A/N 1: As promised, V/R time! And more time with Hotstreak, too, though he was less willing to discuss all his ulterior motives with me.
A/N 2: Ha! 23 pages! A little over twenty, but not too bad. And maybe less typos this time, too. I actually read through a lot of it instead of just trusting to spell-check.
Fresh Warnings: a little more language (Hotstreak) but nothing I'd call serious, and now we get into a little less innocence with Virgil and Richie. And I mean only a little less.
Chapter Three: Around Sunset and Gear Runs InterferencePg. 68
aka The Trial, Part, Two
Chapter Three: Around Sunset and Gear Runs Interference
aka The Trial, Part Two
"Thanks for driving me, Pops," Virgil said, leaning forward from the backseat.
"Sit back, Virgil. I can't say I'm not curious about these people that took Richie in." Robert smiled. "Besides, I miss seeing him, too."
"What, he didn't spend enough time at our house?" Sharon asked.
"Then why are you coming?" Virgil asked.
"Big sister privilege."
"You miss him, too. Admit it."
"I miss Nerd Boy about as much as I miss you dissing my cooking."
"All right you two, settle down."
"Sorry, Pops."
"Sorry, Daddy."
Robert was frowning. "Sharon, check the map, would you? The house should be right around here, but-"
"Hi, Mr. H!"
Robert hit the brakes and they were all thrown forward a little/ Then he spotted Richie on the sidewalk. He called out the open window, "Richie, don't you know enough not to scare people when they're driving?"
"I thought you saw me." Richie looked chastened and apologetic, which wasn't what Robert had wanted to see. Usually Richie would have grinned and agreed and been untroubled.
"It's all right," Robert said quickly, smiling at his son's boyfriend. My son in all but blood. "Where are we going?"
"Two blocks further down. The community here got together a week ago and switched street names. It's confusing the mailman, the garbage men and just about everybody else."
"Hop in and point the way."
Richie, his face lit from within, slipped into the backseat. At once, Virgil took his hand. "Go straight, Mr. H."
"Can a bunch of people really just choose when they want to change street names?" Virgil asked. "And how do they agree, anyway?"
"It's by popular vote," Richie answered. "And things are a little different out in the suburbs." He laughed. "They're not governed by so many rules. But I think this place is a little different from other suburbs, too. This section of town is called "Individual's Circle" and to live here you have to prove that you're open to changes and ready to explore things as a community. Everybody knows everybody else's business, but here that's a good thing. They help each other." He added softly, looking down, "I'd like to live in a place like this someday. I've been kind of adopted by the whole community. They leave me be when I want to be alone, but… I don't really want to be alone most of the time." He had gone pink.
Virgil glossed over the uncomfortable silence. "You like it here, Rich. There's nothing wrong with that." He squeezed his boyfriend's hand.
Richie smiled, looking up at Virgil through his lashes. Then he glanced out the window, forgetting his embarrassment. "Turn here, Mr. H. It's the third house on the left."
-------oOo------
Hotstreak lifted the squirming nerd until the teen's heels were kicking a foot off the ground. "What do you mean Foley hasn't been in school?" Summer vacation had started, and it had taken Hotstreak more time than he wanted to spend to find someone who went to Dakota Union High and was close enough to Virgil or Richie to know what was going on.
"M-my dad found out that he was being abused by his father."
Hotstreak scowled. "Who's your father, and what does he have to do with this?"
"He's the pri-principal."
Hotstreak considered his options. If Foley hadn't been in school, where was he? What would police do with a kid who wasn't safe in his own house? They must have put him in foster care until they figure out if it's really his father who's been hurting him. Of course, up until recently, I would've said it was all Foley's night-gigs as Gear that were giving him bruises. But he hasn't been in costume lately. He thought of the KKK members he'd seen at the hospital. They were after Foley. I heard one of them say as much. Is his father a member of that ass-wipe bunch of idiots?
Dropping the kid, Hotstreak snapped, "Get outta here before I make myself some nerd nachos for lunch." He lit his fists to give the geek a hint. The teen scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as could. Hotstreak watched him until he was out of sight, then started walking in the other direction. If there's anything that annoys me more than Static, it's a bunch of wussy men trying to act like they're all that. Only good guys hide their faces. Any ass-wipe that wants to hide his face is just a coward. And don't' they know they'll be recognized? I mean, if I was going to wear a mask, I'd wear something that would scare other people, but that they couldn't connect to a certain group. Hotstreak had never understood gang colors. I don't care if I'm connected with some really big names, but I don't have to show that I'm one them. I don't belong to anybody.
Well, at least the geek had answered why Hotstreak hadn't seen Foley around, either at the school or around Virgil's favorite hang-outs. I've followed Virgil enough times to know where he goes and what he does every day. Except he hasn't been in those places, either. Maybe he's wherever Foley is.
Shaking his head, Hotstreak walked on. Why am I even stressing about this? I don't care where Foley is! And as for Virgil… Well, Static hasn't been causing any problems for me lately, so that's not my problem either.
But he couldn't leave well enough alone. There were questions that needed to be answered before Hotstreak could be completely sure he had his insurance against Ebon. Yeah, I know who Gear is. And face it, that's all Ebon cares about. He wants Static dead, but having Richie/Gear'd make his day. No, I want to know about Foley and Virgil for my own enjoyment. I wonder if Virgil has naked pictures of Foley. Maybe I could see those to Ebon. They've gotta be worth a few stolen things, at least.
He wandered in the general direction of Virgil's house, still mulling over what he might find hidden in the teen's room.
"The poor little lamb is just lost, Sean. You'll have to be patient."
Hotstreak stopped where he was. The two men were walking a little ahead of him. The one who'd spoken… I know that voice. That's the guy who wanted to know where Foley's room was at the hospital. He ducked behind a bush and watched the two men walk a little further. Making sure to stick close to them, my curiosity will kill me someday, Hotstreak listened intently.
"He's being poisoned by those hippie parents of his. They're almost as bad as the n---s. I need to help him before he doesn't remember any of the truth!"
"You're winning in court; all my contacts say so. Don't worry; we always help our own. Richard won't be left with the wolves much longer."
