by Aiden Bates
The tray was brought up, and Gottlieb and Parris disappeared. Simmons stayed in the room while Brantley ate and drank. "I'm truly sorry about that. I'll make sure everyone knows to keep an eye out. Those guys are kind of creepy."
"You don't have to convince me," Brantley muttered around his sandwich.
Gupta stepped on his foot.
"Lawyer," Brantley said.
"Good job."
Simmons laughed.
Brantley got escorted back to his cell. It still wasn't much of a cell, but a few hours later, Simmons brought him a blanket. He brought a friend with him, too. "This is Ken. He works the night shift. He's a good guy. Tough, but fair. If you don't make trouble, he won't give you trouble. He's been briefed on the situation in here. Most of the guys know what's up. One or two aren't sold, but most of them are good eggs. We'll take care of you, buddy. I don't know what you did to wind up in here, but you have a right to expect to be safe."
"Thank you." Brantley noticed neither offered to shake hands, so he didn't offer to, either. Instead, he kept his hands to himself and bowed his head.
That night, alone in his contemplations, he considered what Gupta had told him. His problems ran even deeper than he thought, and he'd been pretty sure he was deep in it before. He had a racist, homophobic agent with a personal vendetta willing to break the law to send him back to Jamaica. And there were people who were willing to help him.
Gupta was right. The "why" didn't matter. It only mattered that it was happening. He needed to keep his mouth shut and give them no fodder, whatsoever. He'd known hate existed here, but he'd been relatively immune from it. Now it was all directed at him, and he couldn't help but be terrified.
At the same time, Allen loved him. Gupta wasn't a biased source, trying to act on behalf of someone else. Gupta hadn't even wanted them to be together. Gupta was just being honest. Allen loved him. Even after everything, Allen loved him.
If Brantley survived this, he had to tell Allen the truth. Even if he got deported, he would have to find a way to let Allen know he loved him. He'd been scared. He'd been afraid. He hadn't taken Allen's past or Allen's fears into account. Brantley's own concerns and fears were life and death, but that didn't make Allen's fears any less real or valid. It only made them less potentially fatal.
He had no idea how he would approach Allen now, at this late date, after such a mess had been made of both of their lives. Maybe love wasn't enough. Maybe it was. Brantley wouldn't know until he tried.
Hope could be a dangerous thing. He'd hoped for some sort of future with Fabian. It had been a dim hope, and a tenuous future at best, but it had been hope at least. That hope had ended in pain and broken bones, a desperate drive to Kingston, and a terrifying flight to Boston. Fabian had hoped for reconciliation with his parents, only to find a rope and death.
On the other hand, there was Allen. Allen had been ground down, time and time again, but he found beauty and joy in every day. Where others might have seen a waste of life in a child who was an addict from birth, he saw a fighter and poured love and light into her. Now she was thriving, all but indistinguishable from any other infant. Where others saw a man who couldn't let go and show his affection, Allen had seen someone with a problem and devoted the same patience and grace he showed to people undergoing childbirth.
Now Brantley was able to call another man, and take him out on a date in public.
Now Brantley could reach out without having to fake it, wrap Allen in his arms in front of the world. He could tell this lawyer, and everyone else, "Yes, I love this man. I want to live with him. I want to start a family with him."
Allen sprinkled hope behind him, like a bird left a trail of feathers. Brantley would hold on to that.
Chapter Nineteen
Allen sat out in front of the judge's chambers. He didn't know if his suit pants felt too tight because of the baby, or because his stomach was tied up in knots, or because he was imagining things. Considering that it was only late September, he guessed he wasn't exactly showing yet. Maybe he should relax.
Maybe relaxation was something that happened to other people. Maybe Allen hadn't ever been much good at relaxing. Maybe he needed to learn that, down the road. He'd been getting better about that, when Brantley was in his life. He hadn't known Brantley well, at least at first, but he could count on Brantley. He missed that.
That was gone now, but Allen still remembered it. He remembered the ability to let go for a little while, the feeling that Brantley could handle something.
Right now, it wasn't Brantley's job to handle anything. It was up to Allen. Everything was up to Allen. Maybe they were apart, and maybe that wasn't going to change, but Allen wasn't going to let him down.
Carter squeezed his hand. "You're going to be fine."
"I'm going to throw up on the judge's shoes." Allen looked up at his best friend. "I'm going to throw up on the judge's shoes, and he's going to have those terrible ICE agents shoot me. Then Alaina will go back into foster care and get passed around like a joint at a frat party. Sadie will go back to a shelter. Brantley will die because I couldn't save him and those kids up in Toronto will never know anything about who their father was before he moved up to Canada to become one with the moose. And—and! The judge will still have puke covered shoes."
Carter blinked as Allen continued his diatribe. "I knew pregnancy could increase anxiety, but holy crap Allen. You should write some of that down." He slouched down on the bench and folded his hands on top of his baby bump. "Might as well rest. We're growing people here, man. That takes a lot of energy. Put your feet up and find your chill, would you?"
