as in love.

-------oOo-----

Richie spread his legs, offering himself to the man above him. The lushly-appointed room was dimly lit, and Richie was glad. It was always easier to play the whore if you couldn't see who you were serving. Some of them were handsome and could almost turn him on, but far too many were not at all what would have attracted him in his old life.

The man above him was wheezing with effort as he positioned himself at Richie's entrance.

He's got to be close to three hundred pounds, Richie thought, spreading his legs even wider. I just hope he doesn't have a heart attack in the middle of this and fall on me. How many ribs would I break if he did? And how long would healing take me away from my job?

The man impaled the skinny blonde before him, proving to Richie that, once again, he had been given to a man who knew more about stabbing food with a fork than lovemaking. Not that I'm complaining. At least he isn't being purposely cruel. And I'm- he winced as the man's flabby hips ground against his own- almost stretched enough to take him without pain.

A soft beeping drew Richie's attention and he turned his head. Backpack was sitting on a velvet upholstered chair, his sensor-eye focused on Richie.

"What are you-?" Richie began.

Why are you dreaming of serving as a whore? The robot asked.

As if Backpack's question had thrown a switch in Richie's mind, the man above him disappeared, as did the room around him. Richie found himself, now clothed, sitting on his bed back at his parents' house. This is still a dream, he thought, and glanced down, stilling his shaking hands. As was that other. But it seemed so real…

Do you miss Virgil and are replacing him with other partners in your dreams? Backpack hopped up onto the bed and settled himself beside Richie. He touched Richie's clasped hands. You can wait for him, Richie. You don't need anyone else.

Richie groaned and stood, starting to pace. Strange how everything feels so natural here. And that includes my movements. When I was little, all of my dreams made me feel like I was moving in molasses.

"Backpack, what's going on? I feel different."

Backpack answered in his mind, Your dreams have changed slightly, Richie. Perhaps this will help you to feel as if you can fight them.

"What are you talking about?" Richie turned to his robot, one eyebrow raised.

You have told me many times that you have felt powerless in your dreams and unable to move as you should. Now you will be able to fight in the dream-world just as well as you fight in the real one.

"But how am I able to move here? What's changed?"

I know not, Richie.

Richie's skin prickled. What is it about his voice or his words? What is it? What makes me feel so…

Am I hurting you, Richie? If so, I will withdraw. But I am here to help you, and I don't wish to leave until I know that you are well.

He can hear me. Richie focused as hard as he could at pushing Backpack out. He desperately wanted to be able to think without being spied upon. Damn it, this is what I was worried about. I'm not alone in my own mind! He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to build a wall akin to that which had imprisoned the Gear half of himself. But this wall wouldn't keep him in; it would keep others out.

Pain began to build behind his eyes and at his temples. Richie moaned, but still struggled with the wall.

Richie, what are you… Richie… I'm only here t-

Richie's eyes snapped open. At first, he didn't recognize his shadowy surroundings. Wait. I'm in Charles' and Bernadette's house. This is the room they cleaned out for me. He closed his eyes, searching within himself for that other presence. When he didn't find it after nearly a minute of seeking, he opened his eyes once more. Letting out the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, Richie sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. What the hell was that?

Squinting, Richie turned the light on beside his bed. After his eyes had adjusted, he grabbed the notepad off his nightstand. He had been keeping something to scribble down ideas by his bed since he started working as Static's sidekick, because sometimes the best ideas came at two o'clock in the morning. I thought of the right metal to use for V's Static Saucer at 3:46 one morning.

Turning his mind back to the dream/vision/whatever he'd just had, Richie began to scribble down the details as quickly as he could, not wanting to forget a single one. When it was done, Richie read it over twice to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

All right, let's take this apart. First, the dream about being a whore… and if I didn't like it, at least I was comfortable there and knew my place. As distasteful as the feelings were, Richie couldn't deny them; he didn't even try. The sooner I figure this out, the sooner I can start controlling my dreams.

