Chapter 48 - Let’s Get Away From It All.

“I had no idea you still had that much shit here,” Brian commented as he took the small but rather heavy valise out of Justin’s hands.

“It’s mostly just clothes, a few personal items and my books,” Justin explained as he shifted the small watercolor painting he’d had hanging in his room from one arm to the other and wrapped it tighter in the protective cloth he was using to transport it. “I know it’s silly, but I just couldn’t leave my uniforms here - it felt wrong to abandon them along with everything else.”

“It’s fine. You deserve a few mementos. Or, as Gus would say, ‘mens toes’.” They both laughed at that, which was a relief as it broke the tension they had both been feeling that morning.

Then Brian held the front door to Mrs. MacCready’s boarding house open for him and Justin walked out into the drizzle of a rainy July afternoon.

This was it. It was July 10th. Today was the day Justin was going to take the biggest leap of faith in his whole life. He was going to leave everything he’d ever known to run off into the sunset with his older male lover; which was just unbelievable to start with, right? But their plans were all complete and only the very last loose ends remained to be tied up before it was done.

Justin’s life here - his past - was now over.

And, as he stepped down the front stoop of the boarding house where he’d lived for the last half a year, it all suddenly became real to him. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweating. Up till now, it had all been academic. The romantic idea of running off with Brian was no longer just a dream. Now reality was setting in and Justin wasn’t sure if he was excited or scared out of his wits.

Brian must have read his hesitation because he immediately pulled Justin down the closest alley and into the shelter of a recessed doorway. Setting down the little suitcase, Brian took Justin into his arms and pressed a quick kiss on him. Justin was so nervous that he barely kissed back.

“It’s going to be okay, Blue Eyes,” Brian assured him with another kiss to his forehead.

“I know. I know,” Justin conceded, but his wavering voice betrayed the fact that he didn’t believe his own words.

“Come on. Let’s take this stuff back to my hotel. Then we’ll go speak with the Solicitor, make sure everything is finally ready for Daphne and Boom Boom, and get the hell out of here,” Brian suggested, trying to dispel Justin’s unease with action.

“If you don’t mind, I think maybe I’ll just meet you there later,” Justin suggested, causing Brian to raise one brow in concern. “There are some people I still want to say goodbye to out at the base and a couple things I forgot to grab out of my locker there . . .”

“I don’t know, Justin. Are you sure you want to cut it that close? I mean . . . today’s THE day . . . I don’t want you taking any risks. Maybe you should avoid the base altogether?”

“Don’t be silly, Brian. Nothing’s going to happen. It’s not like someone’s going to throw me into a plane and force me to fly somewhere against my will,” Justin teased his worrywart boyfriend who merely shook his head in response. “I promise not to stay too long and you know the base is practically dead in the middle of the day like this. The pre-flight briefing for tonight’s mission isn’t even scheduled to begin until 2100 hours. I’ll just pop in, say goodbye to whomever is around - well, without actually saying the word ‘goodbye’, of course, because that would give it all away - and then come back here and meet you at The White Lion at, say, five? That way I won’t even be anywhere near the base when the mission is scheduled to begin. Will that satisfy you, you big old Nervous Nelly?”

“Hey! Who you calling ‘nelly’?” Brian complained with a snort of derision before turning serious again. “Okay. But you be fucking careful, alright? We don’t want anything to go wrong today of all days. If I’d had my way, we would’ve been out of here yesterday so there was no risk of you even being in this century today. I don’t want you taking any chances at all, you hear?.”

“I hear and I promise. I’m sure it’ll be no big deal.”

“Fine. But if your perky little ass is not in that pub by five pm - on the dot - I’m coming out to that damn base and tracking you down. You hear me?” Brian insisted adamantly, his voice raising as if he could shout down any objections Justin might have. “I don’t give a flying fuck who sees me or asks what I am to you, Blue Eyes. You and I are leaving here TONIGHT and after that I’m not ever going to let you do anything stupid like flying off into danger ever again. Alright?”

