Like Tick Tick

Reaching out worriedly to settle a hand atop Aiden’s own, Tegan felt the pinprick of self-doubt turn to a needling concern over Theodore’s wellbeing. The former hitman, the addict from the alleys, the cocky, smarmy young man who had a tendency of blowing things up without entirely intending to at times…was crying. Or about to cry. It was an injury Tegan could feel sing in his bones, prickle at his nerves, and cut him deep. He could no more heal this than he could heal something fatal. Not without giving up all of himself in the process, and wasn’t that what marriage was about?

This was something he’d given Aiden in the hopes it’d be enough. To make him happy, to give him a sense of wholeness. More than mere marriage, it was–an identity. A sense of self he could mold as he saw fit. A fresh start beyond a little golden ring and a house in San Francisco. More than a marriage and a family and a dog.

Tegan gave Theodore; Theodore.

Because Tegan believed in him and knew he was so much more than explosions and mistakes orchestrated by the harsh hand life had dealt him. And maybe Tegan hadn’t gone down the same path as Aiden; maybe he’d been more subdued by the system that turned against him. Maybe he’d just been more broken than explosive…

But they had similar origins, and Tegan wanted to give Aiden a means to grow as he had–if not in the same way. An oak couldn’t grow like an ivy, after all, and Aiden had never been subtle or submissive. He was–stronger, Tegan felt, in a lot of ways, than himself.

He just needed to be given a little bit of sunlight.

“I do,” Tegan aid hoarsely, feeling choked by more than the knot in his tie, “I’m just sorry it took me this long.” He squeezed Aiden’s hands and pulled them up to kiss them.

“Happy belated anniversary, or early Christmas…Thanksgiving?” he tried weakly, wishing he knew how to make light of this. He’d never been great at that.

“You’re Theodore Wolfe,” Tegan added hoarsely. “And I love you, new life, old life, and everything besides.”

Aiden held Tegan’s hand against him like it was the anchor for the storm going on inside him. And he was, as he always had been. Somehow, the two street urchins had wound up in a nice house together. They even had a dog and 2.5 kids. All they were missing was the white picket fence - and that was a damn good ways from where they had begun it all. It was a miracle, really, and Aiden reveled in it as he held Tegan’s hand. 

A new life, or a new identity to go with his new life. It wasn’t erasure of the past, he told himself that. It wasn’t burying who he was and pretending as though he’d never been that person. No, this was more like…giving that person a chance to see it through life. To make it there, somehow, to the other side of everything on his own. 

He’d been taking night classes in computer programming, the kind that didn’t ask for background records or previous conviction rates. He actually had a knack for it - which amused him as he’d hated math when he was in school. But with this, he could do something more than just a few night classes in between the times he played piano and sang. He still didn’t know what he wanted to be when he finally must pick whether to grow up or not, but this…this meant options. 

Putting the folder aside, he flung his arms around Tegan and squeezed him tight. “I love ya too, Tegan,” he said, keeping his grip around him so that he didn’t lose the grip he had on himself. “How…How did ya do all ‘f this? Why? Tegan, ya sentimental, ‘an’some devil…”

Aiden was, for all intents and purposes, the only reason Tegan found a reason to move along.

Wrapping hesitant arms around Aiden, relieved and thrown out of his concerned daze all at the same time, Tegan buried his face against Theodore’s hair and smiled shakily–half-sobbing, really, and half-laughing. “I–it was hardly me, Jadis had the connections…most of it was–is–legal, I just…helped fine-tune the details. Theodore Aiden Wolfe; model U.S. citizen, I..” he quieted, rubbing Aiden’s back tenderly. “Just wanted you to have this. American dream be damned; Teddy, you–are the love of my life.” He pulled back to stare at Theodore simultaneous with his husband’s movement, long face fond.

“Ye’re th’ love ‘f mine, did ya know tha’?” Aiden asked with a laugh. He held up his hand to show off the ring resting upon his finger. “See tha’? Only one ‘ve ever ‘ad--only one I wanted t’ ‘ave. Ya charmer. Ya swept me off mah feet. Didn’ give me no warnin’.”

But the laughter died to a comfortable quiet, a caring quiet. The kind of quiet one only gets after being married for so long. “Loo’, Tegan...I really ‘ppreciate this. I can’ even pu’ ‘t into words, ya’ve stopped me cold ‘n mah tracks...Thank ya. Thank ya so much.”

“Wow,” the shorter of the two breathed. “Ya di’ all tha’?” He grinned, reaching his free hand back around to rub at Tegan’s back. “Course ya di’. Ye’re Tegan Wolfe: ‘an’some, smart, so smart, sharply dressed too. ‘m proud ‘f ya, Tegan, I am.” 

