Christmas time at Camp David was something else.

Michael agreed to move to DC in order to be close to Ben.

Emmett eagerly agreed to become Drew’s kept boy, though, by the end of the conversation, he was planning to throw parties for politicians.

I had the much-anticipated chat with my mother, and we put aside all her worries. Brian showed her at every turn how much he loved me and how I wasn’t a fling for him. He had shown the whole country I wasn’t a fling when he married me and came out. He could have lost everything in that moment, but he took a chance on our love.

“You’re quiet. Everything okay?” Emmett invaded my safe spot.

I was curled on a futon near the window in the sitting room. I kept trying to sketch, but all my inspiration had gone down the drain for weeks now. The only remotely decent thing I had drawn was Bruce, the other day.

Emmett leaned even closer, checking my sketchpad. “Oh, that’s gorgeous,” he said softly, glancing at Brian and Gus playing chess, in front of the fireplace.

“It’s shit,” I hissed, placing my sketchpad and pen on the windowsill. “My head is in a million places and I can’t concentrate.”

“I’d say you need a vacation, but you just had one.”

I snorted. “It really was a vacation, you know? It was just the two of us with no care in the world.”

“Christ, baby. When Drew not so subtly said you and Brian were missing, I was so scared. Then I remembered your confession about going to Aspen.”

“I’m forever grateful for your conversation with Drew being the trigger to save us. Brian is brushing off how badly that trip could have ended, but I’m aware we were going to die there.”

“Stop with the pessimism, Justin. Now, tell me what exactly is bothering you. The last time you have gone through a dry spell it was after you broke it off with the fiddler.” Emmett squeezed my shoulder, and I hated how well he knew me.

“Fuck if I know, Em. I have everything I could have ever dreamed of…” I shrugged. “I’m stressed, I guess. Maybe after January when Brian is officially back in the Oval Office…”

“You read the news, too, huh?” he said gently.

I kept my eyes on Brian and his son, laughing and moving chess pieces across the board. “I’m not sure if Ben or Drew told him. Maybe he heard the rumors, too. We don’t talk about work when we’re alone.”

“But that’s not work, Justin. It’s your lives. Do you suppose there is such a group out there? People who want to harm someone so important just because of his sexual preference?”

“It was too good to be true, Em. Everyone had taken in stride all the rushed decisions Brian had made in the past couple of months: coming out, marrying me, moving me into the fucking White House.”

“I guess, people didn’t expect he would be re-elected.”

“Everyone fucking adores Brian, and you know it. Only I know how many people I heard praising him. And I don’t mean queers. I mean everyone.”

“But then he showed his true colors, so to speak.”

“I’m fucking terrified, Emmett. Every single time he has to give a speech, or go on the national television, I feel sick.”

Our serious conversation was interrupted by Gus, who I hadn’t noticed had abandoned his daddy.

“You’re summoned,” he said seriously.

I laughed, shrugging at Emmett, before following Gus to where Brian was sitting crossed-leg in front of the fire.

Gus skipped away as soon as he brought me to Brian.

I sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his back. He brought my head closer, kissing me slowly, but somehow it had an edge to it. When I pulled away to check his eyes, I saw them a shade of stormy green which meant trouble.

“I don’t want you to panic,” he said softly.

“Too late,” I mumbled, already panicking at the look in his eyes.

Brian showed me a piece of paper with what I recognized as Ben’s handwriting.

The Jeep keys are in your nightstand. You’re taking Justin and leaving as soon as we turn in.

Drew and I will make sure the others are safely home without causing too much stir.

Go to the house in West Virginia. Absolutely no one knows about it.

Burn after reading.

PS: Ditch your phones in the woods.

My head spun as I stared at Brian with wide eyes and a knot in my throat.

I had just talked about this with Emmett.

Fuck.

Brian chucked the paper into the fireplace, and we watched it burn until it was ashes.

