Chapter 28
Life is nothing if not full of irony.
For two lifetimes I had been a part of the Democratic Party as an adult. Yet, here I was in Dallas, Texas at the 1984 Republican National Convention. While I stood on a balcony high up over Dallas, looking at the crowd of protestors and other people near the convention center, I took a deep breath of the far-too-warm air and reflected on how similar and yet different things were.
Vanessa Williams had relinquished her crown last month because of her nude photos in Penthouse. In Jackson, Mississippi, the first human being was killed by a robot in some factory, and in San Ysidrio, James Huberty had, for the third time in my memory, sprayed down a McDonalds with gunfire, killing twenty-one people before being shot dead. All these things had happened in previous time-lines.
This time around, though, I’d been there at the Opening Day of the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. I’d been standing next to President Reagan when the torch was lit and watched him speak from a seat next to Nancy. Like previous time-lines, the Soviets had boycotted this Olympics, but my presence there, where the cameras had focused on me several times (after all, I had to admit I was a somewhat handsome, blond-headed, blue-eyed American teenager, just the stuff television directors salivated over when it came time to be ‘patriotic’) had also been a message to the enemies of the United States. I was here, I was next to the President, and we were watching them as surely as they were watching us.
Naturally, Dad had been there as well, and he’d managed to make the most of the situation, something I had long since come to expect. He’d easily won the Republican primary for a seat in the Nevada Legislature. His opponent was losing ground every day, and the sight of someone most people in the District knew sitting next to the President was giving him a lot of support he might not otherwise get from a district that was classically rural Democrat. That had also gotten Dad a ticket as a Nevada Delegate to what was turning out to be the most contested Convention (of either party) in living memory.
Somewhere in the Loew’s Anatole Hotel, Dad was currently meeting with several key delegates from four neighboring states, doing politicking as if he’d been born to the work. In a way, maybe he had. He’d been a decent preacher before, but he had a knack, an instinct when it came to the gentle nudges and pushes needed in this type of work. Even without the favor of Presidential friendship, he’d already been marked out by Republican leaders in Nevada as part of the future leadership for that state. Now he’d taken the bit and made his first steps into adjusting the course of a nation.
Of course he’d never admit that he took a lot of advice from his son who had far more experience at doing that very thing.
“Dude, it’s way too fucking hot out here.” David’s voice snapped me out of my reverie and I turned back to look at him. He was wearing nothing but an old pair of practice baseball pants, bleached white way too many times and was his favorite form of pajamas. He’d all but begged me to get Dad to bring him along. He’d rarely been out of town, much less to a city as big as Dallas or anything nearly as big as this convention was turning out to be. I was wearing a pair of nylon running shorts and a t-shirt that was clinging to me with the sweat the late-night heat had caused.
“Yeah, it is a little warm.” I admitted with a shrug and turned to head back into the room. The icy chill of the air-conditioned room caused goose bumps to form on my arms and my nipples to stand out through my t-shirt. “What time is it?”
“Almost midnight now.” David said with a shrug as he closed the sliding glass door. Like every room on this level of the hotel, the room we were sharing was richly decorated. The fact that we were on the same floor as the President himself had caused David to nearly faint when we’d first checked in two days ago. Now he seemed almost use to the constant presence of the Secret Service whenever he went out into the hallway, and to the way they followed us wherever we went. I wasn’t sure if he knew they were assigned to me or not, but he’d made few trips away from my side except here on the floor where they were stationed every few feet. I sat down in a far-too-ornate chair and picked up the remote from the nearby table to turn up the sound. David let out an exasperated sigh and flopped down on the bed to pick up a newspaper’s sport’s section he must have read three times already.
“…tension is palpable in every part of the Convention Center as delegates continue to meet and try to persuade each other.” Some female news reporter was saying as I turned up the volume. She looked like she was in the back recesses of the delegate seating area and a few dozen people could be seen milling around in distinct groups. The entry of Jerry Falwell into the race had thrown things into disarray. With his Moral Majority group, he’d managed to actually win just enough states to keep either President Reagan, or Vice-President Bush from achieving a majority of the voting delegates for the convention.
The first balloting had resulted in no one achieving the necessary majority. The second balloting earlier tonight had actually seen him siphon off nearly fifty votes from the Vice-President, and a dozen from the President. Now that all the delegates had been released to vote their conscience instead of how their state voted, pure pandemonium was taking place as each of the candidates sent out supporters to gather in more votes as well as securing those who had already voted for them. With a heavy sigh, I turned off the television, realizing I was likely to hear any real news long before the reporters did.
“Thank god.” David said with a sigh as the television turned black. He looked up at me with a smile as I looked in his direction.
