Chapter 30 - Strange Fruit.

“Slow down, Brian,” Justin complained as his lover tried to tow him a little faster down the block. “I can’t walk that fast. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Brian huffed an amused snort of disdain but he did slow his steps a bit. “When I said I’d buy you all the chocolate you could possibly want, I didn’t think you’d try and eat it all in one go, Blue Eyes.”

“I couldn’t help it. I love chocolate and I never get any these days because of the war,” Justin reasoned. “But I think you might be right that I sorta over-indulged a bit. Can we just, maybe, sit down for a bit until I’ve digested that last bag of green ones I just ate?”

“You know, they say the green ones are supposed to make you horny,” Brian stated with that sexy smirk and wiggle of his shapely eyebrows that made Justin almost swoon every single time. “So, after eating a whole bag of them, you should be ready to head back to the hotel where I can have my way with you.”

Justin didn’t really know what ‘horny’ meant - although he thought he could figure it out from the context of the statement - but seriously, he really did feel a little ill after eating so much candy. He definitely was NOT feeling at all randy. The very thought of all that rolling around and such made him queasy. If he wasn’t careful he’d be turning as green as the candies he’d just eaten.

“I think I might need to take a rain check on that idea, Brian. Sorry. At least for the next half hour or so,” Justin begged off, punctuating his sentence with a nice big belch, which did help ease his discomfort a bit.

“You're no fun,” Brian jokingly complained as he looked around them. “Fine. Let me just figure out someplace nearby that we can sit for a while till you recover from your M&M sugar coma . . .”

Justin, who hadn’t really been paying attention to where they’d been walking, mimicked Brian’s actions and scanned the area. Everything looked so different that it took him a minute or two to pin down his relative location. When he did, he was amazed that he hadn’t realized where they were before - they were only about two blocks away from the site of the White Lion, which was pretty much the pilot’s home-away-from-home in London. If the pub was still here in Brian’s time, they could go check it out and sit there with a pint or two while Justin finished digesting his M&M feast.

Brian seemed interested when Justin voiced the suggestion. He said he hadn’t actually investigated to see what the White Lion was like in this time, so the two of them agreed that a visit was a necessary addition to their day’s adventures. And, with a renewed vigor in his step, Justin led the way the short distance to where his local used to exist.

When they came around the bend of the last corner, Justin was thrilled to see the facade of the pub he remembered, still there and still looking substantially the same as it had been seventy-five years before. One thing Justin knew for sure was that the area definitely smelled better than it used to; in his time there was always a distinct smell of smoke and pollution lingering in the air, clogging up his nose and dirtying his clothes. But, thankfully, the area was a hell of a lot cleaner now than it had been in 1941. The building itself hadn’t changed much; the paint had been touched up and there were fancy-looking, new signs on the building, but it was still the same old, familiar, White Lion. Justin was so excited that he almost ran the last block to get there - despite the fact that he was still feeling a little nauseated from all the candy.

Brian, who was toting around all the shopping bags full of their many purchases from the day, was a bit slower than his exuberant lover. Justin decided to wait for him at the door before entering. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find inside, but judging by all the other unexpected things he’d encountered in the past day, he didn’t think he was ready to face this alone. He contented himself with peeking through the windows until Brian arrived and gallantly held the door open for him.

As soon as Justin set foot inside the pub he instantly felt as though he had come home. It was a bizarre feeling and he wasn’t sure it was something he would be able to explain to Brian, especially as he didn’t quite understand it himself. It was probably because the pub itself had barely changed at all. Everything, from the old, dark, oak beams of the ceiling, to the scuffed floorboards, to the authentic beer pulls at the bar, looked to be the same. In fact, the pub itself even smelled exactly as it used to; it was a melange of stale beer, damp wool and a homey underpinning of dust. And if all that wasn’t enough, the stunning young woman standing behind the bar pouring pints was the spitting image of his best friend, Daphne; from the crazy curls pinned on top of her head to keep them under control, to her huge brown eyes, the resemblance was uncanny.

Brian, who had been following Justin closely, stopped directly behind the younger man who’d become instantly rooted to the spot. He apparently hadn’t seen the apparition Justin had glimpsed and couldn’t figure out what had him spooked. Placing his hand on Justin’s back, Brian resolutely moved them towards one of the only empty tables left in the entire pub. The place was heaving with people, but even so, Justin couldn’t stop looking around, his eyes always going back to the girl behind the bar.  

