by Brynn Paulin
Toby took them to O’Tooles, his favorite bar for burgers and beers. It was a small place, cozy but not cramped. After he’d parked down the street in the municipal parking, they walked the short distance, chatting amicably.
“No getting me drunk and having your way with me,” Toby quipped. “I don’t need to get you drunk for that,” Wyn returned, holding the door open. Remarkably there were only a few patrons that night.
“Let’s sit in the booth back there,” Toby said, already heading toward the last of the
booths that ran along the middle of the west wall, parallel to the bar. The table and the
wood paneling were pitted with the marks carved into them by patrons before them.
Every table was the same and Toby had always figured the bar encouraged the graffiti.
A waitress outfitted in black pants and a black tee approached the table after the two of them had slid into opposite seats. Wyn’s leg sprawled out and Toby stretched one of his against it. After they’d both ordered Bourbon Street burgers and beers, they settled back. They just looked at each other silently and the side of Toby’s mouth turned up. “I could get used to this.”
“You should.” Wyn glanced around. “I like it here.” Though he knew he should watch his expressions, Toby let his smile widen. He didn’t recognize anyone here. No one would care if he was dining with Wyn. “This is one of my favorite places. I wanted to share it with you. I come here about once a week.”
He pushed a small wicker basket of peanuts toward Wyn, took one and opened it, throwing the shell on the floor afterward as was the practice at O’Tooles. Chewing on a peanut, he flattened his hands on the table. He spread his fingers and looked at the carved graffiti surrounding them. Were any of these people gay? Were “S and W forever” two men? Or Casey and Will?
“Tomorrow’s the meeting,” he said, bringing it up for the first time since Monday. “At three.”
“Whatever happens there, it will be all right. You have been through far worse than they can deal out.”
“Not in a while, but yeah, I’ve faced down enemy armies and dodged flaming arrows. And endured a backcountry inquisition. I can stand up to this.”
“I killed them, you know.”
“What?” Toby’s brows came together as he tried to decipher Wyn’s meaning. As Wyn was about to answer, the waitress brought their burgers with a pile of fries next to each. They both ordered another beer. Once she’d departed, Toby looked back at Wyn. “What?” he repeated.
“The men who killed you. Every one of them.”
“How did you know who they were?”
“They bragged about it. Then when I returned to wreak vengeance, they whimpered and begged like babies. But I showed no mercy.” He took a gulp of beer. “I saw what they did to you. Such desecration. Men like that do not deserve to live.”
The thought of hunting those men and cutting them down twisted Toby’s stomach. It was a different time, that era in which they’d once lived. Wyn’s action wasn’t unlawful or unusual. Those who cut down a loved one were slain without pity.
“This shocks you,” Wyn observed.
“There are so many things I’d forgotten. We don’t live like that anymore. What you did is illegal now. I… Well, thank you.”
“Anything for you, Tobias.”
The bar had filled as they’d talked and now noisy chatter and loud music made it nearly impossible to speak as they had been. Each man focused on his burger, making short work of his meal before leaning back to savor the remainder of his beer.
“Woods!” a voice thundered beside their table. Toby looked up to see one of his coworkers, a professor from the math department.
“Stanley,” he said with a nod. The man wove slightly though he stood still and Toby surmised he must have had at least one too many. Stanley’s glassy eyes set on Wyn.
“So the dirt is you’re about to be canned. For being gay. This the guy?”
Toby glanced at Wyn. He stared over Toby’s shoulder, his jaw set and his arm resting lightly on the back of the booth. Toby knew Wyn enough to know tension knotted through him, despite his relaxed posture.
He glanced back at Stanley. It was unlikely that he’d remember their conversation in the morning, but still, Toby’s job might depend on his response.
“I’m not gay,” he lied. “This is my friend, Wyn.”
Wyn leaned farther back against the booth, saying nothing. His face didn’t change and his stare didn’t shift.
“Well, fuck me,” Stanley exclaimed, spitting slightly as he spoke. “Guess I lost that bet.”
