TWENTY-SEVEN
Chris sat in front of a judge. He wore a suit and a tie and his hair was twisted into a tight bun at his nape. Micah could feel his distress from across the room. Cameras had been banned from the courtroom but outside was another story and he and Spencer had been the only ones to get him through the circus that had come out of nowhere on this.
Three weeks ago, he’d been happily about to have sex with his new boyfriend when the entire world exploded. And kept on exploding.
The murders from nearly two decades ago had set off an international media feeding frenzy. The gas station video of the little boy covered in blood had gone viral. Along with images of Chris as he looked now. And he’d retreated into the inner most rooms of the townhome they rented while the estate was still unlivable.
Christopher Auberon was the sole surviving heir to one of America’s wealthiest families. If Sam and Gideon had hoped to keep the new kidnapping attempt quiet then they’d sorely misjudged the piranha that passed for modern day journalists.
The long ago story was all over the news. His parents’ faces featured larger than life at the top and bottom of every hour on every major news station in the world. Everything from then discussed in detail despite there being no real detail for anyone to discuss. Sheer speculation. That’s all they had.
The pale beauty of the boy who’d survived, seemed to bring out every vulture on the planet. Chris couldn’t cope. He locked himself in with his computer and his sketch books and shut everyone out, including Micah.
At night Chris would curl up in bed with him. That was the extent of their relationship. There was nothing but sleeping going on and that was frustrating the hell out of Micah, if truth be told. It was like he’d reverted back to that silent ghost of a man he’d been when Micah first met him.
The man who’d caused all of this sat some distance away. He was dressed in a borrowed suit and his hair had been cut, his beard shaved, but that didn’t diminish his crazy. He stared at Chris, and Micah could tell Chris was on the verge of going nuclear.
The questions kept coming. The defense attorney seemed to want to put Chris on trial. He was looking for anything to get his client off on some technicality. And Chris was the only witness to his earlier crimes. Chris was the weakest link. He was the lamb and they were the wolves, and everyone in the courtroom knew it.
“Might I remind council that the witness is not on trial and that this is a preliminary hearing to ascertain whether or not we move on to the grand jury.” The judge admonished the lawyer. But that didn’t stop him from posing the same question to Chris again. Challenging his competence. Bringing up his time in the institution. His own criminal record. Anything. And Chris was growing increasingly nonverbal.
Micah sat with Spencer while Sam and Gideon sat with their lawyer. Micah’s turn had been the day before. Chris had stayed at home. He was only the hired bodyguard who’d done his job. There wasn’t anything he could contribute to the original murders or to the character of the defendant. Micah could only testify that Jonathon Burke had been the one dragging Chris from the house toward the woods. And that he’d been the one to shoot Micah when Chris had escaped. Anything else Micah had to say wasn’t admissible as he’d been unconscious for it.
After two hours of questions, Chris had had enough. Everyone in the room could tell but the lawyer. The DA constantly objected to what was becoming a witch hunt with Chris being the witch. As if an eight year old boy could have, in any way, been party to his parents’ murder. Who in the hell had even come up with that?
There was no jury. No audience. Just the judge, the two lawyers, the defendant, and the family. But Chris had shut down. Head bowed at the latest line of questioning, he shot back his answer with his hands. And the lawyer finally stopped talking.
“Answer the question,” he said after a moment of sign language too fast for even Micah to catch. Chris was done. Micah didn’t need an interpreter to tell him that much. “Your honor…”
But the District Attorney spoke louder. “Your honor, my client has had enough of this. He’s not on trial. In fact, there is no trial but my esteemed colleague is forgetting that point. The State believes there is enough evidence from eighteen years ago to take before the grand jury. As to the events of earlier this month, that is a separate investigation and has nothing to do with today.”
Chris wasn’t finished talking yet. His eyes had narrowed and his hands moved, despite what the lawyers said. The judge was watching him. “Mr. Auberon, if you’d please answer the final question, we can all go home.”
