Work Text:
THE EAST SIDE OF CHICAGO
BY DOMINO
Summary: This is so far out Alternate Universe, it should have a name to itself as another reality. I was watching a St. Valentine's Day Massacre documentary when I remembered this song I had heard as a kid called "The Night Chicago Died". I had a complete mental vision of John as a boy of ten running through the streets of Chicago during the 1929 Gangster wars.
Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, but I don't.
Spoilers: Terra Firma.
Author's note: Thanks to Kazbaby and Casper F. Joke for information on John's mother. For those who don't know what happened in the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, Capone put a hit on George "Bugs" Moran on 2/14/29. Moran was late, but seven of his gang were there and were gunned down. Moran's gang was decimated. He ended up going to prison for bank robbery and died there of cancer. Walker is also my character and is a characture of gangsters of the time. I've changed the time of the massacre, it actually occurred at approximately 10:30 am, but for dramatic effect, I changed it to evening. I even manipulated John and Aeryn's relationship for this story. Here goes…..
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John sat reading on an old couch in the attic of his father's house. Dust bunnies swirled around in the minute circulation of air and floated through the sun beams of the curtains on the one small window. He'd been going through the old trunk looking for his mother's belongings when he's found his grandfather's diary. It had fallen out of a disintegrating box and flipped open to handwriting that had caught his attention. He had sat down where he was and gotten caught up his grandfather's recitation of historical events.
John heard someone walking up the stairs and he turned to see the top of Aeryn's head clear the banister. It was clear to him she had known which direction he would be as he found himself looking into her clear grey eyes as she cleared the stairs and walked towards him. John shivered as he continued looking into those eyes and believed she could see into his soul.
"I was just reading my grandfather's diary," John told her as he held the book out for her to see. Aeryn smiled as he made indications for her to sit beside him. He watched as she scrutinized at the faded yellow pages where his grandfather's scrawl could clearly be seen. Aeryn looked into John's clear blue eyes as he explained facts and their meaning about the historical event he was reading about. He then began to read to her in his deep, rich voice.
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"Daddy was a cop on the eastside of Chicago.
In the heat of a summer night, in the land of the dollar bill.
When the town of Chicago died and they talk about it still.
When a man named Al Capone tried to make that town his own.
And he called his gang to war with the forces of the law.
I heard my momma cry, I heard her pray the night Chicago died.
Brother what a night it really was. Brother what a fight it really was. Glory be.
And the sound of the battle raged through the streets of the ole eastside, till the last of the hoodlum gang had surrendered up or died.
There was shouting in the streets with the sound of running feet. I asked someone who said about a hundred cops are dead. Then there was no sound at all, but the clock upon the wall. Then the door burst open wide and my daddy stepped inside. He kissed my momma's face and brushed her tears away. The night Chicago died."
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The breath in his chest was being squeezing from his small lungs as his legs pumped up and down. He could feel it burning through his nose and throat as he ran for all he was worth back home to his family's apartment on the eastside of Chicago. The sun was setting on the wet, cold street and his father had told him to be home before the sun set. John knew he would be in a lot of trouble if he was late.
He called himself John and hated when anyone called him Johnny or Little Johnny. His dad was then only one to call him John. John loved his dad and he was proud of his father being a police officer. His chest would puff up every time his father would put on the dark uniform with all of those shiny buttons. He would sit mesmerized for whatever time it took for his father to polish all of the buttons.
But he knew his father would punish him for disobeying his rule. This thought alone pushed him to run faster. A shadow suddenly crossed his path and John's sudden stop almost toppled over his small, ten year old body. John stared into the hard eyes of a man who truly frightened him. Dan "The Knife" Walker was a gangster, who worked for Jack "Machine Gun" McGurn. He was directly in John's path and didn't look like he was going anywhere.
John attempted to go around the gangster, but Walker blocked his every attempt. Walker never liked John's father and made no secret he had wanted to marry John's mother before she had met John's father, Jack. John was abruptly lifted off the ground and held face to face with Walker. The man had a permanent scowl and a knife scar crossing the whole left side of his face. It was said the gangster had gotten the scar by crossing Al Capone, who had slashed him in a one-sided knife fight.
"Tonight's the night, kid," the grip Walker had on his small frame was hurting John, but he was determined not to show it to the thug. John held the man's stare and thinned his lips in resolve to show the bravery his father was known for. Walker's lips turned up at the corners minutely. "Tonight's the night we're going to rub out all the coppers."
