Disclaimer: These chapters just keep getting longer! Now, we have a routine disclaimer I add here where I tell you all that most of these characters are based on and are essentially just my AU of YouTubers. They're not mine.
___________
Third Person PoV
Luke
______________
Luke's house's front door slammed open. Luke rolled and fell off his bed. He bit his inner cheek and groaned inwardly. Getting up into a crouching position, he reached blindly under his mattress for his hand gun and aimed it at his bedroom door.
Cautiously, Luke crouch-walked to the door and reached out to grab the door handle. His breathing waa steady and his finger stayed on the trigger. Luke went to open the door. Beads of sweat rolled down his face. Suddenly, the door opened and smacked him in the face. He dropped backwards and let go of the gun.
"Mother fuck!" He gripped his nose tightly.
"Oh! Oh, sorry, Cartoonz! I didn't think you'd be that close to the door," Bryce apologized.
Luke looked up at the tall blond disbelievingly, his face throbbing in dull pain. "Bryce? What the fuck? How did you get in here?" Luke winced and groaned. "And why'd you have to slam a door in my face?" He checked for blood. Nothing.
"Sorry. I figured this was better than me getting punched in the gut while trying to wake you up."
"Yeah? For you, maybe, not for me. God, my whole face hurts now, Bryce. I think it would have been better if I just punched you in the gut."
"Maybe, but this way was less painful for me." Bryce chuckled lightly, reaching out to help Luke stand. Luke gripped his hand tightly and got up. Luke went to turn the light on, finally taking a proper look at Bryce.
"Holy shit, Bryce. This is what a week without shaving and an allergic reaction does to you?" In the dark, Luke hadn't been able to make out any discernable features, but once the lights were on, he could see that Bryce was wearing glasses instead of contacts and that he had stubble growing. It made him look older, less baby-faced. "Geez, you should get allergic reactions more often."
Bryce dead panned. "No. I think it was just me not shaving and wearing my glasses. I don't think having an allergic reaction had anything to do with this."
They laughed together, Bryce coughing slightly. Luke looked at him again, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes.
"Bryce, have you gotten any sleep this past week? You look like the walking dead."
Bryce shook his head uncomfortably. "That doesn't matter right now. Listen, I know who Mike's and Josh's murderer is."
"Who?" Instantly, everything else was shoved to the back of Luke's mind. "We gotta go get everyone else and tell 'em."
"No!" Bryce yelled, throwing his hands up as if he were about to restrain someone. He calmed down. "No. Right now, we need to get Drac's district down to this address, before the killer leaves. He starts work soon, and I'd like to do this with the least amount of scandal possible."
Luke looked at him, confused. "You make it sound like there's gonna be a scandal regardless."
Bryce sighed deeply, eyes sad and tired. "Because it's inevitable. Whatever happens, there's gonna be a scandal."
_______
Third Person PoV
Bryce
______________
Bryce stared out Luke's truck's window, watching car lights go racing by. The radio played, but though he'd usually be singing along, right now all Bryce was doing was be stuck in his thoughts. Bryce had a weight on his chest, one he couldn't tell anyone about. He hadn't just found out who the murderer was, Bryce h'd also found out who the BBS was. While he had been sick, he had been running through the footage from the police department break-in. After looking through the same footage, sifting through the DNA results, and reading over the results of tracing the owners of the guns, Bryce's head had begun throbbing with a headache.
Looking back, it was thanks to that headache that Bryce decided to take a break and wound up on his Twitter, where Jon had followed him because Luke was their mutual friend, and where Bryce had followed everyone from the group. It was because of that headache that Bryce looked through some of their more recent photos and saw that Scotty looked very familiar to someone. Someone Bryce had seen in a grainy, black and white screenshot from some security footage.
Bryce shook his head and pulled his phone out, dialing Max's phone number. Bryce didn't want to deal with his little find. He also didn't want to deal with Dracula's scolding. After all, he had basically broken into Swag's police department to figure out who the killer was.