“Huh. Guess your mom could predict the future,” he said jokingly.

I punched his shoulder, before I pressed both palms to my face when the floodgates opened. Brian hugged me tightly, rocking us on the spot.

“Please, calm down, Justin. We don’t want to alert anyone.”

I escaped to the downstairs bathroom to wash my face and get a grip of myself, but my hands were shaking uncontrollably and there was a general nausea that incapacitated me from acting normal.

I bumped into my mom when I left the bathroom.

“I’m turning in,” she announced. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

I threw my arms around her, not sure when I might see her again. “Thank you for coming. I love you.” I couldn’t remember the last time I had said those words to her.

She seemed taken aback, but replied that she loved me, too, before heading to her room.

I stopped in the kitchen doorway, watching Drew talking in hushed voices with Michael and Emmett. They looked like they were going to faint, which meant, he was telling them about how everyone had to leave pronto.

I continued to the sitting room, but found it empty. After retrieving my abandoned sketchpad and pen, I went to the bedroom I shared with Brian.

Ben and Brian were busy throwing clothes in a black duffle bag.

Brian froze, and I could see for the first time how terrified he was.

Ben’s hand went to his gun, but he relaxed minutely when he noticed it was only me.

Brian pulled me inside the room, closing the door. He gripped my elbow so hard, it started to hurt.

“If the police stop you on the way there, well…they’ll let you pass when they see your face,” Ben said. “Everyone is on alert. The CIA and FBI are working to find this group.”

“But what happened?” I managed to ask.

“We had intel about this house being targeted. Everyone knew you had come here for the holidays.”

“I want these people alive,” Brian spat. “I want a go at them.”

Ben pressed his lips in a hard line. “Negative, Brian. Whoever finds them first, will put them down. They are a threat to your life.”

I moved to sit on the edge of the bed, feeling faint. All the threats we had read about on the internet and this group of angry people wanting Brian dead were our reality now.

“Drive carefully. One of us will come and get you when it’s over.” I heard Ben as if through a tunnel, because my hearing was buzzing. “The code of the panic room is your son’s birthday.”

“I know, Ben. I was the one to put it there.” Judging by how snappy Brian was, he was terrified.

“How would we know it’s you when you come to get us? We need a code for that,” I heard my voice saying.

“You think we won’t recognize Ben or Drew when they come?” Brian snorted.

“He’s right. We might have to send someone to move you or save you from there if need be,” Ben said thoughtfully.

“What, you want me to come up with a word?” Brian groaned, and I looked up to see him pacing.

“It can be a phrase, or a word. But nothing obvious, like…The Eagle and Warhol are being saved.”

Despite the serious conversation, I laughed. Ben shot me a hard look, reminding me of how professional he was.

“I’ve still got my pride,” Brian said slowly.

“It’s probably the only thing you have left,” I mumbled.

“That’s the phrase,” he snapped.

Ben nodded, then after a moment of indecision, he clapped Brian's shoulder. “Be careful, buddy.” Then he was out of the room.

“I think I’m going to vomit,” I grunted, sliding off the bed and wrapping my arms around my stomach.

“We’re going to be okay, Justin. We have practice to being stranded somewhere.”

“I don’t understand how you do it. Everything is a joke to you. You could be killed any moment, and you…”

Brian crouched in front of me, pressing a finger to my lips. “I’m fucking terrified, Justin. But if I don’t laugh harder than them, then I lose.”

I threw my arms around his neck, sobbing into his shoulder.

He stroked my hair, kissing my temple. “We’ll be alright.”

#

It was dark outside when we sneaked into the garage and climbed into the non-descript black Jeep Wrangler. There were not license plates, which explained Ben’s fear about the police stopping us.

I offered to drive, but Brian shoved me into the passenger side, rolling his eyes.

The engine made too much noise in the quiet night, but we would soon be too far away before anyone could wonder what car was leaving.