"I swear… Sometimes I think he loves that Hawkins pup more than he loves his own family."
"For teenagers, the attractions of the flesh are especially hard to ignore."
Sean dropped his voice so Hotstreak had to creep closer. And still the two men didn't notice him. Hotstreak wondered if he had ever been this stupid and nonobservant of the world around him. Sean asked, "Do you think my son is really gay?"
"Not for a moment. Surely the boy who has ensnared him raped him and tricked him into thinking that he liked it. His kind is full of tricks. How do you think most of the white women get raped by n----- men? It's not because the women aren't smart. It's because the animals are cunning. They can be cunning without being intelligent. And of course they have help from down below."
Hotstreak wanted to laugh. If you're so intelligent and amazing, how come I know I could kick your asses, even without my powers? Ebon could kick your asses. Hell, Shiv could kick your asses, and he's little more than a functioning moron.
"I'm glad to hear you say that. I've been so worried about him."
"When this is all over, we'll take Richie to our rehabilitation center. There he will be cleansed, healed and treated. Soon he will forget any false feelings that n--- instilled in him." The man clapped Sean Foley on the shoulder. "All is not lost, my brother."
Hotstreak was frowning. They're going to take Foley somewhere? But then he won't be part of my plan anymore! His frown deepened to a scowl. I'm not going to let them mess with my plan.
"Would you come in for some coffee?" Sean was asking, and only then did Hotstreak realize that they had reached the blonde teen's house.
"I would love some. Let me say, Sean, you are handling this-"
The front door closed, but Hotstreak didn't care to hear the rest of it. I need pictures to tempt Ebon. He skirted around the side of the house, searching out an open window. He saw one on the second floor and used a tiny flame burst to push him upwards. He caught the windowsill, swung up and climbed in. Once inside, he glanced out to make sure no one had noticed him. The street was deserted. Good.
Hotstreak turned, thinking, I'll have to search for Foley's room. But then he grinned. What were the chances that he would swing right into the place he wanted?
There was no question whose room it was. The mess on the floor told him more than the computer on its desk or the blueprint tacked up on the wall. Every inch of floor space was littered with ripped or shredded bits of paper. Before he bent down to examine them closely, Hotstreak saw at least three pictures of Richie and Virgil. But none of them were whole, or even close to it.
Hotstreak grabbed a handful of refuse and sat on the bed. He sifted through it, at first looking for an arousing picture of Foley. Soon he discovered that he would be lucky to find a picture that had Richie's whole face intact. And all the while he sorted and tossed things to the side, he listened to the rumbling laughter and conversation from downstairs.
He poured through a mauled photo album, noting that the pictures of Richie's parents hadn't been touched. But those that had Richie in them had been desecrated with a black pen and water, or, just possibly, something nastier. A picture of Virgil had been stuck through with a sharp, narrow piece of wood. Hotstreak removed the splinter and gazed at the ruined picture for a moment. Virgil was holding up one of Richie's green-and-orange pullovers, and his eyes were laughing. The picture made Hotstreak wonder what Foley wore under that hoodie. He knew the teen wore at least a T-shirt, but he found himself wondering if Richie had been wearing anything in that picture. How long were they dating when this picture was taken? Were they even dating yet? Hotstreak shook his head and tossed the picture on the bed, but his mind was with it long after he'd put the album down and picked up a clump of newspapers. A headline caught his eye and he pulled the page away from the others.
Static's New Partner: Gizmo!
Hotstreak snorted, even more so when he saw the rude message someone had written across the story. It read: His name is Gear! Gear, damn it! What's so hard about that? Someday I'll get a match and burn this piece of garbage. Then, a little further down and in a different color of ink, No I won't. V was trying to get me to laugh at myself and the stupidity of some people. Besides, since V's ego gets hurt easily, I have to be the mature one. The eternal job of the sidekick.
Hotstreak thought, Well, now I get why he's pissed. He's Gear and hates it that the papers screwed up his name. Maybe I'll call him Gizmo next time I see him, see if he loses his cool. He frowned and read the scrawled rant again. V's Virgil; that's obvious. And that stuff about a sidekick… I'll bet all my power that Virgil's Static. It would make perfect sense.
Completely convinced now that he was right, Hotstreak went back to riffling through Richie's things. He found a ripped photograph buried under a mound of shredded newspaper. He gaped at the picture, so shocked he had to laugh at himself. Who would have ever thought that neat-as-a-pin Foley would look like that? Richie was almost unrecognizable under the coat of cream pie filling. Hotstreak only knew him because of his sticking-up blonde hair and his green and orange pullover. Virgil was beside him, similarly covered, but Hotstreak didn't pay him much attention. This picture won't arouse Ebon, but I think I'll keep it just for laughs. He stuffed the picture in his pocket.
As Hotstreak continued to wade through the disaster on the floor, casting more and more aside, and finding less and less to smile at as he grew frustrated, the voices that drifted up to him faded. Hotstreak heard the front door close. He crept to the window, and watched the two men he'd followed leaving. Shaking his head, Hotstreak went back to his appointed task. If I don't find anything in the next pile, I'll go, he said. But he kept saying it and could never quite bring himself to leave. A tiny voice in the back of his mind whispered, There has to be something. There has to be a flattering picture of Foley that Ebon will drool over. There just has to be.
When the sun was little more than a hand's breadth above the horizon, Hotstreak found what he'd been searching for.
He'd seen a white bit of garbage sticking out from under the bed. He was about to kick it when he saw handwriting on it. Curiosity, ever his greatest enemy and definitely more undermining and exhausting than Static, shouted at him not to leave it. Hotstreak groaned and picked up the scrap. In what he now recognized as Richie's handwriting, printed semi-neatly in one corner, was this disturbing message: In case I ever need proof. March 21st, 2003
Hotstreak scratched his head. Proof of what? He flipped over the scrap of paper, and his breath stuck in his throat. He was holding a picture. A full-length picture. A half-naked picture. Richie was looking over his shoulder at the camera. His face was puffy and blood trickled from his nose. He was shirtless. Crisscrossing his back were angry welts and more than a few bruises, both recently gotten and fading. The look was both ashamed (he was biting his lip) and resolute (his fists were clenched).
