Maddog & The Pope (Learning to fly on Broken Wings) - 14. Chapter 14 Collared and Caught

Dmitri left shortly after what was in his eyes a very beggarly breakfast: only some bread, cheese and tea. He had expected the salmon, croissants and fresh fruit juice he found on his own breakfast table each morning, but this breakfast was a rude awakening!

Once he was gone, Niki started working on his design again. He couldn’t grasp it: it had such a simple concept, but transferring it onto paper proved to be a lot harder. He began to wonder if it would even be possible to paint it on a wall in pitch darkness. But he toiled on, determined to solve the technical difficulties; there had to be some way, he only had to find it.

He was so concentrated on his work he had no idea Inno was observing him. And he didn’t notice Inno moving from the couch to stand behind him. Only when he felt Inno’s arms wrapping around his chest and his soft lips kissing him on the back of his neck, was he aware of his boyfriend’s presence.

“How do you feel, angel?” Inno asked softly.

“Why do you ask?” Niki questioned, somewhat absent-mindedly, his thoughts still with his design.

“Come on,” Inno objected mildly, “if someone told me the sad story your brother told you yesterday, I would be lost for a few days, maybe even for a few weeks. And you just go on with your work.”

Niki thought it over for a minute. With his face in a grimace of pain, he shrugged:

“I work to keep my mind from thinking about things I can’t change anyway. Besides, I knew or guessed most of it a long time ago. Maybe I didn’t actually know it but I sensed it since I was a little boy. I felt there was a coldness, that they didn’t love or want me. They hated me. I was too young to give it a name, to define it, but the feeling? Yeah, it has always been there. So, in a way Dima’s explanation just confirmed it. But…”

A tear rolled over his cheek, prompting Inno to whisper:

“Tell me about it. Let it out!”

“The way I came into this world…,” Niki sighed, “that shocked me. As a bastard, an accident, almost some give-away… or even worse: as refuse, put in an orphanage, as if she was putting the trash can out by the curb.”

“Hey…,” Inno said, “I’m a bastard as well, only the other way around. You don’t know your mother but you knew your father. Well, kind of a father. I knew my mother, but I will never know who my father was. It doesn’t mean we’re second-rate children or second-best people. We’re not accountable for the actions of our parents. Your brother said one true thing yesterday: nobody asked us anything, we were just caught up in the slipstream.”

Niki nodded, subdued, but his eyes burned in anger:

"Maybe I have no right to judge, because I don't know her circumstances and reasons. But the manner in which she got rid of me, by erasing me out of her life, appalls me. She's one icy bitch, even icier than my stepmother."

Inno stroked over Niki’s hair:

“You have a right to judge, each victim has a right to judge on the things that have been done to them.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” Niki asked with a lopsided, forced grin.

“No,” Inno said with a modest smile, “but maybe you think so, because you feel most of the time, I think most of the time. That is the difference between us. It is what gives us our strength, when combined.”

Niki took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he said thoughtfully:

“There was this one thing I did wrong, my father blackmailed me, but I was the one who let himself be blackmailed. Because I was hooked on wealth, on money. If I hadn’t been, I would have broken away much earlier. And now… hey, we’re doing good since we are on our own; less money but more happiness and that is what counts.”

“Good conclusion,” Inno grinned in satisfaction, “I told you, you would get used to it. But it is the wrong conclusion. It had nothing to do with money, there’s another reason why you didn’t break away.”

“’Scuse me?” Niki mumbled in utter astonishment, “and what might that be?”

“Curious, huh?” Inno grinned.

He sat down on Niki’s lap and laid his hand on Niki’s, then started to explain his reasoning:

“Do you remember that afternoon we made love the rough way?”

With an ashamed giggle he followed the question up with a second one:

“The afternoon I bit you?”

“Yeah,” Niki grinned, “I guess the scar is still there!”

“I’ll kiss it to sooth the pain later,” Inno snickered, letting his tongue slide over his lips. “But, I learned two things that afternoon; one about myself and the other about you. I promised to tell you once I found the answer. And I think I found it. Don’t be afraid, there’s nothing wrong about it. It is like with the feeling and the thinking: if we combine the two we can have something beautiful.”

