TIME: Wounds All Heal

By Tarian P.S. and Talon P.S.

TIME: Wounds All Heal

The TEDDY BEAR COLLECTION: book 4

 

 The Skeptic: "If all this had truly been staged, people would've figured it out and demanded the government come out about it."<

• Language: English
• Publisher: TPS Publishing/Talon P.S.
• Release date: May 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798869337474

Tarian P.S.

We Came- We Saw- and then we took you on an adventure.Both Proud Indy Authors: Tarian like his twin, Talon, love to torment their editor with a nefarious world of foreign-language, slang, local dialect, stretched/outside-of-the-box definitions, and have even been known to throw in some new word creations of their own at times. This, of course, is all thrown in there with the dyslexia soup stock they both suffer from that makes editing for them a joy {joy: n. see mental illness}.However, the final product comes out as richly detailed as we believe all stories should be created: holographic worlds of love, pain, frustration, and challenges beyond the every day. We believe a good story should take you on an emotional ride, pluck your heart strings, and zing you about until you're dizzy and screaming at the antagonist, while cheering for the protagonist before returning you to your cozy reading spot. And we've created these adventures within a mix of genres, so you can find the one right for you: Gay & Het Romances, Suspense, Paranormal and Sci-fi Erotic Romances, War-time Romance Fictions, along with Talon's favorite Space Sci-Fi Frontiers, and Tarian's favorite works of Post-Apocalyptic Dark Fantasies and Historical Fantasies. All for readers to submerse themselves into and escape from their day when they need or desire, and to whet your appetite for more.

Book preview

DEDICATION

All my love to Talon

A pair of glasses Description automatically generated with low confidence

This one was more for me. Having been a government watch dog since I was a kid. Too many things— dark secrets and agendas passing right under our noses have plagued me for some time. I finally had to get it out and did so the best way I know how— right under your nose. Between the pages of a book. Don’t take this story for granted; it’s based on stacking evidence and testimonies of actual people and there is a message here. The message is—

We’ve all been fooled

Special Thanks goes to:

Alison Greene

for keeping me Dyslexic-Disaster-Zone free.

And to my Beta Readers:

Terry Kaiser and Bradley Mathis

A pair of glasses Description automatically generated with low confidence

TRADEMARK ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Following Trademark &/or copyrighted name brand products have been either mentioned or used fictitiously in this story.

Music/Artists:

Sound of Silence by Disturbed

Diamonds covered by Max Barskih

Yonathan

PAPA Madrid

Colton Ford

Jonny McGovern

Justin Bieber

People [in order of mention]:

US Congresswoman Jane Harman

Andrea Mitchell – MSNBC News Anchor

Gary Webb – Investigative Reporter

Sarah Palin

Talon P.S.

Bill Cosby

Former Ambassador Ryan Crocker

Former Leading General Wesley Clark

Defense General Rumsfield

Anderson Cooper – CNN Investigative Reporter

Former US Diplomat & White House Advisor Ali Khedery -  Foreign Policy

President Bashar al-Assad of Syria

President of the United States Barrack Obama

United Nations special envoy for Syria, Staffan de Mistura

Syrian activist, Yassin al-Haj Saleh

Lattakia Governor Obrahim Salim

Russian President Putin

News Broadcasters and Print News:

MSNBC News

Washington Post

Mother Jones Magazine

Washington DC’s Local Express

USA Today

CNN News

ABC News

NBC News

NPR News

PBS News

Democracy Now Studios

Al Jazeera News

Huffington Post

Organizations:

NSA -

TMZ -

CIA – Central Intelligence Agency

NRA –

NFL – National Football League

British-based Syrian Observatory for Human Rights

Doctors Without Borders

Disney

Quotes:

¹ Quote/paraphrased from Senator Bernie Sanders ~ source: ESPN address to Senate House 06/04/1992

² Quote/paraphrased from Senator Ron Paul ~ source: 2012 Presidential debate

³ Quote/paraphrased from Former Leading General Wesley Clark ~ source: Democracy Now Studios Live Broadcast Interview

⁴ Quote/paraphrased news reports (mixed) ~ sources: The Guardian and New York Times

⁵ Quote/paraphrased from Former US Diplomat and Advisor Ali Khedery ~ source: VICE Special Reports 2015

⁶ Quote/paraphrased from Syrian activist Yassin Al-Haj Saleh ~ source: Qantara.de 2014

⁷ Quote/paraphrased from Former US Ambassador Ryan Crocker ~ source: VICE Special Report 2015

Misc:

Adobe Photoshop

Facebook

Park Hyatt Washington Hotel

Aberlour 18

Ford Excursion

St. Regis Hotel

Youtube

Ray-Ban Aviators Sunglasses

Smucker’s hot fudge

Classics deli pickles.