He dropped John back on the pavement and Walker smiled when John stayed upright and didn't fall over. Laughing, Walker then pushed him over and John hit the ground hard, scraping his elbows and hands on the rough sidewalk. He never took his eyes off of the gangster or even made a sound, even though he felt blood drip down his arms and warm his hands.
"You don't scare me!" John yelled at Walker as he stood up. John stuck his chest out and stared fiercely into Walker's eyes. He watched as the man's eyebrows rose and approval contorted his too pretty face.
"I don't scare you, huh? You a brave kid? You got guts kid. I just may let you live when I kill your pop," It was John's turn to have eyes widened and he watched in real fear as the gangster walked to a Cadillac Touring car and sat down just as it sped away on screaming tires. John stared after the car in dread in the dimming light. Fear for his father brimmed over and he began running home as if the devil were hot on his heels.
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John came through the door and could immediately smell his mom's cooking that never failed to make his stomach growl. He stopped long enough to lock the door before he began his search for his father. John didn't have to search long as he found Jack Crichton standing just inside the door to the kitchen staring at him. He could see his mother cooking supper inside the tiny kitchen.
"John, you know the rules about coming in before dark?" his father asked him quietly. John was afraid, but not of his father. He gazed at the shiny copper buttons on his father's uniform and the fear mounted in his young frame. He had to tell his father what Walker told him, but he was smart enough to know he shouldn't alarm his mother.
"Yes, Sir," John said quietly and hung his head in remorse. John knew his punishment was due him as he shouldn't have stayed at the park so late with his best friend, Frank. John decided to tell his father what had happened after he had received the consequences for his disobedience. He walked with his head hung low to his room. He could hear his father's sure footsteps following behind him. He opened the door to his bedroom and stood in the center, waiting as his dad closed the door. In his peripheral vision, he could see his father's long legs walk past him and then his father's face came into his view as he sat on John's bed.
His father reached over, pulling John until he was laid across his father's lap. John held his breath as to what was coming next. The first slap to his plump bottom was always a surprise. Its sting continuing even after his father had delivered the next. John knew his bottom would be sore for hours to come, if not sore tomorrow. His father stopped after he had swatted John's bottom ten times and set John back on his feet. John could feel hot tears tracking down his cheeks, but he refused to give voice to them. He heard his father sigh.
"John, why did you disobey me?" Jack Crichton asked him. John knew this was his opportunity to tell his father of the danger he was in, the danger they were all in. John could still hear Walker's voice telling him he was going to kill his father.
"I know I was wrong leaving the park so late, Pop, and I deserved the punishment," John started and looked up into his father's eyes, so like his own. "I was almost home when that rat Walker stopped me." John saw his father's eyes grow large and he saw fear in them. Not for himself, but fear for John.
His father immediately began searching his body for trauma and sucked in a gasp when he found the dried blood on John's arms he hadn't seen when he spanked him. He picked up John's hands and found the bloody scrapes. "Tell me what exactly happened to you John."
"Walker stopped me and told me 'tonight was the night', that they were gonna kill all of the 'coppers'," John could still feel the fear for his father he had felt when Walker had stopped him. "He said he liked me and that he just might let me live when he killed you!"
John watched his father carefully. His father was smart and he knew his father would figure out what to do. He led John to the washroom to gently clean the scrapes on his hands and elbows. John felt the sting as the tiny grains of sands were manipulated out of his wounds and examined the sink as the dirt and blood were washed down the drain. John looked into his father's earnest face as he dried off John's arms and hands.
"John, I have to work tonight and I can't tell your mother about this. It would make her worry," Jack was kneeling on one knee and he held John's arms gently. "I need you to stay alert and take care of her for me." John gazed at his father as his father stopped and then started again.
"There is something big going down tonight, we are going to try to arrest 'Bugs' Moran. Don't worry John, the gangsters aren't going to kill the police. They know better than that," he assured John with a small half smile. "That's why I have to work tonight." John knew his father trusted him to not tell anyone of what was about to happen and John wouldn't. Jack guided him back through their home to the kitchen where his mother was cooking supper. John's stomach growled as he took in the delicious smells that would always remind him of home.
"Hi, there Sweetheart," his mother Leslie hugged him. She then gently pushed him towards his place at the table and he went more than willingly. He'd worked up quiet an appetite playing stick ball with Frank. "What did you do today, Johnny?"