“You’re talking in riddles now, honey,” Niki remarked.

“Not for long,” Inno said apologetically. “Let me start with what I found out about myself. When I met you I was a scared, insecure kid, who was so foolish to fall in love with the most beautiful boy he ever saw, knowing it was only a dream with no chance in the world he would actually get him. Well, for some reason I got him and still have him. It made me change. It triggered something in me, something I didn’t know it was in me. Gradually I turned into a dominant little bastard. Yes, especially when we make love, but maybe even in our day-to-day life together as well. So, I started to wonder what had caused this and the answer is dead simple, it was triggered by a partner who is submissive.”

“Me, submissive?” Niki asked taken aback.

Inno nodded:

“Yes... and when I started to think it over, it fitted. Everything you told me about your time with Raimund showed he was the dom and you the sub. He told what you had to do and you did it, without resistance or objections. More or less like you do with me. You know, even when you fuck and I receive, you let me take the reins. And that brought me to another line of thinking.”

Inno stared in front of him, as if he was searching for the right words. Niki waited impatiently, being at a loss as to what to expect.

“You weren’t aware of it, you only followed your heart. That is your nature: follow your feelings! It was there kind of dormant until you saw or sensed something in me, that triggered it to come to the surface. But the fact is, your character is formed in such a way, that you flourish on being dominated. And that is what your father did, not sexually, but emotionally.”

“Now, hold it! There was never much emotion between me and my dad.”

“Oh yes,” Inno smiled, “because hate is an emotion. It is even an emotion that can drive people to the most illogical, even insane actions. He hated you, we know that, but you started to hate him as much as he did you. Out of hate you began your struggle. But basically you were not prepared to let go of his domination, the domination that was one of the reasons for your hate, maybe even the main one, that caused and sustained your struggle against him. His hate fed yours and your hate became the main motive to fight on. And, without knowing, he supplied it, even when he sent you to Merligborn, where his domination was executed through the faithful services of his creepy henchman Weber. You weren’t hooked on his money, you were addicted to his domination. When he broke all ties, you panicked. No, you collapsed, almost imploded. You were left on your own without any dominant guidance. You had no idea how to live, the ground under you vanished, your world went to pieces. And maybe the most important point, there was nothing left to fight against! But once you sensed my domination was more than enough to fill the gap your father left behind, then you made your own act of breaking the ties. Under the circumstances it was an almost unnoticeable act. It wasn’t spectacular or revolutionary: you didn’t burn down his villa or ravage his no doubt fancy car. It was only a symbolic act, but no matter how inconspicuous it was, it was your act of breaking free.”

“What did I do then?” Niki asked wondering.

“You took the company SIM card out of your phone and replaced it with another number, thereby making yourself untraceable and at the same time independent,” Inno said with a heavenly smile. “At that moment I didn’t fully understand what you were doing, but I felt so proud of you. Now I know why!”

“But what about my painting, I mean, the real ones?” Niki asked, “That is not exactly submissive or slavish.”

“Wow, wait a minute, angel,” Inno said, sticking his hand up, “I never said you were a slave. You’re only submissive. These are two different things, two different attitudes. Now, Maddog, there wouldn’t be a Maddog in the first place if your father hadn’t hated you and you him. In fact, he is the result of your struggle, but also of your artistic talents. Did you notice that you stopped working for a while after your old man kicked you out? And that you started working again when I told you of that priest? That painting on the cathedral door was the first one after a very long pause, because there was anger again! Call Maddog ‘your other you,’ but now it is the artist who is angry, not the kid that hates. It has nothing to do with your position in private emotional things. But it is of equal importance. And that makes Maddog far from submissive.”

He took his hand off Niki’s and stroked his chin pensively. After a short glance in Niki’s eyes he said:

“You said earlier you have no right to judge. Now I’m the last one who can judge, since I have nothing to do with it. But after all I heard last night I can only say your father wasn’t worthy to have a son like you!”

“Neither was your father,” Niki said softly.