Bryce frowned and ground his teeth together. Did Ohm and Dracula really think he hadn't realized that, due to him being weak and dazed from his allergic reaction, he would miss something? He knew it, so he made sure to study everything multiple times and made sure others checked too, just in case he still missed something. Bryce could have 'finished' all the research several days ago, but he needed to make sure that he didn't miss anything.
Luke sped down the road, his radio turned up some more. Bryce hadn't noticed. Hia phone still rang.
Max picked up after the third ring.
"Hello?" He asked, voice tired.
"Max, it's me, Bryce. Listen, I need you to go to the address I'm going to send to you. Take a squadron with you. Arrest the man. You might find a woman there, ignore her."
"All right, but why?"
"That's our double murderer."
"Holy--- really? All right, I'm on my way. I'm calling in my squad. I'm trusting you, Bryce. You better not be wrong about this guy."
Bryce looked straight ahead. "Trust me, I made sure."
"You're getting Drac, right? He's gonna want to know about this."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm on my way to his house now."
"All right. I'll see you in a bit, then."
"Yep, see you then."
He sighed. Bryce hadn't wanted to get Dracula involved until tomorrow, or rather, later today. He was going to be really upset with Bryce, but it was necessary. Luke stopped in Drac's driveway. Bryce quickly got out, Luke following suit, his truck engine idling in the background. Bryce pounded on Dracula's door.
The door opened slightly, Swag's eyes could barely be seen through the crack in the doorway. The door opened wider.
"Bryce? What the hell are you doing here?"
"Call Gorilla. We've got the name of the killer of Joshua and Michael. And the location."
Drac's eyes widened and stepped out of his house, only wearing a pair of sweatpants. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"
Luke and Bryce shared a glance. Bryce turned back to Dracula.
"Uhh, Swag? Maybe you should put some clothes on."
"We don't have time! Who knows if this killer knows that we know? We gotta get him before he can get the chance to leave!"
"No need," Bryce replied, holding up his phone. "I've got Max already on apprehending the murderer. Call Gorilla. We're getting this into court as soon as possible."
Dracula nodded and turned to go back inside. Then he paused and turned back around. "Bryce, why are we doing this at the middle of the fucking night?"
Bryce shifted from foot to foot, before shaking his head. "We don't have time for that right now. Go call Gorilla, Swag, please."
Dracula looked at him curiously, before shaking his head a little. "All right, come on in. No point in leaving you guys outside."
He gestured for them to follow, but Luke took a step back. "Aight, let me just go turn off my truck's engine. Gas is expensive and there's no point in wasting it."
Dracula and Bryce nodded and stepped inside, Bryce leaving the door partially open for Luke.
As soon as the two stepped inside, Dracula swivelled around to face Bryce, his eyes narrowed.
"Explain," he demanded.
Bryce looked at anything but him.
"Bryce," he threatened, his arms crossed. "Explain."
Bryce sighed, defeated. "I. . . Might have broken into the police department," he admitted, bracing himself for his outburst.
Dracula's eyes widened in shock and his arms dropped to his sides. "What?! Bryce, you're an officer of the law, but that doesn't mean you're exempt from it!"
Bryce hurriedly raised his hands to placate him. "I know, Swag, I know. But I knew I only needed one final piece of evidence, and I was right! I would have gotten it sooner, but with me taking it easy because I was sick---"
"In what world is practically living at the lab 'taking it easy'?"
Luke spoke up, confused. "I'm sorry, maybe I should come back later?"
"I had to come in after your shift ended," Bryce continued, Luke completely ignored. "Besides, it wasn't entirely breaking in. I had someone from the night shift who let me in."
Dracula rubbed a hand over his face. "Was it Max?"
". . . Maybe."
Luke huffed. "Excuse me, but if y'alls're done with this interrogation, we've got a place to be."
Both Swag and Bryce looked over at him, surprised. They'd completely forgotten that he was there with them.
"Right," Bryce said. "Sorry. Let's go, Max probably has the killer by now."