“Sheesh. Overprotective, aren’t you?” Justin kidded, trying to relieve his lover’s worry with a little humor. Since it didn’t seem to have worked, though, Justin was forced to concede the point. “I promise, Brian. I’ll be good and stay as far away from danger as I can from here on out. And after we leave here tonight, there’s nothing that will keep us apart - not even the RAF.”

“That’s the plan, Blue Eyes. That’s the plan. And, starting tomorrow, it’ll just be you, me and the future . . . forever,” Brian concurred, sealing the promise with one last kiss before he bent to pick up the suitcase again and took the painting out of Justin’s hands. “Okay. I’ll deal with this stuff and the lawyer and meet you at The White Lion at . . .” Justin could see Brian counting in his head as the American in him tried to work out the unfamiliar military time designation, “. . . 1700 hours.”

“Roger that, Handsome,” Justin agreed. “And I’ll roger YOU later tonight when we celebrate our escape.”

Brian chuckled at this presumptuousness, but since he didn’t say ‘no’ to the idea, Justin felt pretty sure he was going to get super lucky that evening. Which left him smiling radiantly as he watched Brian heading off down the street.

It wasn’t until Brian was almost to the corner, that Justin noticed Hobbs stepping out of the shadows of the front garden of the house next door to Mrs. MacCready’s. The man’s sudden appearance startled Justin, who suspected that Hobbs had again been following him despite having been told off more than once in the past week. Justin might have told him off this time too, but Hobbs didn’t give him the chance, glaring at him angrily before storming off in a huff up the front steps and into the boarding house, leaving the front door wide open.

“Wonder what got his dander up?” Justin muttered under his breath

As Justin turned back towards the place he’d thought of as his home for the last year and a bit, taking out his key to lock the door one final time, he spotted Mrs. MacCready walking down the street heading straight for him. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched the older lady strolling along with her wicker basket balanced precariously over her arm, chatting warmly with the neighbors she passed. As matronly as Mrs. MacCready was, Justin had always had a soft spot for her because of the way she had welcomed so many American soldiers into her home, acting as a surrogate mother for all those lonely boys that were thousands of miles away from their families. She had always been caring and kind, even though she was also a stickler for her ‘House Rules’, and had made sure they had a ‘nice home cooked meal’ waiting for them when they returned home from a hard day’s work. She was never happier than when her home was full of ‘lost boys’ that needed looking after.

“Justin, sweet’art, I know yous was just on ya way out, but ya wouldn't mind giving me an ‘and, would ya?” Mrs. MacCready asked as she held the heavy basket out towards Justin. “It’s right ‘eavy today.”

Rushing over, Justin took the basket from Mrs. MacCready and  slid his right arm through the handle, before offering her his left arm to hold onto as they made their way up the stairs and into the kitchen. “Of course not, Mrs. MacCready, it would be my pleasure.”  

When they arrived in the cluttered but homey kitchen, Mrs. MacCready sighed loudly and sat down in the closest chair. “Thank ya, kindly, son. My back was startin’ to give me gyp.”

“You work too hard, Mrs. M. That’s your problem,” Justin smiled teasingly as he began unloading the items onto the table. “We could do our own washing, you know? It wouldn’t kill us.”

The woman gasped loudly. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” she muttered. “Not when you’re fighting tooth and nail for our country the way you are.”

“Well, we appreciate it,” Justin told her earnestly.

And he did. The living conditions may not have been on par with The Palace, but Justin knew he had it pretty good for 1941. At least he had his own bed here; some of his mates from the RAF were forced to top and tail at their boarding houses. “I need to do a few things at the base this afternoon, but is there anything else I can help you with before I go?” Justin asked.

Mrs. MacCready stood up and pulled her apron on, before turning to Justin. “No, Sweet’art, yous jus’ go alon’ and do what ya gotta do an’ leave me in peace.”

Justin smiled; who knew he’d find it so hard leaving behind his landlady.