He shambled away and Wyn glared at Toby.
“I am ready to leave,” he said. “I would walk through fire for you, Tobias. I know now you would not do the same for me.”
“Wyn—”
Ignoring him, Wyn got up and walked away. Toby dropped his head into his hand. He’d screwed this one up bad. He’d thought Wyn knew his situation, that he understood. Swallowing back his panic, he tried to flag down the waitress for the bill. Fifteen minutes later he finally exited the bar.
He thought Wyn had gone to the car, but he wasn’t there.
Shit! Where was Wyn? He scouted around the parking lot then headed back toward the bar. He headed east on Bridge Street, thinking perhaps Wyn was attempting to walk home. He didn’t like walking around here after dark, but he was worried about Wyn.
Wyn was nowhere to be found and didn’t reply to Toby’s calls.
“Lose your puppy?”
Toby stiffened at the grating voice behind him followed by scattered chuckles of a few others. He turned to find four men, obviously somewhat tipsy though he wasn’t sure how inebriated they were. They looked like normal, clean-cut college students in sports shirts and jeans. It was the alcohol that made them dangerous.
He started to back away, but two men quickly darted behind him. Shoving him toward the ringleader.
“Oh, you want me?” The guy sputtered with laughter. “We saw you come in with that other queen. Had a hissy fit and left you, did he?”
“Just let me go.”
“But you want a fuck. You like it hard?”
Terror shot through Toby. Surely they wouldn’t assault him.
“Well, fuck this!” the same guy spat. He grabbed Toby’s collar and slammed him into the brick wall of the building beside them. A jagged edge caught Toby’s temple. Before he could move away or lift a hand in defense, a meaty fist smashed into his face. His shirt twisted into his neck as the guy held him. His air cut off as he struggled. Blindly he swung at his attacker and heard a grunt as he hit his mark. Almost immediately his hands were caught and held to the sides. His main attacker grabbed his hair and slammed his head into the wall. A few random punches pummeled his abdomen, but the pain began to blur as it sluiced through his body and his vision grayed.
He thought he heard someone yelling, but he couldn’t be sure as the pressure on his neck suddenly released and he collapsed to the ground.
* * * * *
The four thugs had done enough damage to send him to the hospital by ambulance. The Spectrum Hospital ER had patched him up but had insisted on CT scans to look for a concussion—which he’d had. They’d kept him overnight for observation then slapped him with a phenomenal bill. He was thankful Grand Riverside hadn’t fired him yet. At least he had insurance for a few more hours.
He hurt like hell as he took a cab from the hospital to the lot where his car was parked. The patrol cop who’d intervened in the attack had seen to it that it wouldn’t be towed. Toby was so thankful for that man. He’d likely be dead or, at very least, hurt far more if the police hadn’t happened by. Wyn hadn’t been anywhere nearby as a crowd had gathered to see the spectacle. Worse, Wyn would have no idea where Toby had been all night.
As Toby let himself into the condo shortly later, it occurred to him that Wyn apparently didn’t give a rat’s ass where he’d spent the night. His home was untouched, the bed unslept in. Fighting the emotional pain tha
t welled inside him to rival and surpass his bodily pain, Toby pulled off his clothes, popped a pain pill, set the alarm so he wouldn’t miss the meeting then fell onto the bed.
When he awoke a few hours later, Wyn hadn’t returned. Aching, he showered then pulled on a navy suit with a white button-down shirt and a paisley tie. His head throbbed as he bent to tie his polished dress shoes. He gasped with alarm when he looked in the mirror at his bruised face, split lip and swollen eye. Neat stitches made a track from his temple to his hairline. He was a train wreck.
He gripped the sink as the world seemed to swim. Carefully taking deep breaths, he waited for things to settle into place then drew a cool cloth over his cheeks. Nothing improved and his heart sank. Here was a great image to present to the board. Frankly he was more worried about where Wyn had gone. He prayed he wasn’t hurt somewhere or lost with no idea how to find Toby. He had a cell phone—Toby had hooked him up with that on Tuesday and they’d practiced calls so Wyn knew how to use it. Lost just didn’t wash. Wyn was purposely staying away, especially since Toby had called him several times and the calls had gone to voicemail. Toby hadn’t told Wyn he’d been attacked and hurt. He wasn’t playing the pity card.
