Christmas in Dixie

Christmas in Dixie

Part Six

Dom took his time in the shower. He needed to get every trace of the sick fuck's essence off him. He scrubbed every inch of his body, every place that Eddy had touched, until his flesh began to scream in protest and he ran out of soap.

Finally, he shut off the scalding water and stepped out of the shower. As he toweled off he noticed changes in the room. There was a pile of clean clothes stacked neatly on the toilet seat and the hated harness he'd torn off and thrown into the corner was gone as well. Dom finished drying, then used the towel to wipe the steam off the mirror. He grimaced when he saw the bruises that encircled his neck.

"Fuckin' Eddy," he muttered, disgusted that he, too, would be sporting a collar for the next few days. "Hope your balls rot and fall off."

Dom gratefully dove into the dark blue turtleneck that Brian had set out for him. He checked in the mirror to make sure that high neck concealed the marks before donning his boxers and loose work pants. Then he sat down on the toilet seat and pulled on his socks and boots.

Fully clothed and feeling much better, Dom took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and went out to face the room, the memories, and Brian's dad.

The room had been cleaned. It was neat and tidy. Even the bed had been made. Best of all, Eddy's stuff had magically disappeared, hopefully consigned to hell where it belonged.

Brian, too, was fully dressed and sitting in a chair next to the small table. He had a washcloth held in one hand, pressed to his head. He looked ... okay. Clear blue eyes smiled a welcome as Dom entered the room.

"Ready to go, Dominic?" Brian's dad asked.

Dom turned and looked questioningly at the preacher.

"We have to get to the hospital and have Brian's head sewn back together before he looses any more of his brain cells -- the good Lord knows, Brian can't spare any." The gentle, derogatory humor in the old man's tone brought Dom to a halt. "Everything is packed, but I'm afraid you'll have to carry the bags out. I'd do it, but it would take me twice as long." The old man flashed a familiar smile -- somehow Brian's goofy grin looked decidedly odd on the preacher's weather-beaten features -- and held up his stump for inspection. "If I'd have known I was going to be playing bellhop, I'd have worn my hook."

Dom blinked. Was that meant to be a joke? He looked at Brian, who rolled his eyes upward and half-smiled. Unsure of how to react, Dom took the easy way out. He shrugged into his jacket and picked up his and Brian's bags.

"Can you walk?" Dom asked Brian, his voice made even raspier than normal from the hours spent behind the gag and the abuse his throat had taken.

In answer, Brian rose to his feet and walked easily to the door. He opened it for Dom and waved him through. Dom snorted as he walked past Brian and out into the crisp December afternoon. It was hard for him to believe that only four hours had passed since Eddy had shown up.

Dom went directly to his car, popped the trunk, and tossed the bags inside. When he slammed it shut and turned, he found that Brian was nowhere to be seen. Dom swallowed down a lump, trying not to panic as he scanned the parking lot.

Maybe Jones hadn't left after all? Maybe he'd taken Brian. Maybe --

"I'll drive."

Dom swiveled his head, wincing at the pain, and saw Brian's dad leaning out of the driver's side window of a well-used, burgundy mini-van.

Dom looked at the van, looked back at his Dart, and said, "I'll follow." No way was he riding in a ... mini-van. Not when a perfectly good Dart was available.

"Suit yourself." The preacher wound up the window and backed out of the parking space, barely missing clipping the pickup truck next to him with the van's front bumper.

Half an hour later Dom decided that Brian's old man could give Eddy's twin doms lessons on how to torture a person. The old man drove like someone's ... grandma. The speed limit in rural Virginia was fifty-five, but Dom had yet to get his car out of third gear. If they ever topped forty miles an hour, it had to be when they went down an incline and even then, the old man rode the brakes. Dom gritted his teeth in sympathy for the poor brake pads and downshifted into second gear.

By they time they pulled into the small hospital, Dom had nearly forgotten about Eddy's little visit -- he was so full of the frustration at being forced into following such a poor driver. Brian's knowing look did nothing to calm him and Dom allowed a deep rumble of irritation to escape his chest as glared at the old man's back.

~*~

"What the hell do you mean, Eddy's with Jones again?" Bilkins demanded loudly enough to make Brian wince with pain.

"That's what I said." Brian shifted the phone a little further away from his aching head. "They had a touching reunion right in front of me. Eddy kissed Jones's feet and begged to be taken back. Jones put a collar and leash on the little maggot's balls and led him away. Everyone left happy."

"And I suppose you all just *happened* to bump into each other down in Bumfuck, Virginia?"

"Yep."