Jackpot! But the accompanying rush of triumph and accomplishment didn't come. Hotstreak stared at the picture and almost tossed it back on the floor. This picture, unlike the others, was completely intact except for a torn corner. Surely whoever had destroyed the rest of Richie's life hadn't noticed this picture. I don't need this thing. I can just take the pie one and…
And show that to Ebon? Ha! Not even Ebon's that deviant. This jewel in your hand will arouse him. That other is just for your amusement, remember?
Yeah, yeah, but-
Don't go soft, Francis. You'll be dead in a year if you do and you know it.
Hotstreak forced himself to put the picture in his pocket. He stood and kicked some of the scraps on the floor. Damn it. What did he have to start second-guessing himself? I came here to find something. Well, I found it. I have my ace in the hole. Why'm I frickin' belly-aching? Now I don't have to break into Virgil's.
He went to the window and put his hand on the sill. Glancing over his shoulder, he thought at the depressing little room, Somebody screwed him over. Maybe he's tougher than he looks to have survived that. Then he called himself a wuss and jumped out the window.
----------oOo----------
I'm not ready to talk about Backpack yet. I just want a little time away from the world. I want a little time that's just for Virg and me.
Richie led Virgil into the woods. "We can't go far," he said, "but we don't have to." He pointed up, and Virgil followed his finger, his eyes widening as he took in the tree house. "Welcome to the Tree House of Solitude," Richie whispered, his eyes nearly radiant in the dying daylight. Without waiting for a comment, Richie caught Virgil's hand and led him to the tree's base. "After you."
Virgil grinned. "Beautiful ones first." He nudged Richie and when the blushing blonde started to climb Virgil gave him the lightest of pats where the patting was good. Virgil was holding his breath, not wanting to scare Richie, but taking his father's words to heart. I need to treat him now like I want to treat him ten years from now.
Richie froze for an instant, then threw his head back and laughed. After a moment, he resumed climbing. "Aren't superheroes supposed to set a good example?" he called over his shoulder as he gained the first platform and started up to the second. "Careful, or I'll report you to Batman for sexually harassing your partner."
Vigil pulled himself swiftly up the wooden rungs of the ladder. "It isn't harassment if we both love each other, and if we both like it. I don't think you have a leg to stand on, Rich." He gained the second platform and joined Richie at its center. He urged Richie to sit between his legs and lean back. Virgil set himself against the tree trunk and wrapped his arms around Richie's waist, leaving the other teen's arms free.
Richie sighed, closed his eyes and relaxed against Virgil. "I guess you're right. Good thing I'm not the lawsuit-filing type." He smiled wanly, his lips quirking up at the corners. "Besides, we're sort of in the middle of something."
He meant the trial, and Virgil knew he meant the trial, but Virgil's mind went other places. Grinning, he laid his head on Richie's shoulder. "Yes we are." His hands began to move, caressing Richie's stomach, his chest, his arms, his hands which lay in his lap, crossed at the wrists just below his groin.
As Virgil's hands began to drift over Richie's stomach once more, Richie sighed again and arched his back, increasing the contact between his midsection and Virgil's hands. "Mmmm, V…"
Virgil ducked his head and placed gentle kissed along Richie's jaw and down his neck. One hand slipped upwards, feather-touching Richie's arm, his shoulder, his cheek. Deftly, Virgil removed Richie's glasses. "Lean forward a little."
Richie obeyed, even though he didn't want to lose the close contact. But the moment Virgil's hands closed around his shoulders and the other teen's fingers dug into the blonde's muscles, easing their tension, Richie melted. "Uhnnmmmm….."
"I just love it when the genius sounds like one of us normal people. Inarticulate and not caring how coherent he sounds."
Richie was too far gone in pleasure care much about what Virgil was saying, but his mind caught he words, and so he had to take part in the banter. "You're far from normal," Richie tried to say, but he was dazed, so that what Virgil heard was closer to "erarfumormal."
"I love you, Richie." Virgil settled into a slow rhythm, deep and powerful as a narrow-banked river. As his hands learned his lover's muscles, they moved both slower and yet deeper. His mind slowed too, focusing on his breathing, on Richie's breathing, on the almost rough weave of Richie's shirt. He lost himself to his senses, fusing with Richie in a fundamental way that had more to do with sharing thoughts than touches.
"Richie! Virgil! It's time for dinner!"
Richie groaned and twisted at the waist, catching Virgil by surprise. His right arm encircled Virgil's waist and he cupped the back of his boyfriend's head with the other hand. Virgil met him halfway, and this time Virgil's kiss was scarcely tentative. There was a part of him that still held back, but most of his mind was taken up with the scent and taste of Richie.
Richie broke away first. "Come on. We have to go." He was blushing ever so slightly in the westering light. "Maybe we can come back later."
As they climbed down, though, Richie knew his time with Virgil, when it was just the two of them, hidden from the rest of the world, was over, at lest for a while. I need to tell him everything. We might not get another chance to talk. And there are things I have to know.
----------oOo----------
Bernadette laughed at Virgil's unfeigned (and unrestrained) enthusiasm for her cooking. "It's good to know Richie wasn't just being polite," she said as Virgil finished off his second bowl of soup.
Richie passed Virgil a large wooden bowl filled with the strangest salad Virgil had ever seen. The look in the blonde's eye was decidedly teasing. "Try this, V. It has nuts."
Virgil took a little to be polite, all the while thinking, I'll get you for this, Rich. You're just trying to make me look uncomfortable and you're distracting me from the really great food. To say that Virgil hated salads- rabbit food, he called them- was akin to calling the Grand Canyon a hole in the ground. And you can rub that knowing look off your face, he thought at Richie, or I'm going to ask Mrs. Crane if she has any salmon in the house and watch you gag. Virgil, realizing he was stalling, turned away from Richie. Well, at least it's a small salad.
His first bite, hardly more than a leaf or two garnished with a nut Virgil didn't recognize, made him forget all this mock anger. The tangy, sour, about cutting taste drove him to inhale the new delicacy. Only when he at last looked up did he realize Richie was watching him with a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Virgil stuck his tongue out at the blonde before remembering where he was and who was watching. His face grew hot with embarrassment. Okay, Rich, now I'm really going to get you for this.
