Friends with Benefits Ch. 06

"Fuck you! You're not leaving me! I'll kill you first!"

Four words. Simple, unambiguous words. Ice water ran through his body, when they registered in his brain, and he spat a wordless oath. Jessica tried to grab his arm, to stop him, but he was beyond listening.

Before he took time to think about it, he was sprinting across the lawn, headed directly for the drunk asshole who'd just decked his ex-wife, and threatened to kill her. It was a big yard, but he closed the distance quickly. More importantly, he ran silently through the night. The drunk assailant didn't hear him coming, and it made all the difference.

Just before he reached him, the drunk turned around, somehow sensing the impending threat. "What the fu-?"

John was running at a full sprint when their bodies collided. Had it been on a football field, the crowd would have been on its feet, cheering wildly at the amazing tackle. This night however, there was no crowd, no ESPN, just two guys hell bent on fighting.

Their bodies crashed down on the slick, grassy lawn, and John rolled passed him. He sensed the man was both taller, and heavier than he was, so he wanted some distance. No...he needed some distance. Wrestling with someone bigger, and heavier than him was a losing proposition, even if the bastard was drunk.

"Motherfucker!"

The drunk guy came to his feet swearing. Unbalanced, he staggered slightly before squaring off with him. John was facing the lights of the house, which meant his opponent was sheathed in the shadows. He was big and black, but that's all John could tell. He circled him slowly, trying to get a better sense for the tiger he'd just grabbed by the tail.

Holy Shit! Marcus.

When the outside lights fell up on his face, he recognized him immediately. It wasn't the same Marcus however that he'd met several years earlier. Not the same man at all. He'd gained weight, actually had a belly now, and his face sagged from too much alcohol, and too many late nights. The special-forces operator he'd been, had long since vanished, and he'd been replaced by an abusive drunk.

Marcus recognized him as well.

"Well, lookie here," he sneered. "The motherfuckin' cuck! Stick around little white boy, you can watch Becca take some black cock before this night is through."

His abrasive laugh echoed through the night. How he'd held onto the bottle was anyone's guess, but he raised it to his lips again. He took several swallows, before he wiped his mouth recklessly.

"Your ex loves her some black cock." The chuckle that emanated from him was at least 90 proof. "I shared her with some of my friends, passed the bitch around good, and she loved it. Got her some new tats too," he nodded, and an ugly smile grew on his face like a fungus. "She's black-owned now, cuck. Nothing you can do about it. Got the tats to prove it too." He motioned vaguely in her direction. "The sooner she realizes that, the better off she'll be!"

The drunken rant passed right over John. It wasn't that he didn't care, it just didn't matter to him anymore. Getting through this night, and making sure she was okay, were the things that mattered to him.

Marcus didn't make that list.

"Give it up, Marcus. Police are on the way already. Back off now, let me see to Becca, and you might only spend a few nights in jail."

"Not gonna happen, cracker!" His voice had transitioned to a low growl. The two men continued to circle each other slowly. "She's mine. Bitch ain't leavin' me. She ain't takin' those boys away from me. DeShawn would want us to be together."

"What would DeShawn have done, if he'd seen you hit Becca? Think about it, dumbass! Do you honestly think he'd want you around his kids, if you can't treat his wife respectfully?"

"Fuck you!" He stabbed his finger at him. "You don't shit about my boy! He was my best friend, my brother, and you don't know shit about him."

His voice broke, and just for a second he dropped his anger. Deep emotional pail wracked his whole body, and his eyes misted up.

"You just...you know understand what it was like after he...You just don't fuckin' get it! I was there! In the air with him. I saw it all, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it!"

"You're right." He held his hands up slowly. "Marcus, you're right. I didn't know DeShawn that well, but I know he loved Becca. I know he wouldn't want to see you hit her." He paused, and saw that his words were having an effect. "I also know he wouldn't want to see you drunk like this, Marcus."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stir on the grass. She rolled onto her side, and sat up, holding her face. "John?"

For some reason he couldn't identify, her voice set Marcus off again. He'd been calm until she said his name, but he shouted with rage as soon as it was out of her mouth.

"Bitch! The first name out of your mouth is this motherfuckers? You better not be screwin' around on me!"

He threw his bottle down, started to towards her with his hands clenching into fists, and John stepped in front of him. The two men stared at each other for a long second. A sneer grew on Marcus' face.

"Watcha gonna do?" He motioned him forward. "You feelin' froggy, cuck...then why don't you leap! Once I fuck you up, I'll have my way with your ex. Don't worry, I gotta little coke with me. It'll be a nice little party, and the little white snowbunny will love it...as usual."

"Last chance, Marcus. Leave!"

Another sneer, larger this time, crossed his face and he started forward.

Any other time, any other place, and he'd take a beating. There was no question in his mind, Marcus was better trained, and had the experience to wipe the floor with him. While he'd been taking Judo for several months, there was no comparison between them.

Tonight was different. Drunk, unbalanced, and filled with rage, he wasn't a threat.