John cringed inwardly at 'that' name and out of the corner of his eye he saw his father suppress a smile. John realized he father knew how much he hated being called that name. "I played stick ball with Frank and some of the guys."
"That's good, Sweetheart. But maybe next time, you could try to be home at a decent time?" John groaned quietly. He had thought his father was the only one to know he'd come in late. He didn't like lying to his mother and he looked at his father for support. His father gave him a look and John was about to panic.
"John and I have already talked about this and it's settled. He'll not be doing it again," John breathed a sigh of relief. His mouth watered in earnest as his mother place his dinner in front of him and he dug in.
"John, slow down. Your supper's not going anywhere," Jack said to him with a smile as John couldn't seem to put enough food into his mouth. He tried to slow down, but John would swear his mother was the best cook that ever lived. He looked up as his mother sat down opposite him. Her blond hair was highlighted in the electric light and he thought his mother looked like an angel.
John listened as his parents talked about the events of the day and his mother's pregnancy. She had been to the doctor earlier in the week and told John and his father the happy news. John was hoping he'd get a brother; someone he could play ball with. He thought as he ate that he wouldn't know what to do if his mother had a baby sister. What did girls do anyway?
"Well I better be off to the precinct, Sweetheart," John stopped eating as he watched his father rise from the table and kiss his mother goodbye. He got up and followed his father as he grabbed his police coat and hat off the hook on the wall in the hall.
"Father?" John hated that his voice sounded so scared. He wanted to be brave, be a hero like his father. Jack turned at the sound of his voice and kneeled down to embrace John. John hugged his father for all he was worth. He was so scared now that his father was actually going off to work.
"Everything will be alright, John," Jack told his as he straightened and put on his coat. Jack fastened all the copper buttons before he placed his hat with the shiny badge on his head. "You'll see. Nothin' bad is going to happen."
John stood in the hall and stared at his beloved father as he walked out the door. He tried to control the fear he could feel trying to choke him. He wanted to run out and follow his father; to ensure he stayed safe. His father had successfully tethered him to their home with his request he care for his mother while he was gone. John couldn't just walk away from that responsibility.
"Johnny? Come finish your supper," his mother queried from the kitchen and he returned to his seat at the table. In so short of time he lost his appetite and tried to hide it from his mother by moving his food around on his plate. He didn't think it would fool his mother, but he was hoping she would be too preoccupied with cleaning up to notice.
"Eat Johnny," his mother said from the sink. He watched his as he chewed on lukewarm food in a dry mouth. He tried to swallow, but found he had to take a drink of his milk to get it to go down his throat. Fear was winning in the control over his body. John jumped as his mother's face was suddenly next to his. "Your father will be fine, Johnny. I know you're scared, but he knows how to do his job."
John watched his mother as she straightened and returned to the sink to finish cleaning her cooking pots. He turned his head to look out the window. He knew he had to help his father. It was the 'how' he hadn't found an answer. Yet.
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John sat next to Aeryn on the old couch in the attic. Aeryn was leaning over his arm, trying to get a better look at the writing in the book they were reading together. He didn't understand how with all the dust he could still smell the clean scent that was uniquely Aeryn. He could tell she had scented her hair again, the aroma was tantalizing his brain and triggering his memories. As well as other things. He hid a smile behind his hand as he pretended to cough.
"Was that age really as dangerous as your grandfather has described it, John?" Aeryn said as she studied the words in the book. John knew she had been studying English and was probably able to read some of what his grandfather had written.
"Yes. Possibly more so," John answered. He forced his mind back to the diary to continue reading. Aeryn was distracting him and he couldn't afford to have her realize she still affected him. She settled in close next to him as he began to read again. The scent in her hair was making his jeans tight.
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John couldn't tear himself away from the window that looked down onto the street. The street had electric lights and it was lit up for blocks. If he pressed his face against the window pane, he could see several blocks in each direction. Every few minutes he would look over to where his mother sat darning his father's socks. He apprehensiveness was increasing with every minute that dragged by.
"Johnny, come away from the window," John turned to find his mother still darning, but now they were definitely his socks. John sat on a stool near his mother and the light. He picked up a school book and pretended to read. He could tell his mother was becoming irritated with his behavior, but he couldn't help it. Just as he was about to get up to look out the window again, there was a loud knocking at their door.
