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Christmas in Dixie	By : roxyfic Category: 1 through F > Fast And The Furious, The > Male/Male Views: 16547 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Fast and the Furious, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Christmas in Dixie
- 2-2
- 3-3b
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 4
- 5
- 6
Christmas in Dixie

Part Five
Dom wanted to die.

Pastor O'Connor was looking at him, at Brian, and at the shambles of the room with a horrified, stunned expression on his wrinkled face.

Dom groaned behind the gag, imagining what the Godly man must be thinking. The way he and Brian were dressed -- or rather un-dressed, the marks on their bodies, the kinky sex toys ... the Pastor must think that he and Brian ... that they'd ...

If Brian's dad wasn't already disgusted by the mere fact that of their homosexuality, then all this ... Dom wished with all his heart that Eddy had killed him, that Jones had shot him, or better yet -- that he'd never even been born.

He squeezed his eyes shut and was grateful that the mask covered his mortified face as despair filled him. Everything was ruined now -- all his hopes -- Eddy had succeeded in killing them.

Despite his fears, Dom had been the one who had initially encouraged this Christmas visit to Brian's parents and it hadn't been until later, after the trip had actually begun, that he'd developed cold feet. He'd suggested the visit because he'd wanted to meet Brian's family. Hell, who was he kidding? He'd *wanted* Brian's family.

He'd always been envious of the fact that Brian still had both his parents, brothers, sister-in-laws, nieces and nephews, not to mention the fact that Brian had a little sister who would still speak to him -- so different from his own cursed family. Deep down, Dom had been upset that Brian remained so physically distant from his relatives. The subject had seemed to come up repeatedly, even after Brian had explained about his "Bible thumping" old man's strict views of the world.

Brian had confessed to Dom that his childhood and teenage years hadn't been happy ones. He and his dad had constantly been at odds. Brian had told Dom that for many years he and his father had barely spoken and how it had only been recently that the two of them had begun to get along at all. Brian claimed the relationship, while a little better, was still shaky and not something that he cared to spend too much time working on. While Dom could sympathize, he really couldn't understand.

After all, wasn't a father that you could argue with, better than not having one at all?

Dom's mother had died long ago, his father had burned to death before his eyes, his baby sister ... He'd stayed away from Mia since he'd gotten out of jail, partly to protect her from Jones, but mostly to protect himself from her accusing eyes. Dom knew he could make peace with Mia, but never while Brian was still a part of his life -- and not even for his baby sister would he willingly give up Brian.

At one time, Dom had been surrounded by friends who'd looked up to him -- who'd depended on him. He missed that too. He missed scowling at the men sniffing around his sister, chasing them off, playing the protective big brother. He missed Letty's volatile presence. He missed Vince's angry, moody disposition, always giving him shit. He missed JamJimmy's excitability. He missed Leon's ... well Leon had always been pretty quiet, but then so had Markus. It didn't matter; Dom missed them both. He missed all his old friends that time and circumstances had wrenched away from him.

He could find some comfort in the fact that those friends were all right, in some cases, better off without him. Not like Tookie and Jesse. They were dead -- Dom had failed them, just as he'd now failed Brian -- the only person he cared about that was still part of his life. Instead of bringing Brian and his father closer together liked he'd hoped; Dom would now be the cause of them becoming even further apart.

Pastor O'Conner would really hate Dom now, he was certain of it. Dom relaxed his body where it rested atop Brian's, admitting defeat and wishing he could just melt away.

Brian wriggled beneath Dom's weight, then twisted and gasped out, "Dad!"

~*~

Pastor Patrick O'Connor clutched the Holy Bible protectively to his breast and with horrified eyes looked at a scene straight out of one of the inner circles of hell. Bondage equipment lay everywhere. Two nearly naked men were entwined on the bed, both secured by ropes and chains, and both bore the marks of the whip.

He stood frozen with immobility until he heard his son call out, "Dad!"

As if the ice that encased him suddenly melted, the Pastor dropped his Bible to the floor and rushed to the bed. He went to his son first and with a shaking hand, he tenderly touched the blood-matted hair.

