Date: Mon, 20 Sep 2004 05:01:02 -0700
From: Mike <thornado5@netscape.net>
Subject: A Thousand Rainbows 10

Welcome back. And a big THANKYEW for all your comments about Chapter 9.
I'm sure we heard the last of Alan Bradley, but that part of the story will
have to wait for another day.  For the moment let's return to the present
and the aftermath of the Bridgewater-Franklin football game, which had a
profound impact on everyone.

So today I offer a triple treat in chapters 10 through 12. In Chapter 10
Bjorn has a chance to reflect on the events of the day, and he'll meet a
new friend.  Chapter 11 will bring another deep conversation with the
family and a rehash of the game, seen through the eyes of the late evening
news. And in Chapter 12 Brian and Bjorn spend some quality time together.

This story deals with adult themes, primarily same-gender sexual
relations. Such relations have their basis in love and commitment, rather
than sex for the sake of sex alone. In some cases they will use protection;
at other times they will not. You and I should always use protection
because we do not live in the world of fiction.

If you are offended the idea of homosexuality or if you are under the age
of consent or if you reside in an area where such things are considered
illegal or immoral, then you should seek entertainment elsewhere.

Comments may be directed to the author at thornado5@netscape.net

This story is copyright 2004 by Mike Williams. All rights reserved. Thou
shalt not steal.

-0-

A Thousand Rainbows
by Mike Williams

- 10 -

After leaving Mustang Field they drove straight to their studio where Bjorn
would develop their rolls of film. It would be a rush job if the pictures
were to be of any use to the media and the police.

Bjorn leaned across the minivan for a kiss from his partner. "I love you,
Brian." Then he turned to the twins seated behind him. "And I love you guys
too."

Not the light-hearted sound usually heard in the family, Bjorn's words were
serious, a statement of undeniable fact. The boys could read a loving smile
in his eyes, even though his expression was somber.

He turned back to Brian. "Will you be alright?"

"Yeah, we'll be fine. How about you?" Brian replied; Bjorn only nodded.
"Call me when you're ready to come home."

"I will." And Bjorn was out of the vehicle. He let himself in by the side
entrance and went straight to work in the darkroom.

He hadn't been ten minutes into the processing when the telephone rang.
The police usually turned to Brian and Bjorn when they needed photos of
important cases, knowing that either of them would have a camera at the
scene of any community activity. Bjorn recognized the voice as that of
Sgt. Chuck Engel, a veteran of the Sheriff's Office who worked closely with
the District Attorney's office. "I should have the prints ready in about an
hour, Chuck. Tell the deputy to come to the side door. Always glad to
help." He ended the call and went back to work.

But the images of Alan Bradley and Paul Miller ... both on film and in his
mind ... made it difficult to concentrate. Twice he heard the chime of the
processing timer and had to shake himself back to reality.

As he hung the prints to dry, Bjorn saw that he had captured the violence
of the afternoon's events with unmistakable clarity. The telephoto lens had
allowed him an up-close view that only those closest to the action would
have seen. It turned his stomach to see such a display of anger. As a
freelance photographer, it was his job to be where the opportunities
were. He had seen his share of gore; it was a hazard that came with the
job. But he had resolved long ago that he would never let it get to the
point that he felt nothing over it. Even if he got used to it, he would
always feel something.

The doorbell rang just as he was taking the prints from the drying rack.
Bjorn switched on the lights and walked down the hall to open the door for
the detective.  It was a Bridgewater sheriff's deputy, one whom Bjorn
didn't recognize, but who appeared young enough that he must have just
recently graduated from the police academy. Bjorn guessed he was in his mid
20's, with close-cropped brown hair and deep brown eyes.

"Uh, Mr. Larkin?" he stammered. "I'm Deputy Sean Ludwig, Bridgewater
Sheriff's Office.  Sgt. Engel asked me to come by and pick up some
photographs for a case he's working on."

Bjorn offered his hand and invited the officer inside. "Come in, Deputy.
I'm just about finished." And he led the way back to the darkroom. "I don't
recall meeting you before. You new to the area?"

"Yes, sir," the officer replied. "Just joined the department last month.
Moved here from Southern California."

"Well, I think you'll find Bridgewater a nice friendly town," Bjorn
said. "But what would make you choose this little wide spot in the road?"

Sean thought about it for a moment. "Well, I did hear there's good hunting
and fishing around here. My dad and I used to come up here on fishing trips
when I was a kid. I caught my first fish in Lake Monroe, and I've wanted to
come back ever since then."

