Unlawfully Wed

The next morning, John picked Martha up at the crack of dawn to go and meet with the judge. Alex had barely slept, and he knew that Martha had been the same way. The pressure to say the right thing and get George out of jail without Martha getting arraigned herself was going to be a challenge, and if John didn’t play their cards right, things could go belly-up/

Alex waited until Martha was gone before taking a shower and getting ready for the day. He finished much faster than he normally did, so he was out of his house and on the road four hours before visiting hours started. His driving, apparently, was quicker, too, as he reached the prison in less than two hour’s time.

Alex circled around the parking lot a few times before pulling back out onto the street and driving over to McDonalds. He contemplated going into the drive through, but he was feeling so anxious that he knew he would do nothing but jiggle the pedal and mess with the radio. He’d find some excuse to drive back to the prison immediately, and he’d end up just working himself into more of a state than he already was. He slid into a spot and shut the engine off, taking a moment to breathe before he opened the door and climbed out onto the parking lot. He looked around the parking lot before jogging across the asphalt and going inside.

Immediately, Alex was overwhelmed by the acrid smell of burnt oil and old meat. He had never been the biggest fan of McDonalds, but now, with his stomach doing summersault and his hands sweating like a cold glass in summer, the smell was welcome. It reminded him back of his days in the military, when his buddies and he were hung over. It happened rather frequently, actually, and the only thing that kept him from throwing up the next day was a quarter pounder and a large fry.

He wasn’t sure that was what was going to settle his stomach now, a decade later, but he sure as hell was going to try.  

Well, or at least he was going to, until he remembered that McDonalds only served their breakfast menu at 6:27 in the morning. Oh, well. He’d have to find something else that was greasy enough to work for him.

Alex walked up to the counter and put his hands in his pockets. He only had to wait in line behind one person before he was at the front. He looked up at the menu, rocking back onto his heels before rocking forward and smiling at the young man that was working there. The boy was staring at him with dark eyes and red cheeks. Alex knew he looked good in his khaki pant, light purple button-down, and dark-red tie, his hair in a low ponytail at the base of his neck, but he boy was staring at him like he was some kind of god. It was rather disconcerting.

“How can I help you?” the boy asked, his voice cracking and his cheeks nearly matching the ketchup that had spilled onto the end of the counter. A bit of light hit his chest, causing something to flash. Alex glanced down to see a “manager” tag on the boy’s chest. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was as awkward with all of his customers as he was being with Alex.

“I’d like a large mocha frappe, please, and an order of . . . ” he paused, screwing his lips up to the side as he debated, “biscuits and gravy, and a hash brown. Please.”

“O-okay.” He jabbed his finger against the screen a few times. The receipt printed out, and he studied it for a second before putting it on the counter next to him. “Your meal’s on me.” He coughed before turning around and fast-walking back to the grill, where he began to prepare Alex’s meal without sparing a single glance back to the lobby.

Alex pulled out his phone while he waited. He went to his text messages and went to his conversation with John, hoping to see that he had already met with the judge and that George was clear to leave the prison. There was a very slim chance that the judge was in his office, but John knew him on a more . . . personal level, so there was always the chance that John had been able to see him at home. Then again, Judge Marlin’s wife hadn’t gone out of town for a while, so maybe John visiting his house wasn’t that great of an idea, especially when there was something that he actually needed.

Regardless, scrolling through the conversation gave Alex something to do other than just stand around uncomfortably. There wasn’t anything of particular interest in the conversation, but it was enough to distract him momentarily from the queasiness that had begun to rise as the smell of the oil got to him.

Fortunately, it was only a few more minutes before the kid was back up to the front counter, the tray of Alex’s food in his hand. He gave Alex a nervous smile and nodded, the tray wobbling and sloshing whipped cream onto the paper liner. “Here you go,” he said, his voice alternating between cracking and wobbling.

Alex stepped forward and took the tray out of the kid’s hands. He didn’t bother saying anything back before taking the tray back to a secluded corner and sitting down on the hard plastic seat. He unwrapped he prepackaged silverware and opened the biscuit tray, taking a moment to dump the thick, gritty-looking gravy over the top of the surprisingly fluffy biscuit.

Alex dropped his phone onto the table before digging in, trying his hardest to ignore the rumbling of his stomach and the thick layer of mucus that was quickly coating his throat from the fake cream in the gravy.