Anger keeping him strong, Toby made his way back down to his car, aware he probably shouldn’t be driving. He was angry at the four men who’d beaten him, at the college for the crap they were putting him through, at society for looking down on him and even at God for the trials he’d sent and the glaring lack of protection. He wasn’t, however, angry with Wyn. By some measure, Toby felt he deserved Wyn’s ire, and his lover had nothing to do with what had happened last night. He would never have willed this to happen to Toby.
Toby rubbed his face then winced at the instant pain. Thank heaven the four who’d done this were arrested. He hoped they’d stay locked up for a good long while, though he supposed they were probably already out on bail.
He squinted into the bright sunlight as he left his parking ramp. The movement made him wince. Oh to be back in bed—after taking a few more pain pills. His head throbbed as he headed to the college. He didn’t dare take anything. He wanted his head as clear as possible for what he had to say.
The board waited in their meeting room when he arrived and he was directed inside to sit in a chair facing the U-shaped meeting table.
Dean Palmer started the hearing as soon as Toby was seated. As if purposely making him wait, the group of twelve talked about inconsequential things for a half hour while Toby struggled to remain upright in his chair. Finally Dean Palmer turned his eyes to him.
“Next up, the matter of Professor Toby Woods and whether or not he should continue employment with the college. You’ve all received my report on the incident this past weekend and his history of belligerence.”
History? Really? When?
“Please take a look at the professor now. Obviously he believes brawling is appropriate behavior for a teacher. Do any of you have questions?”
A middle-aged black woman sitting at the corner of two tables leaned forward. “Professor Woods, have you seen this report?” She held up several sheets of paper.
“No.” Toby carefully shook his head while flashing lights skyrocketed before his eyes. He winced. He waved away a copy of the report and stood slowly. “I have a few things to say and they’ll remain the same no matter what the dean has stated in his write-up. Belligerent? I disagreed with Dean Palmer over my suspension. That was the extent of anything I’ve said that might be construed as out of line by the dean.” He paused. Now was do or die. “Am I gay? I’ve done everything possible to keep my personal life separate from my work life. The instance the dean has likely outlined took place off campus and away from students. Am I gay?” he repeated. “Yes. And that man is my life partner. I’m committed to him.” If Wyn would have him. “And I don’t think that makes me a bad influence. If that will cost me my job, I guess that’s how it is. I’ve been gay a long time and that’s not going to change. I’m tired of denying who I am and hurting the man I love by denying him as well. This,” he indicated his face. “This is because more people don’t stand up for themselves. This is because people think they can dictate how other people live and hate them if they’re different. If any of this violates the morality clause in my contract…” He shrugged. “I guess that’s for you to decide. You’ll find my records up to date and complete.”
The same woman nodded, her lips pressed together. “If you’ll wait outside, we’ll discuss this matter then let you know our decision.”
* * * * *
Toby dropped a box of his things inside his condo door. He leaned against the door and listened to the tomblike silence. Wyn wasn’t here. He felt it with every bit of his being. His fear that he’d completely lost his knight weighed him down more thoroughly than the worry about his job had. In the end, they’d fired him and to his surprise, he felt relieved about the loss.
But true relief was not to be his. He’d failed Wyn. Until today he hadn’t realized how off his thinking had been. He’d relied on Wyn to be his white knight, but it was Wyn who needed the knight. He needed someone to love and stand up for him. Wyn’s father never had. Toby had never been in the position to. Nor had anyone else. Wyn had only needed love and he’d do anything for that person who’d give it to him unconditionally. And Toby had failed. He’d been there for Wyn—unless he’d been called on to stand up for their love.
God, he sucked.