“He has answered.” Micah had had enough as well. This was a farce. He’d never sat in a courtroom with this much idiocy run amok. “He’s saying that he saw that man hurting his mother. He said that he rushed to help her but the man that was his caretaker pulled him away. They looked alike and he was confused. His parents were confused. He’s saying that he didn’t understand what was going on then but as an adult he knows his mother and that man were engaged in sex and his father was watching. After he walked into the bedroom they all scrambled for clothes and they started yelling at each other. Then one of the brothers, he doesn’t know which one. He couldn’t tell them apart, had a gun and shot his parents. The other brother grabbed him and ran. He put him in a car and told him to be still and quiet. Slow down, Chris, I can’t follow.”
Micah waited while Chris sighed and slowed his speech. “He saw the man who put him in the car take a red can from the garage and go back into the house. They both came out and took the car that was in the garage and left the family car and he watched as flames shot up through the roof. He says he can’t answer about anything else because he either doesn’t know or doesn’t trust the memory. He was eight, Your Honor, that was eighteen years ago. He doesn’t remember much after but being afraid and in pain. And he’d really like to go home now because he’s…” Micah realized that last part was for him and he stopped translating. “Okay, we’ll go home and have pizza. Sure, I’d like to play. Absolutely.” He wouldn’t translate that last part.
Chris had a wicked mind to go along with his sense of the absurd. And Micah had to admire a man who could sit in front of a judge and discuss playing video games in the nude as if he were making a date. Or maybe he did ask Micah out on a date. A Chris-themed date. Junk food and…oh wow, Micah felt the red creep into his face. He fucking loved this man.
“Your Honor, this is not acceptable,” the defense attorney said with a growl in his voice that irritated Micah and made Chris’s shoulders slump even more. This had gone on far too long.
The judge sighed loudly and growled back. “As I understand it, he’s speech impaired and that we were to expect sign language. Mr. Rochfort and Mr. Gideon have been nothing but cooperative and young Mr. Auberon is here at great distress to himself…so, gentlemen, based on the testimonies of the investigating officers and Mr. Auberon I believe there is sufficient evidence to set this case before a grand jury and with that, adjourned. Thank you for coming, have a nice day.” The judge was out of his chair and heading for chambers.
Micah saw Chris slump in relief. He left Spencer and went to Chris’s side. They’d decided this was a bodyguard situation and no PDA. Chris didn’t want the media to take that part of his life and make it dirty. And Micah had agreed with him. There was no closet. No one was forcing him to be quietly gay for his employer. Micah leaned over so they wouldn’t be heard. “We can leave anytime now.”
“I didn’t want to be here in the first place. I didn’t want to have to do this at all. He was watching me. Like he was trying to kill me with his eyes. Like it was my fault he came back. He was free. No one knew about him. He was free and the whole thing forgotten. Why did he come back?” Chris wouldn’t move from his seat until the man in question was led out of the room in handcuffs. Chris watched him warily as if expecting him to try to do more harm. “Why won’t he answer the questions? Why did he do the things he did? I don’t understand any of this?”
Micah waited for him to gather his composure. He reached for his hand giving it a squeeze before letting go. “I don’t know, Chris. I wish I could tell you. Sometimes crazy is just crazy and that’s the best answer we’re ever going to get.”
A cloud passed over Chris’s face. Micah wished he could take the words back. “You’re not crazy, Chris. I promise you. You’re not crazy. You were a kid who was put through hell and you coped the only way you knew how.”
Chris stood up and swayed toward Micah like he was going for a kiss or some comforting contact. “Doesn’t excuse the things I’ve done,” he said as he thought better of the contact in front of the defense lawyers.
“No. I guess it doesn’t. But you feel remorse over stabbing your uncle. Despite the fact that he is a cold-hearted son of a bitch who has bullied and dominated you your whole life, you still feel guilty for what you did. There’s the difference. That man doesn’t feel an ounce of remorse.”
Chris smiled and nodded to where his uncle was speaking to the lawyer. “Do you mean my uncle, or the man who says he’s my father?”
Micah laughed. “Both. I’m not sure Gideon knows the difference between right and wrong.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re right there.” Chris reached for his hand. “I’m tired. I want to get out of here.” He squeezed Micah’s fingers but didn’t let him go. “I’ve lost my words, Beastly.”