“So who’s going to win the World Series?” I asked him and he laughed.
“Um, like you’d know that already, wouldn’t you?” David quipped and I felt the sudden urge to throw a pillow. Despite the fact that I’d spent most of the spring setting up a command operation for the CSASOP (Central & South American Special Operations, most often pronounced SEESAYSOP), David, Derek, Sam, Julie, and a few other friends had managed to show up every Saturday. After a month, Trevor and Brandon had begun showing up, and I’d noticed Brandon taking several long walks with Sean. By the time school let out, Sean had let me know with a hint of sympathy for me, that Brandon and he was a couple again.
I had only seen Brian twice since that day a riot in Brazil involving crew members from a US Destroyer had pulled me out of school. Both times he had been civil, but a little standoffish. Once summer began, though, David began spending a lot more time at the base, even staying overnight several nights a week and providing a relief valve of sorts from the responsibilities of the work I was doing. Whether it was playing catch, seeing a movie at the new base theater, or shooting hoops, and on a very few special occasions we had gone dirt bike riding up in the nearby foothills, he had managed to help me relieve a lot of tension, and to remember that I was physically a teenager, not an adult.
Only a fool would have missed the way he looked at me every now and then, like he was now. There was a desire there, that to be honest I that I wanted to return on occasion. It wasn’t just a physical desire, but a little deeper as well. Despite the fact that I shared his desire, and I knew now that my Brian was gone, never to return, I hadn’t let anything happen.
Stage One of the newest incarnation of Project Do Over was going well, and Sean had made good progress in outlining what technology we could use, and what would need to be developed to create another time machine. Once that machine was built, this time-line would cease to exist. What was the use of beginning a new relationship that would cease to exist in a few years?
A pillow hitting me in the face snapped me out of that reverie and I glared at him in outrage while David rolled on the bed laughing. His laughter goaded me and the pillow just wasn’t enough. With a roar, I lunged across the room and landed on top of him. David was ticklish, I knew, and before he could do anything like throw me off I began to tickle his sides mercilessly. After a few seconds, I was laughing as hard as he was and that gave him just the chance he was waiting for.
“Argh!” David yelped as he bucked and managed to throw me over on my side. Not wasting the opportunity he straddled me and reminded me that I was just as ticklish as he was. The major difference was that his tickling caused me to giggle, and squirm instead of laugh and go limp like he did. As I squirmed, he tried to use his legs to keep me from escaping and I kept rubbing against the scratchy material of his pants. Soon enough, despite the fact that I was on the verge of hiccupping, I felt a reaction building inside my shorts. David must have felt it too, because the tickling subsided. I started to move my hands to push him off of me, but he caught them in a tight grip and pinned them on the bed above my head.
That move spread him out so he was now lying on top of me, and I could feel his own reaction to my growing erection through his pants. All conscience thought fled my mind as his face hovered just above mine. His warm, sweet breath floated onto my face and despite myself I let out a low groan. That elicited a smile from him and I tried to buck him off of me.
Oh, that was a mistake all right.
All it did was cause our erections to rub against each other, and this time we both let out a groan and David closed his eyes. “David.” My voice was husky, and I cleared my throat to get it to be more normal. “David…we shouldn’t.”
“Shut up, Davey Jones.” David said as he lowered his head just enough to touch his lips to mine. It wasn’t a chaste or hesitant kiss. David knew what he was doing as his lips touched against mine and his tongue darted out to tease mine. Everything adult about me left me at that moment and I gave in to the tingly feeling his lips were generating in mine. His weight shifted as I opened my lips a bit and his tongue entered my mouth, seeking out my tongue.
Of course David wasn’t inexperienced. Both he and Sam had made it plain they’d messed around with each other. Still, this was the first time I’d ever kissed anyone besides my Brian in over twenty years, and by the time David broke the kiss and bent his head back a few inches so he could look in my face, I accepted the fact that I wanted this, I wanted David.
“Was that so…” David started to say but he got no further as I broke free from his grasp, grabbed his waist and flipped us so that I was on top and he was on bottom. He had a look of pure surprise on his face, but I gave him no time to react before attacking his neck with a ferocity that shocked me as much as him. A low guttural growl escaped from his throat, only fueling me on to a more voracious attack on his neck, and his hips began to buck and grind into me. With a growl of my own, I let up my attack on his neck long enough to switch to the left side of neck and simultaneously rub my right hand over his crotch. This time he started bucking violently, and soon enough I felt a wet sticky substance forming in his pants and he was gasping, almost sobbing while his right arm curled around my neck and pulled me into him.