John shared a smile with his wife, then said, "We don't stand much on ceremony here, Virgil."
Virgil smiled at them, then looked back at Richie. The blonde was eating steadily. Okay, fine, I won't be mad at you. But you were lucky this time.
After dinner, Virgil curled up on the couch in the den and drew Richie close to him. They had been urged to stay inside because true night had fallen. Bernadette had said, "And make sure you're in bed early enough so you won't be falling asleep tomorrow." She had studied them for a moment before adding, "Do I need to remind you where you are to sleep tonight?"
"V will crash here on the couch and I'll sleep upstairs," Richie had promised.
When she was gone, the two teens moved about until Virgil was spooned behind Richie. The blonde interlaced his fingers with Virgil's and drew their joined hands up to his chest. All laughter was gone from his voice. "Virg, I need to talk to you."
Virgil squeezed Richie's hand. "I'm here for you, man."
"Tell me about Backpack."
I was expecting this. I knew he needed to talk… But Virgil found himself missing the carefree time the two of them had in the tree house. Well, love isn't made of a smooth road, Pops says. Here's the first hurdle. Virgil switched from a lover's thoughts to the contemplations of a scientist. This is what Richie needs right now, and I will give him what he needs. "I talked to him last night and the three nights before that. He told me the same thing each time, both directly and in the way he answered other questions. He loves you. His only goal is to protect you." Virgil paused.
"Tell me the worst, V."
"He'll stop at nothing to make sure you're safe. He doesn't know the difference between right and wrong. He asked me if I had ever thought about humanely executing some of the more dangerous Bang Babies. 'Richie is in danger every time he puts on his costume. If some of the Bang Babies were dead, the danger would be less.' That's what he told me."
Richie nodded. I knew as much, or at least a part of me did. "Listen to this." He told Virgil about his dreams. "Do you think Backpack could be talking to me? Or am I just having nightmares again, of a different sort?" He turned towards Virgil, almost falling off the couch in the process. "V, I need to know what you think about Backpack's ability to contact me. Separate that from your opinions about my post-Brainiac recovery rate."
Virgil didn't smile. He could see the need for answers in Richie's eyes. "Say that in English."
"Is it possible that Backpack is contacting me?"
"Didn't you just tell me he has to plant a microchip or something in your head for that to work?"
Behind his glasses, Richie's eyes were intense. He wanted to know exactly what Virgil thought, and that included studying his physical reactions as well as listening to what he said. "Let's assume for a moment that he doesn't need it, that he's found a way around that difficulty. Now what do you think?"
"He'll do it if he can," Virgil said at once, and it was Backpack's single-mindedness that he was thinking of. "Everything that is Backpack has to protect you and won't stop until he's sure no one will ever hurt you."
Again, Richie nodded, and the look in his eyes eased. "That's what I figured." His voice was bleak. "Now give me your honest opinion on how much Brainiac has affected me."
Virgil stared at his boyfriend. How can I answer that when you're the one inside your head? "Rich, I don't want-"
That look of intensity, coupled with a tight grip on Virgil's hands, stopped Virgil in mid objection. Richie looked both frightened and determined. "I need you to tell me if I'm paranoid or crazy or whatever. Please, V, help me. There's nobody else I trust to answer this question."
Virgil was quiet for several minutes. He bit his lip and his eyes turned inward. His hands grasped Richie's own and he caressed them distractedly, much as someone might tap a pencil while he's solving a calculus problem. When he spoke, his hands stilled and he met Richie's gaze. "Before I tell you what I think, let me say something. I think differently after Brainiac. I probably don't understand all the ways I'm different, but I get a couple of things." Do I sound like I'm rambling? Yeah, probably, but this is the only way to get it out. If I hesitate too long, I won't say what I have to. "I've been so scared for you. When Brainiac opened his front plate and showed Batman and I that he had you… Do you remember when he did that? Were you in control of your mind at that point?" He knew how cruel that sounded, cruel and callous, but he didn't know how else to say it.
Richie wasn't looking at him. "You said to hit the remote. I knew what you meant… but I was so weak. I tried to look at you, tried to tell you I loved you… I was convinced I was going to die. I needed you to know." Richie chewed his lip. "I didn't have the strength to do more than lift my head and see you, caught by him. Then he closed me in again and I passed out."
Virgil touched his fingers to Richie's cheek, urging the blonde to meet his gaze once more. "I didn't want you to be hurt again. Seeing you like that nearly broke me. And when I found out that your father was abusing you…"Virgil hugged Richie, almost crushing him in his desperation to show Richie what he was unable to say.
That convulsive hug punctured Richie's remembered fear, and it collapsed in on itself like a balloon. He was able to see and think clearly once more. He sensed not only Virgil's fear and concern but the white-hot, coiled spring of his rage. "Virg, you don't have to punish the world because I was hurt. That's the last thing I'd want you to do. My father will have to stay away from me after the trail. Brainiac's been destroyed. I need you to understand those things and forget your anger." He laid his head on Virgil's chest. "Please just let me love you and love me back. That's the only protection I need. I know it's hard to fight the world and keep loving, but we can do it, V. It will be the hardest thing anyone's ever done. When we're old, we'll write a book about it and everyone will call it the greatest epic since Homer's Odyssey."
Virgil was silent. Richie felt his lover's muscles relax, one by one. I'm still afraid of the battles we're going to fight, but if we don't start out strong we'll fall before we've begun. Richie forced himself calmer.
"I hate every time you're hurt, Rich. Do you remember when we fought Slipstream? The scariest moment of that whole mess was after Slipstream knocked you into the pond. Your arm was broken. We ran from the shelter of the trees near the pond to that spot under the bridge. We were both in plain sight and I was out of juice, but I was more worried about what Slipstream might do to you."
Richie smiled, and there was no bitterness in his voice. "I'm stronger than you think, V. Not physically, but it takes a lot to break me. Do you know how Brainiac finally broke me?" He squeezed Virgil's hands because his boyfriend was looking angry again. "V-Man, stay with me." Virgil blinked and Richie continued, "He broke me by sending me wonderful dreams of you and me together. He broke me by making believe I was loved by you, then taking either turning that love into lust or taking you away. If you hate, I'll lose you. Please don't worry about avenging me. I need just you."