Dracula rolled his eyes. "Of course he does, Max is very swift when the order to arrest is placed. But before we can leave, I kind of need to actually get dressed." With that he walked off, opening and closing his bedroom door. After a few minutes, Dracula walked out dressed in his police uniform. "Let's go, men. Into the night!"
Bryce groaned before laughing. "Dracula, please, don't do that every time. In-game was fine."
Dracula grinned at Bryce and adjusted his shirt sleeve. "It's just how I roll, baby. By the way, who's the murderer?"
Bryce opened the door and walked out, the other two behind him.
"Liam Peterson."
________
Third Person PoV
Jonathan
_________________
His alarm didn't wake Jonathan up like it usually did. It was his phone ringing right next to him that woke him up.
Groggily sitting up in bed, he reached over, fumbling a little.
"Hello?" He asked, rubbing his eye with his one free hand.
Luke's voice spoke. "Jonathan?"
"Luke? What the hell, man? It's---" he checked his alarm. "It's 5 in the morning."
"I know, Jon, I know. Listen, come by the address I'm gonna text you. You'll want to be here. Tell everyone else."
Jonathan sighed and looked out the window. "Luke, the sun's not even up yet. What is so important?"
"Bryce found the killer."
His eyes shot wide open, and he jumped out of bed, ripping the sheets off his body. "What?! When?!"
"Last night, around midnight. We have the man in custody, the trial is today. It's starting in half an hour. Call everyone from your group. I've got my squad covered."
"All right. I'm on my way."
"Aight, see you here."
The call ended. Jonathan grinned savagely. That coldblooded killer was going to get what he deserved. His phone buzzed, saying it had a notification. It was a text from Luke.
Quickly copying the address, he pasted it to a group chat and texted Come to this address. Wear something nice. We've got our murderer and a trial.
Jonathan hurriedly searched through his closet and found one suit, a black one with a striped blue tie. Quickly putting it on, his phone started vibrating constantly as people texted back and forth. He unlocked the phone and checked.
Wild_C4t: On my way.
T_Terrorizer: Already heard from Moo.
Smii7y: Do old fashioned 3D glasses count as nice?
Mini_Ladd: No.
Smii7y: Way to rain on my parade. Don't wear your flip flops and suit.
Mini_Ladd: That's just low.
Smii7y: Just returning the favour.
407_Scott: Focus. Leave your fight for later.
Mini_Ladd: Fuck off.
Mini_Ladd is offline.
Wild_C4t is offline.
407_Scott is offline.
Smii7y: Well, I'm off.
Smii7y is offline.
Jonathan stared at his phone and read through the messages. He shook his head and went to wake up Evan. Jonathan struggled with the tie for a second before giving up. He'd tie it in a second.
"Evan," he said, shaking the sleeping man. "Evan, wake up." Jon shook him a little harder. "Wake up, dammit!"
Evan just turned around, mumbling, "Let me sleep, you fuck."
Jonathan sighed and smacked Evan with his tie. He didn't budge. "C'mon, man, we've got a court to get to."
"Why are we going to court? We haven't been caught."
Jonathan rolled his eyes and flicked his ear. "Not for us, you idiot, for Mike and Josh's murderer."
Evan didn't react for a second, his prone figure still. Then he violently sat up, kicking his legs over the side of his bed. He fell on his face, his legs all wrapped up in his blankets. He groaned but quickly disentangled himself and stood up.
"Come on, then, let's go!"
"Get dressed first, but hurry up, we have to get there in about an hour." Evan nodded. He ran to the bathroom, running water could be heard inside.
Jonathan shook his head and went back to struggling with his tie. "Fuck this tie," he grumbled to himself, tossing it on Evan's bed. He could deal with ties better than Jonathan could, anyway. Jonathan walked out of Evan's room and messed with his hair a little. It was short, so he didn't really have to worry about styling it. He left it alone.
