by Aiden Bates
He'd assimilated in a lot of ways, but that wasn't one of them.
"I've got a friend," he said slowly. "And by friend, I mean ex. He's an immigration lawyer, and he's pretty good. I'll give him a call and see if he's willing to come out and take a look at your case. I know a little bit about immigration law, but everything's changing so fast in that area right now that I don't trust myself to look at your case and pretend I'm an expert. In a pinch, I'll get up in court and give them what for, but if we can get a real expert in here I think we'd all be more comfortable."
Finn Riley, the hospital's CEO and the man who signed everyone's paycheck, made a pained face. It was the same expression some of Brantley's patients gave when they were trying to breathe through an exceptionally powerful contraction or traumatic treatment. Brantley imagined Riley made that same face with every paycheck he signed. To his credit, though, he didn't complain vocally about the cost. He just looked like he was trying to pass something around an intestinal tumor.
"Yes, if we could avoid going cowboy over our superstar oncologist, that would be swell." Riley gave a thumbs up. "Do remember to submit your 'friend's' rates for an expense exemption, won't you?"
"I'll cover it, Finn." Delancey shook his head. "They'll be lower for a friend than for Regent Healthcare anyway. Oddly enough, he's a little bitter toward Regent."
Brantley frowned. Would they be so generous with Marcus from Housekeeping, who faced exactly the same repercussions if deported to Jamaica? The lawyer might, though. Brantley bit his tongue and made a mental note to talk to the man about it, if he got a chance.
"Won't Luke get jealous?" asked the HR director, Sarah.
The others turned to look at her. Jason just laughed. "Sarah, Luke knows better. I've been pining away after Luke since I was fifteen and still trying to figure out how often I could get away with shaving. He knows I'm not going to do anything to risk what we have." He shook his head. "Besides, if he knew what was going on, he'd be trying to find a hiding place in the condo. We could have one built, I guess. The building might be old enough to have one anyway. Hopefully it won't come to that."
Riley, Sarah, and Idoni lifted their eyebrows in agreement. Brantley wasn't so sure. "It doesn't sound all that comfortable, but I'd take it over getting beaten to death by a bunch of angry townsmen."
"Can't imagine why." Idoni lifted an eyebrow. "Look. Let's wait and hear from Jason's friend and we'll go from there. Okay?"
"Sounds good." Riley stood up. "Keep me posted on any new developments." He headed toward the door, and then he paused and turned. "Dr. Powell, Silver Oak and Regent Healthcare will leave no stone unturned to make sure you can stay safe. Your safety, as a person, is our top priority. If that means moving you up to Canada because we've exhausted all of our other options, then that's what we'll do. But we're not going to let anyone send you back to Jamaica."
Brantley bowed his head. It was easy to get caught up in his own fears and resentments. He knew he should be grateful. These men were genuinely concerned, and the fact that they knew enough to be concerned was a good sign. They paid attention. He wasn't alone, even though he had a hard time seeing how he could be anything other than by himself.
Idoni rose. "Okay. If that's all, I think we can adjourn until we've heard from the immigration lawyer. Agreed?"
No one had any objections, not even Brantley. The little meeting adjourned, with Riley pausing to give Idoni a kiss and a little caress on his baby bump.
Idoni rushed to catch up with Brantley on their way out. "Hey, Dr. Powell. Do you have a minute?"
Brantley twisted his lips. He was trying to smile, but he knew it probably didn't look that way to anyone else. "I have nothing but time right now. Why?"
"I thought maybe we could talk. You know, a little more freely, down in my office."
Brantley shrugged. He had plenty of words, if Idoni wanted to hear them. "Sure. That would be great, actually." It wouldn't help. Idoni was an obstetrician, but not someone who could influence Customs and Immigration in any way. Still, maybe Brantley could come up with an idea, just by talking things through.
They headed down to Obstetrics, where the mood seemed subdued for some reason. Brantley had no idea what might cause something like that. Obstetrics was supposed to be a happy place, wasn't it? Babies and such? Ah well. Brantley kept his head down and followed his host. He wouldn't be much help with whatever it was anyway.
Idoni's office was small, but neat. He had pictures on his wall, family portraits and snapshots of babies he'd presumably delivered. "I have those too," Brantley said, staring at the pictures on the wall. "Some of the patients I've treated go on to start families. It takes work sometimes, and planning, but it's the happy outcome they've wanted."
"I wonder how many of the babies are the same." Idoni grinned at him.
Brantley smiled, a real smile for the first time since getting the letter. "I see at least three that I recognize." He sat down across from Idoni. He wasn't used to sitting on this side of a doctor's desk. His whole perspective felt askew somehow. "This whole thing is just a nightmare. I can't understand it."
Idoni screwed up his mouth. "There's a new directive or policy around immigration coming out every day right now. No one can keep up. I don't think anyone understands it. Did they give any reason for the decision?”