“Don’t go to sleep yet.” I warned him softly, still rubbing his crotch. He hadn’t started to go soft at all, and he was soon enough gasping in pleasure. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us…”
The feeling of David curled up to me was different, yet similar to what I’d had with Brian. His body was warm against my left side as we lay in my bed. The bed he’d slept in the previous nights here was well-rumpled, and even hours later the room still smelled like the prolonged sex we’d enjoyed earlier. I knew that on the other side of the closed curtains, the sky would be lightening with pre-dawn.
I’d woken a few minutes ago by David moving in his sleep, snuggling up closer to me. Unlike Brian, he was shorter than me, and much slimmer in build. Brian had always been almost exactly the same height as me, and much closer in build so being with David had been different from the experiences I’d had with my husband in the last time-line. It wasn’t a bad difference, just not the same.
We’d also gone a lot further in one night than I’d done with Brian. Just remembering how easily I’d slid into David last night caused a stirring in my groin and a smile on my face. To my surprise, I’d felt no guilt over having sex with David. My Brian was long gone, and I knew that not just intellectually but in my heart as well. The question of ‘did I love David the way I had Brian’ was something that I knew I’d mull over for a long while. I liked him, he was a damn good friend, but he didn’t generate the love and passion that I’d gotten from merely being in the same room with my Brian. Still, I’d look forward to many more mornings of waking up next to this guy.
A loud knock at the door caused me to jerk slightly. David lifted his head up sleepily from the crook of my arm, and groaned as I got out of bed and begun to hunt for the skimpy nylon shorts I’d been wearing the night before. By the time I’d found them and put them on, the person at the door had knocked again causing David to pull a pillow over his head. The gesture was so cute that I chuckled to myself as I went to open the door.
“The President has requested you join him in the war room.” A young female Secret Service agent said after I’d opened the door.
“Okay, give me fifteen minutes, please.” I responded and she nodded shortly while I shut the door. The request wasn’t surprising, nor was it entirely expected. The President had been far too busy so far for me to spend much time with him. There wasn’t much I could do to help him in his fight to secure the Republican nomination. As I got ready to take a quick shower, David poked his head out long enough for me to tell him where I was going. He just groaned before pulling the pillow back over his head and going back to sleep.
David was still asleep as I exited the bathroom and began to get dressed by the light spilling out into the room from the partially open bathroom door. Fortunately my suits were all hanging up near the bathroom, as were my shirts with the ties already tied. Well within the fifteen minutes I’d told the Secret Service agent I’d need, I was fully dressed and ready to head out. Before I left, though, I took a moment to look at David still lying in bed. He was sprawled out under the covers, and he was hugging my pillow to him. Carefully, so as not to wake him, I kissed his forehead before heading out.
He still smelled like a night of sex, and it was intoxicating to breath it in as I bent over him. I knew as I left the room that I should be thinking about the President’s crisis, or at least the ones I was involved in at the moment, but David occupied a good portion of my thoughts as I followed the female agent down the hallway to the Presidential Suite. While she led me into one of the rooms that had been set up as a meeting room, it took a great deal of effort to turn my thoughts from David to the business at hand.
“David!” The President’s voice was slightly cheerful, but the circles under his eyes and the slight shaking of his hand as he clasped mine told me he had been up all night and was nearing total exhaustion. “I trust you got some rest last night?”
“Yes, Mr. President.” I said with a wry grin. “I think I got more than you have in the past few days.”
“Most likely that’s correct.” The President said and motioned to the unoccupied chair across from the one he’d been using. The room was arranged with three chairs in a semi-circle, a round coffee table in the middle and round side-tables near each of the comfortable armchairs. A steward entered just as I accepted the President’s invitation and sat down. He set a cup of coffee, prepared to my liking, on the small table at my right side while I scanned the platter of pastries on the coffee table before choosing a chocolate croissant.
“Should you be eating chocolate?” My father asked me with a teasing tone. I gave him a slight frown before biting into my croissant and he chuckled softly. He looked as tired as the President and his suit was rumpled, which meant he’d come directly here after his late-night meetings.
“I’m surprised you left me any.” I retorted with a look at his stomach. Sure, he’d slimmed down a lot compared to previous timelines, but he still had a gut on him.
“I didn’t give him a choice.” The President joked and we all shared a chuckle as I washed down the bite of food with some coffee. As usual, the staff had a superb coffee prepared with just the right amount of cream and Sweet&Low (my maternal grandmother, God rest her soul, had gotten me hooked on that stuff in all three timelines). “Shall we get down to business?”