“Hey, he didn’t know what he was missing,” Inno laughed. “He made me and then he bugged out. But your’s didn’t know as well what he was missing, but he missed it with open eyes.”

Inno embraced his lover and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Your beautiful haircut is starting to flop, angel.”

“That was to be expected,” Niki replied. “Showering, walking and jogging outside in the wind, hair that grows. It was never meant to be eternal.”

“To be honest, I like it the way it is now,” Inno said, letting his fingers play through the black hair. “It’s almost the old model, but still on the brink of boy and girl.”

“Then I’ll keep it that way,” Niki smiled.

Inno stroked the loose black hair, looked at his lover with yearning eyes and asked:

“You want that kiss to sooth the terrible pain on that scar?”

“Well, I have heard worse plans,” Niki giggled.

Inno’s voice became tremendously husky again as he whispered:

“You want it here or you want it in the bedroom?”

“Hmmmm…,” Niki moaned softly. “Let’s do it in the bedroom. I can never tell what else you might want to kiss.”

“I love you!” Inno whisper-growled. “No, I adore you! Be my tomgirl…!”

Niki smiled and breathed:

“Anybody else saying that would lose his teeth, but coming from you it is the highest compliment.”

Their lips locked together in a kiss, Inno uttered, hardly audibly:

“Don’t talk tough, because you aren’t. You’re only sweet. Now come on!”

He jumped up, almost literally tore his lover off the chair and dragged him to the bedroom.

“Cool, dude,” Niki laughed out loud, “you really turned into a dominant little animal!”

Routine took control over their lives again, however without becoming a tedious drudge. They still loved their jobs, had good times with each other, talked a lot about their future together and their lovemaking stayed as tempestuous and passionate as before.

Niki needed some time to get over the facts he learned from his brother during his unannounced visit, but with Inno’s help he succeeded in giving it its place in his life and he dealt with the feelings. Now he was simply back to working, during daytime in Peter Steinmann’s little photo shop or at some paint commission, in the evenings he was still figuring out how to get that ‘damned design’ on some wall. He even started considering abandoning it and beginning something completely new.

But their pleasant life was disrupted once again. Because not three weeks after Dmitri’s visit another event occurred as unexpectedly as the visit had been, and again it was preluded by the doorbell.

Inno was at work and Niki was working at home on some design for a fashion shop decoration when it rang. Irritated by the disturbance he rose, walked to their front door and opened it.

He saw two men, both middle-aged, men he had never seen before in his life. The elder of the two asked:

“Nikita Mikhailovitsj Dräger?”

Niki was immediately on full alert! This meant peril; nobody ever addressed him in that way. But what else could he do other than answer?

“Yeah. And who is asking?”

“Or do you prefer to be called Maddog?” the man asked with a neutral smile.

“Who?” Niki tried denial, not very convincingly, since he felt himself blush. “I think you have the wrong person, I don’t know a Maddog. But you haven’t answered my question.”

“Ah yes,” the man replied. “Detective Szorborny, Merligborn Police. This is my colleague Latter.”

“If you say you are police then I suppose you have some identification,” Niki said, feeling pretty uneasy, especially after ‘Maddog’ was mentioned. “And what is this all about?”

Both men produced their police identifications which satisfied him. But as to his question, this was ignored for the moment.

“Can you come with us to the police station? We have something to show you and then we need to talk to you.”

“Do I have a choice?” Niki inquired.

“No, actually you haven’t,” detective Szorborny answered with a grin.

The German judicial system is not among the fastest in the world, so it took a few months before the case of “The Federal Republic of Germany with the Archdiocese of Merligborn as co-plaintiff against Nikita Mikhailovitsj Dräger” was on the court list.

Niki had never been so nervous before in his life. He had been nervous every now and then when he had to confront ’Snake Eyes,’ he had been nervous when he was painting his illegal ‘Maddog’-paintings and he had been nervous when he was waiting for some first date. But nothing was comparable with what he felt now, the moment when he entered the court room. He had never been in a courtroom before.