“Okay, I’ll . . . see you later,” Justin said, the lump in his throat growing bigger by the second. “And Mrs. MacCready?”

“What is it, lad?” the older woman asked as she continued getting the preparations for that night’s dinner ready.

“Thanks . . . for everything.”

“Don’t be sucha soppy sausage! I don’t expect no thanks. Now, clear off an’ let me be,” she huffed, although her words were much softer this time around.

And as Justin finally left the small boarding house for the last time, he felt a sense of nostalgia wash over him. This was really happening. There was no turning back.

Next up, it was time for his ‘goodbyes’ at the base. Those were going to be much harder to get through - some of the guys were like brothers to him - but he had to do it. It was the last thing standing between Justin and his hopefully-happy future with the man of his dreams.

The trip out to the base had gone pretty well. Justin had spent time talking with several of the ground crew members that had been responsible for taking such meticulous care of him and his planes over the past few months. He’d also chatted with the pilots that were there on scramble rotation that week. Most of the rest of the pilots in Justin’s wing weren’t expected until later in the evening - those folks he wouldn’t get a chance to say goodbye to, but that was just how things would have to be. He was finding it rather hard to break away though. Everyone seemed to be extra chatty that day. Or maybe it was only that Justin himself didn’t really want to be saying farewell to these men that he’d spent so much time with. Some of them definitely felt like family to him. No wonder it was so difficult to walk away.

By the time Justin had managed to drag himself away from Gary, the head mechanic on base - who Justin had been watching and questioning while the man replaced an exhaust stub from one of the out of service Hurricanes - it was already a little after five. Applesauce! How had he let time get away from him like that? Brian was going to lose his mind. He was probably sitting at the pub waiting for him, watching the door and growling at the clock. If Justin didn’t get a move on, his lover probably WOULD follow through on that threat to track him down at the base.

So, with one last mental goodbye to the base, the men he’d been privileged to serve with, and the RAF as a whole, Justin waved to the men in the main hangar and made his way back towards the locker room to pick up the last of his personal possessions. Justin didn’t have that much stuff here at the base, just some toiletries and a spare shirt or two, all of which fit in a small carryall he’d brought for the purpose. He was glad that nobody was around in the locker room just then, so he didn’t have to lie about what he was doing. His plan was to get his stuff and just quietly slip out of the building while nobody was looking, then hightail it back to Brian as fast as he could get there.

Unfortunately, his plan was ruined thirty seconds later when the quiet of the room was torn apart by the discord of an angry snarl.

“Going somewhere, Taylor?”

Justin looked up guiltily to find Christopher Hobbs leaning against the door jamb with a disapproving frown on his face.

“I’m . . . uh . . . just getting some dirty laundry out of my locker,” Justin lied, zipping the last of his property into the bag and then standing up to meet Hobbs face to face.  

“Yeah, right . . .” Hobbs spat as he pushed Justin roughly up against the wall of lockers, Justin’s back hitting the cold metal with a loud thud. “So, what I heard you talking about with your little fag friend isn’t true?”

Justin remained where he was, breathing heavily in Hobbs’ looming face, “I don’t know what you think you might have heard, Hobbs . . .”

“I saw you, you know. I saw you two kissing.” Hobbs snarled the word as if ‘kissing’ were a curse. “You two make me sick to my stomach. I don’t know why you let that cocksucker paw at you like that all the time. It’s disgusting.”

“What do you think you’re doing, Hobbs?” Justin asked, ignoring the slur in favor of attacking back. “Why are you following me around all the dad-blamed time? Don’t you have anything better to do? Heck, you aren’t even on the rotation tonight, so why the devil are you even here at the base?”