“Yes, Mr. President.” Dad said as he leaned forward in his seat, raised a hand and began to tick off points on his fingers. “First off, we still have the Nevada and California delegations fully locked down. Arizona is swinging back in our direction and are voting as a block. Oregon’s delegation leader released his people to vote separately and we’re picking up about half. Washington and Idaho are still swinging away from us but are split between Bush and Falwell. The really bad news comes from Wyoming . I have a friend in that delegation who is warning me that Falwell is seriously considering accepting an offer to be the Bush VP nominee.”
“Bush doesn’t like it at all.” I said with some surprise. “Has there been any word that Bush is prepared to offer that?”
“It’s Falwell putting out the feelers here, not Bush.” Dad said with a sigh as he leaned back in his chair. “The problem is that if Bush accepts the feelers, we’re going to be in big trouble. So long as they both keep the majority of their supporters, the combination of the two will give them a clear majority.”
“Who would have ever thought I’d be on the verge of being outmaneuvered because I’m too liberal.” President Reagan murmured with a frown at the irony of the situation. His closing of the AIDS Quarantine Centers had been the beginning of the current major conservative revolt against him. The Bush aspect had begun years ago, after the President had announced his intention to dump the Vice-President for his involvement in my kidnapping and torture. “You know, David, my advisors thought I was crazy for giving you such an important task as this, but having a minister out there fighting fire with fire has been exactly what was needed.”
“Anything to keep Falwell out of the White House.” Dad said with a shudder. Fortunately the President used different tones of voice when saying my father’s name and mine. I wished he’d unbend a little and use the more familiar form of address with me, Davey, but he still insisted on the more formal name. “I’m still not sure how much good I’m doing overall. Many people remember that incident with the rock in San Francisco and either think I’m nuts or too soft.“
“Then you’re perfect for representing me!” The President chuckled softly. “Those are the terms I’m hearing most often to describe myself!”
I recognized what both of them were doing with this cute little side-chatter. There was something they both wanted to say, and most likely it involved me in some way, but they were nervous and tap-dancing around before having to lay it on the table. As the two older men continued to make comparisons between various Republican officials who were jockeying for power amongst the top three Presidential candidates, I drank some more coffee and tried to examine exactly why I might be here.
“You want to approach the Vice-President and cut a deal.” I stated flatly when they had fallen quiet and started to take sips of their coffee. Dad almost spluttered, but caught himself in time while the President smiled over his cup rim.
“You see, David?” The President said to my father. “I told you he’d figure it out before we got up the nerve to suggest it to him.”
“That’s another five dollars I owe you, Mr. President.” Dad said with a sigh as fake as Jerry Falwell’s humility.
“Actually David, I’ve already had my aides approach the Vice-President’s staff.” The President said calmly and his eyes crinkled a little as he scowled. “George flat-out said he had no intention of backing out or playing second-seat fiddler to me anymore.”
“Then you want to know if I can think of anything that will change his mind.” I concluded and both men nodded. With a sigh, I leaned back in the armchair and stared at my coffee, thinking things through several times before looking back up at them. Both were looking at me patiently waiting for me to speak.
“I think George has always harbored the dream of a political dynasty.” The President said in the silence that had filled the room while I thought about things from various angles. “One of the reasons he committed to being my Vice-President was that he would have a strong base to use for his own race after I was termed out. Added to his own base of business interests, that would allow him an almost-certain victory. I know he’s mentioned his own sons running for office eventually and I’d imagine he’s hoping they’ll one day follow him into the White House.”
“A dream that came true at least once.” I commented softly, mulling over the President’s words while he reacted to that snippet of information. In this timeline, I’d furiously guarded the outcome of future political events .
“Telling him that just might make a difference.” President Reagan said softly but firmly and I met his eyes to see how resolute he was. “He’s hit me pretty hard in the primary campaign, but if he chooses to accept my proposal, we can wash over that. I’ll even give him enough oversight roles that he’ll be busy and have a real involvement again in governance. When the time comes, I’ll even commit to endorsing him, but you know he’s going to want certain…reassurances from you.”
“That and strategy, intel against his opponents and stuff like that.” I said with a sigh of regret. No, I didn’t want to give Bush these things, but it was probably the only way to ensure another four years of a Reagan Presidency. As much as I’d supported Democratic causes before, I didn’t want to contemplate a Mondale Presidency. It was too bad that Bill Clinton couldn’t be drafted a few years earlier than in previous timelines, but then again I wasn’t sure how good he’d be against communism and the threats we faced in this timeline. Still, either of those options would be better than a Bush/Falwell ticket in the White House.
“Yes, David, he’ll expect you to give that information now, or very soon from now.” The President agreed. “I won’t order you to give it to him.”
“Thank you sir, but I’ll do it.” I said with another sigh, this one heavy and loud. “I know it’s for the best in the long run.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” The President said and turned to my father. “David, why don’t you go make the arrangements for you to meet with the Vice-President and for your son to tag along?”