But nervous or not, he had prepared his defense as thoroughly as he had prepared the offence for which he was to account for, then discussed it with his lawyer. He had written it down, not to read out loud in court, but to learn it by heart so he could keep a determined pose while saying what he had to say. He even rehearsed it in front of the mirror. But again, he left Inno out of it. He did it as a conscious decision, it was not him as a person who was on trial, but the artist Maddog. And since Maddog was a lone wolf, he chose to fight on his own.

But once he was in the courtroom he felt nervousness again. Next to him was his lawyer, a young woman who had made it clear she was with him all the way. So, that was not the cause. It was because he had never been on trial before. Until now!

He had been collared, not in the act, but in retrograde. Despite his thorough reconnaissance of the working area around the cathedral he had missed one small thing. Problem was, it hadn’t missed him. It was a surveillance camera that had recorded every move of his in- and exfiltration. He was mad with himself. Everything had been planned to perfection; the execution had gone without a hitch. Only this one thing: a small box with a very tiny flashing light, and he had missed it! What made it even worse was that if he had detected it, it would still have been possible to make the painting on the same spot. The only thing he would have had to change was the direction from which he went in and out, because then he would have stayed outside the camera’s field of view.

“What a dumbass!” he had muttered, when he visited the central square to find out how he had been detected.

But it was too late to regret it; he stood in front of a stern-looking elderly judge and he could only face the music and hope for the best.

Once his personal details had been checked and confirmed and the indictment read, the judge asked:

“Well, young man, so you call yourself Maddog?”

“Yes, sir,” Niki replied.

“Any particular reason for that?” the judge inquired.

“No sir, in the beginning it was just a catchy nickname.”

“Do you understand what has just been read?” the judge wanted to know.

Niki could understand ‘damage to property,’ but ’blasphemy’? Somewhat helpless he looked at his lawyer, who whispered:

“Don’t you worry. I saw it coming and it’s covered. Just say ‘yes’”

“Eeehhh..yes, sir,” Niki said uncertainly.

“And what has the defense to say to this?” the judge asked.

Niki’s lawyer rose and answered:

“My client pleads ‘not guilty’ on the charge of blasphemy. He wishes to appeal to the Constitutional rights of Freedom of Opinion and Freedom of Art, which, in our opinion will settle for the complaint of blasphemy, since it is only based on the belief of the co-plaintiff, not on these two inalienable Constitutional rights my client has. Now, as far as the charge of “Damage to property’ is concerned, there is a technical problem with the available evidence. Yes, the surveillance camera recorded my client, but it does not provide any convincing and lawful evidence that my client actually painted the picture on that door, simply because it didn’t record it! He might as well have been taking a nap in that portal.”

“Now, wait a minute, counselor,” the judge objected. “The camera wasn’t equipped to see the suspect in that dark abyss.”

The lawyer gave the judge a triumphal smile and countered with:

“Is that my client’s problem or responsibility, your Honour?”

The judge uttered a non-committal grunt, but there was a hardly discernable grin on his face.

Niki’s lawyer took a sip of water. Which was clearly done for the dramatic effect, not out of thirst.

Then she continued:

“However, against my legal advice, my client chooses to plead ‘guilty’ on the charge of ‘damage to property,’ because he wants to explain to the court and thereby in public, what his reasons were for doing this in that place and the meaning of the painting. Now, when he explained it to me, I was mighty impressed. I hope it will convince you as well, your Honour, and that you will judge it as not another case of simple graffiti damaging a door, but as a statement and an accusation, both of which are fully within the already mentioned Constitutional rights of my client, both as an individual and as an artist. And I entrust you will concur the cathedral’s door was exactly the right spot to make the painting.”

The judge considered this briefly, then asked:

“So, young man, you want to explain yourself?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Then tell me why you did this,” the judge more or less ordered him.

“It is my firm conviction that an artist has to take a position, a stand, in sensitive subjects. I wanted to make a stand, sir… on behalf of thousands of children who were sexually abused by priests. And… this number of ‘thousands’ is only since 1950. Nobody knows or can even estimate how many children were abused before 1950, back to the earliest days of the Church. The number must be staggering, it could well be into the millions. And throughout all these centuries the Church covered it up, just like they are trying to sweep it under the carpet today. It…it gave me the need to make something clear, in my own way, as a street artist.”