“I came to find you and talk you out of the stupid shit you and that pervert are planning,” Hobbs pressed. “I heard you talking. I know you’re planning on running away with him. Deserting your post. What the hell are you thinking, Taylor? Since when did you become such a coward? You can’t seriously be thinking about throwing your whole life away for that poofter. Why would you do something so stupid? They still hang deserters, you know. Why the hell would you risk that . . . and for HIM?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, Hobbs,” Justin replied, shrugging off Hobbs’ hands but not yet stepping away because he would never back down from a bully. “And even if I were going to do what you’re saying, it’s really none of your business what I do or where I go. I’m perfectly able to make my own decisions about what I wanna do with my life. I don’t need your input or advice. So back off and let me go before I’m late.”

Justin tried to sidestep around the bigger, bulkier man, but Hobbs was having none of it. He once again grabbed hold of Justin‘s shoulders, easily pinning the slighter framed man up against the wall of lockers. Justin tried to push him away, but Hobbs planted himself in place and used his greater weight to make himself immobile.

“I’m not letting you go anywhere, Taylor,” Hobbs reiterated. “I’m not gonna let you make that kind of mistake. Don’t you understand? You’ll be ruined. At best you'll be kicked out of the service, have your license revoked and probably get yourself thrown in jail to boot.”

Justin looked away, unwilling to meet Hobbs’ eyes. He knew what the man was saying was completely correct and he really had no argument to counter him with. Hobbs wasn’t about to let Justin get out of it that easily though. The bigger man reached up, clasped Justin’s chin in one strong hand and turned the blond’s face so Justin was forced to meet his gaze.

“And that’s the best you can hope for, Justin. If that sleezy heister you’ve been hanging out with is involved in all this - and they catch you with him - you’re gonna end up in some really hot water. Can’t you see he’s no good?”

“Brian’s not a heister,” Justin countered, trying to stand up for his boyfriend. “He’s an American War Correspondent . . .”

“Yeah, right!” Hobbs scoffed derisively. “And if you believe that, I’ve got a bridge in Brooklyn I’d like to sell you for cheap . . .” Then Chris’ tone changed, getting somewhat softer. “He’s no good for you, Justin. I could tell he was a bad seed the minute I saw the guy. There’s just something fishy about him. And if you keep listening to whatever pack of lies he’s been telling you, you’re gonna regret it.”

“It’s not like that, Chris,” Justin protested yet again. “Brian’s a good man. He cares about me and has been trying his best to help me out of a tough spot. I WANT to go with him. I lov . . .”

“Stop!” Hobbs demanded, the quiet, empathic demeanor he’d been exhibiting a moment before disappearing in an instant. “Don’t you DARE say you love him! You couldn’t possibly love a pervert like that! I don’t care how flash he is or how much money he throws around. He’s all wrong for you, Justin.” Then, in another lightning reversal of mood, Hobbs became quiet again, looking at Justin in an eerily tender way. “He could never understand you. He’s not a pilot; he hasn’t seen what we’ve seen or done what we do every single day. He doesn’t have your best interests at heart. And he doesn’t . . . doesn’t really love you . . . He could NEVER love you . . . Not . . . Not the way I do, Justin!”

Justin’s sense of revulsion had been growing throughout Hobbs’ little speech. It was becoming more and more clear that there was something seriously wrong with this guy. This was the same unrelenting bully that had been harassing Justin and calling him names from almost the first day Hobbs had arrived in London. This was a man who had repeatedly made fun of queers. He’d teased and poked at Justin, his insults growing steadily nastier, to the point that Justin had been hard pressed not to call Hobbs out on it. And now he was professing his LOVE for Justin? Something just didn’t add up here.

Justin huffed an unamused snort of laughter. “That’s preposterous! You don’t love me, Hobbs. You couldn’t possibly. You hate queers. I’ve heard you say it a hundred times. You’re obviously confused. Now, step aside and let me out of here before I have to listen to any more of this rot,” Justin commanded disdainfully, shaking his head and laughing again as he pushed back against the bigger man’s shoulder to try and budge him.

“DON’T. LAUGH. AT. ME!” Hobbs hissed, emphasizing each word with a violent shake to Justin’s shoulders, the last of which resulted in Justin’s head jerking backwards and hitting the protruding hasp of one of the big lockers.

