Memento Amare Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  i. Copyright & Disclaimer

  ii. Preface

  iii. Warnings & Potential Triggers

  Prologue

  I.

  II.

  III.

  IV.

  V.

  VI.

  VII.

  VIII.

  IX.

  X.

  XI.

  XII.

  XIII.

  XIV.

  XV.

  XVI.

  XVII.

  XVIII.

  XIX.

  XX.

  XXI.

  XXII.

  XXIII.

  XXIV.

  XXV.

  XXVI.

  XXVII.

  XXVIII.

  XXIX.

  XXX.

  XXXI.

  XXXII.

  XXXIII.

  XXXIV.

  XXXV.

  XXXVI.

  XXXVII.

  XXXVIII.

  XXXIX.

  XL.

  XLI.

  XLII.

  XLIII.

  XLIV.

  XLV.

  XLVI.

  XLVII.

  XLVIII.

  XLIX.

  L.

  Epilogue

  About G. D. Cox

  Other Books by G. D. Cox

  MEMENTO AMARE

  G. D. Cox

  MEMENTO AMARE

  Copyright © August 2017 by G. D. Cox

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Cover artist: G. D. Cox

  Image/art disclaimer: License material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted in the licensed material is a model.

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events, existing locations or brands, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  WARNING

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. For adults 18+ ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  Please read at your discretion the Warnings & Potential Triggers page for more warnings and aspects of the story that may potentially trigger the reader.

  PREFACE

  MEMENTO AMARE began life as a much shorter story for a fandom and pairing that, as of writing this, has sadly withered from lack of new canon material and due to the development of the characters' canon histories. Ironically enough, it was because of all this that Memento Amare was given the chance to come alive at all: after finishing that much shorter version of the story and posting it during a time when the fandom was already dying, I realized that it had far more potential as a fully realized novel with original characters and histories. After taking the story down, I rewrote the 50,000+ word story almost in its entirety and added over 80,000 words over the course of three drafts in a year, resulting in this 130,000+ word romance novel that you're about to read.

  As a bisexual person, I've always wished for more books to feature bisexual lead characters, especially one who is multi-faceted, non-stereotypical and real. The protagonist of Memento Amare, Agent Phelan Cole of the Global Anti Terrorist Force, is a bisexual man but his sexual orientation isn't the main focus of the story. It's his romantic relationship with fellow agent Clyde Barnett that is, one spanning many years. Unlike Cole who for the most part accepts his sexual orientation and himself as he is, Barnett struggles with a lifetime of homophobic abuse and homophobia, externalized and internalized, until he meets Cole. And so, Memento Amare isn't just a love story between two men, it is also a story about love itself in its various incarnations and how it can free a caged man to know what love truly is.

  The popular jazz song by Cole Porter, Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye, is a star in its own right. It's the song that Barnett sings to Cole and referenced several times throughout the story. Cole specifically mentions its name twice in the story.

  The story is written in a non-linear narrative style, from Cole's and Barnett's perspectives throughout their lives. It has a guaranteed Happily Ever After ending.

  The Warnings & Potential Triggers page lists whatever may be potentially triggering to a reader (and may also potentially spoil you about certain details / scenes / plots, so read the list at your discretion). I've tried my best to list everything I could think of in the story, but if there is anything else I should add, do feel free to email me at [email protected]. If there is one warning I'll give now, it is this: initial readers of the story have told me to warn that some of the chapters may 'destroy you with feels', so ... you may want to prepare some Kleenex if you intend to read the entire story in one go.

  The following are songs I listened to while writing the story:

  William Haviland - Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye (piano instrumental on Youtube)

  Ella Fitzgerald / Tony Bennett / Natalie Cole - Ev'ry Time We Say Goodbye

  Olafur Arnalds - The Apple of My Eye

  Dustin O'Halloran - Opus 20

  G. D. COX

  15 August 2017

  WARNINGS & POTENTIAL TRIGGERS

  ANGST: I'm not kidding when I said that there have been readers who told me they needed Kleenex to get through some of the chapters because they were crying so much. Of course, your mileage may vary, but I would feel genuinely bad if I didn't at least warn for this and end up making more readers bawl their eyes out without a heads up.

  Abuse: There are mentions and descriptions of past physical, verbal, homophobic and alcoholic abuse.

  Mental health issues: A character suffers from severe internalized homophobia. A character experiences panic attacks and self-harms a few times in the story. There are also several mentions and descriptions of past suicidal behavior and ideation.

  Homophobic language and behavior: The 'f-word' is used and said many times in some of the chapters. A character's past violent behavior towards another person for using a derogatory word is described several times throughout the story. There is also a scene of a homophobic person making hostile comments towards a bisexual person.

  Memory loss: A character suffers serious memory loss that negatively affects him and those close to him.