He had to fix this. Somehow. Weary from staving off the pain through determination, he staggered into the living area and froze, his blood running cold. No! No…
All Wyn’s papers they’d left on the table this week were gone. Every last one. And in their place sat a single sheet of paper and Wyn’s ring.
Toby’s heart had stopped beating and he clutched the back of a chair, groping his way around it to sit down. His hands shook as he picked up the note. Wyn had written it in Middle English since he still wasn’t completely comfortable with his otherworldly grasp of Modern English.
Tobias, All I have ever wanted is to be with you. In our time, that was impossible though I would have chanced the outrage of our people if it would not have meant your death. In this time, judgment remains, as does danger to those who are different, but it is not the same. In this day, men can admit their love for one another…and live. Since you cannot or will not acknowledge me, perhaps this ring is better placed on your finger once more. You have my heart, but you can keep it in that box until you want it in your palm for a while.
Alwyn Tears streamed over Toby’s cheeks as he read, Wyn’s ring cutting into the palm of his fisted hand. He had to find Wyn, but where? He was pretty sure Wyn didn’t know about planes—God, he knew next to nothing about the twenty-first century. Where would he go?
Toby looked around the apartment. Wyn’s sword was gone, but he’d left everything else. Of course he’d taken his weapon. It was the one thing he could have faith in. It wouldn’t fail him. Not like people. Not like Toby. The sword was the one thing constant with a knight. His sword, his livelihood. Toby closed his eyes. The sword was the only thing he could trust to get him through, but even that was removed in the twenty-first century. In this day and time, what did Wyn have?
Tobias. He’d damn well have Tobias. Somehow he would prove to Wyn that he could trust their love.
Pushing aside the excruciating pain that had moved from a throb to a stab through his skull, he left the table. Nothing mattered other than finding Wyn.
He shoved the ring in his pocket. The only finger it was going on was Wyn’s. The elevator seemed to take forever, but taking the stairs was out of the question. He wanted to get outside, not land in a heap on the landing when he lost his balance. Finally the elevator arrived then started the slowest descent it had ever made while Toby impatiently tapped his foot.
The security guard stared at Toby as he marched across the lobby then Toby rushed out of the building. He groaned as he ran into a wall of human flesh. Wyn. Without looking
up, Toby recognized his scent, the feel of his hard body, the sword swinging at his hip. Toby wrapped his arms around Wyn, hugging him with all his might. He pressed his face to Wyn’s shoulder.
“I need your help to get me to my home in England. After that I won’t bother you again,” Wyn said, his voice expressionless, his arms hanging at his sides rather than holding Toby.
“No,” Toby said flatly.
“No?”
Before Wyn could react—or see his damaged face—Toby reached up and pulled Wyn into a kiss right there on the street for anyone to see. It hurt like hell, but he wasn’t stopping. Wyn didn’t immediately respond then, all at once, he groaned, his strong arms pulling Toby flush to his body. Toby didn’t flinch or pull away, even when the catcalls came. He just let Wyn continue kissing him, possessing his lips and tongue.
“Come inside with me,” Toby urged, pulling his mouth slightly away. “Not because I want to hide, but because what I want to do with you will get us arrested. I swear I will never hide my love for you again. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Wyn nodded, his wary gaze turning to shocked when he spied Toby’s face. “Who did this to you, Tobias?”
“A group of thugs last night when I left the bar. They’re in jail. A cop stopped them before they could—do worse.”
Wyn traced the stitches then his fingers moved over his face. “Tobias… If I’d been there…”
“Don’t,” Toby ordered. “Things might have been worse if you’d been there. You could be in jail, because they were too drunk to know better.” He thought it better not to tell Wyn he’d been searching for him. That guilt wouldn’t easily go away. “I love you, Wyn. I’m just glad you’re here now.”
He took Wyn’s hand for all to see and pulled him inside to the elevator. He didn’t release him as they stepped inside. “Kiss me again,” he said.
“I will hurt you.”
“The hell with that. Please.”
Wyn kissed him lightly, his lips barely touching Toby’s even when Toby strained for more. “By the saints, Wyn. I’m not going to break!”