“You’re doing okay. I understand everything you’re saying. Let’s go find our coats and we’ll go. Spencer has gone for the car.” Micah didn’t try to drop his hand. He didn’t care what people thought.
“Don’t let go. Out there. Okay. I don’t…” He turned to Micah and wrapped his arm around him and tucked his face in Micah’s neck. Micah could feel the warmth of his breath and his distress. “I don’t care if they know I love you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to…be caught up in this mess.”
Micah held him for a long time, giving Chris the comfort he needed before facing the world he was terrified of. Micah brushed his thumb across Chris’s cheek and turned his face until their lips met. “You’re not alone in this. Okay. I’ve got you,” he whispered cradling Chris’s face in his hands kissing him as if no one were watching. “We’re getting pizza and going home to play strip video games. I am very much on board with anything that ends in strip video games. Best date idea ever.”
“You think so? I was trying not to fall apart.” Chris smiled and drew in a ragged breath.
“Absolutely. And asking in front of a roomful of assholes made it that much better. That’s date asking like a boss, Chris,” Micah said and started them down the aisle to the door. Sam nodded and Gideon continued his harangue of the lawyer. Micah nodded back. “We’ll see you at the townhouse.”
Chris flipped up the collar on his coat and tried to duck into the wool. He shielded his eyes from the winter sunlight and the camera flashes. Micah handed him his sunglasses and as soon as Spencer pulled around to the courthouse steps, he did his best to hustle Chris through the throng of people scrambling to get a comment. He tried to ignore the questions thrown out. Chris ducked his head deeper into his collar and reached for Micah’s hand.
“Are you lovers?” One reporter saw the contact and shouted. Micah kept moving. People shoved him and someone grabbed Chris just as they reached the car.
Micah shoved back. “Don’t touch him.”
Chris stood there with his hair tumbling over his shoulders. His white hair a stark contrast to the deep blue of his coat. He looked so lost in this world he was thrust into. His hands came up to sign that he was all right.
Micah signed back that it didn’t matter. They weren’t allowed to touch him. The group surrounding Chris stepped back. “Is he deaf?” One of the reporters shouted over the rest.
“Does it matter?” Micah opened the door and all but shoved Chris inside. “Would you leave him alone if he were deaf? What exactly does it take to get you people to leave him the fuck alone? He’s been through enough in his life. He doesn’t need this shit on top of it. And don’t ever lay a hand on him. Not ever again.” Micah shouted and was about to slam the one who tried to push past him into the car when Chris reached out and dragged him inside.
Micah tumbled into the seat, pushing that one guy out before he closed the door. “Drive, Spencer. Just don’t fucking run over one of those morons or we’ll never hear the end of it.”
Spencer looked at him in the rearview. “Soo, got a preference on the pizza place you want to stop at before going home to get naked?”
Chris laughed. The sound was infectious. “You understood that? When did you learn to read sign language?”
Spencer laughed back. “Are you kidding, I had this cousin who couldn’t talk. I learned so that maybe one day he’d have someone to talk to if he needed it.”
Chris sobered at that. “I’m sorry we never had the chance to be friends.”
“We’re friends now. That’s all that matters right.” Spencer waited for courthouse security to move the media away from the car before trying to get them on the road.
“No, Spence, we’re not friends,” Chris said and Micah saw the driver’s smile fade. Chris leaned over the seat wrapping Spencer in a hug. “We’re family and don’t forget it.” When he let go, Spencer gave him an embarrassed nod and turned to the steering wheel. “Oh, how’s my little cousin doing?”
“Still in the mama where she belongs. It’s funny now that we’re getting closer to her due date she doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to get into the world.” Micah heard the pride in his voice and the relief.
“I know the feeling.” Chris waited until they were away from the crowd to curl into Micah. “This world is scary as fuck.”
“It is. Not even going to argue that, but you’re doing fine, Chris. Just fine.” Micah wrapped him in his arms and held him. There wasn’t much else he could do other than be there when it was bad and help him find his way through. Micah could do that. Couldn’t he?