Measure of a Man
by Surreal

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"Name and date of birth."

"John Fitzgerald Byers.  11-22-63."

"You're kidding, right?"

-Unusual Suspects

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Langly wasn't surprised when he woke up alone.  
It was John's birthday; his 40th, in fact.

He knew exactly where he would find his partner.

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Byers stood back as the small group of older 
gentlemen paid their respects quietly.  He 
knew he would be one of many to visit this 
place today, so he made sure to come early 
in hopes of a private moment.

As the men walked away, he approached the 
eternal flame that warmed his body on this 
freezing morning.  He knelt on the bricks 
encircling the memorial and laid his single 
fresh lily next to the large round stone.  

Smiling a wry smile, he whispered, "Thank you 
for my name, sir."  

He heard another patron approaching, so he stood 
and began to turn away.  The familiar shoes
made him look up in relief.  "Langly."

Langly squeezed Byers' arm briefly, then placed 
a matching flower next to its mate.  "Of all the 
days, John, you know you should have woke me to 
come with you on this one."

Byers shrugged self-consciously.  "Sorry, guess 
I never thought of paying respects as a social 
call."

Moving to stand behind his lover, Langly slid his 
arms over Byers' shoulders and pulled him close, 
both men looking down at the flame.  "What do you 
think about when you come here every year?" he 
asked quietly.

"Camelot."  Byers shifted his feet and leaned into 
the warmth enveloping him.  "We spend so much of 
our time obsessing over his death - Dealy Plaza, 
magic bullets, multiple gunmen.  It all overshadows 
everything he did during his time in office.  He 
was a gifted politician, in every way that counts."

"That he was, man."

Byers swallowed hard.  "There are so many days I 
wish I'd been named Bertram."

Langly stayed silent, giving Byers time to continue.

"Wishing he'd never died.  My father used to tell 
me all about him, about what a wonderful leader of 
the free world he was.  About how he could have been 
the one to bring peace in Vietnam had he lived to see 
it in its bitter years.  Can you imagine, preventing 
all the shit that's happened because of our interference 
in the last twenty years?  We were just in want of a 
good negotiator."

Knowing there was nothing he could say to make John 
stop brooding over things that couldn't be changed, 
Langly simply held his lover for a moment.

He leaned forward and kissed John's ear, in defiance 
of any who could be watching, and whispered, "Happy 
birthday, John Fitzgerald."


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