The judge snorted skeptically and somewhat sarcastically countered with:

“Young man, let me say clearly that I’m with you in your opinion that the child abuse in the Church is a very sad and deplorable situation. But I can’t believe, that you suddenly felt the burning need to stand up for thousands of children who you don’t know personally. I find that hard to accept. I think, you did it to establish your position in street art as the most daredevil artist, someone who has the audacity to make a painting on the cathedral’s door.”

“No, sir,” Niki reacted sharply, “In all modesty, Maddog had no need to establish his position in street art. He already has it.”

“Then it might be a good idea to tell us your real motives. Why you did it,” the judge ‘suggested’ equally sharply.

Without hesitation Niki said loud and clear:

“Because the Church made it personal, sir…”

“Where you abused by a priest then?” the judge asked.

“No, sir. I’m not a catholic, so that kept me out of reach of these jackals!”

The judge shrugged and frowned questioningly.

“Then… why did you do it?”

“Because…” Niki started, but faltered, fighting back tears.

The judge seemed to notice it. He pressed on, but in a much gentler way with only a:

“Well?”

“Just say it! Throw it out!” he heard his lawyer whisper.

“Because…,” Niki stammered in his second attempt, “My…my… my boyfriend…was one of those abused kids.”

There was an audible gasp in the court room. Niki recovered somewhat and put some extra fuel on the fire of commotion by saying:

“Right here in this city and right there in that cathedral!”

The plaintiff’s lawyer, who sat one table away from him, shifted uneasily in his chair and the clergyman, who sat next to him, suddenly looked as if he was going to be ill. The president restored order with his wooden gavel.

Niki couldn’t help himself; with tears in his eyes he looked behind him to the public gallery where only a few people were seated: a reporter of the local newspaper, Inno, funny enough Peter Steinmann and two or three other persons, whose reasons for being there were unclear to Niki.

Inno swept tears from his face, but took chance to smile encouragingly and form his lips into a kiss. Niki returned it, not noticing, that the judge was observing this little intermezzo between the two of them. Before his eyes were back looking at the bench, the judge looked at a police picture made of the painting and after carefully studying it he asked:

“But, can you tell me what it means? Is there some symbolism in here?”

“Yes, sir, there is,” Niki replied, “In a way it is allegoric.”

“And would you be so kind to explain it to us?” the judge asked rather bitingly, indicating it was not a friendly request, but a lawful question in this trial which had to be answered.

“Yes, sir,” Niki said and started:

“Let me start with the boy in the front. As you can see, he is naked. That makes him a representation of innocence. When I designed it at home, I had Inno in my mind… sorry, my boyfriend that is, but he represents all those thousands of children who have been sexually abused by Catholic priests.”

The judge looked at him, clearly interested and hummed a curt:

“Go on!”

“Then the dragon… he embodies the priests who committed this crime. He’s lustful, ruthless, bloodthirsty… he tears his victims apart, not physically but mentally and that for most of the time for the rest of their lives. And he doesn’t even care about that, but covers his own tracks by making his victims believe they caused their own fate, making them feel ashamed so that they will shut up.”

“And the cross?” the judge asked, “Because so far, I can understand it, but this cross… I can’t grasp the meaning of that.”

Niki drank a swig of water and took a deep breath before he went on:

“Everybody thought the dragon was the centerpiece of the painting, but it wasn’t. It is the cross that is the centerpiece. The cross is seen as a benevolent symbol, the Church’s self-image. That is at least the way the Church wants its believers to understand it. The blazing fire, in which it is engulfed…? Fire is a danger, a threat. It kills and maims people, it destroys buildings, whole villages and forests, even complete civilizations. And fire is the most important means by which the Devil punishes the sinners in Hell. Fire is evil. By combining those two in the image of the burning cross I visualized the two sides of that cross, the way the Church wants it to be understood and the way it actually is. At least in my opinion: a symbol for a devastating and suppressive system, a criminal organization.”

By now the clergyman at the table to his left looked decidedly sick.