Justin immediately saw stars. He squeezed his eyes shut as the pain radiated out from the back of his head and down his spine. When he finally opened them again, the room was spinning around Hobb’s head, and if the big bully hadn’t still had him pinned to the metal wall, he would probably have fallen over. In one remote part of his mind, Justin was thinking that Brian was going to be really angry and would probably lecture him about hurting his head for a third time. When he was finally able to tune back in to what was going on around him, he noticed that Hobbs was still standing there, looming over him, his face only inches away from Justin’s own as he ranted and raved.

“I’m not letting you go, Justin. Not if you’re just going to run back to that bounder! Not when I would be so much better for you. Not when I want you so much it’s driving me crazy. And if you were with me, you wouldn’t have to leave the service. We can be together, just you and me, forever . . .”

It was hearing this maniac echoing the promise that he and Brian had made to each other - that ‘forever’ - that finally got to Justin. Whereas he’d previously just been annoyed by Hobbs’ crazy ravings, now he was downright angry. This inveterate bully had no right to be spouting such drivel. He had no right to bombard Justin with this twisted fantasy version of love. How dare Hobbs talk about Brian the way he did and then, in the next breath, claim he knew anything at all about LOVE. Justin was now furious and fed up. He’d had enough of this and wasn’t going to listen any longer.

So, despite the fact that he still felt a bit dizzy, Justin summoned up his remaining strength and shoved at Hobbs’ chest with all his might, yelling, “Get away from me, you lunatic! You’re insane if you think I could ever love someone as cruel and spiteful as you, Hobbs. All I want from you is to get as far away as I possibly can and then forget I ever knew you.”

Hobbs must have been caught off guard, because when Justin shoved at him, he staggered back a step or two. But, by the time Justin had reached the end of his tirade, Hobbs had recovered not only his balance but also his unhinged rage. With a wordless roar, Hobbs came at him, fists flying.

The first blow landed on Justin’s cheekbone, just below his left eye. He’d only just barely been quick enough to turn to the side, otherwise that hard hit would have broken his nose. As it was, he could feel the signet ring that Hobbs always wore cutting into his skin and knew he’d have one hell of a shiner when this was all over. That punch did nothing to help his dizziness either. If he hadn’t been busy just trying to remain upright, Justin would have been embarrassed by how slow his reaction time had become. He was far too disoriented to escape the second blow, which landed with furious impact, right in his gut, winding him and causing Justin to drop to his knees.

Between the dizziness and the fact that he couldn’t breathe, Justin found himself struggling just to remain conscious for the next few minutes. The entire world had shrunken to just a small tunnel of grey light directly in front of his face and any sounds that made it through that tunnel were distorted and senseless. He had no time to worry about whatever else was going on around him and, for a time, lost track of Hobbs altogether. When he finally managed to cough and hack and gasp enough air that he began to be able to fight his way back to his full senses, he found himself on the floor, on all fours, with someone tearing at his pants from behind.

“. . . I’ll show you what love is. What it’s like to be with a REAL man. Then you’ll see that he can never give you what I can, Baby. He can never make you feel like I would . . .” Hobbs’ words slowly sank in, bringing with them a sense of panic that Justin had only ever felt once - namely, the night his plane had crashed into the ocean. “. . . Gonna show you how much I love you, Baby. You’re going to be mine, you hear me? Mine!”

The button on Justin’s fly finally gave way and he felt his trousers being yanked down his flanks. Then there were clammy hands groping at his bare skin, touching him in places that only Brian was allowed to touch, and fondling him roughly. That set off alarm bells a plenty and the resulting adrenaline rush quickly cleared away any lingering confusion. No way was Justin going to let this happen.