He turned his mind to Backpack, thinking, He's been in two of my dreams lately. The first time, I felt like a whore. The second time, I was a whore? Coincidence? Possible, but very unlikely. As that guy we read about in English said, "Never in life."

Another connection between the two dreams is that as soon as he left I felt normal again. And it seems less and less likely that I'm making him up along with the rest of the dream. Didn't he say something about building something that could reach me?

Richie shook his head, forcing himself to admit what frightened him. The way he connected us… The only time either of us saw technology like that was when I was with Brainiac. Could BP have kept the schematic for the linking microchip hidden in his system? Anything's possible. Taking several deep breaths, Richie slowed his racing heart. But to reach me, Backpack would have to build the microchip and implant it in my head. He hasn't been near me. So, these dreams can't be his fault.

Right?

Right. If they were his fault, I would know. But… but that feeling of slimy arousal… Richie wrapped his arms around himself, resisting the temptation to rock. Am I supposed to believe that it was completely my own memory making me feel that way? That my mind created everything that happened. I won't believe that. As impossible as the connection should be, I think it really exists. That's not logic but intuition talking, but I trust it.

So, if Backpack can reach me, talk to me, is he listening right now? Richie bit his lip. No. I don't feel his presence. I'm pretty sure I'm alone in my mind.

Okay, this much is established: I can't trust my dreams from now on. Because they feel too real. Richie's breath caught. They feel like the nightmares Brainiac sent me. They feel real.

He almost panicked, but forced himself to think clearly. Okay, I know the feeling. I've felt it before. I recognize it. What do I do? I need help. And I can't ask V. I still need him to watch Backpack and tell me what he observes. I'll ask him about that tomorrow. Who else can I go to?

At once, Batman came to mind. But how do I reach him? I'm not even in Gotham anymore. And I can't ask Backpack to contact him. How can I reach him? Richie chewed that problem as the east lightened. By the time he woke up, he had decided to ask Virgil to bring him his Shock Vox. If I have it, not only will I be able to talk to V, but I'll be able to rewire it to contact the Justice League. His photographic memory showed him the communications signal he'd used to reach the Justice League while he and Virgil were busy running away from Brainiac in the Watchtower. Once I do that, they'll tell me how to get in touch with Batman.

--------------oOo--------------

"Please state your name for the court."

"Virgil Hawkins." Richie's brave. I can barely sit still up here and it's not even my father on trial. He looked at the prosecuting attorney. And she's not the most inviting-looking person I've ever met. Between a furious Sharon and this lady, I'd choose Sharon.

"How do you know the defendant?"

He's Richie's bastard father. Haven't we already established that? "Richie invited me over for the night when we were fourteen. I met his father just before dinner."

"What was your first impression of Mr. Foley?"

Too bad I can't give a better testimony. I'd love to say he seemed mean or at least harsh from the first. "He seemed to be a hard-working man who didn't like to drive in heavy traffic."

There was laughter from the jurors. Virgil, remembering that terrible night, the discomfort at the dinner table, Richie's fear and nervousness when the two of them were alone in the blonde's room, couldn't even smile. But he did think, If they're laughing, maybe they like me. And if they like me, maybe they'll believe me. It's a start.

"Did your impression of him change that day?"

"Yes. I was walking the bathroom after dinner to brush my teeth before bed and I heard Mr. and Mrs. Foley talking."

"And what did they say?"

"Mr. Foley said, 'It's bad enough I have to deal with them all day. Now one of them's in my house. Mrs. Foley asked him to keep his voice down. Then Mr. Foley said, 'Now I know why Richie acts like a hood, Maggie. That kid's a bad influence. All his kind are.'" Virgil could feel his blood boiling all over again, but he kept his face impassive. At least that's what he hoped he was doing. I won't ruin this for Rich. I won't.

"And what did you think?"