"Funny you should mention Lake Monroe," Bjorn mused. "We take our kids
camping there every summer. We're terrible fishermen, so you could probably
teach us a thing or two.  Mostly we go there for the peace and quiet."

"You and your wife?" Sean inquired.

"Me and my boyfriend," Bjorn replied matter-of-factly. "We're a committed
couple. We've been together since high school."

Sean hung his head for a moment, then looked up at Bjorn. "I'm sorry; I
didn't mean to pry, but I had to be sure."

"Not a problem; our relationship is no secret." Bjorn regarded the deputy
for a moment, then smiled. "Sgt. Engel didn't send you to pick up these
photos. Did he ... Deputy?"

"It's Sean ... and I volunteered to pick them up ... sir," Sean returned
the smile.

"It's Bjorn. I know Sgt. Engel doesn't approve of our lifestyle, but it's
none of his business," Bjorn said as he gathered the photographs. "So
what's the real reason you chose Bridgewater?"

Sean sighed and looked off into space. "Good relationship gone bad. I met a
terrific guy while I was at the academy. We got our first assignments in
adjoining towns, and moved in together. But he had a job on the side,
selling dope. Undercover officers were making buys right in our living
room. Then one night the narc squad busted the door down right in the
middle of a romantic candle-lit dinner ... outed and busted at the same
time."

"I'm sorry," Bjorn sympathized.

"I was cleared by Internal Affairs," Sean continued. "But the department
and the police union agreed that a gay cop ... with close ties to a
convicted drug dealer ... wouldn't look good. So they urged me to seek
employment elsewhere. No pressure.  Actually, they were all very supportive
through the whole thing, and there's no black mark on my record. So I guess
I'm in Bridgewater to pick up the pieces and start over again.  Forget
about love for a while. But I meant what I said about the hunting and
fishing too."

"Don't give up so easily, Sean. Maybe you'll meet the man of your dreams
right here in Bridgewater." Bjorn said. "Now, here's the photos for
Sgt. Engel. There are two envelopes, the first with the shots of the
Franklin coach assaulting the quarterback. Have you heard how the kid's
doing?"

Sean sighed. "No word from the hospital yet. Last report I got said they
just rushed him into surgery. What's in the second envelope?"

"Oh, the other envelope contains pictures of some Franklin fullback
assaulting the Bridgewater quarterback Paul Miller at the end of the
game. That's just in case someone wants to press charges." Bjorn was silent
for a moment. "Christ, it's just a game."

Sean was quick to console Bjorn. "One really important lesson we learn in
cop school is that a cartoon is the only place where you can drop an anvil
on someone's head, and they'll just get up and walk away. Between the
terrorists on one side and the wackos on the other, we've got to keep our
guard up. And we have to prepare ourselves and our young people to witness
things no one should have to see, in spite of everything we see in the
movies and on TV. I'm not sure I'll ever get used to it. But, as a police
officer, I can assure you: If a crime has been committed, we'll get him."

"Our kids ... Brian and I have two boys ... twins ... they really admire
Paul. We didn't have a chance to talk about it after the game. But it's
important to them ...  and to us, as parents ...  that bullies don't get
away with shit like that." Bjorn's eyes misted over. "Well, I've taken
enough of your time, Sean. I'm sure Sgt. Engel is expecting you back with
the photos. Got any plans for Thanksgiving?"

"If I'm not on duty, it'll be a microwave turkey dinner in front of the TV,
watching a football game."

"Oh, wrong answer, man. If you're not on duty, you'll be at our house for
turkey dinner with all the trimmings, Brian's world-famous apple pie,
football game on TV and a concert by two of Bridgewater's finest
up-and-coming composers."

"How could I refuse?" Sean's face broke into a wide grin. "Thank you, Bjorn
... for everything. I'm looking forward to meeting your family."

"Oh, almost forgot ... we'll also be dining with the boys' mother. She and
her husband and their son are coming up from San Diego for a little
vacation. It'll be a full house, so consider yourself warned. I think
you'll find this family just a little unconventional." Bjorn offered his
hand again to the officer as they left the darkroom and walked to the door.

"Unconventional sounds good. Thanks again, Bjorn." Sean paused, "If you
don't mind my asking, how did your parents come by that name?"

"Long story, but I'll be sure to put that on the menu too. Take care,
Sean." Bjorn smiled as he let the policeman out and walked back to his
office to call home.

-0-

to be continued in Chapter 11