Virgil blinked at him a few more times. "I've been meaning to ask you, Rich: how do you stay like you are?"
Richie raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly am I?"
Virgil spoke the word without dropping his eyes. "Pure. I know you once said Brainiac changed you, and maybe he did for a while. But you're still innocent, Richie. Brainiac has changed one thing in you and one thing only: you've walked and danced with some of the darkest evils in this world." He thought, Now I really am blabbering! Still he couldn't stop himself. "But you're still you. Nothing Brainiac threw at you was enough to bring you down for good or change your fundamental nature."
Richie didn't smile, as Virgil had hoped. Instead, he turned his head so Virgil couldn't see his face and whispered, "He changed one thing. He taught me how to kiss."
Virgil didn't know how to answer at first, and his chest tightened when he realized Richie was struggling not to cry. It crossed Virgil's mind to say something flippant, something that would bring Richie out of his shell. He longed to see Richie smile. But this isn't something we can laugh about and forget. Brainiac took Richie, taught him things only a lover should teach, then broke him, if only for the briefest moment. How do I help him heal from that? How can I? And almost more important, how do I convince Richie that I still and always will love him no matter what happens? Saying the words isn't going to cut it.
"I don't want to know how to kiss!" Richie's voice broke. "I mean, I don't want to know before you do. I wanted us to learn together. And when we kiss… sometimes I see the fake Static or the fake Virgil Brainiac created. I don't want to think about him anymore, V. I want to see only you, think only of you when we kiss."
It was so simple Virgil almost laughed at his own idiocy. "Then let's build some new memories."
Richie at last turned to look at him, and his confusion was clear.
"Trust me." Virgil nudged Richie off the couch. "Sit next to the wall." Richie's confused look deepened, but he shrugged and did as he was told. Virgil knelt beside the wall, flipped his feet up over his head and stood on his head. He grinned at Richie's shocked upside down expression. "Kiss me, Rich. I'll bet you haven't kissed like this before. Am I right?"
Richie's confused look melted away to be replaced by a beaming smile. "Virg, you're nuts, you know that?" But he turned over so his back was on the floor. He tried to kiss Virgil. He soon discovered that kissing upside down was much harder than it looked. And all the while blood was rushing to Virgil's head. "Virg, you can't keep this up for long," Richie said after his third attempt to kiss his boyfriend.
"So you'll have to figure out how to kiss me quick." Virgil's megawatt grin hadn't disappeared. "Come on, Richie; use that genius brain of yours."
Richie smirked at him. "Maybe I should just leave you there." Then he hit upon the perfect solution. He turned over so Virgil's face was upside down in relation to his and began raining kisses on Virgil's jaw, cheeks, nose and eyelids. He figured, If I can't achieve the perfect angle for our mouths, that shouldn't stop me from kissing him. At last he found Virgil's lips. The angle was all wrong, but Richie was past caring. Once he started kissing his lover, Richie discovered that he couldn't think of Brainiac even if he wanted to (which he did try). Virgil was kissing him back and Richie realized (with more than a little surprise, and an internal smile) that Virgil had been right. New memories were being built, and were pushing out the old.
Virgil began to wobble back and forth. Richie backed away at once. "Roll over, V. You're going to pass out if you don't. Virgil did, and lay on his side while the blood found its way back to the rest of his body. Richie took one of Virgil's hands and fell to kissing it, lavishing attention on each finger before moving on to the palm. This, too, kissing another's hand, was something he'd never done with Brainiac. He'd read about it in a book, and even though he had trouble imagining anyone kissing someone else's fingers in anything more than a token and old-fashioned gesture of greeting, once he started he found the act strangely addicting. It felt almost devotional and a bit meditative. He was preoccupied making little patterns on Virgil's palm with his tongue that he at first didn't notice the fingers of Virgil's other hand twining in his hair. But then Virgil started playing with his earring. And at first, even when he took notice, Richie couldn't quite bring himself to leave Virgil's hand.
When Virgil's hand left Richie's earring and snuck down the back of his pullover, Richie at last left off Virgil's hand. He twisted, giving Virgil access to more of his skin.
Virgil sat up and drew Richie towards him. "Let's go back to the couch."
Richie's face lit up. "Race you."
Virgil gauged the distance. "Ready…. Setgo!" He tired to leap up, but tripped over his own feet.
Richie moved like lightning, half crawling and half walking in a sort of crouch. He reached the couch first and collapsed onto its cushions, laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. Virgil dove on top of him an instant later and Richie let out a surprised "Woof!" that made both of them laugh.
Snickering and snorting, Virgil fell to tickling his partner shamelessly.
Richie shrieked and tried unsuccessfully to throw Virgil off, or at least launch a counterattack. "Vvvv-V! Virg! Sto-stop! Quitahhh!"
Virgil leaned forward and started kissing Richie's neck, ear and cheek. And all the while he tickled the blonde ruthlessly.
"Virg, can't-" Richie gasped for air and tried again. "Virg, please!"
"Will you agree to kiss me if I stop?" Virgil growled mock-threateningly. "If you don't sear on your genius brain I may just tickle you until my arms get tired. And that could take quite a while."
"I s-swear!"
"On your genius brain!"
"Ye-es! V, please!"
Virgil stopped at once and moved so that he was lying next to Richie. "A promise is a promise," he whispered.
Richie put his hand in the way of Virgil's lips. "Wait."
Virgil blinked. He'd thought they were past the bad things, the things that had to be talked about. But the apologetic look on Richie's face made him feel a little better.
"Did you bring the Voxes?"
Virgil nodded, confused about where the question had come from.
And apparently Richie didn't intend to answer. He grabbed Virgil and dragged their bodies together. "Please, V…" Hee was blushing. "Love me."
Virgil started kissing Richie, but then what his boyfriend had said hit home. He stopped, even backed up as much as he could without falling off the couch. "Richie, what did you say?"
Richie's gaze wasn't shy. "Love me."
"I do, Rich."