Allen opened his mouth to argue. It was easy for Carter to direct him to "find his chill." The love of Carter's life wasn't facing death. He closed his mouth again, though. "We can't make them hear the case before the judge gets here," he said, after a moment.
"Which wouldn't even be an issue if someone hadn't wanted to get here at seven thirty in the morning." Carter opened one eye and speared Allen with it. "Be honest now."
"I didn't want to be late." Allen squirmed. "It's not like this is important or anything."
"Okay, but we could have brought books. Or Sadie. She could have piddled on that Gottlieb guy's leg." Carter chuckled. "I don't like that guy."
"No one likes that guy." Allen closed his eyes too. "I thought the judge was going to hit him with her gavel the last time."
"Maybe she should have." Carter rested his head on Allen's shoulder. "It might have knocked whatever loose wiring was causing the issue back into place, and there we'd be."
Allen didn't fall asleep, but he did block out all of the noise and distractions for a few minutes. He was doing all of this for Brantley. That was the important thing. Brantley needed him.
When Gupta came and roused him, Allen was calmer. "Is the judge ready?"
Gupta looked incredible. His dark suit and powder blue dress shirt made him all but glow. "He is." His lip curled, just a little. "The ICE agents have just arrived. Come on, before they cause us any more problems."
Allen helped Carter to his feet, and they both headed in to the judge's chambers.
Allen hadn't ever been into a judge's chambers before. He had no idea what to expect. He knew they were basically an office, but this was nothing like his office back at Silver Oak. He looked around in awe for a moment. This office was the size of the entire ground floor of his condo. Wood paneling, books, an Oriental carpet that looked antique—if he puked on the judge's shoes in here, he'd destroy art.
He tried not to think about it.
Gottlieb and Parris were here, seated together on a leather couch. Allen looked away from them. It couldn't be proper to sit so close. Colleagues didn't sit like that, with the knees touching and facing each other. Well, why not? From everything Gupta had told him, these two didn't do anything else according to the rules. Why would they follow the rules on this?
The judge wasn't the same judge that had presided over Brantley's immigration c
ase. This one was a snowy-haired man named McCaskill. McCaskill looked up from his desk. "Gentlemen. Thank you for joining us. I'm glad you were willing to give your evidence informally."
Gottlieb stood up, eliciting a small pout from Parris. "Your Honor, this informal hearing is highly improper. The defendant should already be on his way to prison."
McCaskill fixed Gottlieb with a glare. "Agent Gottlieb, I find it surprising that you're making any noise at all about anything being improper given the way you went about this 'arrest.' I'm willing to hear you out on the charges. Illegal immigration is a serious issue facing our country and one the current administration takes very seriously. That said, if we're going to call ourselves a law and order country, we need to observe the laws we have. That means warrants, Agent. That means not engaging in torture, and not battering detainees who aren't resisting arrest."
"He smart-mouthed me." Gottlieb crossed his arms over his chest.
Allen felt his chin drop. They'd beaten Brantley? He took a breath, ready to lash out, but Gupta elbowed him.
"Let the judge deal with it," he whispered.
Allen bit his tongue, but obeyed. They paid Gupta to know this stuff, after all.
McCaskill shook his head. "A suspect is allowed to know why he's being arrested. It is, in fact, the law. I've already put in a call to your superior. I'd expect to hear from him after this hearing is over, if I were you. I hope your bags are packed. At any rate." He glanced over at Brantley and Carter. "I suppose I should ask which one of you is Allen Frye, but considering Dr. Idoni's unusual ability to attract television cameras, I don't think I need to."
Carter blushed. "I'm here as a supporting witness, Your Honor."
"Indeed. Indeed. A supporting witness for an informal hearing. Very interesting." McCaskill shuffled some papers on his desk, and Allen's palms began to sweat. "I see here that Agents Gottlieb and Parris have charged the defendant with having falsified his relationship with you, Dr. Frye, in order to pass as homosexual so he could stay in the country." He turned to Gottlieb. "The judge in immigration court seemed to think their relationship was real enough. What makes you such an expert on gay relationships that you get to second guess her?"
Gottlieb held up one finger. "One, they weren't ever seen together in public until we showed up on the scene. We revoke his asylum and bam! All of a sudden they're always together."
McCaskill turned to Allen. "Well, Dr. Frye? How do you respond to that?"
Allen closed his eyes and gripped Carter's hand. "I think Brantley should certainly be here for this. That said, Brantley comes from someplace where being open about your sexuality could get you killed. He'd already been seriously beaten once, for being gay. That's not a trauma he was going to just get over. He wouldn't have tried to get over it, if it weren't for being forced to by these agents."
McCaskill nodded slowly. "That's consistent with the documentation I see here."
"Second." Gottlieb held up a second finger. "They slept in separate bedrooms when they moved in together."
Gupta made a disgusted sound deep in the back of his throat. "First of all, let me point out that information was obtained without a warrant. If this case were to go to trial, it would be inadmissible. They weren't allowed to go into the house to see the bedrooms, or the linens, which they then tried to claim as evidence against my clients."