The marine at the gate, saluted us, and Brian did the same. Then we were on the road.

There a paper map with a post-it note with a smiley face on the dashboard.

“Ben is hilarious,” Brian mumbled.

“Remember, we have to dispose of our phones,” I said quietly.

“Fuck.” He patted his pockets. “I guess I already did. I left it on the nightstand.”

“I can throw mine out the window,” I offered.

“Hold on to it a little more.”

I was a jittery mess with every mile we put between us and the house in Camp David.

Judging by the way Brian was gripping the steering wheel, he wasn’t doing any better.

I didn’t dare say anything. I was afraid I would start crying again, or somehow upset Brian more than he was.

About an hour into our trip when we were zooming at dangerous speeds down I-70, the car swerved, throwing my shoulder into the door.

Brian cursed a storm, but kept the Jeep as steady as possible until it stopped on the safe lane. He was an amazing driver, because we would have been seriously injured if I were the one behind the wheel.

“What happened,” I gasped, feeling my heart slamming against my ribcage.

“A tire exploded,” he explained, pointing to my side.

Now that the initial fear had subsided somewhat, I could tell the car was lower on the front right.

“Was it shot?” I had to exclude the most plausible reason.

Brian rolled his eyes, unbuckling his seat belt. “I bet no one checked the air pressure in the tires before this impromptu trip. Come on.”

“Are we walking now?”

“Justin, get your butt out so we can change the tire.”

“You know how to do it?” I asked, shocked. I sure as hell had no clue what to do.

Brian got out of the car, and I followed. He kept muttering under his breath, as he came on my side to check the damage.

It took us about forty minutes to do it. I was grateful I hadn’t ditched my phone yet, because we used the flashlight to accomplish our task.

When we were back on the road, Brian took my phone, throwing it out of his open window. I felt my whole life crumbling when I heard the sound it made when it hit the asphalt. All my contacts, my clients, my future…gone.

As we approached my hometown, Brian chose the route to avoid going through Pittsburgh. I kept him updated with our location by reading the signs and constantly checking the paper map on my lap.

“Closest small town?” he asked suddenly, worry in his voice.

“Five miles away.”

I didn’t ask why until we approached Bentelyville, and Brian pulled in the first gas station.

“Go to the ATM across the street and withdraw as much cash as you can. Different transactions, not all at once. If the card gets stuck, leave it there and come to the car.”

I nodded, accepting both his and my card. He leaned over me to open the glove compartment, and I tried not to stare at the amount of cash stashed in there. He pulled out two bills of fifty, pulled his black beanie low on his forehead, then left the car.

I felt like the biggest delinquent, as I kept my face hidden from the ATM camera while I kept feeding it Brian's card and withdrawing different amounts – one hundred, six hundred, three hundred, fifty, then I inserted my card, but managed only two withdrawing transactions of two hundred and one hundred, before the machine started screeching and red lights went off.

I sprinted toward the Jeep, hugging my jacket close, which held all the money I had managed to get.

I heard someone screaming for me to stop, but I dove into the car, and I barely had the door closed when Brian peeled off.

He kept his eyes on the side mirror.

“Come on, no,” he protested when a cruiser sped toward us.

“What are you doing?” I cried out when he floored the acceleration.

“I’m going to lose the fucker.”

“Ben said we shouldn’t resist if we are pulled over.”

“Watch me resisting. Do you really think this small town cop knows what’s going on? Put your seatbelt and be quiet.”

I did as told with shaky hands.

The cruiser stopped chasing after us eventually, but Brian didn’t let off the acceleration pedal.

I relaxed enough to start taking the money out of all the places in my jacket I had stashed it.

“Keep it in separate places. Put some in my pockets, keep some in yours, and the rest in our bag.”

I did as instructed, and when I had it all stored away safely, I relaxed in my seat. Brian reached over the console to take my hand. He squeezed my fingers, and I was grateful for the small gesture.