Bilkins sighed heavily on the other side of the country. "Dev Jones is gonna walk, you know that right? Without Eddy's testimony, he's gonna get away with the murders."

"I know," Brian said sadly. "But there's nothing we can do about it." He glanced over to where his father was talking with the Emergency Room's admitting nurse. "Except maybe pray for a miracle." The Pastor chose that moment to look up from the paperwork he was filling out. Father and son shared happy smiles. "I know for a fact that miracles *do* happen," Brian said confidently into the phone.

"Miracle my fat black ass," Bilkins snorted out. "That bastard executed my agents and he's gonna pay." Brian winced again as the phone was slammed down on the other end of the connection.

~*~

"Brian and I ... we never got on very well," the Pastor sadly admitted. "Even when he was just a little boy ... we seemed to clash." The old man rubbed his stump, massaging the lumpy, flesh-covered ends of his wrist bones. "I admit I made mistakes with him ... that I never understood him." Faded blue eyes looked searchingly into Dom's. "When he stormed out of the house so many years ago, I thought I'd lost him for good and I might have ... if it hadn't been for you."

Dom shifted his weight in the orange plastic chair of the hospital's waiting room. Brian had been in Emergency for the last twenty minutes, getting stitched back together and his father, the Pastor, had been quietly studying Dom the entire time. Dom was getting more and more uncomfortable under the old man's regard.

"He came back for a visit now and again during the years that followed, to see his mother and sister, when his brothers brought their wives home, and when you ... went to prison for him."

Dom crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back in his chair, and braced himself, silently waiting for whatever it was that Brian's dad meant to say.

"He showed up in the middle of the night, tired and broken and filled with guilt. It certainly wasn't the first time that I lost sleep because of Brian, but it *was* the first time I ever enjoyed it," the Pastor said with a small smile. "We talked all night and all through the morning. He told me about his undercover assignment, about the trucks, the hijackings, and the FBI agents." The Pastor dropped his eyes and stared at the ugly stump of his right wrist. "And he told me about the new friends that he'd made, how he felt he'd betrayed them. He told me about Jesse ... I hadn't seen Brian cry since he was five years old, but he cried when he talked about that boy's death -- he still holds himself accountable. He told me about Vince. Brian said that Vince had made him as a cop immediately and that Vince had tried to convince you to commit murder. Brian told me that you had refused to take your own best friend's advice -- that you had chosen to believe in *him*, in Brian, rather than Vince. Brian was amazed by that."

The Pastor paused and Dom didn't know what to do, so he just sat there, trying to look unconcerned and not show how much the old man's words were tearing open old wounds.

"Brian told me about Mia," the Pastor whispered and Dom felt his scars rip open and begin to bleed again. As if sensing his pain, the Pastor's stretched out his left hand and laid it gently on Dom's knee. "And how she wouldn't even speak to him anymore. She blamed Brian for everything ... as did he. Never before, never, had Brian taken such responsibility for his actions. When he was young, he ..." The Pastor shook his head and continued. "Never mind all that now. Brian told me about Letty, how he couldn't believe that she headed for Mexico and left you to face everything alone. Brian talked about a lot of things, but everything revolved around you. It was Dom this and Dom that. By the time he finally ran out of things to say about you -- I felt like I knew you nearly as well as he did." The Pastor patted Dom's knee in a fatherly manner and then withdrew his hand. "I should have known that Brian's feelings for you were more than mere friendship or misplaced guilt. Whether he knew it or not, he was in love with you way back then."

Dom's throat hurt and he silently cursed Eddy for the bruises that encircled it.

"Brian spent three days with us before heading back to California," the Pastor continued. "The three best days that I can ever remember spending with him. During the months that followed, he'd call or e-mail us fairly regularly -- just to keep in touch. Then one morning he called me up all excited about an opportunity to correct some of the wrongs he'd done you. He couldn't give me many details, of course, but I knew he was putting himself in danger and I tried my best to talk him out of it." The old man shook his graying head. "He let himself get sent to one of the worst prisons in the country, but not just to win you a reduced sentence." The Pastor lifted his face toward Heaven and closed his eyes as if in prayer. Awe filled his voice as he whispered, "He risked that Hell willingly ... so he could be with you."

The Pastor fell silent and then sat still so long that Dom began to glance around for a nurse. He was just about to reach over and shake the Pastor when, as if refreshed, the old man rose abruptly to his feet.

"I'll head on home," the Pastor said as he straightened out his coat. "No sense both of us waiting around while the nurses take their sweet time fussing over Brian." Bushy gray brows rose upward as an impish smile appeared on the wrinkled features. "Besides, Marlene'll be needing my help with so many people at the house."