“Yes, Mr. President.” Dad said firmly and got to his feet. Before leaving though, he gave me a nod and then headed out of the room. The President made no move to rise, nor did he say anything for a long moment as he picked up his cup of coffee and took a few sips. He was studying me carefully during those few minutes and I busied myself with my own coffee.
“Any progress worth reporting in the last few weeks?” The President asked, as the silence grew oppressive. He didn’t have to be more specific ; there was only one project we talked about like this.
“Sean has completed identifying what equipment is currently capable of being produced, what we have to wait a year or two for, and what he will have to ‘discover’ and get produced.” I said softly, looking at my coffee instead of meeting his eyes. He’s picked Mr. Rush, my friend Trevor’s father, the nuclear physicist who defected from the Soviet Union, to head up the physics work we’ll need. I’ll need your permission for him to be brought into the program, fully.”
“Do you trust this man?” The President asked and I met his eyes briefly.
“I trust him the same as I trust Sean.” I replied honestly. “In fact, I want to bring Mrs. Rush into the program on the administrative side. She can do the work, and her loyalty is as strong as anyone else I know.”
“Bring them both into the program at a salary level you feel is appropriate.” The President ordered and I nodded before looking back down at my coffee.
“I’ve also finished sketching out plans for the underground bunker.” I continued. “There’s an architect in the base’s staff who will draw them up into a full plan for me. During the new construction as we expand the base into a command and training center for the South American operations, we’ll have a Navy Seabee crew finish the section. There’ll only be one access, and the power requirements will be met by the new power plant we’ll be building. It’ll feed directly to the Do Over section and be very hard to detect or cut. We’ll need that power during testing and any actual Do Over you might order.”
“How many people total will know about this secret facility?” The President asked me and I did some quick mental math.
“About twenty people will know the facility exists, where it actually is located and the layout of the place.” I answered carefully. “Including yourself, the four congressmen, Sean and I, there will be another sixteen people who know about the project. Another fifty to one hundred will know something about it from supply orders, electrical repair, and the like. Double that on the base might hear rumors, but have nothing concrete.”
“Then it should stay fairly secret.” The President said with confidence. “What about the safeguards I asked for?”
“Sean and I agree that they shouldn’t be a problem to implement.” I answered cautiously while meeting his eyes directly. To say that I hated lying would be an understatement, but sometimes it was necessary and I’d long since learned to do it quite well as an adult in my last lifetime. “We’ll have a control circuit inserted that requires codes similar to the nuclear launch codes and can be incorporated into the Football. The same procedures can be implemented except these will only require Presidential authorization, not like the two-man rule from nuclear weapons launch.”
“That sounds like it will work.” The President nodded as he spoke, obviously happy with my response. What he didn’t know was something that would stay secret between Sean and I. “Have either you or Sean changed your minds about being the person to go back again, if it’s necessary?”
“No, sir.” I answered honestly. “Both of us are tired of time travel. We’d both prefer not to go through adolescence again. It is my opinion that choosing someone who will be an adult, even a young adult, at the time they travel back would be better for all involved.”
“Then that’s what we’ll plan for.” The President agreed solemnly. “I’ll start looking for a candidate I can trust.”
“Thank you, sir.” I said and we sipped our coffee for a few minutes in total silence.
“How is your relationship with your mother progressing?” He asked me after that silence had become too long.
“Poorly.” I answered with a shrug. “She still blames me for Nanny’s death, and the others. Uncle Phil’s been working on her, trying to get her to see reason but she keeps insisting he doesn’t know the full picture. Uncle Billy knows the gist of things, of course, but she won’t listen to him either. She’s convinced it’s my ‘perversion’ that caused the deaths. What’s more, she’s pretty much isolated me from Jenny. If my sister even talks to me except at formal events where we have to put an image of the happy family, Mom harasses her like mad.”
“I could have Nancy try talking to her again.” The President offered and I let out a bark of almost-hysterical laughter.
“Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to put the First Lady on Mom’s hit list.” I told him and he chuckled. “That would be one battle of wills that I would want to have nothing to do with at all.”
“I think you’re right, David.” The President chuckled. “I saw that television interview your mom did with that Reno station. She tore that poor reporter apart. I swear that was one of the few times I have ever felt truly sorry for a reporter.”
A knock at the door halted our conversation as Dad returned to the room and took a seat. He looked even more tired than when he’d left, but there was a small smile on his face that told me what he had to say. Both the President and I waited patiently while Dad took a sip of the coffee he’d left behind earlier.