The wide, looping punch Marcus threw, seemed to take forever, and he ducked beneath it easily. As soon as it passed, John let his own punch fly, and it connected solidly with his chin. A solid right hook, it spun him around slightly, but didn't put him down. He staggered back a few steps, cursed heatedly, and then came back for more.

"Little cuck's got himself a stinger."

Marcus was drunk, not stupid, and he approached more carefully. His steps were light, careful, and he maintained his balance, as he stalked forward. That wasn't a good thing for John. He needed him off-balance, and angry.

"Marcus." His voice was low, but it carried clearly to the drunk facing him. "You're not half the man DeShawn was. You're a pale imitation, and that's why Becca's leaving you."

Whatever control he'd summoned melted away as John's words permeated his drunk brain. He gave a wordless, guttural shout, and charged.

John let him come.

At the last second, he ducked inside his guard, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and rolled back onto the grass...pulling the drunk down with him. As they fell towards the ground, John's right foot came up, in a long-practiced move, and settled firmly in Marcus' stomach.

Momentum and training did the rest.

He thrust upward forcefully, and Marcus flew through the air, flipping over and landing hard on the ground. He continued his roll, and came to his feet. He stepped closer to Marcus, just in time to see him draw a ragged breath, and vomit all over himself.

It was over.

He coughed and hacked on the ground, trying to catch his breath. His anger, and rage had disappeared. A low groan, followed quickly by dry heaves, curled his body into a fetal position. His shoulders shook, and John heard him crying softly.

All that was left was a broken man.

He stepped over to check on Becca, and found her openly crying as well. The entire left side of her face was red and swollen, and she'd have a nice shiner tomorrow. She wouldn't meet his eyes, and refused to answer his questions. As he knelt down beside her, sirens sounded in the distance. Flashing lights soon followed, and within seconds police were on the scene.

Jessica met them at the curb, and helped explain what transpired. As a result, John didn't end up in steel bracelets, but Marcus wasn't so lucky. He was transferred to the back of a police car, while the paramedics examined Becca.

The police questioned him several times, but the story was the same, and Jessica was the perfect witness, so they let him go. The last officer indicated that charges were unlikely to be filed, unless new information surfaced. John left him his contact information.

Just when things were wrapping up, Veranda and Robert drove up with the kids. Marcus had already left in another cruiser, and John and Jessica explained everything to the concerned grandparents.

Becca left in an ambulance, without speaking to anyone. She was going to be kept at the hospital overnight for observation.

All of them trudged inside the house, as the last police cruiser departed the scene. Jessica and Veranda took over with the kids, reassuring them, and getting them into bed. They were mostly concerned about Becca, but once they understood they'd see her tomorrow, everything was okay.

Robert put his arm around John, and guided him into his study. He sank into an easy chair with a heavy sigh, and felt the tension slowly bleed from his body.

"Drink?"

"Yes! Definitely."

"How's bourbon strike you?"

"Perfect!"

A minute later, he pressed a crystal tumbler, filled with amber liquid and ice, into his hand. He sipped it slowly, letting the burn of the whiskey chase the last remnants of tension from his body. Robert sat on the edge of the couch nearby, and studied him closely.

"You okay?"

"Fine," he replied. "I didn't get hit, just rolled on the ground a little."

Robert's head dropped, and he swirled his whiskey for a moment. "I don't understand what happened to Marcus. He was a good man, and by all accounts a damn good operator. DeShawn told me several times, how he saved his life a few times."

"Death is hard to deal with. Harder for some than for others," he replied. "Marcus said he saw DeShawn fall."

"He did. They were on the same parachute jump."

"I have a hard time placing blame, Robert. If I'd seen my best friend, or my wife, or Bethany, hurt like that, I can't say I'd handle it any better."

"Yeah."

The two men sat in silence, not sure what else to say, and enjoyed the whiskey. When he finished his glass, he said good night. Jessica was waiting for him when he reached their bedroom. She didn't ask any questions, which he appreciated, she simply wrapped her arms around him tightly.

"I was so worried about you."

"I'm fine," he assured her. "It's over."

"Becca?"

"No idea. I mean she's fine physically, but mentally, who knows."

Jessica stared at him for a long moment, before she nodded and her face fell to his chest.

He pulled on her chin, until their eyes met. "Whatever her future holds, it's up to her to find it. Aside from Bethany, I'm not going to get involved in her life."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I love you, only you, and I'm never letting you go."

"Take me to bed...please."

***

Robert and John entered the hospital room first. Visiting hours had just started, so the hospital was still pretty quiet. Becca was up, finishing her breakfast, and she paused when she saw them, her fork hanging between her plate and her mouth. Just as he suspected, she had a big, beautiful black eye. Her eye was almost completely shut.

"How are the kids?"

It was a good first question.

"They're fine," Robert assured her. "They want to come see you, but Veranda and Jessica are holding them, until we say its okay.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," he replied, and John simply nodded.

The nurse came in and took the tray of food. When she left, they silence filled the room. No one was sure what to say.