“You gotta keep walking, Blue Eyes. You were blocking the door. If there’s one thing I’ve learned while being in London, it’s that they hate people stopping randomly in front of them,” Brian explained lightheartedly.

Justin took a seat at the vacant table and waited for Brian to dump all of their shopping bags onto the floor next to them before joining him.

“You okay?” Brian asked worriedly. “You still feel like you’re gonna puke?”

Justin did feel sick all of a sudden . . . but it wasn’t from the candy that was sitting so heavily in his stomach. No, this was from the shock of seeing his friend, or at least someone who looked like his friend, here in 2016. How was this even possible? How could Daphne be in two places - two different times - at once? The only explanation that came to Justin’s mind was that maybe she too had found the time portal and was living a double life here in modern day, London.

Brian was still looking at him with concern, obviously confused by Justin’s reaction. Justin shook his head so as not to worry his lover, but remained silent. He really didn’t know what to tell Brian anyway. It was hard to believe his own eyes and he didn’t want to confess to something that would make him sound crazy. What if he was delusional? What if the woman behind the bar looked nothing like his friend and he was only imagining it? Maybe being back here was making him see things?

“What is it, Blue Eyes?” Brian insisted when he didn’t get a real response. “You’ve got me worried. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Justin nodded his head towards the bar where ‘Daphne’ was busy laughing and joking around with some punters as she filled their drink orders.

Brian's eyes followed his partner’s gaze.

“You see her too, right?” Justin asked dubiously, a small part of him worried that what he was seeing wasn't real.

Brian’s eyes bugged out when he too saw the Phantom Daphne behind the bar. “Fuck me! Doesn’t that look like Daphne?”

Justin merely nodded, happy that at least he wasn’t seeing things, but still as stunned as Brian.

“So, what, all you 1941 folks are now following me to the future?” Brian huffed an unamused laugh as he turned in his chair so he could scan the woman’s appearance more carefully. “You know, I don’t think it’s really her, though. Or, if it is, there’s something off about her. I don’t know . . . Fuck it, let’s just go ask, Blue Eyes. Come on - we’ll go over, confront her and, if it is your Daphne, demand an explanation.”

Justin took a deep breath and nodded his agreement with this pseudo-plan. Together, they got up from the table and wound through the crowded bar back towards the long wooden counter where their target was using a bar rag to wipe up the dribbles of beer. The woman was smiling and chatting as she cleaned, not seeming at all surprised by the two men who approached her.  

“Allo, boys. What can I get ya?” There was no recognition in her gaze as she addressed them.

Justin could feel his mouth opening as though he was going to say something, but nothing came out. He just stood there, gaping at her. Brian, however, had the presence of mind to take charge of the situation and order them two IPAs.

“Right. Comin’ right up.” The Daphne-clone smiled flirtily at Brian as she grabbed a clean pint glass from the shelf and held it up to the tap. “So, what brings a Yank like yer’self to the White Lion? Not that I mind a tall, dark stranger in my pub, mind you.”

Brian, cognizant that he’d get more info by playing along, flirted right back. “I’m in town on business, but even a hard working AdExec deserves a break and a beer every so often, don’t you think?”

“Definitely. Just as long as you take all your breaks in MY pub from now on, ‘Andsome,” she teased, handing Brian a full pint and making a point of holding onto the glass just a few seconds longer than necessary in order to get his attention.

“Where else would I go?” Brian rejoined, giving her one of his most charming Kinney grins. “So, this bar looks pretty old. Has it been around for long? Or was it just decorated to LOOK old in order to deceive us unsuspecting Americans who think everything in Europe is completely ancient?”

The barmaid laughed, her amusement sounding with a peal of joyfully melodious notes. “Nah, this time you’d be right in thinking the place has been around a while. It became a public house in 1873, when my great great grandfather, Reginald, opened the place. It’s been in me family ever since.”

“Wow, that is old. Don’t you agree, Blue Eyes?” Brian answered, making a point of including his companion in the conversation and thus directing the woman’s attention Justin’s way at the same time.

Daphne handed over the second pint to Justin with an appraising smile. “Hmm. Now you, on the other hand, look a bit familiar . . . You from around here, Blue Eyes?”

“Uh, um . . . Uh,” Justin was taken a bit by surprise at this question, not to mention the fact that she’d used Brian’s pet name for him, and fumbled for an answer that wouldn’t make him sound crazy.      