“They agreed to meet with Davey and I after the afternoon balloting.” Dad said succinctly after he took a sip.
“So they’re going to wait to see how many votes they pick up.” The President summed up why they had scheduled the meeting so late in the day.
“Yes, and most likely they’ll be meeting with Falwell’s people this morning.” Dad added with a frown. Right after saying that, he let out a big yawn.
“You’ve done a good job for me, and I appreciate it.” The President told my father. “Why don’t you go ahead and get yourself some rest. I have meetings this morning on government business. The campaign staff has scheduled a pre-balloting meeting right after lunch. Get some sleep and we’ll see you at the meeting.”
“Thank you, Mr. President.” Dad said as he rose to his feet. He turned to me before walking out of the room. “Son, I’ll see you later this afternoon.”
“Sure thing, Dad.” I said with a nod. As he walked out of the room, my eyes followed him and wondered at how different of a man he was in this timeline than any other. Here was a man who I could respect as a father, not someone who stood in my way and who I had to face down, but rather someone I could love and support. Despite all the things that were oh so messed up in this timeline, this was something I would cherish.
“Your father has very quickly become quite an adept player at politics.” The President observed softly. “I’m going to be appointing him to the RNC if we manage to pull this off.”
“Being a preacher is all about politics.” I remarked, earning myself another chuckle. Another knock at the door resulted in a Secret Service agent poking his head into the room and reminding the President that his next meeting was in five minutes. Ronald Reagan acknowledged the warning and turned back to me once the door was shut.
“David, I’ll need you for the eleven o’clock with the Republican Congressional Leadership group.” He warned me. “Then I want you and your father to stay after the campaign staff meeting. We’ll go over what exactly I’ll be willing to offer George to give up his campaign for four years.”
“Yes, Mr. President.” I replied quickly. “I’ll be there.”
“Good.” He said with a nod as he got to his feet. I also rose as he took a few steps to stand in front of me and place a hand on his shoulder. “I know I told you that those responsible for what was done to you would pay…”
“It’s fine, Mr. President.” I cut him off as politely as I could. “I know you’d rather not do this, but for the sake of the country it’s necessary and the sacrifices I’ve made, and others have made, are far too great to let a little kidnapping and torture stand in the way.”
“You always have a way with words.” The President smiled as he clapped my shoulder briefly before leaving. A few moments, and deep breaths later, I followed him into the main room of the suite and then out another door, back into the hallway that led to my room.
“You’re back!” David’s voice was a little surprised as I walked into the room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed we’d slept in, watching some news program on the television. As the door closed behind me, I couldn’t help but smirk as I saw what he was wearing. David was dressed in nothing but the skin-tight baseball pants he’d been wearing last night, and there was a broad yellow stain on the front of them from where he’d come in them last night. He noticed where my eyes were staring and let a bashful smile come over his face.
“I’d think you’d pick something besides those dirty pants to wear.” I teased him as I crossed the room and came to a halt, right next to the bed. I was staring down into his eyes now, and was surprised at how much…happiness was in them.
“Are you kidding?” He asked me in a voice that was almost husky. “These are my lucky pants. I’m never going to wash them now.”
“You are so sappy.” I teased him as I leaned down and kissed him very softly on the lips. What started as a gentle kiss quickly turned into something more as his arms came up and wrapped around my neck while his tongue invaded my mouth. When he flexed his arms a bit, and pulled me down to the bed with him, I didn’t bother resisting. Instead I let myself come to rest on top of his slender body, and my own hands began to run through his hair.
“Thank you, God.” He breathed huskily as we ended our kiss a few minutes later. That made me curious and I looked into his eyes.
“What for?” I wondered.
“I was half-worried you’d be upset about last night.” David said with a slight frown. “I know how much…how much your last love meant and I was worried that you’d be upset about me…”
“Shush.” I told him, dipping my head a bit to nip at his nose with my teeth. “That man, the one I loved, he’s dead. I don’t think of you as a replacement or a betrayal of him. You’ve been a good friend, and I’ve known you wanted this for a while now and I… well let’s just say I’m ready to move on now and I can’t imagine doing that with anyone but you.”
“I love you too, Davey.” David said as he lifted his head off the bed so his mouth could claim mine.
Later, I’d worry about how I really hadn’t said that I loved him, but David’s hands reaching into my pants and grasping my erection chased all thoughts from my head. It really had been a long time since I’d done this with anyone, and David most certainly wasn’t a neophyte at it either. My own hands mimicked his as I unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, releasing his erection.
Oh yeah, it had been far too long.