Richie shook his head. "No, V. I mean love me. Make love to me."
Virgil's jaw dropped. "R… Richie…." His body had reacted at once, but Virgil was too shocked to pay it much attention. "Richie… you aren't asking what I think you're asking…"
Richie closed his eyes for a moment. "I am, Virg, but it doesn't have to be now. In fact-" he snorted- "it probably shouldn't be now, or your pops and my temp parents will tan both our hides. But…" He opened his eyes. "Will you? Someday? Will we go further than this? Will we… be together after… after high school? After college?" He was chewing his lip. "I know I'm asking for too much… I don't want you to feel trapped. I-I don't want to scare you."
Virgil cupped Richie's cheek with his hand. "Rich, look at me." Richie obeyed and Virgil found the words waiting that he had known weren't appropriate earlier. "I will always love you, no matter what happens. I'll never leave you." As Richie began to smile tentatively, Virgil kissed the corner of his mouth. "And even though I don't really want to grow old, as old as my pops or older, it would be okay to be old if you were old right along with me." He held Richie against him. He thought about leaving it at that, but there was more to say. "Not everything I've said today has made much sense, and some of it's been corny as an after-school special, but please don't forget this: We'll always be aces, no matter what. We've been through too much to let anything stop us."
"For real?"
"Realer than real."
Richie moved closer and closed his eyes. "I love you."
"I love you, too… But, Rich?"
Richie pulled back and met Virgil's gaze. "Yeah?"
"We can't sleep down here. They'll still tan our hides if we do, even if we don't do anything but sleep."
Richie chuckled. "Okay, okay, I'm up, I'm up."
oOo
"Please state your name for the court."
"Sean Foley."
"Mr. Foley," said the defense lawyer, "we have been hearing nothing but unsubstantiated rumors about abuse. Have you ever raised a hand to your son?"
"I've spanked him."
The lawyer shook his head, smiling a little. "I mean, have you ever struck him, bruised him, beaten him?"
"Objection! Those are three separate questions!" called the prosecuting attorney.
"Sustained," the judge responded.
The defense lawyer cleared his throat. "Have you ever left bruises on your son?"
"No."
"Do you know where his alleged bruises, those that were supposedly seen by Virgil Hawkins and others, came from?"
"I don't know for sure, but I can make an educated guess."
"Then make it, Mr. Foley."
"Richie hangs around with the wrong crowd. He has insisted on spending time with hoodlums since we moved to Dakota. I fear that either they, or others that are associated with them, have hurt my son."
"Do you know why your son would falsely accuse you of abusing him?"
Sean bowed his head and put his hand over his eyes. "Richie and I have never seen eye to eye. I have always tried to talk to him, but he has never responded well to me. I don't think Richie would accuse me without someone else suggesting it. Richie isn't a bad boy; he just lacks guidance. His hoodlum friends may have put him up to this."
"Please describe your relationship with your son since you moved to Dakota eight years ago."
Sean cleared his throat and he seemed incapable of raising his head. "It's been hard on his both, I fear. Richie… Well, Richie has always been a loner. I've tried to guide him in the right direction, to make sure he had good friends, but he was befriended by a hood, and Richie has always been impressionable. Once the hood gained his trust, I know my Richie would follow him anywhere. Richie has always needed someone to follow. He'll never make the best leader." He finally looked up and smiled sadly. "My Richie is a genius, but he has suffered through so many things. When he was quite young, he and his mother were attacked by a large gang of African-American teens." He coughed and shielded his eyes once more. "Maggie was raped." He covered his face with his hands.
"We can give you a moment, Mr. Foley, if you need it."
"It's… it's all right. I just hate thinking of everything my boy and wife have gone though. Richie… they stripped him, beat him, touched him. By the time the police showed up, Richie had received a concussion and a broken arm."
"I gained access to Richie's hospital records, Mr. Foley. One visit recalls those exact injuries. Tell me how old Richie was at the time of this attack."
"He was five years old."
"You mentioned that these gang members were all African Americans. Please identify Richie's boyfriend for the court."
"His name is Virgil Hawkins. He's sitting there, three rows back."
"Let the record show that Mr. Foley has correctly identified Virgil Hawkins. But Mr. Foley, if Richie was attacked by African Americans, why is his boyfriend an African American?"
"My son has always been forgiving and trusting. He has always longed to prove, both to himself and to the world, that not all African Americans are bad. So he sought out African American friends. Unfortunately, he found a dangerous boy to spend time with."
"Tell me about the night you were spotted at a KKK meeting hall by Static."
Sean groaned. "I don't understand why people have to separate themselves from society and form secret little groups. Richie went out that night… He often wanders around after his curfew, and there seems to be little I can do to discourage him. He has run away before, and all I have been trying to do since he ran away and keep him home so I can continue to try to help him." He seemed on the verge of tears.
"Please, Mr. Foley, take a moment if you need it. We can wait."
Sean rubbed at his face and whispered, "How hard it has become for parents these days. There are so many terrible things waiting to hurt our children."
oOo
From where he sat, Virgil felt sick. He could win this thing. He really could. Then Richie… Hopelessness stole over him, taking the place of the anger that might have been there. If Virgil had been in any condition to think creatively or constructively, he would have wished for the nearly blinding rage to return.
oOo
Not far away, sitting with his foster parents, Richie muttered, "I'm going to be sick." He clapped his hand to his mouth.
Bernadette put a supporting arm around Richie's shoulders and found them shaking. Richie's color had gone from a healthy cream color to the grey of something that had decayed in water. "Let me help you out of here," she whispered.
Richie shook his head and with both hands clapped to his mouth, ran from the room.
Behind him, Bernadette took her husband's hand. He wrapped his arm around her and they continued to watch Sean Foley walk away with Richie's safety held firmly in his fist.
oOo
This is no time for fear of my allies, even allies who are a little confused, Richie thought. He was standing outside the courthouse, hidden in a corner between a pillar and the wall. No one would see him here unless they were really looking for him, and knew exactly where to look. He closed his eyes. If Backpack can contact me, maybe I can reach him, too. He didn't relish having to suffer through that slimy-sexual feeling, but this was going too far. Gear needed to step in with his testimony. If V can make up things on the stand, so can I.