“This,” he murmured simply, gesturing with the folder. “I–took the liberty of asking Jadis to do something for me.” He thought back to that Skype call and cringed, considering the fact that Jadis’s payment was not only her usual fee, but a Donald Duck impersonation accompanied by none other than Jack Daniels the rubber duckie (which he was fairly certain Jadis’s beau, the tall fellow with the scruffy face had walked in on). 

“She, ah–well. I thought…not that you have to, but…if you wanted to…in any case, I…found a means to clear your name. Wipe your records…” He trailed off, looking back up at Aiden from the file folder. 

But when Tegan told him about the folder and what was inside it, it was as though his world stopped. At least, the world he’d known in the past. 

He’d done so many things, so many things he couldn’t write about or tell anyone. His record spoke to that. A rap sheet a mile long and a troubled past that stuck out like a neon sign pointing and saying, “Product of a broken home,” occasionally flickering to say instead, “Product of a broken system.” Everything in that folder, in the folder of his life, could testify to that.

He’d worn it like a brand. It stuck out no matter what clothes he wore, what parties he went to. Tegan could dress him up and take him out, but it didn’t change who he was, what he’d done, or where he’d been. Images of the apartment he’d lived in at one point flashed through his mind; it had been the nicest he’d owned before he met Tegan. 

But now, standing before Aiden–who’d given him life, given him strength, given him everything to keep going for–Tegan felt the first true brush of fear he’d had since picking Aiden Wolfe out of a back alley way and taking him to a hospital. It was a fear of loss. A fear that he’d gone too far or not far enough.

Blue eyes scanned Aiden’s face, vulnerable and nervous, as Tegan paced in after him, exhaling shakily. One hand smoothed over his scarlet tie, the other fidgeted numbly by his side. “…Social security card, tax forms, a paper trail going as far back as you need it to. Ms. Stern is on it.” He sucked in another breath and settled beside Theodore on the bed, bouncing a restless leg after a second or two. 

“It–it’s because I…I’m proud of you, too, Theodore, I want you to have–the life you deserve. The life you’ve earned, it–I don’t want you to feel trapped, and–if this is…too much, or I’ve overstepped my bounds…misread anything, I–I apologize. Profusely. I would never infer you couldn’t–do any of this on your own…it was…sporadic; spur of the moment, for me–spontaneous, rather…” He cupped his hands to his face and took another nervous breath, eyes on the floor.

It was more than Aiden was surprised by this turn of events. How could he look at this and not be surprised? His life had been dominated by his past, even directed by it, for so long. Employment records, everything was tied to who he had been, no matter how far he’d come from it. 

He’d done wrong things. He’d done terrible things. He couldn’t deny that. Even with the removal of the paper trail, his acts would remain. And he’d take those to his grave, however far away that might be. He’d confront God Almighty with them, and stare Him Above in the eyes when he did it. 

But this...this was a second chance. To begin again. To be that kind of person his mother would have wanted him to be, the kind of person his father never gave him the chance to be. 

His hands shook, and the paper rattled under his care. “’s fine, Tegan. ‘s more ‘n fine. Ya jus’ took me by surprise’s all...” 

“Wow,” the shorter of the two breathed. “Ya di’ all tha’?” He grinned, reaching his free hand back around to rub at Tegan’s back. “Course ya di’. Ye’re Tegan Wolfe: ‘an’some, smart, so smart, sharply dressed too. ‘m proud ‘f ya, Tegan, I am.” 

“This,” he murmured simply, gesturing with the folder. “I–took the liberty of asking Jadis to do something for me.” He thought back to that Skype call and cringed, considering the fact that Jadis’s payment was not only her usual fee, but a Donald Duck impersonation accompanied by none other than Jack Daniels the rubber duckie (which he was fairly certain Jadis’s beau, the tall fellow with the scruffy face had walked in on). 

“She, ah–well. I thought…not that you have to, but…if you wanted to…in any case, I…found a means to clear your name. Wipe your records…” He trailed off, looking back up at Aiden from the file folder. 

But when Tegan told him about the folder and what was inside it, it was as though his world stopped. At least, the world he’d known in the past. 

He’d done so many things, so many things he couldn’t write about or tell anyone. His record spoke to that. A rap sheet a mile long and a troubled past that stuck out like a neon sign pointing and saying, “Product of a broken home,” occasionally flickering to say instead, “Product of a broken system.” Everything in that folder, in the folder of his life, could testify to that.

He’d worn it like a brand. It stuck out no matter what clothes he wore, what parties he went to. Tegan could dress him up and take him out, but it didn’t change who he was, what he’d done, or where he’d been. Images of the apartment he’d lived in at one point flashed through his mind; it had been the nicest he’d owned before he met Tegan.