Hyde Park Gun shop / Diesel Gentry – source: Right One 4 Diesel by Talon P.S.

Mad Max movie – Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer Studios Inc.

MacDill Air Force Base

Little Debbies

Marlboro Reds

Samsung Note (smartphone)

Advil

Range Rover

Hummer

MRAPs

MM-Gay Romance/ Mature Men’s Romance / Political-War Theme / Suspense / Friends to Lovers / Adult Content / Slow Burn / Heat Level 3.5

The Skeptic: If all this had truly been staged, people would’ve figured it out and demanded the government come out about it.

The Journalist: It’s easy to fool a person— It’s quite another to convince them they’ve been fooled.

Even with the blanket of tattoos that covered both his arms and most of his upper chest, or the face hidden under the hair that constantly fell over his eyes, Channing Maroussas was likely the most beautiful man Chris Sayer had ever met. He was thankful they were close friends as it excused him for any lingering glances. Channing was a bird of brightly lit feathers perched in a world of darkness. But his gift wasn’t just about being beautiful; it was what he could see. He could be in a room full of people, a field emptied of life, reading a newspaper, or overhearing a conversation on the bus— and what was unseen and unheard by others spoke volumes to him. Channing saw what the rest of the world never slowed down long enough to notice, though once pointed out, furies and passions flourished. It was voices like Channing’s that broke the silence of ignorance. His voice just happened to be recorded between the pages of TIME magazine.

Chris Sayer has known Channing for years. But not even that can broker some rules of silence. Chris’s government job is so secretive he can’t even tell his best friend who he works for, which doesn’t help his disagreement over Channing’s journalistic views on global current events. He likes it even less when he finds out Channing left for Syria to cover a story. After Channing accusing the leading presidential elective Nolan Prumpt of inciting hate mongering and fascism, a trip through the greatest hot zone on the planet was like wanting to wash a pill down with poison. But when news got out that Channing had gone missing, Chris knew better than to believe the accusations that his best friend may have changed sides and was now considered an enemy of the state. The one thing Chris did know was he needed to do everything in his power to find Channing before anyone else did. If for no other reason but to let him know how he feels about him.

Time— it’s not long enough — yet with enough of it, wounds all heal.

TABLE OF CONTENT

DEDICATION

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

EPILOGUE

2 RECIPE BONUSES

WHAT’S NEXT

ABOUT THE TWINS

SO MUCH MORE TO READ!

Thoughts rifled through a mental pile of data, research, and interviews that stormed in Channing’s brain like a stampede of tumble weeds across a western film set. All the while his fingers deciphered and tapped out a cohesive translation of each pile, intermingled with a weave of storytelling tactics.

Gary Webb— CIA— FDN—  a pipeline of cocaine traffic proliferated by our own government— don’t bog the story down— build up the suspense— imminent repeat on horizon— hit the heart strings— he paused when something flashed across the screen of the small television sitting on the corner of his desk caught his attention. US Congresswoman Jane Harman was being broadcast via satellite interview on a serious topic debate on the NSA. Channing grabbed the remote and brought the volume up to listen in—

~~ — government-appointed Privacy and Civil Liberties Oversight Board had found that the NSA's phone spying program was illegal, should be terminated, and had not led to the apprehension of a single terrorist. I think that we should seriously—

Let me just— let me interrupt you— Congresswoman Harman, let me interrupt you just for a moment we've got some breaking news out of Miami, stand by if you will, host MSNBC Andrea Mitchell stated as she cut off the Congresswoman mid-sentence. Right now, in Miami, Justin Bieber has been arrested on a number of charges. ~~

