by Aiden Bates
Allen huffed out a laugh. "You're probably right." He sat down at the other end of the couch, and Sadie hopped up between them. "What a day, right?"
"The kids seem to have liked your cooking." Brantley angled his body to face Allen. He could have wished the dog wasn't there. Not only was it unsanitary to have a dog on the furniture, but he wouldn't have minded getting a little closer. It felt right to get closer to Allen right now, not that it should.
"Yeah. Yeah, of course." Allen grinned. "Naturally. Janine's good people, you know? She was always there for me. She's just amazing." He rubbed Sadie's head, and the dog made a weird expression of pure bliss. "She can be a little protective of me. That's all."
"Ah." Brantley got it now. Janine's comment at the end of the evening hadn't just been weird. It had been a very subtle dig at their relationship. "Did you tell her anything? About us, I mean."
"What? No, of course not. She might have figured something out on her own, I don't know. She hasn't said anything, if she did." He looked up from Sadie. "Again, she just wants to take care of her little brother. She sees that as her job. It's not personal."
"Of course." It felt personal, but Brantley couldn't pretend she was wrong. It wasn't like he was likely to see much of Janine after the ICE matter was ended, anyway. He shouldn't worry about her approval or anything like that. "Well, I'm sure our friends in the dark SUVs caught plenty of evidence anyway. We needn't worry."
"Right?" Allen huffed out a laugh that only sounded a little strained.
They spent the rest of the weekend doing fairly domestic couple-type things. They went to the grocery store, and to the giant home product store. They walked Sadie together along an old Erie Canal towpath, and pretended they didn't notice the short, thin form of Natalie Parris following them at a discreet distance. On Sunday, they stayed home and did a lot of the cooking for the coming week, although they took the time to walk—again along the towpath, in a visible way—with Sadie and hang out on the back deck.
Allen headed in to the hospital on both days to have some time with Alaina. Brantley didn't go with him. That was a part of Allen's life that Brantley didn't touch, and didn't want to touch.
On Monday, they both headed back to Silver Oak for work. Brantley had never felt a pang when he went back to the office before. He'd enjoyed the weekend a little too much. Maybe he'd missed out on something, with all of the clandestine relationships he'd had over the years. Maybe his former lovers had been right to kick him to the curb when he wouldn't take things public.
It still wasn't easy when he let Allen kiss his cheek goodbye in the lobby on Monday morning, as they separated to go to their respective departments. Brantley still stiffened. He couldn't help it. All the years of having to hide weren't going to just dissolve because it was in his best interests for them to do so. Still, the quick brush of Allen's lips against his smooth skin gave him a warm feeling deep in his chest.
He went about his usual cycles of rounds and appointments, and then rounds again. Most of his patients were responding well to treatment, although they didn't necessarily feel like it just then. Brantley was a medical oncologist. He specialized in medical solutions, such as chemotherapy, to cancer. He stood by his work, and he had tremendous success even with cases most people wouldn't touch. That didn't change the fact that going through chemo sucked.
Toward the end of the day, he sat in his office to review details of a new treatment that had just received approval from the FDA for uterine papillary serous carcinoma. Brantley wasn't a hundred percent sold on the new course of treatment. Even the FDA said it was best suited for cases that hadn't responded to other options. Still, he supposed he should study the new option in greater detail. If nothing else, he should have ready answers for why it wasn't a good choice when his patients asked for it.
His work phone rang just before he got to page two. He wasn't about to complain. "Dr. Powell speaking," he said. He didn't recognize the caller ID number, but that wasn't all that unusual. People called from all over the world to consult with him, after all.
"Dr. Powell, good afternoon. This is Rohan Gupta. Jason Delancey told me to give you a call. I'm an immigration attorney and I specialize in asylum cases." The speaker had a deep voice, serious and beautiful. "Is this a good time to talk?"
"You have no idea what you've just saved me from." Brantley chuckled. "Is it a good idea to talk on the phone, though?"
"They can't bug your work phone. It violates HIPAA." Gupta's voice took on a smug note. "And my phone is secure, too, because of attorney-client privilege. So if you're willing, I'd like to discuss your case. Jason's shared a little bit, but I'd like to discuss it with you, if you don't mind."
"Of course." Brantley reached out and closed his door. "I was granted asylum in the United States some twenty years ago, because of my sexuality. I am gay."
"Go on." Gupta didn't sound moved one way or the other on that score.
"Well, Jamaica isn't a great place to be gay, seeing as how men who have sex with men get beaten and killed for it there. My parents sent me here so I wouldn't die. I have been beaten there. It's not a hypothetical situation for me." He rubbed at his arm. There was a reason he hadn't become a surgeon, after all.
"Okay. And you've been going along, living your life here?"
"Yes. I put myself through college, and through medical school. I got scholarships, of course. I've been living here for twenty years. I became an oncologist. I work hard, I give back to the community, I save lives—"
"Dr. Powell, that's not what's at issue. Jason tells me that your claim has been denied upon review because, among other things, the adjudicator does not believe you're a homosexual. Is that accurate?" Gupta sounded very patient.
