Date: Thu, 28 Feb 2013 23:24:01 -0700
From: dnrock@rock.com
Subject: Value of Love 1 (revised)

The Value of Love
By: dnrock (dnrock@rock.com)

This is a work of fiction.  The people and places live in the authors
imagination and on his hard drive.  Sex between males is common.  Sex
between males and females occurs later in the story and is limited.  Some
of the sex is graphically described.  If this offends you do not read it.
If you are forbidden by some law or regulation from reading it; I am
supposed to tell you not to.  Consider yourself told.

Please help to keep Nifty on line, make a donation.  Every little
helps. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

The Value of Love
By: dnrock (dnrock@rock.com)

Introduction:

It was December 25, 1988 at 00:05 hours exactly, in the same hospital, that
two boys were forced from their mothers' wombs into the world.  They were
average births.  Their mothers had normal pregnancies.  In no way were the
parents or new babies extraordinary.  In fact they were remarkable in their
ordinariness.

These boys had different parents and different circumstances but their
lives were to be inexorably bound together from that moment forward.  This
binding would not be apparent for quite some time.  No sign, omen, portent
or suggestion was made to indicate this.  For all intents and purposes this
happening was only coincidence.  The probability of something like this:
coincidental births, occurring in the same place and of the same sex are
not unlike winning a major lottery or perhaps, even greater.  People do
win, don't they?  Or to re-phrase a famous axiom, if anything can happen it
probably will.

The boys were six and learning to ice skate, in the same small city park
before they even knew of each others' existence.  Over the next 8 years
they kept crossing paths and having brief encounters.  They knew each
others' names, they had an idea where the other lived but no exact
addresses: they were little more than acquaintances.  These brief
encounters were mostly nondescript, sufficient to keep name and face
recognition and little more.  They had no mutual friends or relatives.

Events that influenced their young lives were remarkably similar and just
as remarkably different.  Both boys had relatives that were estranged from
their immediate families for one reason or another.  Both were only
children.  Both found themselves alone in the world for all intents and
purposes, through no fault of their own.  Through association both were in
some physical danger although they didn't know it.  Both were somewhat
social outcasts, again through no fault of their own.

Jim Summerland the dirty blond, blue eyed boy was short for his age ±4'
8"; almost 14, slightly built, cute but not handsome.  He had a clear
complexion, large eyes, a smallish nose, squarish face and a modest bubble
butt.  His father is in jail for multiple felonies, mostly burglary.  His
mother is dead all of about 4 hours from an apparent drug overdose.

Art Grandie the brown haired, brown eyed boy was tall for his age 5' 6",
very thin and what people might call good looking.  He has a small but
pointed nose, triangular shaped face and thick eyebrows.  His legs were
very long and slim, his butt was almost invisible.  His father is dead
having just been shot by his mother, who tried to kill him but missed and
then herself, about 4 hours ago.  She is in critical condition and may or
may not make it.

We pick up three of our major protagonists at the Dsitrict Two Police
Station.  It is December 24th just after 1300 hours, 2002.

The day had started out well enough for the boys and for the cops and most
everyone else in this city.  By ten the weather had turned from cool to
quite cold.  The rain that had been falling was now ice and the
precipitation had turned to wet snow.  The wind was blowing and the
forecast was bad news for next couple of days.  The cops were going crazy,
traffic accidents piled up plus the usual and the unusual.  A
murder-suicide and drug overdose are not the usual in this mid sized city.

The emergency crews were over taxed with power lines down and waterlines
beginning to freeze up.  The hospital was being overwhelmed with injuries
not the least self inflicted gun shot wounds.

Jim had discovered his mother and panicked.  He ran down the street seeking
help and managed to get his clothing soaked, between the rain and falling
in several slush piles.  Art called 911 and ran out of the house with no
shoes or coat, he too was in a form of shock.

To make matters worst, from the public safety point of view, the Chief of
Police was away on vacation, the Assistant Chief, one Samantha (Sam) White,
a very short, black woman with and enormous bust line and fairly large
buttocks, a killer smile on her round face, trying to get from the Court
House and District One to the District Two Station-house but without much
success.

The city is divided into two districts one on each side of the lazy river
that splits the city into more or less equal parts.  This is an old place
by North American standards.  Most of the public buildings, the District
Two Station-house in this case, were built in the twenties and thirties.  A
three story brick with wide steps to the now modernized front doors.  In
fact, the inside of the first floor looks not unlike something you might
see in a nineteen fifties cop and robber movie.