"How long has it been this way, with Marcus I mean?" Robert finally asked.

She sighed, and adjusted herself on the bed. "It seemed he was always drinking, always looking for a party. It got worse, after DeShawn died. I insisted he stop when he proposed to me, and he did for a while, but it never seemed to last. That's one of the reasons he left the military. It was only a matter of time, before he showed up for duty drunk. When the contractor called, and offered him so much money, he took their offer."

Her voice caught, she sniffed loudly, and wiped her eyes. Robert stepped forward, and took her hand. "Its okay, Becca."

"When he joined the private contracting company," she continued, after smiling at him. "He was gone for long periods of time, and when he came back we tried to reconnect. Of course for Marcus, that meant drinking, and partying." She shrugged. "Things spun out of control, and then he started hitting me, accusing me of cheating on him."

Anger filled Robert's face, and John felt the same emotion coursing through him. Like most battered spouses however, she tried to limit the damage.

"Marcus is hurting inside. That's why he acts so badly. He's just hurting."

"Right." John said shortly.

Her eyes fixed on him, and narrowed in anger. "You don't know anything about him, John! Or what he's gone through. I appreciate what you did last night, but don't think you can judge him...or me."

"Maybe not, but I'm looking at the results of his behavior, Becca. Put whatever candy coating around it you want, he's still abusive towards you. How long will it be before he's abusive to your boys? To DeShawn's boys?"

Her hands covered her face, and the soft sound of crying filled the room. Robert flashed him a 'what the hell' look, and John held up his hands. Bitterness, and hopelessness dripped from Becca as she cried. Her father-in-law put his arms around her shoulders, and soothed her.

"It's going to be okay, Becca. You have options, and there is a path through this, if you're strong enough."

Slowly, she regained control of herself. A deep, calming breath echoed from her, and she squared her shoulders. "I'll do anything to keep my boys safe," she said, and then motioned at John. "And Bethany."

"Good."

"The kids would like to see you," John said, trying to make amends. "I'll get them if you want."

"Sure. I want to see them as well."

He nodded, and stepped outside the room. The boys and Bethany were slightly worried, given the hospital around them, but he told she was fine. He explained that Becca bumped her head last night, and that's why she's got a black eye today.

They bought it. No reason for them not too, and they were too young for the truth.

***

John and Jessica found a bench outside the hospital. It was a nice morning, so they sat quietly, and enjoyed it. There was no place for either of them in that room, and his presence would only further enhance his ex-wife's embarrassment.

"She made a bad choice," Jessica said. She squeezed his hand lightly. "She should have stayed with you."

"Maybe," replied, and then shook his head. "No. She fell in love with DeShawn. They deserved a chance at happiness. It's just unfortunate that he was taken from her so quickly. I think they would have been happy together."

"Marcus?"

"Honey, I can't blame her for that decision. When the storm clouds of grief gather, I guess sometimes you snatch at any safe port in the storm."

"You're too kind."

"Nahh," he said with a wry smile. "I just have a hard time holding a grudge."

She kissed him lightly on his cheek, and stared at him for a moment.

"What?"

A naughty smile, the one he loved so much, crossed her face from ear to ear, and she leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"You want to watch me with a black man, baby?"

His mouth dropped open, and the blood drained from his face until he was even whiter than usual. It took several swallows to gather enough liquid in his mouth, so he could respond.

"No!" He shook his head emphatically. "Hell, no. A thousand times, no."

"Good." Her expression turned serious, and she pinched him. "Because it will never fucking happen. The only man I'll ever be intimate with is you, so let that sink in good and deep."

"Yes ma'am."

"There is hope for you yet," she kissed him again. Instead of pulling away however, she left her lips next to his ear. "I'll never be with another man...ever. Another woman however, well...we can talk about that if you want."

Their eyes met, and he saw that she was serious. She'd mentioned it in a playful manner, but he knew her well enough to know she was being serious underneath.

"I love you," he breathed.

She rolled her eyes. "Men!"

As John and Jessica drove away, an ensemble cast waved them good bye. Veranda waved to them, standing alongside Becca and her boys. Bethany smiled and waved as well, standing next to her grandfather. They'd come back to pick her up in a few months.

Robert and Veranda insisted on Becca moving in with them, and she agreed. Robert offered her a job with his company, with benefits and everything, so there was no reason to go back to her home. Veranda convinced her to seek the advice of an attorney, which they would pay for, and for her to seriously consider divorce proceedings against Marcus.

Speaking of Marcus.

He sat in jail for several days, before he was finally released. No one pressed charges, but Robert had a heart to heart with him. He agreed not to contest a divorce, if that's what Becca chose.

Alcoholics Anonymous was also in his future.

It wasn't a storybook ending, because those don't exist in the real world. It was close enough however, for everyone to consider it a happy ending.

In the end, that's all any of us can hope for.

*****

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this last chapter in John and Becca's life. Their story does end here.

If you liked the story, check out my author page on Literotica. That's where you'll find updates on upcoming stories.

Thanks again and take care.

JC