  Graphic torture scene: A character is brutally tortured by terrorists in one chapter. There are mentions and descriptions of said torture in other chapters.

  Character deaths: There are characters who die in the story, but not Cole or Barnett.

  Explicit sexual scenes: There are multiple explicit sex scenes featuring Cole and Barnett throughout the story.

  PROLOGUE

  AGENT PHELAN COLE - although he won't identify himself as a secret agent of the Global Anti Terrorist Force for almost thirty years yet - was born on August 10th, 1974 in the University of Chicago Medical Center in Chicago, Illinois. It'd been a night of star-strewn skies and a partial moon but his parents, Dennis and Mary, hadn't the time or concentration to notice such things. Mary was experiencing something that Phelan would later learn was called 'hemorrhaging' by grown-ups.

  "Papa, what does 'hemorrhaging' mean?" he asked his dad a few years after his birth, proud of pronouncing the word properly like grown-ups did.

  They
were playing with his toy cars on a rug on the whorled, hardwood floor of his bedroom. His dad made the colorful cars jump high in the air and made funny vroom, vroom noises that drew delighted laughter out of him. He liked it a lot when his dad spent time with him. He also liked it when his dad laughed along with him.

  "It's a word we use when somebody is bleeding very badly," Papa eventually said. Phelan saw the light in his dad's crinkled eyes dim. He didn't like it when his dad was sad.

  "Uncle Ben said it happened to Mama when I was born." Phelan paused, holding one toy car in his small, chubby hand as he considered his next question. "Did I ... did I make Mama bleed very badly?"

  The light in Papa's eyes changed. It became sharp and bright. Phelan recognized it as anger, but he was also old enough to tell the difference between Papa being angry at him - which was very rare - and Papa being angry at someone else. Papa was angry at someone else. Angry at Uncle Ben?

  "No, son. You didn't make your mom bleed," Papa said with that low, resonant voice that would hum lullabies to him before he fell asleep. "Sometimes, bad things just happen to good people for no reason."

  The sharp and bright light was gone from Papa's eyes. Papa was gazing at him once more with warm, blue eyes that were just like his. Papa ruffled his thick, dark hair with a large, strong hand. Still, Phelan's brows furrowed in a contemplative frown.

  Bad things happened to good people? For no reason? What did Papa mean by that?

  He tilted his head and asked, "But ... Papa, why do bad things happen to good people if they're good?"

  Phelan didn't understand why his dad's smile somehow also looked sad. He was learning that people could smile even when they felt sad or bad, but he didn't understand it. It didn't make sense to him. A person smiled when they were happy. A person cried when they were sad. A person shouted and scowled when they were angry.

  "Well, son." Papa wriggled nearer to him on the rug, lying on his left side and propping his head up on one hand. "This world we live in, it isn't always a fair place."

  Phelan kept quiet and stared at Papa, waiting patiently for him to continue speaking.

  Papa breathed in slowly, then let that breath go as slowly. Then Papa said, "There are lots of good people in this world, Phelan. But there are lots of bad people in it too."

  Still, Phelan kept quiet. Yes, he knows that there are good people and that there are bad people too. The newspapers talk about bad people all the time and bad things they've done. Mama told him that and then showed him the page with all the cartoons. He likes that page.

  "Although there are lots of bad people, we have rules called laws that punish these bad people for doing bad things. But sometimes, these bad people get away with the bad things they do anyway. Sometimes, good people end up getting hurt because of those bad things, even when they haven't done anything bad themselves."

  Phelan stared at his dad with wide eyes. It had never occurred to him before that good people could be hurt by bad people, even when they were good all their lives. It had never occurred to him before that some of these bad people could get away with doing bad things, even with these laws that punish them for those bad things.

  But ... his dad also said that sometimes bad people got away with doing bad things. Not all the time.

  "Papa, what about the bad people who don't get away?"

  Papa's smile wasn't so sad anymore. It looked like one of his happy ones again.

  "Well, son, that's when the good guys do their good work and stop the bad guys from doing bad things to good people. Catch them and put them away in jail so they can't do any more bad things."

  Phelan glanced down at the toy car in his hand. It was a black-and-white car with blue, white and red lights. It had the word 'POLICE' printed in big, black letters across its doors.

  "Like the police!" Phelan said, waving the toy police car in the air. "The police put bad people in jail."

  Papa huffed out a laugh, then replied, "Yeah, like the police. Like the CIA. And the FBI."

  Phelan didn't know what those letters meant, but if Papa said they were the good guys, then they were good guys.

  "Remember the news last year about a town called Speedway? In Indiana?"

  Phelan frowned again as he tried to remember what his dad was talking about. He shook his head when he couldn't, but his dad wasn't upset.

  "Last year in September, a bad man made some bombs and put them in different places in Speedway. His last bomb seriously hurt a man and his wife at a freshman football game. A few weeks later, the good guys caught the bad man and stopped him from making bombs and hurting anyone ever again. It was their job to find him and catch him, and they did it."