Just after Art was brought in by the responding officers a major fire broke
out in the center of the block of stores across the street from the Dist. 2
police station, blocking the street to traffic.  Jim, already huddled in a
corner, wrapped in a blanket, recognized Art when he came in.  Art did not
notice Jim until the officer told him to, "sit over there".  Jim was
feeling quite sorry for himself at this point and not much in the mood to
talk.  Art was in tears and just all shook up, he was not in the mood to
talk either.  They sat almost next to each other for some time in silence,
after nodding recognition.  The room had plenty of noise and activity.  Art
tucked his bare feet under him on the chair to try and keep warm.  After
about 30 minutes Art stopped crying and Jim figured the cops had forgotten
about him and his clothing.

To quote from a famous 50's CBS TV program, "You Are There."  The reader
will just have to imagine the voice of Walter CornKite saying that.  Don't
you just love reading...


1: One Hell of a Mess and Not Getting Better.

Just like the curtain going up in a play, or perhaps stepping into the
District 2 Station house we find Dective Skyler (Sky) Hancock on the
telephone with Assistant Chief Sam White.

"One hell of a mess and not getting better.  Sergeant Monroe and I are the
only duty officers in the Station House," Sky replies.

"Well Skyler, I guess you will just have to use your best judgment and by
the way, thanks for coming in on your time off.  Get their statements
first."

"Ok Sam, I will but they can not stay here."

"All I can say is good luck and please be careful, I don't want anything
more happening to those boys, especially while in our care.  Just tell
Monroe to sit on his rule book and you two do the best you can.  I can't
get across the bridges, neither can the social services staff.  They all
seemed to get trapped on this side this today."

Detective Skyler Hancock hung up the phone and turned to Sergeant Peteer
Monroe.  Sky is a big man, early 40's, just a touch of gray, stands 6' 4",
broad shoulders and just a bit out of shape but not fat at ±200 pounds.
He has large hands, light brown hair and brown eyes.  seems to have a
permanent 5 o'clock shadow.  His hairline is showing signs of receding.
His face is oval, his nose is large, his smile is engaging, his speaking
voice between baritone and bass.

"She said to sit on your rule book, she can't get across the bridge and for
us to do the best we can, Petee."  Skyler said, openening his great coat,
picking up his hat and gloves and approaching the two boys.


They were a rather pathetic looking lot, all he knew at this point was the
outline of what had happened earlier in the day.  Skyler slumped into a
vacant chair across from the boys, dropping his hat and gloves on the chair
beside.

"I'm detective Hancock," Skyler said, extending his hand to Jim.  Jim
looked at him for a split second and then slowly reacted by extending his
right paw, from inside the blanket, limply toward yet another cop.  "Jim
Summerland."

 He shifted slightly in the chair and moved his empty hand toward Art.  Art
reluctantly grasped the officer's hand with a firm shake, "Art Grandie."

Skyler rotated his head slowly.  "You two know each other?"

"We met before," Jim responded, while Art nodded.

"You boys had anything to eat or drink since you been here?"  Skyler knew
how much food teenagers can pack away.  Not that he ever had much to do
with them since he was one himself.  Not that his work had brought him into
much contact with them.  Hell since he did his academy and six months on
the beat he has been mostly in commercial crime.  Skyler is a large man
probably a bit over weight.  You know the type, big boned, heavy set and
just a bit out of shape or perhaps his wife feeds him just a bit to much.
Skyler does not have a wife but he does have a fraternal twin
brother-roommate-lover who is a lot like a wife.  Skyler is not
stereotypical.  He just naturally presents a very masculine image and
demeanor.  That is probably why his sexuality never became an issue when he
started on the force, it was easy being in the closet when no one bothered
to ask.  Sky does not try and hide his sexuality, he just does not go out
of his way to broadcast it either.  Let them think what they think is his
attitude.

It was not all that long ago that the cops in this city were, shall we say,
just a little prejudiced.  Sky's performance and demonstration of policing
skills and over all professionalism help to change that.

Chance, his brother, is a whole different kettle of fish as the common
phrase in these parts would say.  He is a 'flaming queen' as he puts it.
Chance operates several fast food franchises and employes lots of teens.
He is respected by other business men, his clients and most of all his
staff.  Since he just doesn't much care what anyone thinks except Sky,
people have learned to just take him as he is.