Jonathan could hear the bathroom door open. It never closed. Fifteen minutes hadn't passed before Evan was ready, a black suit similar to Jon's on. The only difference was that Evan was wearing a black tie, whereas Jonathan wasn't wearing one. Evan was actually holding Jonathan's tie in his left hand, while he adjusted his tie with his right.
He gave Jonathan a look. Jonathan shook his head. "No. I can't tie a tie. I don't even know why I tried putting it on."
Evan sighed. "Come here and I'll help you."
Jonathan walked closer and looked at the wall as Evan somehow tied the tie around his neck.
"There," he said proudly, tightening it a little. He tucked it into the suit so it looked more professional. Jonathan looked down.
"I will probably never know how you tie this." Jonathan commented, smoothing any wrinkles in the fabric. "But I'm glad you can."
Evan nodded absentmindedly and walked to the door. "Yeah, I'm sure you are. Now c'mon, let's go!"
_________________
Everyone was sitting, chattering away. There weren't that many people, just the group, Luke's group, the cops that caught the murderer, and the hurriedly put together jury. Those of them who were anxious to see the sentence of the murderer were sitting nervously on the edge of their seats. The jury just sat there, murmuring to each other.
Bryce was the plaintiff and Liam, the defendant.
"Why are we here at seven in the morning?" Jonathan could hear one whisper.
"The double murderer is on trial." Went another.
"Who cares?" Asked one particularly rude sounding one.
Jonathan frowned at that and tried to ignore the talking. He fiddled with his tie, waiting for the judge to come in.
Bryce sat, at his side was a lawyer with slightly bushy eyebrows and a serious expression that looked wrong on her face. Both were wearing dark suits, although Bryce's was a lighter color. Jonathan took a good look at the blond. He looked tired and much, much older. Whatever had happened to him in the week he'd been sick had really changed him physically.
"Hey, I think that's the judge," Tyler whispered to Jonathan, subtly gesturing with his head to the tall black man who had just walked in.
The man cleared his throat. "Good morning, everyone. We are here today to decide upon the fate of Liam Peterson. He is accused of the double murder of Michael Herrera and Joshua Peterson. Bring him in!"
Jonathan couldn't help but turn to look at the man that took the lives of two of his friends walk in, arms held by two officers, Luke being one of them. Liam's face was stoic, his mouth set in a thin line. The only thing that gave away any emotion were his eyes. They were narrowed and, at first glance, looked completely blank, until you noticed that his eyes darted from side to side too much to be casual.
Liam sat down, his handcuffed hands sitting in his lap. His attorney was already sitting down, but he stood up to help Liam sit down.
Looking at him, Jonathan's hair stood on end. Even though the room was reasonably warm, he felt a chill run down his spine. This man was Josh's father. Why would he murder his own son? Why?
"Liam Peterson, you stand here accused of the murders of Michael Herrera and Joshua Peterson. How do you plead?"
Liam stood up, eyes looking straight ahead. "Not guilty."
"Bullshit!" Smiity whispered, uncrossing his arms to lean forward.
Everyone nodded in agreement. Ohm crossed his arms. "Bryce was top of his class, I trust him."
The judge, whose plaque read Judge Mark Johnson Jr., shuffled some papers.
"Attorney Jackson, what do you have to say?"
Liam's attorney, a tall and imposing middle-aged man, stood up. "Your. . . honor, with all due respect, my client hadn't been anywhere near that fish factory during the time of the disappearance of Michael Herrera, nor did he have any idea as to the whereabouts of Joshua Peterson."
"It says here that Joshua was his son."
Attorney Jackson cleared his throat. "My client and his. . . son didn't have much contact after there was a falling out between the two of them. They parted ways and left the other to their own lives."
"Your honor, may I speak?" Bryce's lawyer spoke up, her cat eye glasses reflecting the light.
The judge didn't say anything before nodding.
"We hadn't mentioned that the deaths were at the old fish factory."
The room went silent. The attorney didn't look disturbed. "My client is being accused of murdering two people, who, I might add, have already been announced in the news. We're not geniuses, but we can put two and two together."