"I was hurt, but I was more shocked. I hadn't known that Richie was dealing with something that wack."

"What did you do?"

Do I have to tell this part? It's one of the moments I'll probably have to tell God about when I die. Virgil looked down at his hands. "I left. I was angry, but I also didn't want to cause any problems between Richie and his parents."

"That day, when you learned that Mr. Foley was racist, did you know he was abusing Richie?"

"No. After a little disagreement at dinner over a hip hop CD I brought, Richie said, 'My father sometimes… you know… I'm so embarrassed.' He never gave any hint that his father was hurting him. He acted like most teenagers: nervous about introducing their friends to their parents."

"When did you first learn that Richie's father was abusing him?"

"On June third. He told me after he told Mr. Lenning."

"Did you have any idea that he was being abused?"

"Objection!" The defense attorney again.

He may just be doing his job, but I don't like him anyway, Virgil thought. He messed with Richie, and now he's messing with me.

"Mr. Hawkins has already stated that he didn't have any idea that Richie had bruises."

"I saw the bruises," Virgil answered before anyone else could speak.

"Order, Mr. Hawkins," said the judge, and Virgil shut his mouth. To the prosecuting attorney, he said, "Proceed."

"Please restate your answer, Virgil."

"I saw the bruises. I just didn't know what they were from. And when I tried to talk to Richie about them, he wouldn't tell me. Richie has always hidden his personal pain, and I was more concerned with keeping our friendship, making sure I was there for him when he needed me, than getting answers. I would've never known his father was racist if I hadn't heard it for myself. In many ways, Richie's a very private person. So, on the morning of June third, when I saw his black eye and the knuckle-marks on his neck, I asked him, but I would never press him. He told me when he was ready. Our friendship has always been like that."

"Tell me about the night of June third."

"I didn't know anything was wrong until the hospital called. I was having trouble sleeping that night, and I was worried about Richie, but that's normal."

"Explain."

"Well…" Okay, how do I explain worrying about him without telling about his time with Brainiac? "When Richie ran away in May, he didn't tell me why, but it made the second time he'd run away in about two years. I knew he and his father didn't get along- the whole racism thing- and sometimes I felt like all that was keeping him home was his belief that he would graduate in a little over two years and get out of his parents' house. So I worried about him, sometimes more than others. I don't have ESP or anything, but remember that I'd declared my love to Richie two days ago, and so maybe that made me worry about what he was dealing with more than ever. But I didn't really know something was going to happen. I had no clue his father was involved with the KKK until Richie told me."

"What did the hospital say when they called?"

"I was still asleep, and so they talked to my sister, Sharon. They told her that Richie had been brought in by Static early that morning. Richie had been attacked he needed to stay in the hospital for a few days. But they said he should be okay."

"You said that Richie told you about his father's involvement in the KKK. When did he tell you?"

"Rich explained everything in a letter he wrote me after he'd been sent to live in Gotham for a few days."

"This question is a little personal, but indulge me. How long have you known Richie?"

That's nothing compared to what you could have asked. For instance, 'Have you kissed him?' "Eight years."

"How long have you been dating."

Okay, getting a little closer to home, but not too close. "We haven't had a real date yet, but we confessed our love on June first."

"Have you seen Richie with his shirt off?"

Closer still. I don't like this. Virgil resisted the urge to squirm. What does this have to do with the trail, anyway? "You mean, since June first?"

"Yes."

"No." Virgil's face was hot and he resisted the temptation to rub the back of his head.

"So you don't know that he has several faint bruises on his ribs?"

"No."

"Do you have any idea where they came from? Did Richie say anything about being punched as well as beaten?"

"No." But I know where they're from. I saw them when the J league was healing Richie after his imprisonment inside Brainiac. The bruises were so black they looked like dark-ink tattoos. Batman thought Richie must have been thrashing around inside Brainiac. And after reading about the nightmares, I understand why he was so bruised. He must have been fighting while he dreamed.