Skyler didn't wait for a response from the teens, but stood indicating they
follow him.  He took them back into the squad room for hot drinks, chips
and candy bars.  That's the best he could do on such short notice.  After
they had a few machine hot chocolates, coffee and candy bars and snacks he
led them to the locker room indicating they take hot showers.  He pointed
and handed them towels and soap.  Jim and Art were typical early teens,
modesty shy.  Curious about others but not wanting to openly display that
curiosity.

While the boys got warm, given the amount of steam and the time in the
communal shower they must have been quite cold, Skyler searched for some
clean, dry, clothing.  All he could find were some T-shirts, athletic
socks, boxer shorts and clean coveralls.  He dug out a spare pair of court
shoes from his locker he thought would fit Art.  Jim's shoes were more or
less dry, sitting next to a hot radiator.  The boys finally emerged from
the shower.  Nice young bodies he thought.  They were mostly smooth and
skinny.  Respectable genitals he thought as his trained eye scanned their
lithe forms.

"Here, squeeze into these, its about all I could find."  The boys chuckled
politely, realizing immediately that this was no squeeze, these outfits
would be way too large.  They were, but under these conditions that's about
all one could expect.  "Baggy is in for teenage boys, a fashion statement
these are not," Sky thought.  It was only after they got them on that the
logo and "C.P.D." in white letters became obvious.  "Well now that your
official lets get to work."

Skyler led them up stairs to the main interview room.  Got them more to
drink and handing them witness statement pads and pens.  He ask them to
write out everything they remembered about their specific incidents.  "Just
take your time, go slow and don't be overly concerned about spelling or
grammar, just try and get it as complete as you can."  The head of the
paper had blanks like time, place, date, name and so on.  "I just need to
know everything you remember."

Skyler left them alone to write.  He had some phone calls to make and a
little more information to get from Petee.  While all this was going on the
fire department put the fire out and was busy securing the scene across the
street.  The snow was overwhelming the plows and even the sanding trucks
were getting stuck.  The transit system was almost at a standstill and many
shops were shutting down early or at least trying to.  Petee had been busy
with a thousand things and dozens of phone calls but he and the clerks did
manage to get the initial field reports ready and look up both boys.
"These kids are clean Sky, its a real shame on Christmas and all.  I can't
find any family for them in the city even it we could get them across it,
which we can't but... It appears Grandie has some relatives up state but
that's of no help in the short run....," Petee informed.

"Sam did say we needed to be creative ...  hum I wonder, do the boys over
at the fire hall have any spare bunks?"

"No, already checked, I also checked with the local churches and the men's
shelter down town, same thing, and that's across the river anyway.  Being
so cold and all, I guess there's "no room at the inn", like that other
Christmas.  All three bridges are impassable except for foot traffic and
the way it is snowing ..."

"Chance and I have a guest room empty.  Two more for the dinner party is no
problem ... hum ... hum."  Sky said rubbing his chin.

"Their not stray animals Sky, I mean are you and Chance ready to deal with,
you know, two adolescents who just got hit by that preverbal bus?"

"You got any spare people to stay with them at a hotel, if we could even
find an empty hotel room or two?"

"You got to be joking, spare anything is an oxymoron given our budget cuts,
the cheap bastards..."  Petee often lets his sentences trail off.  "Anyway
no point in reviewing politics at a time like this," Petee thought.

"No, but when has that ever stopped us before."  Petee handed him the
phone.  Sky looked incredulously at him.

"If I brought home two additional house guests, for several days at
Christmas, without telling her ..."  his voice dropped off before he stuck
his foot, a nice size 12, in his mouth.

"It's Ok Pete, Chance is, well Chance, and you are quite right, even if he
wasn't more girl than boy, I should at least inform him."  Skyler called
his brother.  He went on a bit about why he had been called in to work on
his vacation day and how crushing it must be for these two boys until
Chance managed to interrupt.

"Well then we don't have any alternative, you must bring them here to share
our Christmas, now that's an order, this flaming queen will brighten up
their lives for a few days at least."  Sky shrugged his shoulders and
handed the phone back to Petee.  Pete already knew what the answer was but
he asked the question anyway.

"What did he say?"

"My orders are to bring them home before dinner is served."  Sky headed
back into the interview room to check on progress and get things moving,
otherwise they would be late for dinner and for that Sky would be sleeping
on the preverbal sofa.  There were only a few things that would set Chance
off and not being on time for his dinner, at his party, with friends
attending, was one of them.  Since they were babies they had shared a bed
on all but a few nights over their 44 year history.  Offending his beloved
brother was just not going to happen.