Brantley rubbed the back of his neck. "They gave me a list, actually. With bullet points. Bullet points!" He shook his head, and his dreads ran over his neck like little bits of rain. "They said Jamaica is a friendly country, that Jamaica says they don't persecute gay men, that I haven't proved I'm actually gay or would face persecution when I return. They say I haven't assimilated, because I'm still single and I have locks." He touched his hair. "I’ve lived in this country for twenty years, I put myself through school, I became a doctor and served my community, and still I somehow haven't assimilated because of my hair."
Idoni shook his head. "A hairstyle millions of Americans have. And seriously, they tried to pretend you aren't gay?"
"They said I was just faking it to get into the States. If I were really gay I'd show it more." He buried his face in his hands. "Because apparently all gay men prance around on Drag Race, and run around having slap fights in back alleys or something."
"Right?" Carter snorted. "I can't imagine having to prove I am who I am." He shuddered.
The door to the office had been left open. Now someone new pushed his way in. "Carter, do you have a second? I just need a minute to recoup—" He stopped when he saw Brantley sitting there. "Oh. I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were with someone." He looked down, and his tan cheeks turned red.
"Don't worry about it." Brantley stood up. "You look like you could use a friend." He looked the tall, slim man over. He wore scrubs and carried a stethoscope, so he was almost certainly staff. His hands had that reddish tinge that came with being freshly scrubbed, and his eyes stood out green and bright in dark circles. He'd been here all night, then.
Idoni frowned. "Problems with a patient?"
The stranger gave Brantley a curious look, but stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. "We don't even know her name. She staggered into the ER, already in advanced labor. She had a bad infection already that turned septic. We did everything we could do, but she'd never gotten medical care. She was too far gone already." He bowed his head.
Brantley didn't hesitate. It wasn't a sexual thing. He didn't hit on people at work. He could see that the stranger needed some contact and support. He wrapped an arm around the man's thin shoulders and pulled him gently in to himself. "It's always hard to lose a patient, even if we didn't know them long."
"I told her we weren't willing to lose her," the man said. Tears flowed from his eyes, like he wasn't even ashamed of it. "It was the last thing I said to her."
"It sounds to me like she probably hadn't heard anything like that in her life, or at least not in a long time. It's not a lot of comfort to you," Idoni told him in a soft voice, reaching acros
s the desk to take the man's hand, "but it was probably a lot of comfort to her."
"She was in terrible shape." Brantley got a glimpse of his ID when he sat back up. Allen Frye, PhD, NP, CNM. Okay then. Handsome, smart, hard working. He couldn't let his mind go there. He was at work, for crying out loud. Allen was grieving, and Brantley was getting deported. "Years of abuse, from what I could tell. Couldn't speak. Drug use, illness, just terrible shape." He took a deep breath. "She didn't want to hold her baby, because she was afraid she was too dirty."
"That poor woman." Brantley chastised himself for even thinking about his own problems. This woman had just died giving birth.
Idoni watched them for a moment. Then he cleared his throat, a little delicately. "Allen, allow me to introduce Dr. Brantley Powell. He's from Oncology. Dr. Powell, this is my best friend, Allen Frye. Allen's a nurse practitioner and certified nurse midwife. He's one of the few nurse midwives specifically trained to work with omegas and help us to deliver safely."
Frye blushed again and looked down. "Sorry to cry all over your shirt. I know I should be more detached than this. I guess this one just hit me especially hard."
Brantley smiled and shook his head. "Don't be sorry. I think the minute we stop taking it hard when we lose a patient is the point when it's time to hang it up. We're supposed to keep a certain professional distance, sure, but we have to care. Why else would we keep doing it?"
Allen grinned at him and met his eyes. "You're probably right."
Idoni cleared his throat. "So ordinarily I wouldn't interfere with something like this, because people who do that should be dunked in the lake. But this is kind of a special circumstance. With your permission?" He lifted his eyebrows at Brantley.
Brantley had no idea what he was talking about, but he suspected it had something to do with his deportation notice. "Of course."
"Dr. Powell received notice that his asylum status has been revoked, and he's going to be deported. One of the reasons cited was that they didn't believe he was really interested in men." Carter shifted in his seat. Brantley folded his lips together. Idoni should be uncomfortable. Outing people like that was supposed to be uncomfortable.
"That's awful!" Allen turned to face Brantley. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what that must be like."
Idoni sat up a little straighter. "There are a number of strategies to work on, and we're looking at all of them. Believe me. Most of them involve getting a specialist attorney, because this is not the kind of thing to leave to amateurs. There are some things we might be able to do to, you know, improve our chances of keeping Dr. Powell with us."
"Such as?" Brantley couldn't wrap his head around whatever it was Idoni might be suggesting.
"A boyfriend. It should help tick off those two boxes on their checklist— assimilation and proving your sexuality." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The relationship doesn't have to be real. It just has to pass for real."
Brantley dropped his jaw. "I could never ask someone to pretend to be my boyfriend." He worked his jaw for a moment, trying to figure out a way to explain his reluctance to Idoni. "Where I come from, being so open is a great way to get yourself killed. I would never ask someone to do that as a ruse."