"I wonder who this could be at this hour." John watched as he mother answered the door with a puzzled look on her beautiful face. She opened the door to reveal one of their neighbors, Matilda. She was accompanied by her husband, Aaron. Aaron was a tall, lanky man who was mechanic for one of the local garages.
"Leslie? Sorry to bother you, but this is very important!" John thought Matilda was always on the verge of agitated excitement and she forever had this wide-eyed look. He sat his book on the floor to watch what new drama Matilda would unfold.
"Come in, Matilda. What on earth has gotten you so upset?" Matilda and Aaron stood just inside the door. John thought whatever was wrong must be serious as he'd never seen Matilda grip and mangle her hat in her hands the way she was.
"Leslie, Aaron heard some terrible news at the garage this morning. When he came home for supper and told me, well, I knew I had to tell you!" Matilda was strangling her hat as John watched. He could see his mother was becoming nervous. Matilda continued in a whisper, "Aaron heard some of those gangster types talking about hurting some of the police officers." Matilda took a deep breath before she went on, "They mentioned Jack."
"Oh, no," His mother whispered as she clutched her apron with one hand and held her other hand to her throat. John walked over and took her hand in his, clutching it tightly. He looked up into her beautiful face and he thought she was going to cry or faint. He was surprised as she suddenly stood a little straighter as if she gathered her courage. She looked into his eyes and gave him a small smile.
"Thank you, Matilda. I'm glad you told me. John and I need to decide what to do now, so if you don't mind?" John was excited as he thought he might now be able to do something to help his father. Matilda and Aaron left as quickly as they came.
"Johnny, I need you to go over and stay with Aunt Susan while I go to your father's precinct," John's heart plummeted with disappointment as he realized his mother was going to try to keep him 'safe'. John dutifully nodded his head. John knew he needed to help his father. He was planning on handling this himself.
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His lungs burning, John had ran out of his family's home as fast as he could, but not to his aunt's apartment. He had waited until his mother had gone around the corner before he took off running again. He was running in the direction he thought his father might be. He was running to 2122 North Clark, the garage of 'Bugs' Moran.
John was surprised as he ran through rain puddles how few people were out on the street for such a large city. He had been running, the cold air stinging his lungs, at his top speed for blocks and tore around another corner to slam into a hard object. John was knocked to the wet ground, where he lay gasping for breath. A shadow leaned over him and he felt his eyes open wide with fear as the face of 'Bugs' Moran was illuminated in the street light.
As a fist gathered his shirt just under his chin, John felt his whole body was yanked off the ground in one pull. "What the 'ell have we 'ere?" John began to struggle for all he was worth; his legs striving to find something solid to kick, while his arms were ineffectually swinging at nothing.
"Put me down!" John yelled at his assailant as he tried harder to force him to let go. He was rewarded by laughter. John felt his face flush with humiliation as Moran shook him until he was dizzy and he stopped flailing his limbs. He was abruptly let go and he fell to the ground in a hard fall.
"See, George? I told ya he was a scrapper!" John heard his worst fears realized as Walker's voice loomed above him as well as Moran's. The dizziness cleared from his mind and he stood on shaky legs to stare as hard as he could into the face of his enemy. John spared a quick glance around, but the only people on this street were he and the gangsters.
"It's just you and us, kid," Walker stood over him with his hands in his pockets, the lapel closed against the wind chill. The weather was uncharacteristically cold for February and John shivered as the wind spread the cold through his clothes. He could feel sweat drying on his skin and clothes. "I'm wonderin' what a copper's kid is doin' out this late at night."
"That's a real good question, Walker. What are you doin' out kid?" Moran was looking right at him with eyes as hard as the sidewalk he was standing on and John shivered. The man was demanding answers and John didn't think he'd be allowed to just walk away. He turned to run, but the collar of his jacket was grabbed in a meaty paw and he was dragged back. He continued to fight the gangster and he was shaken so hard he could swear he could hear his teeth rattling and there was ringing in his ears.
"Here! You handle him! He's made us late! We're gonna take him with us," Moran almost threw John at Walker before getting inside his Cadillac. Walker hustled John into the back seat just as the car tore off with screeching tires. John huddled in fear next to Walker and tried not to show it. Moran was on the other side of him, effectively trapping John between them. The car was careening around corners at a speed John believed they were going to crash into something.
"What the…..?" Moran said as the car came to a sudden stop and John slid off the seat, the momentum of the car propelling his small body into the back of the front seat with a solid thud. Walker reached down and picked him up again, tucking him between their bodies. John sat listening to the gangsters as his head cleared and the ringing once again stopped in his ears. There was something wrong as the gangsters were talking excitedly.