He focused, blocking out the world around him. Backpack! Backpack! Can you hear me? Backpack, answer me! I need you. I need you! Backpack, answer-
That familiar loathsome feeling stole over him and Richie almost gagged for real. Well, at least maybe this means I've made contact. He redoubled his efforts. BP! Can you hear me?
Yes, Richie. You have learned how to use the connection. Does that mean you are comfortable with it?
No, it doesn't. I'll never be comfortable feeling like someone's whore. But I need your help. Bring my costume to the courthouse, please. The trail isn't going well. It's time for Gear to offer some testimony.
But Gear wasn't present at any of the attacks. Not physically, at least. He was in your mind, but… Richie sensed Backpack touching his thoughts. That feeling of sickening arousal increased. Gear is gone. You have joined together.
Batman helped me when I was in Gotham. Didn't you read the letter I sent you?
I never received a letter. Richie felt Backpack's anger mounting. Virgil didn't want to show me.
He might have forgotten, BP. But I need you to forget that for now and just get here. We'll talk to Virg together. I promise.
I am on my way, Richie. Get to a place where you can change and I will find you.
Thanks, BP.
I love you, Richie.
I love you, too. Gradually, that stomach-turning feeling dissipated and Richie leaned against the wall, taking in slow, deep breaths in an attempt to get his heart to slow down. When he was sure he was alone in his mind, Richie thought, Okay… Okay, he would never hurt me on purpose. But he doesn't understand how sick the connection makes me. And now I know he made the connection, microchip or no microchip. When this is all over I'll have to make sure I ask him how he did it. It might even be a good thing if we can manage the connection without all that... extra stuff.
Richie slipped out from between the pillar and the wall and made his way to a better place, even more sheltered, and definitely roomier. There he awaited Backpack and prayed the jury wouldn't be dismissed for deliberations until after Gear had appeared to plead his case.
oOo
"Richie and his hoodlum boyfriend were attacked by these KKK members. His boyfriend ran and they took Richie, meaning to punish him for trying to be friends with someone of another race. I don't approve of Richie's friends, but Richie doesn't deserve to be abused because of them." He sighed. "I received an anonymous call a little after midnight and was told where Richie was. I thought maybe it was Virgil Hawkins calling me, but I can't be sure of that because the voice was disguised. I drove to the KKK hall- I've heard of them, of course, and also the person on the phone gave me the address- but when I arrived I realized that they might not let me in unless I was dressed as one of them." He bowed his head. "I am not a violent man, but I did hit one man, knocking him out. I took his robe and his gun and went entered the building. I heard Richie's screams immediately. I ran to the basement, following the horrible sound…. It was a sound no parent should ever have to hear…" Again, he stopped, and this time all could hear his sobs.
"Mr. Foley, if you would like a recess…" the judge began.
"No… No, I'll be all right. I just- well, I'm just trying to make everyone understand how much I love my son. To be accused to hurting my pride and joy…" He gulped and wiped at his eyes. "I'm all right. I can go on. When I came down the stairs, I saw Static leaning over my boy."
A door at the back of the room opened and closed. No one noticed.
"I told him to stop, that I would take Richie to the hospital myself, but he didn't believe me. Richie must have told him that I was abusing him."
The person who had entered the room made his way towards the front, one slow step at a time. When he passed the first row of chairs where people were sitting, none of them noticed.
"Static picked up my boy and flew away with him. The hospital didn't even call me. I had to figure out where Richie was by going to every hospital in Dakota." He closed his eyes once more. "That's all I have to say, except that I love Richie and all I have ever wanted for him is safety and happiness."
When he passed the second row of chairs, some of the people from the first row at last saw him and gasped. A murmuring started in the courtroom.
"All I want is to keep his hand off the hot stove and his mind free from drugs and other bad influences."
The murmuring had grown louder, and Sean Foley opened his eyes. They fell at once on the helmeted superhero advancing on him.
The judge spoke. "This is a trial, sir, not a-" Then he seemed to realize who he was talking to. "I'm sorry, Gear, but you aren't part of this investigation and-"
"-and I need to speak to you, Your Honor, and to the lawyers as well. This has gone on long enough."
There was pandemonium in the seats behind Gear. Virgil started to stand, and his jaw had dropped. But his pops grabbed his arm and kept him in his seat.
Gear spoke over the increasing noise. "I won't leave until you've heard me out." He turned around and held up both hands, palms out, like a conductor silencing and audience. They hushed at once. He turned back to the judge. "When Static told me all of what he'd seen, I knew you had to have scientific proof of who hurt Richie Foley. I have that proof."
"We will discuss this in chambers," the judge announced. "The rest of the court is dismissed until after lunch."
oOo
"Mr. Foley, let's talk about that night with the KKK, shall we?"
Sean Foley tried not to show how pissed off, disappointed and yes, nervous he was. He had never taken much notice of Static's partner on the news, and the little he'd thought about him could be summed up in three words: useless tagalong and whore. But now he was forced to admit that Gear looked formidable enough. "What do you want me to tell you?"
"Let's start with Richie's choice of boyfriends. Tell us everything you actually know about Virgil Hawkins."
"He's a hood."
"What exactly has he done?"
Mr. Foley bit his lip. "I don't follow you. I only know what I see."
"To the best of your knowledge, does Virgil Hawkins run with a gang?"
Sean Foley fidgeted. "Yes."
"You don't sound very sure of yourself. I used my lie detector in the judge's chambers. Would you like me to use it out here as well?"
"I assume he's involved with gangs. Richie has… mentioned Virgil as "the leader of our gang" more than once."
And so I did, Richie thought, once. So he'd pass that test. "Are you aware that some teenagers use the word "gang" to refer to a group of friends?"
"That wasn't the way Richie meant it?"
"How can you know unless you were inside his head at the time?"
"Objection! He's baiting the witness!" the defense lawyer cried.
"Question withdrawn," the superhero answered smoothly. "Let's get back Virgil. He's been to your house, true?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"When Richie was fourteen. He convinced Richie-"
"Don't get ahead of me, Foley. I don't have any patience for you today."