“Go on!” his lawyer encouraged him in a low whisper, “Finish them off! You’re doing great!”

He felt strengthened. He took a second deep breath and went on with his expose:

“As you can see the dragon embraces the burning cross with its claws. The meaning of it is the priest is embracing the cross as a symbol he can hide behind, the symbol that provides him with his sinister cloak and the symbol of an institution that covers up all the crimes against innocent children. Summarizing: the supposed Crucifix of Benevolence has turned into the Crucifix of Evil, both in this painting… and in real life. That is the meaning of the painting.”

He looked somewhat uncertainly to his lawyer, but was rewarded by two thumbs stuck up, almost under the table, not visible to the court.

“So,” he continued, “One might find it debatable that I made this painting on the cathedral’s door. But in my view, it was exactly the right place at the right time. I would do it again if necessary. But as far as the painting itself is concerned… I… I still believe in the original concept.”

The judge nodded, then said:

“One last question, young man. Are you aware that you hurt people with this painting in that particular place and time?”

“Yes, sir, I was.” Niki replied confident.

“But, you didn’t mind?” the judge pressed the matter.

“Yes and no,” Niki said pensively. “The people who saw it when they went to High Mass weren’t all hurt. And those who were, were so for a short time, maybe a few hours or even a few days. But, sir,… the abused children are and were hurting for the rest of their lives. So, honestly, compared to that… I found it acceptable, I even found it fair.”

“OK,” the judge said, “then I know enough. I’ll withdraw now to consider how I am going to judge. This court is adjourned.”

Niki sat down, utterly confused and amazed.

“Isn’t he going to tell me what he is going to do with me?” he asked his lawyer.

“Oh yes,” she said with a smile, “don’t you worry, he is. But he is withdrawing now to think it over, decide if you are guilty and if so, how he is going to punish you.”

“What do you think?” he wanted to know, suddenly feeling very afraid.

“First of all, you gave a good show!” she said, “Secondly, I think there is nothing to worry about. I know him, he would have nailed you if you had been just another graffiti sprayer. But he likes it when an artist has thought his concept through and can defend it.”

After a little over thirty minutes the judge returned. Niki’s lawyer strengthened his nerves by giving him a wink.

“Well, young man… After due consideration, the first charge about which your lawyer was correct, is you are not a simple graffiti sprayer. You are a real artist. The cathedral’s door was not exactly the most appropriate place, but I understand your reasoning. On the charge on blasphemy, I see no insult to God or the religion in itself. The defense’s point of view is correct. The charge is only based on the co-plaintiff’s views and attitudes and ignores the fact the defendant has the personal right to have another opinion about the Church and its priests. Besides, as an artist you have the constitutional right to express this opinion by using your art in any way you see fit for the clear expression of your points of view. Summarizing: I acquit the defendant on the charge of blasphemy.”

He looked penetratingly to Niki as if he wanted to let it sink in. Then he continued:

“The second charge for which your lawyer was right, to advise you to plea ‘not guilty’ to ‘damage to property,’ because indeed, there is no conclusive evidence that you actually painted the painting on the door, but you chose to ignore her advice. If you had followed her advice, I would have had to acquit you for that as well. But… since you chose to plead ‘guilty’ and even gave the court an expose on reasons and meaning, I can’t simply ignore that.”

Horror came in Niki’s eyes… was he going to jail?

His lawyer laid her hand on his to calm him down and her lips formed a “Hush.”

“But…,” the judge continued, “there were very good grounds for the painting and for the place. Besides, I respect your courage to stand up for what you did and since you have no previous criminal record for whatever felony, I will be lenient. Because you deserve it. On the charge of ‘damage property” I find you guilty and sentence you to a fine of hundred euros caution with a probation period of three months. Case settled, ladies and gentlemen. This court is adjourned.”

When the judge was gone Niki asked, the nerves screeching through his body:

“What did he say? What does it mean?”

With a beaming smile his lawyer answered:

“It means nothing, only that you will have to keep Maddog in his kennel for the next three months.”

“Wow!” Niki exclaimed. “Cool! Thank you!”

“Just doing my job,” she smiled.