"Boss? I just saw cops goin' into the garage!" The driver was saying in an agitated voice. The man turned around in his seat, looking through the back window as if they were being cornered.
"It must be a raid! Dammit! Just when the shipment's supposed to be comin'!" Moran ground out, his body reflecting his anxiety in jerky movements. John couldn't see over the seat, so he didn't know what the gangsters were looking at. Everything came to unexpected quiet as the sound of rapid gunfire cut through the night air, sharp like a knife. John held his breath as the driver turned the car around with speed, surprising John in the quiet of their takeoff.
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"George? The cops? They couldn't……?" Walker stuttered as he gripped John tighter to him as if to use John as a shield. John was in shock. He couldn't believe any police officer could cold-bloodedly shoot down anyone.
"They weren't no cops!" Moran shouted as he too looked behind them to check if they were being followed. John shivered as they were once again skidding around corners. John lost track of time as they drove through the city before they pulled into a warehouse. Walker gripped the back of John's coat, forcing him forward and into an office. Walker pushed John hard and he fell, skidding into a corner.
"You didn't have to push me so hard!" John yelled as the gangsters crowded into the small dusty office. No one paid him any attention and for once John was glad. He was afraid of what they would do to him. He knew he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and had already heard things he shouldn't know.
"That had to be Capone's guys!" Moran growled as he sat behind a desk layered heavy in dust. Moran went on in a whisper, "Almost all of our men were in 'dere. We woulda been in 'dere too if dis kid here hadn't made us late." Moran turned to stare at John, who used a lot of his courage to hold the criminal's hard stare.
"That brings us back to why dis here kid was out so late," Moran said as he slowly got up and walked to wear John was crouched in the corner. John was dragged forward by Moran to the middle of the room and he felt all eyes were on him. Very slowly, as if he was giving this a lot of thought, Moran grabbed the front of his shirt, bunched it together and dragged John closer and up until Moran was holding John off the ground, inches from Moran's face.
"Well, kid? You gonna tell me why?" John stared at the criminal and felt real fear. The fear was boiling up from his belly and he was getting angry. He was angry at being pushed around by these gangsters. He was angry these gangsters would threaten his mother and father.
"They're gonna find us and when they do, my Pop's gonna make sure you go to prison forever!" John screamed at Moran as he kicked at him and tried to pry the man's hands off him. He fell, sprawled to the ground when the gangster unexpectedly let go of him.
"Walker?" Moran said quietly as he stared through John as if he were on another level, another place. All of the air seemed to drain out of Moran. John felt Walker grab him, pulling him back into his legs and held John there tightly. "You were right, Walker. He is a scrapper, but he's smart too."
"It's too bad, kid. I like you. You got guts," Moran said as he went behind the desk once again and sat down heavily. John watched as Moran rubbed his face with one meaty hand and heaved a great sigh. John stood in trepidation as the gangster again stared at him with that faraway expression. He knew something bad was going to happen because of what he'd just said. John was afraid the results of all the wrong decisions he'd made were all going to fall on top of him at once.
"Walker? Do what you hafta to make sure dis kid don't talk," Moran said quietly, turning away from them all to look out a window too dirty for anyone to see out of. Walker seized the back of his neck and squeezed hard, shoving him through the door. Walker pushed him into a car, keeping his hand on his John's neck. John felt a headache developing from all the abuse he'd endured during the long night.
"What're you gonna do to me, Walker?" John asked the question he really didn't want the answer to; against his better judgment. Walker was driving the car recklessly; they swerved to one side, then the other. John knew Walker had really no choice; he knew Walker would have to kill him. Whether it was now or later. John tried to squirm out from under Walker's grip and succeeded to reach the other side of the car before he was dragged back. Walker pushed John down on the seat and held him there by the back of his neck.
"What I've been plannin' on doin' for some time," From his position, he could see sweat dripping down the side Walker's face as he continued to force John's head down on the seat. Walker brought the car to a sliding stop and John would have slid forward but for the pinching hold on his neck. John's heart almost stopped when Walker dragged him from the car and he saw they had come to a stop at the small Crichton family home.
Walker hauled John up the steps and kicked open the door to the darkened home. John heaved a sigh of relief that his mother wasn't home, but the fear returned soon enough as it appeared Walker was going to make himself comfortable. John had an idea of what the gangster was up to and he didn't know what he could do to stop it. Walker hadn't let go of him yet.