“I was thinking maybe we went to school together or somethin’.” Justin shook his head. “Oh, well. It’ll come to me. I never forget a face. Especially a handsome one.” She winked at her victim with a grin.

Justin gripped his pint tightly; so much so that he wobbled the glass enough that a tiny bit sloshed out over the top and spilled on the just cleaned bartop. Both he and Brian were left speechless. So this ‘Daphne’ thought Justin looked familiar? What the devil was going on here? Was it really their Daphne, just playing with their heads, or was something else really strange going on here? Justin didn’t know what to think, and despite having survived all the other unsettling events of this trying day, he felt like this experience was likely to do him in.

Brian, however, was less daunted by the odd occurrence than his sputtering companion, and seemed set on figuring out this bizarre conundrum.

“Sorry, I never caught your name,” Brian requested.

“I didn’t offer it,” the saucy barmaid replied. “But, since you ask, It’s Lottie. Lottie Chanders. Nice to make your acquaintance, Mr . . . ?”

“Brian Kinney. At your service,” Brian offered, lifting his beer in a toast and nodding at her at the same time. “You know, Lottie, it’s funny you say that my friend here looks familiar, because you look like someone we both thought we knew. In fact, you look a LOT like her.”

“Oh, really? That’s strange. You mean I have a twin somewhere that I’ve never met? I bloody love that idea.” the Daphne Lookalike seemed thrilled by the concept. “Is she American? I’d love to meet her someday.”

“Actually, no, the person I was thinking of was a British lady that Jus . . . Er, I mean, that JT’s uncle knew over here when he was in the war,” Brian caught himself at the last minute, did some quick thinking, and then invented a mythical ‘uncle’ for Justin who they could blame this whole thing on. Justin was grateful that Brian hadn’t offered up his real name, either, seeing as he wasn’t actually supposed to be in this time. “I think her name was ‘Daphne’?” Brian continued.

“Shut up!” the bar owner practically exploded with excitement upon hearing that name. “My Gran’s name was ‘Daphne’ and everyone says I look a lot like she did back in the day. I was even named after her - Daphne is my middle name.”

“No way,” Brian gasped melodramatically.

His acting skills must be on fire tonight because Lottie bought it, grabbing his hand and squealing excitedly.

“I KNOW! This is fucking crazy,” Lottie beamed. “We have my Gran's picture on the wall at the other end of the bar. Come an’ ‘ave a look.”

The boys had no choice but to follow behind as Lottie tore off across the room - towing Brian after her, with a curious Justin only one step behind that - and then pulled a framed picture off of the wall, holding it close to her chest.

“Gran loved this place,” Lottie told them happily. “She worked here right up until she was in her late sixties. And then, when she wasn’t well enough to work, she’d spend her days in here drinking and mingling with the regulars. Hell, even after her stroke, she used to make my Dad wheel her in here in her chair on nice afternoons.” She finally turned the picture she was holding around so her audience could see it, holding it almost reverently. “This is her. Do you think I look anything like her? It’s hard for me to judge, and of course, she was older than me when this was taken. She must be at least thirty-five or so here, and she'd already had two kids by then. People do say I take after her though.”

Justin’s chest felt funny at hearing his best friend being talked about in the past tense. Also, to find out she’d become a mother, lived her whole life in this bar, and even that, in her later life, had suffered through a stroke . . . It hit him like a ton of bricks. Hearing all that made his trip through time seem more real, and more devastating, than anything else he’d experienced so far. It finally hit him that everyone he’d known - his friends, family, his parents - were likely dead in this time. That was a huge moment of reckoning for the usually easy going young man. It took a lot of the fun out of his adventurous day with Brian.

Meanwhile, Lottie was babbling on, relating more stories about her beloved Gran. The only reassuring part of all this, from Justin's perspective at least, was that it sounded like Daph had enjoyed a long and very full life. It didn’t help ease the visceral sense of loss he felt, though, when Lottie announced Daphne had died, at the ripe old age of eighty-six, from complications related to pneumonia. Justin knew that, as soon as he got back to his own time, the first thing he was going to do was visit his best friend. He had the sudden urge to see Daphne and give her a big hug.