  Phelan pursed his lips and thought carefully about what Papa told him. It had never occurred to him before that being a good guy could be a job, like Papa having a job because he was really good with numbers and money. Mama said the job was called 'accountant'. Was an accountant a good guy's job too? It had to be, because his dad was a good guy.

  He glanced at his dad who was still gazing at him with those warm, crinkled eyes. He smiled back as he made a very important decision, one that will cast ripples of consequences through the entirety of his life.

  "Papa?"

  "Hmm?"

  "I'm gonna be a good guy," Phelan said with absolute certainty, pointing at his own chest with a chubby thumb. "I'm gonna stop bad guys from doing bad things and hurting people. I'm gonna make the world a better place with other good people."

  He punctuated his final word with a resolute nod.

  Phelan didn't know why Papa was smiling and yet had shiny eyes like they were wet. He wasn't sure what it was he said that would make Papa feel like crying, but then he was also learning that sometimes, people also cried when they were happy. He didn't really understand that either. People could be pretty weird too.

  "You know what?" Papa said, ruffling his hair again, stroking his rosy cheek with the back of his fingers. "You're right, son. You'll be great. I believe in you."

  At the time, Phelan didn't realize just how monumental and scarce such words were in this vast, unfair world. He didn't know then how many people in this world would never hear such words from their parents, much less know how many people would never have loving, loyal parents like his. He didn't know then that sometimes, bad things also happened to good people without any bad people to cause them anyway. That sometimes, there were no answers to so many difficult questions that would have brought some measure of peace otherwise to the good people asking them.

  "Pa?" Phelan asked his dad sixteen years after his birth, sitting on a rolling stool next to the family's cherry red 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle LS6 while his dad was under the car in their two-car garage. "You ever ask god why Ma can't have any more kids?"

  He knew Pa had heard him from how still and silent Pa became. He stared down at his hands, at fingernails that were clogged under the free edges with motor oil and dirt. He heard rather than saw Pa slowly slide out from under the car on a black, plastic creeper board. He felt his dad's unfaltering, mellow gaze upon his face. He didn't look back.

  When he did glance at Pa, he saw that Pa was now staring up at the garage's fluorescent-lit ceiling with his fingers criss-crossed on his lean belly, calm and collected as ever. He could never quite read Pa's expression if Pa didn't want him, or anyone else, to. Ma told him he often had the same poker face, that he inherited it from Pa. He supposed it was a good thing. A really good thing, considering the kind of things he was starting to suspect, to know about himself at this point in life.

  Hey, Pa? You think I should ask god why he made me a bisexual guy instead of a straight one like every other guy?

  That question, he kept to himself. He was old enough to know how damn stupid it'd be to even say those words aloud, much less to his father. He didn't even want to think about the strife he'd stir up if he told his parents he was beginning to lose faith in god too, in any god, and that he would never be the normal son they believed he was.

/>   "Well, son," Pa said with that low, resonant voice that never rose in rage, that always stayed as placid as his visage. "I did. The first couple of years. Most days I was just glad your mom survived and so did you. But sometimes ..." Pa sighed, his chest and belly rising high and then lowering flat again. "Yeah. I wondered why. I was mad. Felt like your mom and I were robbed. Like you were robbed of having any siblings to grow up with. But one day, you realize there's no point in asking. That you just gotta move on."

  Phelan was staring down at his fingers again. He smiled to himself, and now, he understood very well how people could smile and yet feel sad.

  "Because sometimes, bad things just happen to good people for no reason. Right?"

  He glanced once more at Pa. Pa now had a bittersweet smile on his weathered, familiar face.

  "Didn't think you'd remember that."

  Phelan shrugged and said, "I don't remember all that much from before I was six or seven, but I remember that."

  Pa made a soft, noncommittal noise. He could sense Pa's eyes on his face, studying it. On top of being difficult to read, Pa was good at reading other people too, even Phelan with his reputed poker face. Then again, he was his father's son. It made a lot of sense that his dad would be the guy who could see right through his walls and figure out all his littlest tells.

  "What brought that on, Phelan?" Pa asked quietly.

  Phelan continued to stare down at his fingers. He was fidgeting, tapping his thumb and forefinger repeatedly and that was a huge tell, he knew that. He had to learn to control it. Or get rid of the habit completely. If he's going to join the army soon, such habits could make the difference between him making it to the end of training at the top and him becoming the guy who bore the brunt of all the shit army life could hurl at him.

  And no, hell no, he wasn't going to think at all about what would happen to him if anyone found out then that he liked dick as much as vagina.

  "Nothing," Phelan mumbled. He shook his head. Shrugged. "Really. It's nothing."

  Pa gazed at him for a moment more with those genial eyes, then said, "All right."