"Where are your folks, kid?" Walker said as he sat in John's father's favorite chair. Walker had forced John to sit at his feet and held him there with the same grip as before. John's anger was boiling just under the surface as his frustration over his helplessness only grew. They didn't have to wait very long as the front door to the home burst open and his father was standing in the doorway, bigger than he remembered Jack ever being.
"Let my son go, Walker," Jack said as he slowly walked into the room and what light there was from the street lamp eerily illuminated Jack's face, revealing the anger there etched in angry lines and hard stare. Walker only tightened the clenching hold on John's neck. John winced and tried to break the hold the second rate thug had on him. Walker only clutched him harder, wringing a cry of pain out of John. John looked up into his father's face to see terrible anger written there. Anger over pain being inflicted upon his only child.
"I came here to finish this, Crichton," Walker said in a hushed voice. John was getting dizzy from Walker's hold on his neck. Nausea was rolling through his small body and a hammer pounded the inside of his skull. Darkness was swelling in his vision, leaving a narrow tunnel where he could see his father approaching, faster than he'd ever seen him move. John felt his body slip out of Walker's grasp and the sounds of a terrible fight came to his ears.
John could barely see as he tenaciously clung to consciousness. His father far outweighed the small gangster and used it to its fullest extent. Jack charged at Walker and shouldered him into the wall, crashing the photos to the floor. Jack pulverized Walker's abdomen and ribcage in a rain of blows, which left him gasping for air. John groaned as Walker grabbed Jack's shoulders and brought his knee up in a vicious blow to Jack's left side rib cage.
Jack smashed his fists, one after the other, into Walker's face, pummeling his nose, mouth, and eyes. Walker attempted to fight back, but his blows were ineffectual. John could see, as his eyes gradually closed, his father had won the desperate fight.
John felt someone picking him up from the floor and he could hear the sounds of running feet. He could hear his mother crying and he thought he felt his body held tightly between his parents. His grip on consciousness was fading fast as he heard his father yelling for a doctor. The sound of his mother's cry and the taste of her salty tears were the last things he remembered as he succumbed to the dark.
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Consciousness returned in degrees. John could open his eyes to mere slits and saw only blurry images moving around. Sound had come back to him in muffled order, to be replaced by sharp, painful reverberation. John heard a groan and he knew had come from himself as the sound buzzed in his chest. His face felt hot and nausea was rolling around in his belly like a ball.
"John? Son? Can you hear me?" John heard his father's voice asking him. John could see a blurred image of his father and tried harder to open his eyes farther and to bring him into focus. He was rewarded for his efforts as he was able to see his father clearly, but his heartbeat echoed in his head.
"Pop?" John heard himself croak, "Are you and mother alright?" John sighed as he felt his mother's touch as she placed a cool cloth on his forehead. John tried to remember what had happened for him to be lying in his bed, feeling as bad as he did.
"John, you caught a cold being outside after dark in the chilled air," Jack told him as he came more fully awake. John looked over at his father sitting next to his bed and then at his mother soaking another cloth in a bowl on the bedside table. His father tried to explain, "You have a fever. The mistreatment you got from Walker only made everything worse."
"You'll be fine once you've had rest and some tender care, Johnny," his mother said as she replaced the cloth on his forehead. He sighed with the relief its coolness brought. "Now try to sleep, Sweetheart." His mother kissed his nose as she bustled out of his bedroom.
"John," Jack said as soon as Leslie left, "your mother doesn't know the whole truth about why Walker was here." His father looked down and picked up John's smaller hand in his.
"It would hurt her to know how demented that gangster really was; that he thought that by getting rid of me, he could have her and you all to himself. Can you tell your mother only part of the truth?" His father asked him. How could he refuse anything his father asked regarding his mother?
"Yes, Father. I can keep those parts to myself," John told his father. Jack leaned over quickly and kissed John's cheek. Feeling his face blush, John closed his eyes to get some more sleep.
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John looked at Aeryn as he gently closed the dusty, ancient book. 'Wow', John mouthed as he switched his attention back to the diary. He couldn't believe what he'd just read. His grandfather had almost been at the St. Valentine's Day Massacre; that his making the gangster late had saved all of their lives that night. He knew he was going to have to explain the ramifications of what he'd just read to Aeryn.