“Is this the woman you were thinking of? The one your uncle knew?” Lottie asked, looking to Brian, who nodded mutely, all the while rubbing little caring circles into the small of Justin’s back in order to try and reassure the devastated youth. “I have some more pictures in an old album, if you’d like to see them?”

Justin nodded sadly, even as the whole world seemed to be crumbling around him at a frighteningly rapid pace.

“Hey, Josh, take over for me for a bit, yeah?” Lottie yelled to the twenty-something man wearing the half apron who’d been busing tables off to the side. “I’m taking a short break.”

With that taken care of, Lottie re-hung the picture of her Grandmother, Daphne, in its place of honor on the wall, and told the boys she’d go get the album and then join them in a minute.

The boys sat back down at their table and waited for Lottie to return. “Brian, this is so strange,” Justin whispered, his leg bouncing nervously as he spoke.

Brian nodded and reached for Justin’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know.”

“I just realized . . . Daph is . . . Daphne is dead.” His voice broke on the last word.

Brian apparently was through trying to be circumspect and simply leaned over, putting his arm around Justin’s shaking shoulders. “I’m sorry, Blue Eyes. I know that’s hard to hear. It’s hard for me too. But, for what it’s worth, it sounds like she had a great life. She’s got a pretty, young, granddaughter and this pub seems to still be doing well.

Justin could feel his bottom lip start to tremble even though he didn’t want to come off as looking like a pansy. He couldn’t help it though. He just couldn’t fathom the fact that his best friend - whom he’d just seen the evening before - was dead. He could be excused, he thought, for taking that realization hard. Right?

Brian continued to whisper in his lover’s ear, trying to be a good boyfriend. “And, well, she’s only dead here, in this time, you know? You can still go back and see her in your time, right?”

“I suppose . . .” Justin sniffed loudly. “I guess I just never thought . . . Applesauce, Brian, EVERYONE I know is probably dead.”

Brian didn’t have time to respond with any further reassuring words, and Justin didn’t have much time to wallow in self pity, since right then Lottie came bounding over to their table with a huge photo album in her arms. She sat down, dumping a huge bag of pickled onion crisps in front of her, and then carefully laid the album on the table top. Justin tried to pull himself together, now that he had an audience beyond Brian, but it wasn’t easy.

“Hey. I brought the entire album down with me. I haven’t seen some of these pictures in years,” Lottie smiled happily, apparently unaware of the drama going on in Justin’s head, as she tore into the bag of junk food and offered both boys some of the pungent smelling snacks.

Brian shook his head at the offered food, but Justin absentmindedly reached over and popped one into his mouth.

“Aw, this is a picture of gran with my great grandpa,” the girl said as she turned to the first page of the album, which showed a picture of a familiar, gigantic, well-muscled man, standing next to a very young Daphne. “They used to call him, ‘Boom Boom’, although I never did hear how he got that nickname.”

“Maybe it’s because he had such a deep and powerful voice?” Justin suggested, knowing full well that was exactly where the larger-than-life man got his nickname.

“Yeah, maybe . . . I wish I’d met him, though.” Lottie sighed. “From the stories I’ve heard, he was a wonderful man.”

Justin so desperately wanted to jump in and tell her that all the stories she’d heard were true, and that Boom Boom was indeed a wonderful man, but he couldn’t. He had to sit there in silence and watch as Lottie proudly showed them pictures of her beloved family - including his absolute best friend - and pretend he was none the wiser.

They spent several minutes looking over aging photos; there really were some stunning pictures of Daphne in there. Justin enjoyed seeing those showing a young Daphne - they were closer to how he saw his friend. The pictures of her as an older woman, including those of her with children, seemed unreal to him. He just couldn’t get that image of her through his head. But, luckily, Lottie didn’t seem to notice his odd reactions. She just kept flipping pages and happily relating all her little family stories, turning the book around every so often so that the boys, who were sitting on the opposite side of the table from her, could see the various pictures more clearly.

“Oh, WOW!” Lottie gasped as she turned one page, lifting the book up to get a closer look at the new picture she’d come across. “I knew you reminded me of someone . . . See? You look just like my granny’s friend, Justin. Isn’t that strange? It seems you have a secret twin too. The resemblance really is amazing . . .”

Both men shifted nervously in their seats as Lottie carefully peeled back the protective plastic covering from the page and handed the picture to a trembling Justin.

“This was one of her all time favorite photos,” Lottie explained. “Justin and her were the best of friends. She even named my uncle after him.”