The lawyer coughed but showed no more emotion than a rock. "I'm not bringing that up as an accusation, but as a way to change the subject. I call to the stand Liam Peterson."
Liam went and struggled to put his hand on top of a bible, stating that he would speak the truth and nothing but the truth while he was on the stand. I didn't pay attention until Bryce's lawyer walked up to Liam, who was calmly standing.
"Mr. Peterson, where were you on the 2nd of June at 12:45 in the morning?"
Liam was the epitome of calm. "In my house, sleeping," he said, indifferent. "Where else would I be at that time?"
The lawyer narrowed her eyes. "Then explain why traces your DNA was found on, not only your son's body, but Michael's as well?"
Liam shrugged. "How should I know? I've never touched the boy before in my life."
"If you've never touched him, how was it that your DNA was found on him? That's not something you can just plant on someone."
The lawyer faced the judge. "Your honor, the bullet was dug out from the skull of Joshua and was traced back to a .45 handgun that belongs to Mr. Peterson."
Judge Johnson turned to face Liam. "What do you say to this?"
Liam's calm façade flickered for a second. "I haven't fired that gun in years. Maybe someone wanted to frame me. Hell if I know."
Judge Johnson motioned for Liam to go sit down. Liam complied.
"Ms. Renée, is there anything else you want to bring forth, any other evidence?"
The lawyer---Renée--- shook her head. "Not evidence, your honor. A witness."
"Objection!" Roared attorney Jackson. "Your honor, everyone knows that there was never a witness to the kidnappings or the murder of Michael Herrera! And no one knows when Joshua Peterson was killed either! So how, your honor, could Ms. Renée have a witness?"
Johnson lifted his hand in a placating manner. "Calm yourself, attorney Jackson." He faced Renée and Bryce. "Attorney Jackson has a point. How can you have a witness to crimes no one saw?"
Renée shook her head. "Not to the crimes," she said, adjusting her glasses. "At least, not directly," she amended. "I meant a witness to Liam's whereabouts the time of Michael Herrera's kidnapping." She cleared her throat. "I call to the stand Margaret Rosaline!" She gestured towards the jury, one long, manicured fingernail pointing out a lady with ruddy red-brown hair and steel looking eyes. Her eyes were wide, fearful, and dull. Bryce's face was a stony mask, indifferent, but the others were a different story. Luke, Ohm, Moo, and the other cop that had brought Liam in all tensed, their shoulders hunched and their eyes narrowed. The rest of us were confused.
Slowly, Margaret made her way to the stand. She repeated the same words that Liam had said, hand over the bible.
She stared at Renée, her eyes wary.
Renée's face was composed and serious, the perfect diplomat. "Ms. Rosaline, I am under the impression that you and Mr. Peterson were married, am I correct?"
Jonathan hissed at the sight of Rosaline. His fists clenched at his sides. Craig looked at him in concern. "What's wrong?" He whispered, his voice almost inaudible under the conversation happening in front of them.
Jonathan stared at Rosaline. "That's Liam's ex-wife, the one who practically controls all the police departments in Los Santos. She's the reason. . ." Jonathan trailed off. Craig nodded. He understood.
She was the reason it had taken so long to find Michael. She was the reason Joshua went to find Mike. She was the reason why he was dead. Why they both were dead.
And not just her. It was that son of a bitch's fault too. The disappearance and murder of Michael and Joshua had been a joint effort between the two of them.
"You can't prove that Liam wasn't with me at the house," Rosaline said, her face deceptively calm. Her eyes darted from her ex-husband to the woman standing in front of her, grilling her for every miniscule piece of information in such a way that all the answers were laid bare, whether Rosaline wanted to or not.
"And you can't prove that he wasn't," Renée replied, a small smile playing at her lips. It disappeared as soon as it came. "Ms. Rosaline, you said you were at his house, correct?"
"Yes." She kept her answers short.
"And you fell asleep at around ten at night?"