"Yes." Brantley closed his eyes and blew out a long breath. "Coming from where I do, I've never been keen on being public about my sexuality. I didn't pretend to be straight, but I didn't parade around with my partners or anything. I've never sought a long-term relationship. I just kept right on going."
"Okay. That's… well. That's interesting. And of course, you haven't been part of any advocacy organizations." Gupta gave a little sigh. "I have to say, this isn't the first time I've seen a client asked to prove their sexuality. It is the first time I've seen a client asked to prove his sexuality twenty years after being granted asylum in the first place, with no criminal record and no problems over the past twenty years. But everything is changing so fast right now, I can't say you'll be the last either. I can only assume, given that we're having this conversation right now, that you intend to fight."
"Absolutely." Brantley didn't even have to think about it. "If I go back to Jamaica, I will be killed. Maybe not the first day, or the second, but it will happen and I'm not all that excited about it." He cleared his throat. "I've found a boyfriend. And, er, we've moved in together."
"Oh dear." Gupta sighed again, this time sounding like the weight of the world had just landed on his shoulders.
"What do you mean 'oh dear?' I figured it would be ideal. It proves I'm gay, it shows I'm assimilating." Brantley glowered at the desktop cradle.
"Except for the part where it's fraud." Gupta snapped at him. "Unfortunately, if you want to stay here and not send both you and this young man to prison, you have to see it through and not get caught in any way. Do you understand me, Dr. Powell? Absolutely no one can suspect this is just a stunt for Immigration."
Brantley sighed. "Okay. I think we've been doing okay. I mean, I met his sister over the weekend, they came over and we had a nice family meal."
"Excellent. More of that, please. Try to get in good with his family. I honestly never recommend this sort of thing to my clients, Dr. Powell, but since we're here, we'll have to go with it. I'm going to come out to Syracuse as soon as I can get away. Don't have any conversations with anyone from ICE without me being present. Don't let the 'boyfriend' have any conversations with anyone from ICE unless I'm present either. This is absolutely vital."
"It might be a
little hard to accomplish. They're ambushing him in the driveway, they're accosting us in parking lots." Brantley swallowed past the lump in his throat. What had he done? Had he really put Allen in danger by agreeing to this charade?
"Well, they won't be by the time I'm done with them. Know your rights, Dr. Powell. Make sure the boyfriend does too. And I'll give you a call as soon as I get to town. We've got a lot of work to do."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Gupta. I appreciate it." Brantley ducked his head in shame.
"Don't thank me yet. Like I said, there's a lot of work to be done. Have a good day, Dr. Powell."
They disconnected, and Brantley stared at the wall for a long moment. This whole mess had just gotten a lot stickier.
He headed down to Obstetrics to collect Allen. It was close enough to quitting time, and he needed to see and speak with his partner in crime. He knew they wouldn't have arrested Allen, not yet, but he needed to see with his own eyes that he hadn't ruined this generous man's life yet.
Allen, as it turned out, was in the NICU with Alaina. Brantley shook his head at himself and went to go watch the through the nursery window.
Seeing Allen with that baby was somehow one of the most soothing sights Brantley had ever witnessed. It was perfect. He had to pause and remind himself it wasn't real. The baby wasn't Brantley's, and wasn't even really Allen's. He couldn't let himself get attached to a feeling like this, when it was all going to dissolve in smoke.
But Lord, watching Allen with that baby, Brantley wanted to believe.
Chapter Seven
Allen heard the news from the lawyer with a blank stare. He couldn't think of any other way to respond. There wasn't a section in any etiquette manual for finding out that the job you'd volunteered for, the one for which you'd put your neck out, was actually the worst choice you could have made. Was there maybe a Hallmark card for that? A floral bouquet?
And of course—of course—there was no way out now. It would be as good as walking into the local ICE office and confessing to fraud. They had to see this thing through to the very end.
Brantley, for all of his infuriating standoffishness, seemed to read Allen's mind. "It wasn't your idea. It was Idoni's."
Allen narrowed his eyes at him. "Don't go blaming this on him. We both agreed to it."
"We did." Brantley sat down beside Allen and smiled. Sadie pouted at them both, but Brantley had gotten in there first. "And he was desperate to help. He's a damn fine physician. He's a famous surgeon. He's not an attorney. We didn't have an immigration attorney and we had to make the best decision we could with the information we had available." Brantley gave a little smile and took Allen's hand. "I'm grateful you were willing to do it."
Allen squeezed Brantley's hand and tried not to read anything into the gesture. "I just hate the idea that I made things worse for you."
"Not at all." Brantley's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "If nothing else, it's been good to know that there are people here who care, beyond the fact that I'm good at my job. You didn't know me from anyone else on the street and you raised your hand. Everyone's been incredible. I'm worried, but it is what it is. I didn't tell you what Gupta told me so you could feel bad, Allen. I told you because it affects you too."