Dom rose to his feet as well and spoke for the first time since they'd entered the hospital. "Neal and Tony are already there?"

"Yes," the Pastor said as he adjusted the thin scarf around his neck. "Neal and his family have been there since yesterday and Tony's arrived this morning." Patrick O'Connor was as tall, possibly taller than his son. Age, worry, and arthritis had caused the big frame to stoop a bit. As a result, the Pastor appeared to peer up at Dom from under his eyebrows as he continued, "That's why we'd hoped you boys would have arrived a few days ago. Marlene and I wanted to get to know you a little before Brian's brothers and their families arrived. We wanted --"

"To see if we passed inspection?" Dom surprised himself by growling out challengingly.

"No," the Pastor said and his shoulders seemed to stoop a bit more. "To see if *we* could pass inspection."

Dom frowned fiercely at the old man.

"Marlene and I ... we have had ... *concerns*." The old man took a deep breath before continuing. "To my great shame, I haven't been able to accept the situation as well as I should have. I've prayed to the Lord for ... a solution of sorts. I asked Him to soften my heart and give me peace about my son's lifestyle." The Pastor's eyes started to twinkle a little and his posture straightened a bit. "Brian has told me that you aren't an overly religious man, but I'm sure you've heard the saying, 'The Lord works in mysterious ways'?"

Dom was beginning to wonder if Brian's dad was suffering from the early stages of Alzheimer's disease. That would explain the old man's confusing words as well his horrendous manner of driving.

The Pastor chuckled. "I'm confusing you, aren't I? Never mind. Just know that you are always welcome in our home." With that, Pastor Patrick O'Connor turned and left the waiting room.

~*~

"Jesus, Brian," Dom exclaimed as he placed the tips of his fingers on Brian's jaw and gently tipped the blond head back. "One, two, three, four, ..." Dom began to count the tiny stitches that formed a line on Brian's neck. "How many are there?"

"Twenty-seven on his throat and ten on his head," the pretty brunette offered cheerfully.

"That cut on his neck wasn't much more than an inch long," Dom noted.

"Yes, but we had to use fine sutures, otherwise he could scar," she added as she made cow-eyes up at Brian.

Dom rolled his eyes and Brian smirked at him.

The smirk did it.

Dom had been through enough, he'd be damned if he stand around and watch some lovesick woman mooning over his ... his boyfriend. Breaking his cardinal rule about 'nothing faggish in public', Dom leaned close and gave Brian a loving, passionate, and completely possessive kiss. By the time he pulled away, the foolish female was gone.

"Where's Dad?" Brian said through a wide smile.

"He left about ten minutes ago, said he wanted to get home and help your mother with some stuff." Dom paused and then added, "Your brothers are already there."

"Joy," Brian muttered. "Somehow I'd forgotten about my siblings." He sighed heavily. "Might as well go on home and get the introductions over with."

They walked to the Dart, side-by-side and close enough that their elbows brushed. Dom opened the passenger-side door for Brian and hovered as Brian folded his long frame into the black bucket seat. Once Brian was safely settled, Dom moved around and got in himself. He fired the big engine, taking pleasure in its roar. "There a clothing store anywhere around here?"

"This might not be L.A., Dom, but they do sell clothes here. What do you need?" Brian asked curiously.

"Couple more turtlenecks," Dom rasped out as he put the car in gear and began to drive. "I don't want to have to answer any questions about how I got the bruises."

"How bad are they?" Brian asked as he hooked the fingers of his left hand into Dom's collar and pulled the stretchy blue fabric down. "Fuck, Dom!" he hissed. "I ought to hunt that ugly little maggot down and ..." Brian fell silent as he groped for something horrible to do to Eddy. "Shit! I can't think of anything to do to that masochistic little prick that he wouldn't enjoy," he grouched and then shrugged in defeat. "There's a Wal-Mart about five miles away. We'll go right by it."

Dom turned his head and scowled.

"Well ... there's a Sears two towns over in Hencoop, but it'll take about half an hour to get there and back. Mom and Dad'll be worried if we're too late."

"Fuck, Bri," Dom snorted out. "We could drive all the way back to Richmond and still have time to beat your father home. He drives slower than you like to screw."

Brian barked out a laugh. "*You're* the one who likes it slow. I like it fast and --"

"Hard?" Dom asked, as he peered at Brian out of the corners of his eyes.

"Actually, I was about to say, 'furious', but hard'll do." Brian returned Dom's leer.

~*~