Sex with David was different than what I’d been use to with Brian for all those years we were together. As I moved to stand up again and stripped the stained white pants off of him, and then began to remove the suit I’d worn to my meeting with the President, I smiled down at his slender body and reflected on how handsome he was in his own right. When he took my cock into his mouth and began to swirl his tongue around the head, all thought left my head and I let out a moan of pleasure.
Later, he was settled on top of the bed, his head buried in a pillow, his butt in the air, and with me plowing into him, the room was filled with our grunts and moans. His butt muscles tightened slightly, warning me he was getting close and I reached around to bring him to his climax. As his cock and entire body shuddered with his release, I felt my own orgasm begin and lost myself in the sensations. After I’d collapsed on top of him, my softening cock still buried in his ass I started to place gentle kisses on his back, between his shoulder blades.
“Oh God that was so good.” David murmured.
“Yes it was, love.” I whispered back to him as tears came to my eyes. What he didn’t know, and I’d never tell him, was that at that moment, I was remembering similar moments from my last life, and my last love. What he made of the wet splash of my tears on his back, I didn’t have the guts to ask.
“Mr. Jones, it’s a pleasure to meet you at last.” The Vice President of the United States of America said as the Secret Service led us into a sitting room not too dissimilar from the one we’d met with President Reagan in earlier this morning. He was alone for this meeting, something that was both surprising and unsurprising at the same time. Dad easily crossed the room as the Agent shut the door behind us, and shook the hand of George Herbert Walker Bush. Then it was my turn as the man faced me and held out his hand. “It’s also good to meet you as well, young David Jones.”
“Mr. Vice-President.” I said with a nod of my head as I slowly took his hand and shook it carefully. His grip was firm and he released my hand very quickly. He motioned us to take two comfortable seats that faced his at an angle. We took the seats, sitting a fraction of a second after him. Like him, we were dressed in suits (mine being a different suit than the one I’d worn this morning). Unlike this morning, there was no coffee or other refreshments.
“I assume the President has sent you here to try to talk me out of pressing my bid.” The Vice-President began and the corners of his mouth turned downward. “This afternoon’s events should disillusion you of any hope for my doing such a thing.”
“This afternoon only shows how vital it is that we reach some equitable resolution to the question at hand.” My father said with an edge in his voice. The afternoon’s balloting had been a setback in some ways and a victory in other ways. All of the delegations my father had met with had stayed, or switched, their votes to the President. Unfortunately we’d lost major ground in Southern states as well as a few of the East Coast states. In the short session we’d had with the President right after the balloting was over with, the President had suggested that if this meeting didn’t work out, Dad would be sent to try and get some of those coastal states back.
“I’ve been told the President has you to thank for the votes he kept from the West Coast.” The Vice-President said with a grin that barely touched his face. “Maybe we should talk about what role you might enjoy in a Bush Presidency.”
“You expect me to be willing to take a position with you after what you did to my son?” Dad asked rhetorically with a snort. A cloud passed over the Vice-President’s face at those words and I wondered why Dad would make a political mistake like that. “Mr. Vice-President, even if he wasn’t my son, what you did goes against everything this country has ever stood for, and a man that is willing to give orders like that doesn’t deserve to be in the office of President.”
“Then why are you here, Mr. Jones?” George H. W. Bush asked coldly, his face now full of disdain.
“I am here because my President has asked me to arrange a meeting between you and my son.” My father answered with a shrug. “In many ways, my son is a better man than I am. He’s far more willing to forgive.”
“You do know he’s not really your son, don’t you?” Bush asked my father with a penetrating gaze.
“That is where you are wrong, Mr. Vice-President.” My father shot back. “He may have more memories, he might be more mature than he was before, but he is my son and a man I am proud to know.”
“He is nothing but a boy who won’t…” The Vice-President started to snarl, but stopped in mid-sentence. I think he realized he couldn’t have it both ways. If I was just a boy, then kidnapping and torturing me was a very bad thing to have done, but if I was a man, an adult who could make rational decisions, he would have to either classify me as an enemy of the United States or admit he’d done wrong by his orders. My father had maneuvered him wonderfully well in this conversation and now it was time for me to join in now that Dad had softened him up some.
“Mr. Vice-President, I truly am sorry for the…bad blood that has come between us in this timeline.” I said softly, dragging his attention away from my father. He looked surprised, maybe it was surprise at my having spoken up, or at my words, but either way it helped. “Of course, in the first time line I never met you personally although I never forgot that the first time I ever got to vote for a President, I voted for you. In the last timeline, I had the honor of working with you closely on several issues, and was very glad that despite all the changes to the timeline, you still won in ’88. Our country needs you in the Presidency in 1989 and beyond and I for one do not want to keep that from happening.”
“What happened to not discussing purely political future events?” The Vice-President asked me sharply.