Brian's eyes were clear and they held steady beneath the Pastor's worried, searching regard.

"I'm okay," Brian whispered in his husky voice.

Pastor O'Connor nodded once in understanding -- the deeper meaning of Brian's words filling him with relief. He kissed his son lovingly on the forehead and then turned his attention to the tight knots that secured Brian's wrists. "Jones?" the Pastor guessed as he tugged at the bindings.

"Sorta'" Brian answered.

The Pastor kept working at knots, but with only one hand -- and that one still shaking from fear and swollen with arthritis -- the task was impossible, so he turned to the other abused body on the bed.

The man in the mask had remained motionless on top of Brian and, judging from the fact that his son wasn't complaining and was making no effort to kick free, the Pastor concluded that this must be Dom ... this must be Brian's lover.

Brian's *male* lover.

The Pastor closed his eyes for the briefest of moments and prayed to his Lord for strength, resolve, wisdom, and forgiveness. Then, with infinite gentleness, the Pastor loosened the choke-chain that still encircled Dom's throat. He slipped it off and just as carefully removed the hood.

The Pastor studied the features of the man who had lived with his son for over a year. He noticed that Dom's face was pale behind the dark skin, giving a gray cast to the flesh. He couldn't make out Dom's features -- the boy's face was deformed by the gag, the straps of which were cutting cruelly into his cheeks. Dom's eyes were pressed tightly closed, but the Pastor noticed the bead of moisture that had managed to seep from beneath one of the lids and his heart gave a sudden, painful lurch.

"Dominic?" he asked, concern making his voice rough. "It'll be alright. You're safe now." Dark, damp eyes fluttered open and clung to his. The Pastor correctly read the anguish, shame, embarrassment, and fear reflected in the boy's eyes. And just as he had done to Brian, the Pastor leaned down and very gently kissed Dom's forehead. "Let's get you out of these things, shall we?" As he straightened up, the Pastor's gaze locked with Brian's and he was both surprised and shamed by the look of wonder on his son's face.

It took the Pastor several attempts, his hand shook so, but eventually he was able to undo the buckle of the gag. He watched Dom spit the rubber ball out and lick dry, cracked lips.

"Okay?" the Pastor asked gently. At Dom's slight nod, the Pastor turned his attention to the cuffs that secured the thick, heavily muscled arms. "Those are Remington Elites -- wonderfully effective cuffs," he noted in a deliberately calm tone. "We'll need the key to get them off." He glanced around the room. "Either of you know where the keys to them might be?"

"Could be in that bag," Brian suggested as he motioned his head toward the black duffel.

The Pastor stepped over several items on his way to the bag and then hesitantly began to search it. "Arghh," he couldn't repress a sound of disgust at what he found inside. He lifted a strange appliance, using only the tips of his fingers. "Haven't seen one of these since the time I spent in Vice."

"What is it?" Brian asked, craning his neck around to see.

"Heh ... " The Pastor was further assured of Brian's well-being by the note of curiosity in his son's voice. "Just be glad you never had to find out," he said as he tossed the thing aside and dug back into the bag. "Ahh," he said with satisfaction as he held up a ring of keys. "Here they are."

He moved around to the far side of the bed, behind Dom, and with experienced eyes, inventoried the boy's injuries. He saw the faint lash marks, the bruises, but without a closer, more intimate examination, he couldn't tell if the boy had been raped or not. There was no blood or discharge visible and the Pastor hesitated to cause Dom any further distress. He decided to wait, and was immediately grateful for his decision. He'd barely laid his hand on the cuffs that secured Dom's wrists, when the big body stiffened in panic and tried to jerk up off the bed.

"No, no," the Pastor soothed as he patted Dom's massive, sweat-slicked shoulder. "Just relax. I'm not going to hurt you," he said in a soothing tone. "I'm just going to get these cuffs off you." The Pastor kept his hand on Dom's shoulder, maintaining physical contact as he talked. He'd been around enough victims of abuse to know what to do. "I'm going to unlock them now, okay?" Again, there was just the slightest nod from the shaved head.

In just seconds, he had the cuffs that had held Dom prisoner unfastened. Dom immediately pulled away and stood rubbing his wrists and staring at the floor.