McCaskill glowered at the agents. "It's true. There's no probable cause here." He turned to Allen. "Do you have anything to add to that?"
Allen looked into the judge's eyes. "We had just been together for three months, Your Honor. We hadn't intended to move in together at all—we weren't all that serious. But when it became a matter of life or death for Brantley, of course I asked him to move in. It was just a little uncomfortable, since we didn't know each other all that well. So we had separate rooms. And since Agent Gottlieb is so concerned about my linens, ask him about the sample we dropped off." He darted a grin toward Gottlieb, vicious and cruel.
McCaskill didn't grin outright, but his lips twitched. "Okay then."
"Three!" Gottlieb added a third finger. "Powell moved out the very same day the judge gave him asylum! He made a date with someone new two weeks after moving out! That's not someone who was in a relationship. That's a fake relationship right there."
McCaskill frowned over at Allen. "It's not exactly the gesture of a loving man."
Allen sighed. "We'd been having some arguments. I won't lie. Being forced into cohabitation isn't exactly a recipe for domestic bliss. We broke up. We probably would have broken up sooner if we didn't have those two agents nipping at our heels. I knew he was going to call Dwayne. Dwayne called me to see if it was okay. He called me when they broke up, too. Dwayne and I are friendly. I'm doing a career day at his charter school soon. Your honor, I can give you incontrovertible proof that Dr. Brantley Powell and I did have, at one time, a sexual relationship."
"How can you do that?" McCaskill looked up at Allen and folded his hands on top of his desk.
"Easy. I'm pregnant, with his baby." Allen spread his hands out to his sides. "I didn't get a chance to tell Brantley. The time wasn't right, and then we were apart. I'm due in late April, if you're curious."
"Congratulations, Dr. Frye." McCaskill gave him a broad smile.
Parris pointed at Allen. "Your Honor, you only have his word to go on that he's even pregnant!"
Carter waved. "Your Honor, I can set any doubts you might have to rest. I'm not just a friend. I'm the Chief Medical Officer at Silver Oak Medical Center. I specialize in omega care, and I'm Allen's personal obstetrician. He is pregnant. He has not been with anyone other than Brantley Powell in a very long time. This baby is Brantley Powell's."
"And you expect us to just believe that!" Gottlieb scoffed. "As if."
"As a matter of fact, 'we' do believe it." McCaskill stood up. "I'm dismissing the charges against Dr. Powell, effective immediately. The two of you are an embarrassment to your badges. Get out of my chambers. Go report to your supervisor. I strongly suspect he will concur with my professional opinion." He waved a hand toward the door. "Go on. Shoo."
Allen shook McCaskill's hand. "Thank you so much, Your Honor."
"Don't thank me, son. It's about justice." McCaskill wrapped both hands around Allen's. "It sounds like you've done a pretty brave thing. A lot of guys would have just walked away when their boyfriend got into trouble with immigration, especially if they weren't that serious."
Allen shook his head. "We weren't that serious, but Brantley's an amazing guy. I love him. I sure wasn't about to let him go back and die, not if I could fight it."
"Good for you, son." He smiled. "Go get some rest. You look beat. He's a free man, but it's going to take some time to process him out of the Justice Center. If I see you again, I hope it's under better circumstances."
Allen smiled and let Gupta lead him out of chambers.
"I'm going to go and get Brantley now," Gupta told him. He ran his tongue over his lips and looked off to the side, and up. "It will probably take a little while. I'll let you know if there are any problems, okay?"
"Okay." Allen shook Gupta's hand. "Thank you." He moistened his lips. "Can you do me a favor?"
"Sure. What is it?" Gupta leaned forward. "Do you want me to carry a message to Brantley for you?"
Allen shook his head. "The opposite, actually."
Gupta frowned. "I'm sorry. I don't follow."
"I don't want him to know I was involved. You know, with him getting out. I don't want him to feel obligated or anything. I didn't do it to bring him back to me. I didn't do it to make him feel bad. I just did it because I love him. That's all. I don't want him to feel like he owes me anything." Allen looked down.
Carter rolled his eyes. "You're an idiot."
Gupta sighed. "I concur. But it's your life. Go get some sleep. Your daughter is with family, correct?"
Allen nodded. "She's with my mom."
"Fabulous. Go enjoy a few hours' rest without having to chang
e a diaper. You'll only hear from me if there's a problem, okay?"
Allen smiled at him. "Thanks."
Carter drove him back to his place. "I don't know what you're thinking." He sighed. "Allen, if you love him, let him know. He should know what you're willing to do for him. He should know you love him, for crying out loud. How else is he supposed to respond? He can't say yes or no if you don't ask."
Allen shook his head. "I want him to be with me because he wants to be with me. Not because I'm an obligation. Not because he thinks he owes me something. I've been there, I've done that. I can't do it again. I'd rather be alone. I don't want to entrap him."
Carter gripped the steering wheel. "But he is who he is. He doesn't know how to make that first overture. Not when it counts. He needs your help, Allen." He chuckled. "For all that's romantic about the idea of him just knowing you love him and would accept him, he's just as afraid of rejection as you are."