Allen turned to him. "You don't have to. I'm volunteering."
Brantley blinked. Had he heard right? "Excuse me?"
"I want to do it. I'm not seeing anyone right now anyway. And after today, I want to do something positive. I want to help. Please."
Brantley took a deep, shuddering breath. "If that's your decision. I don't want any harm to come to you in any way."
"I'm not worried. I'm happy to help." Allen held out a hand, and Brantley took it.
He could only hope this didn't blow up in all of their faces.
Chapter Two
Allen had no idea what he'd been thinking. Well, he knew what he'd been thinking. He'd been desperate. He'd have done anything that day to help just one person, just to make their lives a little bit better. Of course, there was a fine line between helping make someone's life better and committing fraud against Homeland Security.
Then again, Brantley was supposed to be a real hotshot oncologist, a superstar in his field. He hadn't hesitated to step in and offer comfort to Allen when Allen had been upset about Jane. He was a stand-up guy, at least on the surface. He didn't deserve to get sent back to a country he hadn't seen since he'd been a young kid. And no one deserved to get deported to a country where they faced death and persecution for simply existing.
"I guess we should come up with a plan." Allen fumbled with a pen in his pocket. He needed something to do with his hands. It had been a little while since his last relationship, but it hadn't been this awkward. At least it was real.
"Yes." Powell looked down. "I suppose that's something we should do sooner rather than later. We can do that in your office, or in mine I suppose."
Carter closed his eyes, like he was dealing with exceptionally dim people. "Or, since this whole thing is for the benefit of other eyes, you could do it in the cafeteria. You know, where people can see you together."
Powell's eyes bulged, and a little bit of sweat broke out at his temples. "That seems risky."
"I think it's a good idea." Allen couldn't make himself meet Powell's eyes. Maybe he'd misread that whole kindness thing. "If part of what ICE wants to see is that you're with someone, they're going to need other people to have seen you with that person, too. It doesn't have to be real, remember? We know the truth." He forced himself to grin, but he kept up his study of the carpet.
"Of course. Forgive me." Powell huffed out a little laugh. "I've never been part of a fake relationship before. And back where I come from, two people in a relationship would never meet up publicly like that." He rolled his shoulders. "If you're free, why don't we go and do that now?" His grin was tight and strained, but he was making the effort.
This wouldn't be easy for either of them, but Allen had to remember that it wasn't about him. If they screwed up, he'd be embarrassed. He might get a fine. Powell would die. "I've got the time. They're sending me home anyway. I've been here too long."
He and Powell headed toward the cafeteria in silence. People looked as they headed down the corridors, and Allen tried to pretend he couldn't see them. Of course, they were looking. Brantley Powell was a handsome man. People probably stared at him all the time. Allen would have to find some way to up his game, just to avoid embarrassing Powell.
Of course, that was like saying a junky old TV satellite should up its game to avoid embarrassing the sun.
They got to the cafeteria and got their food, and Allen found them a seat. He picked a space that was visible, but far enough away from other diners to offer them privacy. "So. I guess first things first. How long have we been together?"
Powell squirmed. "Does three months sound reasonable? That would explain, I suppose, why no one else has seen us together yet."
Allen nodded slowly and poked at his stir fry. "Three months seems okay." He swallowed. When was the last time he'd felt this awkward about anything? Had it been when he'd broken up with Mark, who'd been on his phone through half of the discussion? "So. I guess what should I know about you, if we've been together for three months?"
"I have an irrational fear of being involuntarily sent to a tropical island where the murder of gay men is a hilarious topic in pop culture." Powell—Brantley, Allen was going to have to remember to think of him by his given name—tugged at his collar. "Right now, that's kind of my defining trait." He massaged his temples. "I'm sorry. I'm not being very helpful. I, ah, I like photography. I guess that's interesting."
"Hey, that is interesting." Allen tried to brighten up. "What do you like to get pictures of? Like portraits, or action shots, or landscapes?"
Brantley shrugged and ducked his head. "I'm not all that picky, really. Whatever strikes my fancy that day, you know? I've shown a few photographs, you know, that kind of thing."
"Oh wow. That's fantastic." Allen sat back in
admiration. "I had no idea. I'd love to see them sometime. Maybe if you have a website I could take a look this evening?"
Brantley nodded. "I'll send you a link." He looked away. "We should probably be connected on social media and everything, I guess."
"Right. We can do that now, if you want." Good God, this was painful. Allen pulled out his phone and sent requests to Brantley on all of his accounts. They made sure they had each other's phone numbers, too. "We should make sure we text at least once a day, send cute pictures, whatever."
"That's good. That's a good idea." Brantley grimaced. "This is so awkward."
Allen snickered. "It's not exactly how I usually go about things, no. Maybe we should hammer out our expectations. Maybe that will feel a little less absurd."
"That sounds fantastic." Brantley slumped with evident relief. "I guess I'll go first?" When Allen gestured, he looked up. "I guess we both have to be faithful, during the relationship. We can't afford to have ICE find out about a secret lover or something."