The video feed Channing was watching then switched to cover the earth-shattering importance of the 19-year-old pop star's appearance in court. The audastic scene had happened in January of 2014. It’d since been recorded and added to his piling evidence of obscurity in the media. It’d stuck out with him that a large news media monster would turn tabloid over a story that should have been left to the more suited domain of TMZ. It only furthered the questions over Investigative Reporter Gary Webb that plagued Channing. Here, a man spent the larger part of ten years chasing down his story. Blowing the top off the CIA run pipeline of cocaine trafficking, then used the money to fund their Contras war. Webb’s name never gaining the true validation of what he’d uncovered, instead media ran him down as overzealous, and having made up the entire story. It wasn’t until much later the CIA confessed and came under investigation that Webb’s reports were valid and true, but his name was never fully cleared.

Just like the congress woman’s attack on the NRA was getting shoved aside for teen-pop-news, so too were the court reports on the CIA’s involvement and fault for crack cocaine shoved to the back page of the news while detouring headlines blared on about the President and the scandalous blow jobs within the oval office.

For Channing, the goal was as always, an article of alarming evidence made presentable by an element of storytelling. Because in the end, the facts meant nothing if no one bothered to read them. People read fiction for a reason; it was entertaining and often sounded far more reasonable. That was no joke when half the time Channing couldn’t believe it himself if it weren’t the case, he’d been the one to discover it. Yet, in today’s media, it was easier to believe in vampire lovers than what he was working on. Maybe one day he’d find evidence vampires existed, then what? People didn’t believe in truth no matter how much supporting evidence you had. People believed in vampires and unicorns, all the way up until someone tried to say they were very much real— really-really. That’s when discoverers were called whack jobs and freaks. But science fiction monsters weren’t what Channing chased after or wrote about. What he did, was chase conspiracies.

He was almost finished writing out his current report when, yet another tid-bit of the latest news caught his ears and he was inclined to watch.

The country was preoccupied watching a group of rednecks held out in a nature park. Unlike any actual cult or siege in the past, ever dealt with by the Federal Bureau, where the occupiers were always cut off from supplies, these guys were allowed to come and go to get Little Debbie snack cakes and Marlboro Reds. Media attention was flooded with this ridiculous reality show of occupy bird park show.

What Channing saw was a magician waving his wand, watch the birdy. He tuned the tv out, turned around and started looking for what they didn’t want anyone else to see. He sat staring out his windows in some strange acting-out of what he knew needed to be done. Look away from the distracting hands and look for what they are trying to lure you away from. The curtains to his apartment flapped about with the cool March air struggling to transition from winter to spring. Beyond, blue skies cast over the city of Washington DC and his small block of it just off the popular U Street. But there was no sign to the source of his hidden story. Not just yet. And he returned to his typing storm.

The Samsung Note sitting on his desk, among an array of other items, knocked to alert him he had a text. He stopped and swiped the screen to see if it was anyone he wanted to bother responding too. There were a number of people he had a tendency to ignore. His boss for one.

Txt: —We still on for lunch? —

Turned out to be someone on his do-not-ignore-ever list. It was his best friend, Chris. His imaginary gentleman caller, who came with full clearance and open invite.

Txt: —Yes, of course. — Channing texted him back.

Txt: — Great. Then where the hell are you? —

Channing glanced absently at his wrist and to a watch that wasn’t there. Damn, where’s my watch? He muttered to himself then swiped the screen on his Note to get the time. He was already a half hour late. Damn. He managed a one-handed response back to Chris as he looted through the rest of the pile on his desk to find his wallet, txt: — Coming now. —

He hit save on his computer, then tore out the door, having barely managed to grab his leather jacket on the way out.

He dashed down the sidewalk making a fast-adjusting twist to prevent colliding into the woman who lived in the same building as he did just one floor down. Lucky her and the groceries she toted. He made it to the corner bus stop but, not seeing the bus just yet, he risked a quick detour to the other corner to where the newsstand sat. His eyes scanned the headlines then he scooped up the daily Washington Post, the latest Mother Jones magazine, then a last-minute snatch included the Local Express and the USA Today and tucked them safely away under his arm so he could pay. He heard a new text message come in. He knew without looking it had to be Chris.