***

Nearly an hour later, Alex had eaten all of his biscuits and gravy, and had drunken most of his frappe. The thick goo had, surprisingly, calmed his stomach down enough for him to really think about what he was going to say, what he was going to do. He still hadn’t gotten any messages from John, but he was doing his best not to be too concerned with what it was making him fear. If he wanted things to work out today, he couldn’t be too nervous or go into anything with any preconceived thoughts.

The one thought that kept bouncing through Alex’s mind, however, the one that he couldn’t squash no matter how hard he tried, was that George had lied to him about the entire case. It made him unsure of everything that he thought he knew, both about himself and about George. How could he know if his feelings were real if it was all based on a lie? Hell, how could he know that their past together was real? If George could lie so easily now, who's to say he wasn't doing the exact same thing before?

He sighed and stood up, going over to the trash can to dump his tray before walking out the door and making his way back to his car. He got in an turned it on, taking a moment to collect himself before pulling out of the parking lot and going back towards the prison.

Twenty minutes later, he had parked the car and was waiting in line to pass through the metal detectors. Ryker was standing by the scanner, arguing with a woman about whether or not she could take her penknife beyond the entrance. When he saw Alex, however, he smiled at him before furrowing his brows in confusion. He waved the woman on after yanking the knife out of her hands.

"Alex. It's good to have you back. Where's John? I thought he said he was coming up with you. We were supposed to have dinner tonight."

Alex rolled his eyes. Leave it to John not to tell his now-boyfriend what the plan was. "Hold your horses, Ryker. John just has a few things he has to do and then he will be up here." He dropped his keys, his wallet, and his phone into the basket Ryker was holding before stepping through the detector. It stayed silent, so he grabbed his possessions and clapped Ryker on the shoulder. "I'll see you later, Ryker. Same room as normal?"

"Yeah. Geoff will bring George in soon."

Alex forced a smile and nodded before turning and walking down the familiar hallway. The closer he got to the room, however, the more the familiarity comforted him. At the same time, however, the familiarity also made him feel sick to his stomach, and it made the anger begin to rise. For Fuck’s sake, all he had done was try and help George, and George couldn’t have let him in on that one fucking clue. He thought that the man he loved had really been capable of doing something so awful, that he was going to have to see him spend the rest of his life in prison, that it was going to be his fault because he hadn’t defended George hard enough.

How stupid did that make Alex, to really believe that George had still loved him after all these years? George had had five years to reconcile their relationship, and he didn’t do anything until he was in a bad situation, himself. That wasn’t love. That was manipulation.

Alex’s nostrils flare as he blew a sharp breath out. He clenched his teeth and his fists, feeling his pulse pop against his forehead. He debated for a moment before stopping at the door, letting his fists knock against the solid metal. He tilted his head up and looked at the ceiling, his eyes flickering back and forth from one edge of the plaster to the other.

After almost a few minutes, Alex made a decision. Fuck Gorge. He spent all those years not loving him enough to come back, Alex could love him enough to let him go.

The decision made, Alex turned around and started back down the hall. Before he could make it all the way to the end, however, he heard his name being called. “Alexander? Where are you going?”

Alex stopped. He didn’t turn around, and he clenched his fists tighter. “Alexander? What’s wrong? What are you doing?”

George sounded small, his voice quiet and shaking. Alex took a deep breath before turning around to face him. George was staring at him, his brows furrowed and his mouth gaping slightly open. He looked like a dog that had been kicked by its owner, scared and betrayed by whatever he had done. Alex stayed silent, and George looked terrified. The guard was indifferent. “Alex? What’s wrong? Did something happen to Eliza, or Maria—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

George stepped back. The guard raised an eyebrow at Alex before pushing George into the conference room. He gestured for Alex to do the same. “You know the drill, pretty boy. Speak to your client in here, or get the fuck off our property.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you, too.” Alex flipped the man off, but he did as he was requested. He walked into the room and slammed the door, flipping the guard off again before throwing himself down into one of the chairs. He crossed his arms and kicked his feet out, looking more like a petulant child than he did a big-shot lawyer. George sat down across from him, his eyes still narrowed and nervous.

After several tense minutes of silence, George said, “Alexander . . . I don’t know what I did to make you so angry with me. If something happened to your family and you’re upset about that, that’s fine, just please talk to me—”

“Fuck you, George. Seriously. I shouldn’t have even fucking come here today.”