"No further questions. Thank you, Virgil."

Before the teen could answer, the defense attorney approached the stand.

"Do you have any proof that Mr. Foley abused his son?"

"I have Richie's word, and I know Mr. Foley would do almost anything to teach Richie to hate other races. Maybe he thought he could scare Richie into staying away from me."

"So you believe Mr. Foley abused him, but you've never seen my client raise a hand to his son. Is that correct?"

"I don't think Mr. Foley would want anybody to know he was abusing Richie. That's probably why he usually gave him bruises that could be hidden by his clothes."

"Answer the question."

Virgil sighed. "Yes, it's true."

"No further-"

Mindful of the judge's rebuke a few minutes ago, Virgil asked, "May I say something, Your Honor?"

The two attorneys approached the bench and held a whispered conversation with the judge. At least, they back away.

"Proceed," the judge said.

"Disciplining a son or daughter isn't wrong. Without limits, every child or teen would end up spoiled, unsure or just plain messed up in the head. There's a difference between discipline and abuse, though. I've known Richie for eight years. He hid his father's abuse out of desperation. But he hid nothing else from me. During the week, he goes to school, we walk halfway home together, we spend a few hours at home, then we meet to either hang our or do homework. On weekends, we visit comic shops and hang out at the mall. What in all of those activities did Richie do wrong? What did he do that was bad enough to deserve abuse?"

There was a brief silence, then the judge said, "You may step down. I declare a recess until after lunch."

---------oOo---------

Virgil didn't even bother to eat. He slipped out of the building, found a good place to change, and donned his Static costume. If they knew that they were talking to the same person twice, maybe they wouldn't have to call me up again. I hope I get through this second round without making a fool of myself or letting anything important slip.

-------oOo------

The questioning by the prosecuting attorney was easy. Virgil was dreading the cross-examination, but he was determined not to show how tense he felt. I've already convinced them, with no problem that there's no connection between Virgil Hawkins and Static Shock. One more little talk and I'll be done. He hid his smile. And of course I was able to say my piece this time before the defense attorney could jump in. I told them all, "I just want to make sure that the court does right by Richie." Like I didn't really know him, but like it was my job to worry about other people. Then I said, just to make the jury think, "Nobody should have to live in a place where they're scared that someone will hurt them."

"That's quite a noble statement, Static," said the defense attorney, bringing an end to Virgil's basking, "but tell us something. Why should we believe anything you say? You aren't, after all, being completely honest with us."

It starts. Virgil grinned inwardly at the Lion King reference and remembered when he and Richie had watched the movie for the first time. They'd played Simba versus Scar for weeks after. The memory strengthened him. "When exactly did I lie?"

"You left out certain information about the fight between yourself and the two white-robed men in the hospital. One of them was Mr. Foley, correct?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Foley was well within his rights to visit his son, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but his partner was carrying a gun. Are you suggesting I should have let them approach Richie armed?"

"Why didn't you mention the gun in your testimony?"

Shit. "It slipped my mind. I was thinking more of Mr. Foley and the way he spoke of reaching his son. He seemed slightly mad. I apologize for my oversight." He found himself thinking of something Richie had said once. Very smooth, V-Man. He met the attorney's gaze, thinking, I can't make any more mistakes. Every mistake I make costs Richie one more chance at safety.

"Indeed. Answer me this: why should we trust you when we don't even really know you?"

Now this I can answer. Static touched his mask. "I wear this for my protection. I have protected Dakota for over two years. Please grant me a little protection for myself, my family and my friends." He smiled, that megawatt smile that had charmed so many people. "And you know me better than you know Mr. Foley. I am what you see: a superhero for Dakota who only wants to help.'

The defense attorney was silent for a moment, then he turned to walk back to his seat. Halfway there, he glanced over his shoulder. "Let I remind the jury that this self-proclaimed superhero is number one a teenager and number two guilty of lying under oath. His name is not really Static." He allowed the silence to underline his words before stating, "No further questions."