Txt: — you on the bus yet — Chris

He quick responded, txt: —getting on right now —

Txt: —Uh-huh, step away from the newsstand before you miss the bus— Chris

Channing tossed his hands up and laughed, cracking a joke to the vendor, It’s like he’s got a sixth sense or something.

We’re in DC, dude, everyone has spies. The vendor shrugged and began leafing out singles from a wad of bills in his hand.

Channing would have laughed again, but he looked up just as his bus drove by. He abandoned his change and took off calling after it, HEY! HOLD UP!

He did his best to look apologetic and innocent at the same time when he did finally get there. Chris always did say he was still cute under all his ink. So even though Chris was straight, it never hurt to use what assets one had.

Since you’re obnoxiously consistent with missing our lunches lately, you owe me a dinner. Chris razzed him the second he sat down.

Sorry. Just finishing up my story.

Good thing we’re not married; I hear this sort of thing is grounds for divorce. His friend carried on with the scolding.

You think maybe that’s why no one ever proposes to me? Channing feigned ignorance.

It just may be, because you’re too good looking of a man for no one to try. Certainly, always struck me odd that it hasn’t happened yet.

Channing didn’t answer and redirected his attention to the waitress when she came up. I’ll have the lobster roll, served warm and a glass of water with lemon please.

You can take the man out of Maine, but you can’t take Maine out of the man. Chris laughed.

Why would you want to? Channing grinned, shooting him a sheepish look.

Chris laughed again, but there was more to it. There was this glimmer in Chris’s eyes when he looked at him. Channing never missed the guarded expression. He always figured that even when late, their get-togethers meant something. Stopping the world to get off, however brief, made it all the easier for the both of them when their jobs revealed the shady mechanics in the machine. Then again, Channing just liked to fantasize that his friend liked looking at him because he was secretly gay and crushing on him back. Such was the foolish nonsense of a man who’d been alone for too long. It was easier to make shit up in his head to placate the emptiness. He had enough reality in his life as it was. Maybe even more so for Chris. Channing wrote about shit one didn’t want to be true and authorities didn’t want the public to find out about, period. Chris, however, worked for those authorities. Channing just wasn’t sure in which department those authorities were.

So— about that dinner? Chris went back to the debt owed.

Can’t. I have a date and he doesn’t come anywhere close to having your patience or understanding.

Then I already disapprove of this fellow. You need a good man. Someone who cares about you. Who will care enough to pry you from your desk once in a while for lobster rolls and creamy cucumber salad.

How’d you know I liked cucumber salad?

Because even an imbecile could see how predictable you are.

Channing only blinked at him, Nowhere in DC can anyone get cucumber salad, so this must be more spy stuff, huh?

Okay, so I looked up popular coastal Maine foods and that was one of the top favorite side dishes.

Liar.

Never. Not to you anyways.

Channing felt his own grin, as unstoppable as it could be, Maybe I should just date you then, huh?

May as well, it’s not like anyone is knocking on my door to get in. And I am certainly better looking. Chris paused as their waitress returned, heavy two plates. She set the lobster sandwich in front of Chris and Channing got the Rueben.

They exchanged looks, then exchanged plates, putting off further talking long enough to become immersed in the first couple of bites. Well, Chris did. Channing dove into his like he hadn’t eaten for days. Which was always a possibility when he was finishing up a story.

Almost done, I take it? Chris mused as Channing inhaled his sandwich, Your story I mean.

Channing nodded, stuffing one end of his roll in his mouth and chewing off a sizable bite.

You think you might get the front cover lead story this time?

It wasn’t the first time Chris had asked such. So already Channing was shaking his head, You know my stories never reach the front of the magazine. Always in the back. This one especially. I’ll be lucky if TIME even prints it.

What conspiracy did you turn up this time?

I did a story on Journalist Gary Webb and about the media’s evasiveness to cover the trial on the CIA or about his alleged suicide.

Chris did a double take, You do like inviting trouble.

Don’t suppose you could slip me something.

Chris said nothing. That question, too, came as no surprise. Chris had this weird way of always reacting as if he already knew and perhaps often, he did. It was just something Channing had come to expect about his friend as well as knowing no amount of questioning would pry Chris’s lips open. He never told. All Channing could do was eat his sandwich. So— Channing chewed harder, then forced it down so he could