"Yes."
"And you stayed asleep the whole night?"
"Yes."
Renée narrowed her eyes behind her cat-eye glasses. "Then why are there Facebook logs that clearly state you had been awake well into the early hours of the day after Michael's disappearance?"
"I must have---must have woken up and gone on. I remember talking with a friend."
"But you just claimed to having been asleep the entire night," Renée said.
"I was."
Renée narrowed her eyes. She seemed to do that a lot. "Which is it? Were you or were you not asleep the entire night of the disappearance of Michael Herrera?"
Rosaline's forehead wrinkled as she frowned and struggled to keep her face calm and composed. "I---I was asleep and I woke up and talked with a friend before going back to sleep."
Attorney Jackson stood up. "Your honor, I don't see how this proves anything about my client's whereabouts!" He turned and faced Renée. "What are you trying to prove?"
Renée allowed a small smile to grace her lips. "I already mentioned it."
Attorney Jackson frowned. "Don't be vague, Ms. Saleroz. Explain."
"If Ms. Rosaline had been asleep, she surely can't claim that the defendant had stayed with her the entire night," Renée started.
"But you can't prove that my defendant wasn't with Ms. Rosaline either!" Jackson butted in, his face triumphant.
Judge Johnson struck his gavel. "Attorney Jackson! Allow Ms. Saleroz to finish." He faced Renée. "Continue."
Renée nodded. "You're not wrong, Mr. Jackson. But you're not right either. Alone, the fact that Ms. Rosaline was asleep wouldn't have been solid proof of anything. That's where the Facebook logs come into play." She lifted a folder. "Your honor, in this folder I have printed out the chat logs between Ms. Rosaline and her friend Ms. Leanne Faust, in which she clearly states that the defendant had gone out to do something important."
Jonathan stared, awestruck. How had Renée gotten all of this information? Hadn't Liam been arrested earlier today? When had she had the time to put this all together?
Renée handed the folder to Judge Johnson. He read it over, his lips silently mouthing the words. "Ms. Saleroz is correct," he said, looking up. "These messages were received and sent from midnight to one in the morning, and Ms. Rosaline is clearly saying that the defendant isn't with her at the moment."
More murmuring. People were shifting in their seats. Liam's face was pale, the blood draining from his face. Attorney Jackson looked calm, but looking closer, you could see that he was beginning to sweat. Rosaline squirmed a little where she stood, her face pale and her eyes erratic.
"Is there anything the defense would like to say?"
______________________________
Court after court, evidence piled after evidence, defense after defense. Two months went by like this, Renée and Bryce gathering as much evidence as possible and Jackson and Liam creating defense after defense to keep up with them. Bryce was looking better now, he didn't have dark circles under his eyes and he alternated between wearing his glasses and wearing his contacts.
Jonathan loosened his tie a little, the fabric tight against his neck. Three court trials, three times he had had to wear a suit and tie. It was three times too many, but he powered through. Jonathan flashed a small glare at the press that were in the court room, whispering to their partners. Once it became known that Liam had been arrested and was currently accused of having murdered his son and his son's fiance, the press starting flocking like vultures to a dead body to get a scoop.
The whole U.S. nation was split, some said he was innocent, others said he was guilty, and others said that what he did was what should be done. The majority of people knew that Liam Andrews Peterson was guilty. Whether the jury was in the majority, Jonathan didn't know.
Everyone sat anxiously, waiting for the jury's verdict. The gang and Jonathan shared looks of concern. He didn't need to guess what they were thinking about. It was the same thing that was running through hia mind. Would he walk away innocent, with all the evidence pointing to him?
The jury came in, one after another in a single file line. They all had the same stony expression and the same rigid shoulders. One stood up, a young man in his early thirties, his face calm. "The jury would like to know if there is anything else we need to know, any other evidence that hasn't been brought up in any of the previous trials."
Judge Johnson looked at Bryce and Renée first, then at Liam and attorney Jackson. "Does the plaintiff have any more evidence?"