“What did I do, Alexander? You haven’t been here in over a month, I couldn’t have said anything to hurt you. Is this about the letters? If so I’m sorry, I didn’t think that it would bother you to hear from me. I suppose I could have just sent them with John, would that have been better? I’m sorry, I should have thought about that, I just—”

“It has nothing to do with the letters,” Alex interrupted, cutting George’s rambling short. It was odd; George was always the concise one of their relationship. Alex was more the rambling type. “It has nothing to fucking do with that.”

“What is it, then?” George leaned forward and put his hands on the table, his handcuffs clinging against the thick plastic.

Alex breathed heavily in and out through his nose. “You lied to me.”

“What are you talking about? I haven’t lied to you. I’ve been totally honest with you, about Martha and my relationship, about how I feel about you—”

“You didn’t tell me that Martha wasn’t really dead.”

For a split second, it looked like George was going to lie again, to say that he had no idea that she was still alive, but after a quick glance from Alex he slumped back, his shoulders falling in defeat and his gaze dropping down to the table.

Again, there was a stretch of silence until George decided to speak. “I wanted to tell you, Alexander, so very badly, but if it got out that she was alive—”

“What do you think it would have done to me to find this out later, huh? It could ruin my reputation as a lawyer, for one, but it would destroy me to lose this trial then find out that the whole fucking thing was a farce! Jesus, George, you couldn’t have mentioned one fucking time that she wasn’t really dead?”

“I was just trying to do what was best for her—”

“And what about what’s best for you, huh? You two weren’t really involved romantically, even friends will throw each other under the bus every now and then—”

“I didn’t want to lose you again, okay?” George slammed his hands on the table and stood up, towering over Alex. “Alexander, yes, I lied to you about Martha being alive. However, even if I wasn’t here,  I would have lied to you about it anyway! That was part of the decision. Martha wanted her image to die. Eventually I would have told you the truth, but we wanted a very, very limited amount of people knowing the truth. Hell, only JP and Naomi, and now you, know that she’s alive. Naomi only found out because JP told her after he messed up so badly and let those hooligans into our home, and neither one of them could rightfully tell the police that she was alive without bringing her back!

“What would you have done if I had told you the truth from the very beginning, huh? You never would have come back to see me, and everything that Martha and I did would have been done in vain. I know I broke your heart all those years ago. I’m sorry, but Alexander, I never stopped loving you, ever!”

“Then why didn’t you ever come back?” Alex’s voice broke on the last word. Just like that, his anger was gone, replaced with the same hollow ache that had taken up residence in his heart so many years ago. George’s anger looked like it was fading, to, the whites in his knuckles darkening back to his normal skin tone as he lightened the pressure against the table.. “Fuck, George, if you had come back at any time during the last five years, I would have welcomed you back into my life with open arms. Well, I guess I’d be a little skeptical, at first, but all of this? George, how can I know that your feelings for me are real if you were able to lie to me so easily about something as big as your wife’s death?”

Alex could feel prickling at the corner of his eyes, and he knew that he wasn’t going to last very long. Already, he could feel sadness threatening to overwhelm him. He stood up, although unlike George, he tucked his hands against his sides and looked down at the ground. “Coming here was a mistake. John and Martha are talking to the judge right now, so you should be out of here by the end of the day. I’m sorry none of this turned out the way you wanted it to, but George, you can’t just lie to me about something like this and expect everything to turn out okay.”

Alex took a deep breath and walked around the table. He stood right next to George and reached out for him, putting his hands on either side of George’s jaw and turning his head to face him. George, too, had glassy eyes, and he was whispering protests as Alex leaned their foreheads together before dropping down and giving George a chaste kiss. He breathed into it, putting as much of his sadness and love into a single gentle kiss as he could before pulling away. He could feel the tears now slipping down George’s face over his thumbs. George was still whispering to him, quiet murmurs of, “Alexander, please, don’t do this.”

Alex gently kissed away of the ears before pressing their foreheads together again. “Goodbye, George. Please don’t contact me again.”

“Alexander, please, I love you—”

“Goodbye, George.” Alex took a deep breath before dropping his hands and pulling away from George, closing his eyes and turning to walk out the door. He ignored George as he lunged forward and tried to grab Alex’s wrist, his pleadings growing louder and more desperate the further that Alex walked away.

Alex should have expected it, but a broken heart hurt so much more the second time.