The man's mouth closed with an audible snap.
"When Virgil Hawkins was at your house, did he steal anything?"
A pause. "No."
"Did he yell?"
"No."
"Did he swear?"
"I don't follow-"
"Did he say any word that you found offensive?"
Sean bit his lip. "He talked about hip hop and contradicted me in my own house."
"How did he contradict you?"
"He said, "Some hip hop is positive, Mr. Foley." But the way he said it-!"
"How did he say it/"
"He was smirking."
"And that's all? Virgil Hawkins has never stolen from you, never yelled at you, never sworn at you. All he's done is sass you a little?"
Sean's voice was very quiet. "Yes."
"I didn't quite catch that."
"Yes, damn you!"
Gear raised an eyebrow (which no one saw) and continued, "Now that we've established a little bit about Virgil Hawkins' character, let's return to the night Richie Foley was taken by Static from the KKK meeting hall. Are we in agreement that you saw Static take your son away?"
"Yes."
"Static testified that you didn't come down those basement steps alone. He knew who you were because of your resemblance to your son. And he said you weren't alone, that there were in fact five other people with you. Five other men in white robes. And he also said you were carrying a knife, not a gun. Tell me why Static's story doesn't jive with yours."
Sean Foley was ravaging his lip with his teeth. "I…" He chewed faster. "He's… He's just a meta-human freak! No one even knows who he is under that mask. He could be a serial killer and no one would know it! He probably made the whole thing up!"
"So you can't logically justify the differences in your stories." Gear nodded. "Tell me about when you went to see your son in the hospital."
"I… I never went. I wasn't able to find him."
"Earlier you said you figured out where he was. Doesn't that imply that you went to see him? What sort of parent wouldn't want to see his son, to make he was all right?"
"Objec-"
"Questions withdrawn," Gear cut in. "Tell us why Static had to stick you to a ceiling and why the police had to get you down a few hours later."
Sean Foley looked positively petulant. "I plead the fifth."
"And that is your right. Will you at least tell us why the police found you in a white robe right next to another man in a white robe, a man who the police knew to be the head of the Dakota branch of the Ku Klux Klan?"
The man didn't answer. He had taken to staring at his hands.
"No further questions." Gear crossed his arms and turned to face the jury. "Take what you have heard and balance it with what has passed these last few days. That is all I ask." He nodded to the judge and to both lawyers before striding from the courtroom.
oOo
Richie slipped into the chair beside Bernadette.
"You look better," she whispered.
Richie nodded. "I threw up a couple times and didn't feel any better. But when I came out of the bathroom, I saw Static and Gear talking in the foyer. Gear saw me and told me everything would be okay."
She raised an eyebrow. "Really? Well, I'm glad." She hugged him. "Now let's listen. The lawyers are making their closing arguments."
oOo
Five o'clock came and went, and still everyone sat waiting. Virgil had made his way to Richie's side and the two held hands as they waited. It was hard for Virgil to hold back the silly grin that wanted to spring forth, despite the tense situation. All he whispered to Richie was, "Static's lucky to have Gear, don't you think?"
Richie smiled and squeezed Virgil's hand. "Yes, he is. And so am I."
Bernadette heard the whispered words and saw Richie squeeze Virgil's hand. She was curious and already half-convinced that she understood what had happened between the time Richie left the courtroom and the time he reappeared.
The jury filed out then and declared that they were ready to make a decision. They had disappeared into the deliberation room scarcely two hours ago.
The foreman stood once all the other jurors were seated. "Your Honor, we the members of the jury find Sean Foley guilty of perjury and of child abuse."
Virgil threw his arms around Richie and the two of them sat that way as others that knew either Richie or Virgil stood and cheered. Among them were two classmates in the back row of chairs: Daisy and Frieda, and a young woman in the row nearest the stand. Sharon's voice rang out: "Hallelujah!" Her father didn't even try to hush her.
A/N: Next chapter… Hmmm…. Hotstreak? Ebon? Anybody? They're being kind of quiet right now… I don't think quiet is a good thing where those two are concerned.
minijudi: I hope this chapter didn't bother you too much. I'm glad you've continued to read the story. And about Batman hitting on Richie… What did I say that made you think that? If I said that, I've gotta watch my language. I meant only that Batman doesn't want to be close to anyone, doesn't want to take care of anyone as a friend because he's lost too many friends.
Moonjava: Please continue to send me your reviews. I appreciate them.
Chaosdreamer: I'm still not sure if Backpack made the wall, but I don't think it really matters. Gear has joined with Richie again… And yet, it may matter if Backpack has that kind of power. Thank you for your insight. You'll know about BP as soon as I do.
anacsadder: I'm flattered. I didn't know how well I was portraying anybody. All of my knowledge stems from my knowledge of my homosexual band teacher in high school (my mentor, also, and the most compassionate person on Earth) and my reading of a book about the time between Stonewall and before the AIDS epidemic was really an understood threat. The title was something close to "Ready to Catch Him Should He Fall".
I have two questions (please forgive their bluntness): 1) why do you call chapters chip chips and 2) what's penguin peace?
anacsadder: I was a juror in a trial when I was eighteen or nineteen. The alleged crime was only robbery, but I was nervous as all get-out. It's not easy being the only person under thirty-five (and visually impaired to boot) on a jury. But I learned quite a bit during those four days. And I have great respect for Virgil that he was able to keep his secret identify hidden. And I'm glad you enjoy feeling the love.
Tristripe: I always loved two-part episodes as a kid (and still do) but the real reason I put the trail in two parts is because I wasn't sure what was going to happen. And as you can see by the format of this chapter, it took me a little while to learn what was to happen. I am eternally grateful to Gear/Richie whatever for showing up when he did.
Brainiac in my head…. It was bad enough that I had to learn about him from Richie. Hopefully he's not still out there somewhere.
leev: The defense attorney is only doing his job. IBut think Mr. Foley does deserves this malediction I read once (slightly altered):
Man, man, go tell your Master,
To catch me he must follow faster!
His cunning is vast, but mine is vaster!
I wish him grief, I wish him pain,
I wish him death and Red Disaster.
Felimid mac Fal (Bard, Keith Taylor)