At the table where he had sat for the better part of two days, Sean Foley folded his hands and smiled. They won't get you, Richie. I won't let them pollute your mind anymore. You are my son, and it falls to me to show you the way of the world.

----------oOo------------

"Can I see you tonight? Will your pops let you visit? It doesn't have to be for the whole night, but I need to talk to you….Mmmmmm... V, that feels good, but I can barely think when you're doing that."

Virgil stopped massaging Richie's tense shoulders for a moment, leaned forward and kissed Richie's ear from behind. "I'll ask him. And if I can't, I'll make sure somebody else visits you. Just to check on you, you know."

Richie grinned. "Aren't you worried that I'll find Static sexier than you?"

"He may look better in that mask, but I look better when all my clothes are off."

Richie snickered and spun around, capturing Virgil's lips in his. When he was sure Virgil would be left gasping for a moment, he pulled back and said, "Don't speak such blasphemy. Static is every girl's dream date. Are you saying that you're hotter than Static?"

"Much." Virgil drew Richie against him, but didn't kiss him.

The door to the little room opened and Bernadette poked her head in. "Richie, it's time to go."

Richie turned towards her, interlacing his fingers with Virgil's. "Is it okay if V comes over for dinner? He won't stay late."

"He can spend the night if he wants, but whatever rules his or your… mother… had about one of you spending the night at the other's house still apply."

"Guess that means I'll be on the couch," Virgil said. He smiled. "Should I bring a blanket or something?"

"Oh, we have plenty of extras." She smiled. "if you can't come, just call. Did Richie give you our number?"

Virgil nodded.

Richie turned to Virgil and the two of them held each other. "V, bring our walkie-talkies tonight," Richie said, trying to sound casual. I want to test them out away from all the power lines and tall buildings."

Virgil blinked, but nodded. Now, what's he up to? "Okay. I'll be there as soon as I can, Rich." He gave Richie an extra-tight squeeze.

"Give this to our friend, will you?" Richie put the note in Virgil's hand. "I know he has some trouble reading, but if he takes it slow, he'll be okay."

Virgil glanced down at the folded paper. BP was written on it. He nodded. "I will. I love you."

Richie's face lit with an uncomplicated smile. "Love you, too."

oOo

Author's Note: In part two: finally some V/R time!

Ruesen: I'm flattered, and I'm so glad you're sticking with this. About Reverend Ovid: I knew a pastor like him, named Reverend Michael. I'm not sure what Pastor Michael would have thought of Virgil and Richie being together, but I like to think he might have reacted this way.

Chaosdreamer: First, a question: Did Backpack really seal Gear away? And if so, did he do it on purpose? I'm genuinely curious about what you think, because I'm still not sure. Maybe BP talked to you even when he's not talking to me much. Second, I've loved Batman for a long time, so I've enjoyed putting him in here. Third, what are these fics you've mentioned? (Weiss Kreuz and Rurouni Kenshin) What universe are they?

leev: Thank you for the glowing review. I'm worried about BP, too. He hasn't been talking to me much lately, so I don't have any idea what he's planning. The only thing I'm sure of is that he loves Richie, but as to what that will lead him to...

BH: That makes two of us: I'm glad Richie and Gear are back together. Richie needed Gear before, but now he's fine on his own. And stronger for everything he went through. Unfortunately (for him) or fortunately (for us) this is far from over. I tried to catch the typos this time. Let me know how I did. And about Christianity: I'm glad to be able to show both sides of it in one fic. Finally, I know I haven't answered the question of whether Backpack is really in Richie's mind or not, but I'll let everyone else know when Backpack tells me.

jack: The V/R goodness should (I hope) be in the next chapter. But as for V/R/F… it's still a few chapters away. It's coming, though; never fear.