Sky was not quite sure how to proceed once in the room.  He did not want to
burden Jim with Art's troubles or Art with Jim's.  On the other hand if
they were to spend the next day or three in each others company and his, it
would come out ... He chose the risk.  Teenagers need the social contact
and support of their peers, Sky knew that.

"All done?"  The boys were sitting silently in the room apparently finished
writing.  Both trying to deal with all the emotions that he could imagine
and probably some he could not even conceive of.  They nodded in agreement.
Sky sat at the end of the table as the boys pushed their pads toward him.
"Under normal conditions and circumstances this kind of statement and
interview would be done by the investigating officers and in private ... I
hope you are not offended by my shortcuts?"

"I'm not in any trouble am I," Jim inquired with a nerviness in his voice.
Art said nothing but was of course more than interested in the answer.  He
had no idea why Jim was here, he only knew he just lived through a murder,
attempted murder and possible suicide.

"No, your not in any trouble, neither is Art.  We just have some deadlines
to make or you two are stuck in the drunk tank for the night."  He did not
need to ask if that prospect was appealing, he knew full well it was not.
Rule book set aside or not the department could not allow two 14 year old
boys to spend the night, a likely very busy one at that, in the drunk tank.
No way.  He scanned the top of the two statement pages.

"Are you two sure you didn't copy each others paper, you know this is not a
geography test?"  Strong no sir's from both.  "Slide down here then."  He
motioned they moved to chairs near his end of the long table, one on each
side.  "Look, you two are both born exactly the same date."

"I guess," was Jim's comment Art just smiled and nodded.

"First time I ever saw this in my 21 years on the force, that's all."  He
chuckled as he continued to scan and make sure everything was properly
covered.  He had a few questions like, what time was that or how
approximate.  All looked more or less in order for the first go.  Sky was
revising his opinion of the school system.  Not perfect but reasonably well
done, he thought.  Sky reached in his pocket and pulled out a coin, turned
to Art and inquired, "Heads or Tails?"

"Heads, why?"

Sky flipped the coin, trapping it unseen on the table top.  "Heads goes
first, that's why."

"First for what?"

"First to tell his story."  He thought Art would faint as all the color
drained from his face.  He didn't.  Having discovered at least one common
point between them, can't be all that bad, Sky thought.

Sky took his hand off the coin, "Tails, so you go first Jim.  Just tell Art
and I what happened to you today from the time you got up."

Jim cleared his throat.  He was not all that sure about all this but he
knew Art a little anyway.  They had just showered together, they had seen
each others nakedness.  They had nothing physical left to hide.  They did
have the same birth date.  He would just have to go for it.

"When the bitch woke me up this morning."  Sky interrupted Jim, at that
point.

"Bitch?"

"Ok, junkie, my mother, is that better?  She woke me up so I would be ready
for her supplier to pick me up.  She was planning on pimping me, selling my
body, for drugs since she didn't have any money to buy them."  Art sat with
his mouth hanging open, he was beginning to think maybe his situation
wasn't as bad as he thought it was.  Sky made some notes on the statement
pad.

"To sell your body, this ever happen before, you know pimping you," Sky
asked.

"No, but she told me he wanted my "sweet ass" more than once, 'said he
liked my dad's so he would like mine'.  This time she told me they had made
a deal.  I was to go with him for the weekend, Christmas weekend, 'it would
do me good to get my ass fucked.'  Write that down with quotation marks,
that's what the bitch said.  The only good that would do is nothing.
Getting a junky drugs does no one any good.  I got dressed all right and
then I departed as fast as my "sweet ass" would move me.  Like I said, on
the paper, we shouted at each other but since she was half out of it on CM,
she was not able to stop me.  I went to the mall and hung around in public,
just in case I needed to yell for help, I saw some friends there."

Jim went on with more details, most of which were already well laid out on
the paper.  Sky asked a few questions.  "I came home about noon, maybe just
a bit before, I don't have a watch, money for drugs was always more
important, and found her on the kitchen floor.  Not breathing, not moving,
not alive.  I freaked out and ran to the corner, looking for a telephone.
That's how I got so wet, the rain and falling down a couple of times."

