"Hello John," said the man standing at the door.
"Who are you?
"You don't remember me John. YOU SHOT ME!"
"Brody," escaped from his mouth in a whisper."
"Yes John, way to go. May I come in?"
John stood frozen and looked up at the six foot five inch tall man that he had killed. "But…How?"
"John let me in and I will tell you."
John moved from the door and let him in. Brody chose the couch and John took the chair across from him.
"Well John, the police are after you. Well they don't know it's you but their looking for my killer. John, their getting close."
"But you're not dead now, so it's ok right?"
"Well…not exactly. See you did shoot me. Their still gonna want to hang you for that."
John curled into the chair and stared off in the distance. The doorbell rang again and he looked back to where Brody was. No one was on the couch. "Brody?" Nobody answered. The bell rang again. He got up and walked to the door. John opened the peep hole and immediately swung open the door. There stood Keith, the man of his dreams. "Hey sexy!!!!"
"John, can I come in," there was no happiness in his voice, it was all cop.
John looked to him with confusion; he moved aside and motioned him in. "What's wrong?"
"John, what do you know about Roger Brody?"
John's hand shook as he picked up a notebook. "I wondered when this day would come." He dropped the book in Keith's lap. Sitting back down he watched as Keith opened the notebook.
As Keith read the book he felt his gut tighten. This notebook plotted the killing of Detective Brody. So John had killed him. A tear threatened to fall from Keith's eye but he didn't let it. He turned the page and saw a photograph of himself. Reading the top line all the breath from his lungs escaped. His throat went dry and fear prickled the back of his neck. Nonchalantly he reached for his police communicator and pressed the distress button on the side. Grazing his gun he stood and faced John. "What's this," Keith pointed to the top line about the assassination of Keith Richards.
John's heart chocked his throat. First came the tears. John tried to stop them but they were a gushing waterfall and had no stop.
Keith was completely caught off guard, "John?" Reaching out his arm he touched John's shoulder.
John felt their connection and turned to face Keith. "Keith, here's the truth," John controlled and stopped the tears. "The truth is yes I did shoot Roger. But just today he came to my door. He didn't have time to explain how he was still alive because you showed up and he disappeared. And Keith I know that you may not believe me when I say this but, I love you. And I don't think I could have ever killed you."
Keith looked into John's blue eyes like the caller had said and he saw an infinite compassion and something else. He couldn't quite figure out what the other thing was, when it struck him. It was love. "John, I…I…" His breath hitched when John moved in and laid his mouth to his own. Holy shit! It was love in his eyes, Keith could feel that now. There was a sweet and loving way that John held him close. Keith couldn't kid himself he loved this man. He only met this man yesterday, but still something had clicked between them. Suddenly Keith felt a sharp pain on the back of his head and he fell to the floor.
The thud jolted John back and he saw Roger with his Louisville Slugger. "Why did you…" The bat was swung again and John joined Keith unconsciously on the floor.