"Let's get the rest of this off you," the Pastor said. But when he moved forward and reached for the harness, Dom flinched and took a step backward.

"I need a shower," Dom muttered as he crossed the room. He paused at the bathroom doorway, bent down, and tossed a bloodied knife casually onto the bed beside Brian.

"Should he ...?" the Pastor asked his son as Dom disappeared inside.

"Yeah, it's okay. There's no real evidence to wash off, they never ... ya' know."

The Pastor's knees nearly buckled with relief. "Thank You," he whispered. He'd never have been able to live with it if either of the boys had been violated. If only he'd --

"They just put their hands all over him ... made him ... do things that he found disgusting," Brian interrupted the Pastor's relieved thoughts. "Cut me loose, will ya', Dad?"

"Tell me," the Pastor said as he began to saw at the nylon rope.

"Bastards caught me by surprise, bashed me over the head, and then held that knife to my throat."

The blade slid through the final loop and suddenly Brian was free. He rolled over and sat up. As Brian pulled the remnants of the restraints off, the Pastor gazed with horror at the deep cut on his son's throat -- it was still seeping blood.

"They told Dom if he didn't cooperated they'd kill me." Brian's eyes clouded over and his breathing became ragged. "Dom didn't even fight them," he said sadly. "He hated it, hated it all, but he ... I felt like such an idiot, Dad. There was Dom putting up with all that shit, letting them ... he was protecting me again, just like he did when he took the rap for Tran's murder -- just like he did in jail. And I was helpless...worse than helpless. I'm like a millstone around his neck." Brian's face was flushed and his voice trembled. "All I ever do is screw up his life. He's lost everyone he ever cared about -- and it's all my fault. His friends, a couple of them are even dead because of me. His sister -- you *know* what I did to her -- to them. Christ!" Brian swore. "I wish they *would* have slit my throat. Maybe I should do it myself. At least then he'd finally be free of m--"

*Crack*

The sound of the Pastor's palm connecting with his son's face echoed through the room.

"Don't ever speak like that again, Brian," Pastor O'Connor ordered, shaking with a father's instinctive, terrified rage at a child's threat of suicide. As first a cop, and then a Minister, he'd seen too many young people who'd followed through with similar threats. He'd been forced to break the tragic news to too many grieving, confused parents not to take Brian's words seriously. The Pastor had suffered through too many months of emotional turmoil, guilt, uncertainty, and shame; that combined with the fear that had filled him since Bilkin's call was just too much for him. He snapped. "Not only did you take the Lord's name in vain, but you spit on His blessing! You should be down on your knees thanking Him for giving you someone who loves you enough to sacrifice --"

Brian crumpled into a ball on the bed, hiding his face.

"Merciful, God," the Pastor gasped as sanity returned in a rush. What had he done? He'd slapped a boy who'd already been through hell, who had a head wound that, at the very least, needed stitches. Maybe his boy was concussed? Maybe there was a fracture? Brian began to shake and the Pastor lunged for the phone. "Hang on, Brian. I'll call an ambulance."

"No," Brian panted, his voice oddly muffled. "Don't do that." Brian lifted his head and the Pastor saw the broad grin -- the boy wasn't having convulsions -- he was laughing.

"I don't understand." The Pastor said, confused and worried about brain damage. "I'm so sorry. I should never have struck you. I don't know what I was thinking. Are you seeing double? Maybe you --"

"No, no, Dad. You were right." Brian sat up and his eyes appeared focused and rational again. "Dom *is* a blessing -- thank you for pointing that out to me."

The Pastor stiffened in shock as his own words were repeated back to him, then ... then something heavy that had been pressing down on his heart lifted a little. As if he were swimming up from the dark, pressure filled depths of the Chesapeake Bay, he began to feel buoyant, free. He imagined that he could see a glimmer of light -- the surface of the dark depths that had sucked him down was almost within reach. A smile began to curve his lips as he nodded at Brian.

"Yes, a blessing. No greater love has man, than the willingness to suffer for another," the Pastor whispered softly.

~*~
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Christmas in Dixie