Renée looked at Bryce before shaking her head. "No, your honor, we don't. We have provided every last piece of evidence we have."
"Does the defendant have anything else to prove their innocence?"
Liam's eyes darted to Jackson, his cool façade breaking, chipping at the edges. Jackson's face was stony, his eyes cold. "No, your honor, the defendant has nothing else to share with the jury. We leave everything to their impartial and capable hands."
Judge Johnson nodded and looked at the jury. "You may proceed with the verdict."
The same man stood up and read off of a piece of paper. "We, the jury, have decided that over the disappearance of Michael Herrera, Liam Andrews Peterson is guilty, so one says, so all say. Over the double murders of Michael Herrera and Joshua Peterson, we find Liam Andrews Peterson guilty. Over the count of delaying a missing persons report, we find him guilty. Of the count of delaying police officials, we find him guilty. . . ."
The jury continued listing off several other crimes Liam was guilty of, but it faded to background music in Jonathan's head. His breathing was shallow and short, his mind was drawing a blank to what the jury was saying. Scotty noticed and put his hand on Jonathan's shoulder, squeezing a little. It brought Jonathan back to himself. He took a deep breath. The words finally processed.
Liam was guilty. Jonathan held his breath, waiting for the horrible moment when his alarm would sound and he'd realize that it was all a dream and he still had to go to another court. The jury was done talking and Liam was being escorted out, his hands in front of him as Ohm and Swag lead him out. Jonathan released the breath he was holding.
He grinned at the gang, they all grinned back. They all went to go congratulate Bryce and Renée. When the group got to them, they were shaking hands, smiling at each other. Jonathan couldn't help but notice how much more pleasant Renée looked like with a proper smile on her face. In court she was as unreadable as a small child's handwriting, but now you could see she really enjoyed smiling.
"Oh, my God, you did it!" Mini laughed. He wrapped his arms around Bryce and Renée. Everyone joined in. Bryce laughed, nodding.
"We did," he agreed. He disentangled himself from the group hug. He faced Renée. "Thank you, Renée. This couldn't have been possible without your help."
Renée smiled, shaking her head. "It was my pleasure, Bryce. Besides, I have to thank you, too."
Bryce blinked, his head tilted to the side in confusion. "Why?"
"Because this will look amazing on my resume."
They all laughed at that, Ohm and Swag joined them just as they had stopped laughing.
The air became tense, but before Jonathan could comment on anything, Swag spoke up.
"Congrats, Bryce!" He clapped Bryce on the back, grinning widely. "I knew you could do it."
Bryce looked at him hopefully. "Does this mean you're not mad at me anymore?"
Swag laughed heartily. "No," he deadpanned. "I'm still very much upset at you." He sighed. "But, I do have to admit that you did a good job. Not many people would have done what you did, especially sick."
Bryce had deflated before perking back up. He faced Ohm, who was looking on with a small smile. "Are we.... Are we cool, Ohm?"
Ohm studied Bryce for a moment, his arms crossed against his chest. Then he sighed. "Yeah, we're cool," he said, smiling. "Just learn when to take breaks, dude."
Bryce nodded.
Jonathan didn't know what had happened between the two of them, but it wasn't hard to guess what it was. Tyler coughed and gained everyone's attention.
"All right, well, I think it's a good idea to go and celebrate the success of Renée and Bryce over this court."
Everyone chimed in their agreement.
"I say we go to Olive Garden," Smitty said. "They have really good garlic breadsticks."
Mini shook his head. "No way! We should go somewhere else, we go to Olive Garden all the time."
Smiity gave him a look and started walking to the exit, everyone else trailing behind. "Oh, yeah? Like what?"
Jonathan took in the scene in front of him. Tyler and Scotty were talking to Ohm about how they should play more games together. Brock, Brian, and Evan were all engaged in conversation. Renée, Bryce, and Swag were all talking as well. Luke was waiting for us outside, along with Max. the other police officer.