Allen had to look away. He didn't want to face the emotion in those eyes, or in that deep and lilting voice. He rolled his eyes to cover for his inability to deal. "Brantley, my mom's Italian. I'm going to feel bad about something. It's in my blood."
Brantley snickered. "Well then, I'm glad I gave you an outlet for your angst."
Sadie wagged her tail and put her paw on top of their conjoined hands. Allen laughed. "Nothing for you to be jealous of, Sadie," he promised. "You're a good girl."
Brantley laughed and shook his hair, and they went to take Sadie for a walk. The conversation had to be pushed to the side, and Allen couldn't be sorry about it.
He put on a brave face for Brantley, because the last thing he needed was to put Brantley through more stress, but the conversation never left his mind. He hadn't done Brantley any favors. He'd only hurt him. He was forcing Brantley to be somewhere he didn't want to be, and putting him through an experience that he could only associate with pain and terror, and it wasn't going to help him at all.
And there wasn't anyone he could talk to about it.
There were a few people who knew, of course. There was Finn Riley, but talking to Riley was like trying to deep throat a cactus, only slightly more painful. There was Jason Delancey, but he had a lot of other messes on his plate and if Allen started calling for him instead of Luke too often, Luke would get suspicious. And Luke would be hurt, which would be worse.
And there was Carter. There had been a time, not too long ago, when Allen and Carter could talk about almost anything. Allen knew that if he demanded Carter's attention, Carter would listen. He'd be the attentive, sympathetic friend he'd always been. Part of Allen wanted to do just that, because there were just too many stressors on his fragile nerves right now and he needed the support.
He wasn't the only one who needed the support. Carter's promotion had come with a steep increase in responsibilities, and he simply wasn't around as much as he used to be. Marriage to Finn Riley took a good chunk of time, too, and then there was his pregnancy. Carter had more going on than Allen felt he had a right to interrupt.
So when Carter came waltzing into Allen's office on Thursday, Allen resolved not to say anything about it. He was going to be strong. Carter had more important things going on and didn't need to be bothered with his issues.
"Hey, Carter. How are things up in the E Suite?" He forced a grin at his friend and tried not to look at his burgeoning baby bump, more obvious now that he was further along.
Carter closed the door behind him and sauntered over to one of the guest chairs across from Allen's desk. "Oh, you know. The usual bean counting and blame shifting. I mean my office is right down here, still, but since I'm in meetings nine times out of ten, it hardly matters." He sprawled out in the chair he'd selected. "Unless I'm delivering a baby, of course. Every time I sit in one of those meetings, I'm more and more grateful that I insisted on that clause in my contract."
"I'm not sure what omegas around here would have done if you hadn't. Huntington's good, but he's not that good." Allen grinned. "When stuff hits the fan, you're the one we need."
"Plus, it's my actual profession." Carter rested his hand on his bump. "You know, the thing that gives me a reason to get up in the morning. Meetings ain't it. How are you doing?"
Allen smiled. "Oh, you know. Can't complain. Alaina should be well enough to come home from the hospital soon. I can't wait."
"I'll bet. I've seen you down there with her. I've never seen two people who look more comfortable with one another. I hear you and Dr. Powell have moved in together?"
"Yeah. Well, it was kind of a thing." Allen explained about Parris' taunts, and how it had precipitated their decision. He hadn't planned to say anything to Carter at all, but given that his friend had directly asked about it, he didn't feel he had much choice.
Carter listened with an increasingly grave expression on his face. "Look, Allen, I only ever meant for you to be seen out in public with him a few times. I didn't expect for you to have to move in with the guy."
Allen tightened his hands into fists. He did it under the desk, so Carter couldn't see, but he had to express his anger somehow. "Well, like I said, we didn't feel we had a choice. These ICE people, Carter, they've really got it in for Brantley. They want his blood. We're not…" He took a deep breath and tried again. "We're choosing to explain it away as a step we didn't want to take yet, because we've 'only been together for three months.' So, we have a perfect excuse for keeping separate bedrooms, because people like that will still want their privacy. We haven't been subtle about it."
"Mmm hmm." Carter folded his fingers together. "How's that going for you?"
Allen blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I don't know Dr. Powell all that well. Not o
n a personal level. I know him as an oncologist, and I guess if you were to come down with something unspeakable I'd refer you to him in a heartbeat. But moving in— hat's a big step, and a big risk." Carter tilted his head to the side. "So what's it like?"
"Living with Brantley?" Allen blew out a stream of air. "It's weird. It's… you can't have missed the fact that he's hotter than Death Valley on an August afternoon."
Carter laughed out loud, and something inside of Allen let go. It felt good to admit it, even as shame threatened to scorch his insides. "Well okay, he's handsome."
"No no. At home, he dresses casually. Not that casually—he always wears a shirt with a collar, even if it's just to walk the dog—but he is just beautiful. And in so many ways, he's incredibly sweet." So much for that vow of not burdening Carter with his problems. "He's been teaching me how to cook. And he's so good when I get worked up about something, he knows just how to get me calmed down and spun down. It's amazing."