Then she looked behind to the public gallery. Laughing she looked into Niki’s eyes and said:

“There’s some skinny boy with red curls back there who is jumping up and down very excited. I think your Inno wants to say something to you. You better go and see him quickly. RUN, NOW!”

“He hasn’t got red hair, it’s ginger-blonde,” Niki growled.

But then it was no longer possible to stop him. Niki jumped over the balustrade that separated the actual court space from the public gallery, ran to Inno and fell in his arms.

“Angel…!” was the first thing he heard, followed by a long, intense kiss.

“Yeah… I rolled through,” he said with a sigh of relief.

“No,” Inno said, “you fought your way through. And you did it magnificently. I was so proud of you… the way you answered everything, the way you finished them off.”

He giggled, then said softly:

“And it taught me another thing about you… you’re only submissive in your private relations, outside you’re an even more dominant beast than I am. You are so complex and that makes you so beautiful. It is not only your face or your body, it is the whole boy who is beautiful.”

“Don’t overdo it, honey,” Niki muttered shyly, “I’m just a normal guy….”

“No, you aren’t,” Inno smiled, “You… are… you! Don’t you ever forget that!”

A little distance away Peter Steinmann waited, patiently and discreetly. When Inno saw him, he snickered:

“Oups, there’s someone else who wants to congratulate you.”

“Yeah, there is,” Peter said with his indestructible grin. “Congratulations, Niki. You did very well, even extraordinarily well.”

Niki reacted with a shy smile; he had no idea what exceptional things he had done: he had only tried to save his skin.

“And,” Peter continued, “it humbles me to know I have the great Maddog in my shop. Although you have to keep him on the leash for three months.”

“No, please…,” Niki objected, by now red faced with shame, “What I do at work in your shop has nothing to do with Maddog. That is kind of my own world, it’s my own thing!”

“I get the picture,” Peter grinned. “Now, you boys go and celebrate. I’ll see you tomorrow at ten.”

With Peter gone, Inno embraced Niki again and said:

“Do you realize that by now we are together for some time?”

Niki nodded. Rapid mental calculation told him it had to be about a year and a half.

“And,” Inno went on, “that we went through some turmoil together?”

Again Niki nodded, at a loss to where Inno was getting at.

“Do you remember our first night together, when I quoted Bowie, when I said I was an absolute beginner?”

For the third time Niki nodded.

“And later, in the park, we quoted Bowie again, when we said ‘We can be heroes,’” Inno said thoughtfully. “The quote in itself was correct, but it is no longer applicable to us.”

“Why not?” Niki asked amazed.

“Because we can’t be heroes…,” was the reply. “We already are!”

With a glorious smile Inno continued:

“But there is another quote from ‘Heroes’ that can replace it. It fits us better.”

Niki stared at him with puzzled eyes.

With his smile still over his face Inno sang:

“’I, I will be king, and you, you will be queen

Though nothing will drive them away

We can beat them, for all days

We can be heroes, for all days’”

Giggling he added:

“I changed it a little bit to express my feeling that the two of us are invincible if we stick together.”

Inno tilted his head slightly and his smile went from glorious via his typical angelic expression to a truly divine and sun-blending one, when he softly said:

“Now, if I play the role of the king, will you be my queen then?”

Niki was too dumbfounded to say anything. He didn’t need to; his shining and sparkling eyes said it all.

“Yes!”

“Come on…” Inno whispered heartily. “Let’s go celebrate! First, I’ll buy you dinner. Then I will take care of dessert myself!”

Hand in hand and looking into each other’s loving eyes they walked through the long and overcrowded corridors of the Palace of Justice, impervious to all the glances around them. It was a pity they didn’t notice the faces, because if they had they would have observed even conservative Merligborn started to change. There were still those who casted disapproving and even angry looks at them, but there were also eyes that showed their owners were only unsure how to handle this uncommon situation. Most people didn’t even notice it and there were two or three who stared at them in envy, actually enjoying the sight: two young, beautiful gay boys, radiating their lust for life and very clearly deeply in love with each other. And what sight can be more beautiful than love, no matter between who and who?

The End