Jonathan couldn't help but be proud of his group of friends. They were amazing and incredibly loyal. Jonathan paused. Loyal, but for how long? Six of his friends were cops, one was trained especially in forensic science; the other six were in a him with him, a gang that was dedicated to finding the corruption in big organizations and corporations and exposing it. Bring justice to those who were scammed or cheated.
But his gang's methods weren't exactly legal. Jonathan's bet with Luke was all but won. Now all he had to to was just tell him. But Jonathan didn't want the money anymor. He didn't think he'd ever wanted the money, really. He just wanted to prove to Luke that he could do it; that he could create a gang and not get apprehended for six months if he put his mind to it. This had been a matter of pride. And boy did Jon deliver on his part.
But was Jonathan willing to bet his friends' freedom just to fill his sense of accomplishment, on the off chance that Luke and his friendship would be strong enough that Luke wouldn't go and arrest them all? No, not now, not ever would he do that. Just as Jonathan's gang were his friends, he was their friend; just as he had their loyalty, they had his.
Jonathan sighed and looked up at the sky, eyes squinting. Being in a courtroom for hours on end was not easy on the eyes. He never wanted to be back in that stuffy old courtroom ever again. Jonathan smiled. So long as they never got caught, he wouldn't have to ever see the inside of a courtroom.
Easier said than done, but he was willing to put in the extra effort to keep the BBS whole and un-apprehended.
After all, they were family.
Jonathan's smile faded as the corners of his mouth fell. Joshua and Michael had been part of the family too, but now they were gone, killed by a homophobic and xenophobic mother and father. He'd never get to see them again.
Jonathan's eyes stung. He blinked several times, trying to keep the tears down. He hadn't cried over this often before, but sometimes his train of thought brought him back to this and he'd shed a few tears in grief. Jonathan knew and even accepted the fact that two of his best friends were dead and were never coming back, but that didn't mean he couldn't still break down. It wasn't often, but it still happened.
Everyone was still talking, but they felt muted. As if they were a little scared that if they were too loud, this would all disappear and it'd all be a dream. Jonathan knew it was real. They knew it was too, but the fear was still there as irrational as a kid being scared of the monster under their bed.
Eveeyone piled into their respective cars and set off to whatever restaurant they group had finally decided on.
"Hey, you okay?" Evan asked, concerned.
Jonathan nodded, sighing. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just. . . Ready to move on."
Evan nodded in understanding. "I think we all are." He stayed silent for a minute. Jonathan stared out the window. "It's a bit strange though," he commented randomly.
Jonathan glanced at him. "What is?"
"How life continues," he explained. "Josh and Mike are. . . are dead, but we're all still alive. It feels weird, knowing someone's life ended, their future ended, but we still live our lives all the same."
Jonathan didn't say anything for a second. "Well, time doesn't wait for anyone."
Evan nodded slowly. "Yeah, I guess it doesn't. . ." He parked the car and leaned back a little in his seat. "So what's next, Delirious? Do we disband the gang? You're the leader, it's your choice."
Jonathan sighed heavily and unbuckled the seat belt. Instead of opening the door and saying 'Let me think about it,' he just sat there and blanked for a second. "Well," he started, choosing his words carefully. "I'm not forcing you guys into staying. You guys say you're in, then the BBS lives to fight another day. If not," he shrugged, "tough luck. What do you say?"
Evan didn't hesitate, he just grinned. "I say, let's go eat and celebrate not only our success against a murderer, but our gang's six month anniversary."
Jonathan grinned right back. "Then c'mon, everyone's waiting!"
They piled out of the car and walked into the restaurant, greeting everyone again. Everyone was laughing and enjoying themselves, Jonathan included. They ate and Luke gave a toast for Renée and Bryce. Everyone joked around and Jonathan laughed so hard he almost cried; Bryce laughed so hard he couldn't breathe.
Jonathan smiled to himself when they all went home, Evan crashing on the couch, tie half-undone.
Who needed money when they had friends like these?
___________________________