“Sir, recent events have moved what was purely political into issues of national security.” I answered him without the slightest twitch. “This…political fight…here and now is risking the security of this nation. A defeat of Ronald Reagan now could have ramifications that no one can foretell. In the last two 1984 elections, Ronald Reagan easily defeated the Democratic Nominee, Walter Mondale.
“Ronald Reagan’s victory over Walter Mondale and his running mate Geraldine Ferraro was mostly because the President was able to reach out to moderate Democrats and get their votes. Despite a strong liberal base, neither of the Democrats was able to appeal to enough moderates to win enough states. Everyone knows you and Falwell are talking about forming a ticket together with him as your V.P. Frankly, sir, if you do that, you’re going to have a tough time reaching out to those moderates the President won over in the last two timelines. The conservative base in 1984 might be enough to get you the Republican nomination, but they cannot deliver to you a victory the way they did to your son in the 2000 election.”
“My son?” The Vice-President’s voice held pure surprise and I let a smile play over my face as I nodded. “George W. took the Presidency in 2000 and looked set to win re-election when I came back in time.”
“You are telling the truth here?” The Vice-President demanded sharply of me. I looked him right in the eyes, a grave expression on my face and nodded.
“Mr. Vice-President, every word I say to you in this room will be the literal truth.” I told him firmly and confidently. Sure, I was lying, and some part of me knew it, but I’d learned as a child in my first lifetime that if you let yourself believe whatever it was you were saying, most people would be swayed. So long as they didn’t later catch you as having lied. At that precise moment, I believed what I was saying, even though I knew I was lying both to myself and to the Vice-President. The trick would be to not give him a lie he could later discover.
“I see.” He said gently, and leaned back to stare at me some more. He was silent for several minutes, with his eyes resting on me and I met his gaze with a quiet confidence that didn’t let him see any nervousness or evasion. “Mr. Jones, what is the President prepared to offer?”
“Mr. Vice-President, the President would like nothing more than to put the recent divisions between the two of you in the past.” Dad said in tone that was neutral. The Vice-President’s gaze shifted to him and I relaxed slightly. At least he was going to hear us out. “First, he proposes that the two of you meet to officially discuss the things we agree to here. If you will consent to join his ticket, he will restore the role he gave you at the beginning of his Presidency. He will actively seek your counsel on major domestic and foreign policy initiatives and shall ask you to provide oversight of key foreign policy projects.”
“Including the new Central and South America program we’re building out in Nevada.” I added as my father paused for a second, giving me the pre-arranged opening to bring up a few points. “The General in charge of the program is someone you knew in the previous time-lines. He served as the Chairman of the Joints Chiefs of Staff when you had to kick Saddam Hussein out of Kuwait in 1990, and he later served as your son’s Secretary of State in 2001.”
“Interesting.” The Vice-President said and nodded at Dad to continue.
“Further, the President will fully support your campaign in 1988 including fund raising and speeches.” Dad continued quickly.
“What will you do in 1988?” The Vice-President asked him and I realized that Dad really had hit the big league politically if the man considered my father a possible threat in 1988.
“I won’t publicly oppose your re-election and I will not support any opponent of yours in any way.” Dad answered with a slight frown.
“What about you, young man?” The Vice-President asked me.
“Sir, I’ll provide you with answers to questions you might have, and will not in any way support any political opponent you have for that election.” I said honestly. “Your Democratic opponent that year is a real dud. With one ad you’ll be able to scare every grandma and mother in the nation that the first thing he’ll do as President is pardon Charles Manson so that freak can go kill their boys and brainwash their daughters.”
“I see.” The Vice-President said with a slight chuckle. He then nodded at Dad to continue.
“In return, beyond your support on the ticket in this election, the President asks for your support on major policy initiatives and… no actions like those that resulted in my son’s kidnapping unless they receive his personal approval beforehand.” Dad said in a voice that wavered slightly. There was no immediate action from the Vice-President who had turned to stare at me. As silence reigned in the room for several minutes, I studied his face for some clue as to what he was thinking.
“Mr. Jones, would you please inform the President that I would like to meet with him to discuss my decision to re-join his team?”
“I will be honored to do so, sir.” Dad said as he rose to his feet. I joined him a moment later, feeling some elation that we’d succeeded, but also a shiver of fear at the look of pure hunger on the face of the man who we’d just agreed to help into the White House four years from now.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Don't forget to check out my blog for my notes on this chapter, and the Cafe at the Gay Author's forums for discussion on this story!
As with all my stories, E provides immeasurable input, grammar checking, and all those other lovely editing thingies that make the story so much better!
Feedback,
an Author's Lifeblood