Justin stared at the picture he now held so tightly in his hands. It was a grainy, faded, sepia-tinted photo of himself and Daphne, standing together, his right arm over the woman’s shoulder. Their faces were a little washed out and the photo had obviously been well-loved to the point it was a little damaged around the edges and crinkled at the lower left corner, but it was still clear who the faces in the picture belonged to.

This was proof positive that Justin hadn’t simply been imagining his life back in 1941 with his best friend, Daphne, despite the fact that, as he looked around himself now, in this modern setting, his prior life was beginning to seem eerily surreal.

It felt incredibly strange to be looking at a photo of himself, supposedly taken a long time in the past, when in his reality, he had no idea when this was even taken. It was very clearly a picture of himself and his best friend together, though. They were both dressed up in fancy clothing, smiling broadly, looking like neither of them had a care in the world. And yet, somehow, this vivacious, caring, wonderful woman was now dead . . . it simply made no sense to the man holding the photo.

“That’s a beautiful photo,” Brian said as he took the picture out of Justin’s hands and studied it closely. “Any idea when it was taken?” The man voiced the question Justin had been desperate to ask, although the words seemed to have failed him.

Lottie took the photo from Brian and turned it over where, on the back, in Daphne’s small, scratchy writing, it read, ‘Celebration party for the formation of the Second Eagle Squadron. 17th May 1941.’

No wonder Justin didn’t recognize the picture, it hadn’t even been taken yet.

“It’s a really sad story about, Justin. Apparently he was an RAF officer during the Second World War and . . . Well, after he was lost, Gran . . . She never really quite got over what happened to him,” Lottie told them sadly, shaking her head at whatever the remembered story entailed.

Justin froze in place. What on earth was Lottie talking about? After he was lost? . . . Wait, he didn’t want to know. Just hearing that small inference about the man in the photo being lost, it made him feel sick to his stomach.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Justin said, standing up quickly. “I just need to . . . I need to . . .” He pointed to the door, and waved awkwardly to Lottie as he gathered his coat and exited the pub without another word.

“Shit,” Brian mumbled under his breath as he watched Justin practically running out the door of the pub. “Sorry about that, Lottie. It looks like you struck a nerve,” he apologized without really explaining - because, really, where would he start?

Brian quickly pulled a couple bills out of his wallet to pay for their drinks and then started to gather together all his shopping bags.

“I better go after him. Thanks for showing us your photos and the stories about your grandmother. Later.”

Lottie was still sputtering and yelling questions after him as Brian pushed his way through the crowd milling around the door and took off down the street in search of his missing time traveller. He’d, luckily, assumed correctly when he surmised that Justin would be on his way back to Duckett’s Passage, and managed to catch sight of the easily recognized, blond, military-style, hair cut, bobbing its way through the crowd, a little ways ahead of him. Brian put on another burst of speed and rudely shoved his way through several groups of irritated pedestrians, until he finally caught up with the escapee.

“Hey, Blue Eyes,” Brian panted as soon as got within earshot. “Going somewhere?”

“I can’t do this, Brian,” Justin responded tersely. “I just can’t. I shouldn’t be here. This is all wrong.”

“Whoa!” Brian tried to slow Justin’s panicked retreat down by grabbing the kid’s elbow, but Justin wasn’t having it and angrily wrenched his arm away. “Justin, please wait. I know you’re freaked out, but you can’t just run off like this,” Brian tried to get through to him, but Justin was already several meters away.

“I can’t do this, Brian. I’m sorry!” was the last thing Brian heard as Justin broke into a full-out sprint and disappeared around the corner at the end of the block.

“Fuck!” Brian cursed the universe in general.

Brian knew it was useless to run after Justin. The younger man was mule-headed enough that he wouldn’t listen to anything Brian had to say - at least not in his current frame of mind. Maybe after he’d cooled down a bit. In the meantime, Brian had to go back to the hotel and dump off all the day’s shopping before he could go after his upset blond. It wouldn’t do to take a bag full of modern computer equipment with him into the past. He should probably also change into some more time-appropriate clothing since he was currently wearing only dockers and a long-sleeved polo shirt. Oh, and he better grab Justin’s uniform shirt from the hotel as well, since the RAF pilot would no doubt be needing that sooner or later.

With his plan set in mind, Brian hustled back to the hotel and prepared what he’d need to take back for another trip to the past.