Sky figured he needed some levity, "Well what I saw in the shower room was
sure nice, wouldn't you say Art, I guess "sweet ass" is an appropriate
description."  He took the pen and pretended to alter the statement.  Art
began to laugh, he did not know why he laughed at first but he did and that
got Sky smiling and that got Jim laughing.  Comic relief, perhaps.  Their
mental images of Jim's nicely shaped butt from any point of view was not so
much funny as it was a delight to behold.  Yes, a sweet ass for sure.

"Just a couple more questions.  First has anyone ever sexually molested
you, ever?"

"No sir.  In fact, I always thought the bitch was kidding when she would
tell me. 'peddling my ass would bring in good money.'  I'm no whore.
Besides the last thing I would do was give her the money to kill herself."
Jim started to cry and snivel big tears.  "She may have been an addict but
she didn't deserve to die, not like that, alone on the kitchen floor.  She
never hurt anyone except herself."  Sky reached around behind him and
pulled a box of tissues down.  "I guess she didn't need it anyway," he
blubbered.  "Oh god what if I'd stayed, maybe she would still be alive?"

"No Jim, your staying would not have changed anything.  The attending
paramedics told me it looks like some bad drugs, they had several other
OD's in the past week linked to some contaminated materials.  If that's the
case then its murder not a simple overdose.  Who's the supplier?"

"She usually got stuff from a guy that was in prison with my dad.  His name
is Odhràn Nolan."

"Ok, I think his street name is Splits but I'm not a Narc.  Listen Art, I
want you to forget you ever heard that name and where it was.  Got it?"

"Got it."

"Jim, how did you know Nolan wasn't in the apartment waiting for you?"

"He drives a slick, black Honda sports car.  I waited, in the rain I might
add, across the street until I saw him drive off.  That's when I went up."

"Anyone with him?"

"No, alone.  He unlocked the car door with his little hand held thing from
the top of the stairs and jumped in."

"Did he see you?"

"Don't know maybe, no eye contact, that's for sure."

"Thanks Jim, I appreciate your candor."  Sky put the pen down and pushed
the paper to one side.  "Do you want to tell us how you feel about what
happened today?"

"Just because my dad is a thief and my mom got hooked on drugs does not
make me a bad person.  I'm a bad person because I failed to protect my
mom."

"No Jim, your not a bad person.  Don't ever say that about yourself again.
Don't think it either.  I think for a 14 year old kid you probably did all
you could.  You carry no guilt for anything your parents, either of them,
ever did."  Sky pointed to a pile of papers.  "I know you tried to get
social services to help your mom several times.  All you can ever do is
what your capabilities and situation allow, you did what you could."

"But mom said it was my fault dad went to prison the second time, he was
trying to support me and had to... and my fault his ex-cellmate got her
hooked on CM."  Jim started to blubber again.  Sky looked in the files he
had about the family and his dad.

"Enough!" Sky boomed.  Pushing the file toward the boy, speaking in his
firm bassblanket "voice of authority".  "Your father was a thief long
before you were even conceived.  He liked prison so much he all but turned
himself in the second time.  See what he said," Sky pointed to the page for
emphasis.  "I was a pretty boy on my first tour and the older men liked my
butt so much they would do almost anything for me.  I have to admit I sure
liked what they were doing too.'  That's part of what he said."  Sky placed
his hand on Jim's shoulder.  "Son he made his own choices.  Just like your
mom made hers.  Just like you made yours.  Don't let anyone put their guilt
or mistakes on you.  You may have been victimized but you are not a victim
unless you want to be."

Jim was still looking at the table and wiping his nose.  Sky looked over at
Art, the pause was pregnant and long.  Art finally got the message.  "Dude,
you got to be about the bravest guy I know and I thought I had problems."
He put his hand across the table.

Jim slowly grasped it and looked up.  "You really think so?"

"Said it didn't I."

Sky had Jim sign the statement and initial the changes and additions he
made.  He got up and went out to see Peteer for a few minutes and refill
the pop and coffee supply.  Petee was on the phone with Chance when Sky
came in.  "Your brother is some kind of guy isn't he," Petee commented.

"I think so, why?"

"That is about the tenth call in the past half an hour."  He handed Sky the
stack of messages.  "Chance said you and the boys should make sure and
follow these instructions on the way home.  I take it he has already begun
to reorganize your and their lives."  The messages when ordered, formed a
list of things to do.  Stop at this store or pick up this or that package.
They were unusually cryptic but clear.  Chance would normally be very
chatty about things, these messages said nothing about what it was he was
to do.  Chance must have been in communication with these shops and places.

"Hum, he is getting just a little to into this perfect party thing," Sky
thought.