When he felt Hobbs’ body leaning into his own, the man’s large frame bending slightly over the top of him, Justin reared back and, at the same time, grabbed hold of the arm with which Hobbs had been supporting himself. Then, pulling that arm towards his chest and using his attacker’s momentary lack of balance to his advantage, Justin rolled the two of them together in the same direction. Before Hobbs knew what was happening, Justin had managed to reverse their positions, with Hobbs lying on his back and Justin rolling over the top of him until he came up on his knees again. A second later, Justin had scrambled forward and pinned Hobbs with one knee across the bigger man’s windpipe and the other pinning Hobb’s left arm to the ground. Hobbs, of course, threw another punch with his free right arm, aiming at Justin’s face. But this time Justin was ready for him and grabbed the man’s wrist, deflecting the impact and also using the force of the punch to pull the arm until it became super-extended. The result of this maneuver was to increase the pressure that was already being exerted by Justin’s knee against Hobb’s neck. And, while Hobbs struggled futilly to free his wrist - which was being held at an odd angle stretched awkwardly across Hobbs’ own body, thus giving Justin the additional advantage of leverage - the lack of oxygen slowly drained away Hobb’s fight until the would-be attacker eventually passed out.

Just as Hobbs’ eyes flickered closed, though, Justin was startled back to reality as the base’s scramble siren started going off. In seconds, the formerly quiet building began to boil with noise and activity. Justin could hear the sound of footsteps running down the hallway outside the locker room. He staggered up to his feet, shaking his still muzzy head and gulping for breath as he stared down at the heap of man lying unconscious at his feet.

He still couldn’t believe what had just happened. He couldn’t believe that Chris Hobbs had somehow deluded himself into believing that he LOVED the queer he’d been heckling for the past six months, not to mention that he figured he’d prove that love by raping the object of his affection. What the devil was the world coming to?

Justin had barely managed to pull his pants back up when he heard a voice out in the hallway saying, “I think I saw Taylor heading into the locker room earlier. It’s the second door on the left. I gotta fly; if you don’t find him there, go back to the CO’s office and they’ll eventually round him up for you.”

The next thing Justin knew, Brian was standing in the doorway, looking at him with a horror-stricken expression. Justin let out a whimper, half pain and half relief. Then he was running into Brian’s arms and no longer caring who the heck saw them.

“Fucking twink . . . can’t tell fucking time . . . no fucking phones anywhere in this damn century . . .” Brian had been cursing under his breath the entire trip from Covent Garden to the airbase and wasn’t about to stop until he found his missing blond.

He walked up to the guard stand at the gate to the base, pulled out his fake War Correspondent ID card and put on his most charming smile.

“Hello there,” Brian addressed the fresh-faced youth who’d come out of the booth to greet him. “I’m supposed to be meeting with one of your pilots - First Officer Justin Taylor - to interview him for a piece I’m working on for my paper back in the states.” He handed over the ID card to the man and waited while the guy looked it over without comment. “Any chance someone here could show me where to find Mr. Taylor?”

“I’m not sure. I wasn’t given word about this . . .” The kid looked down at some papers on a clipboard as if scanning for Brian’s name. “I’ll have to check with the Commander’s office,” he advised, and moved back into his booth to get to the telephone Brian could see inside.

Before the man could make the call, though, a serviceman Brian vaguely recognized from The White Lion came out of the building and ambled up to the gates. He gave Brian an appraising look, a secret smile tilting up one corner of his mouth. Brian returned the look with his usual, brazen, unspoken invitation. Like always knew like, even in this century.

“You here for Taylor?” the guy asked; his name - Reice - suddenly popping into Brian’s head.

“Yeah. You know where I can find him?” Brian replied.

“Sure. I just saw him a few minutes back. I think he’s still around.” Reice turned to the guard with a disarming smile of his own. “It’s okay, Frank. I know this bloke. I’ll take him to Taylor for ya.”

Frank seemed a little reluctant, but Brian’s new escort didn’t pause long enough to let the guard voice any objection. He clapped Brian on the shoulder and guided him back in the direction he’d come without another word. Brian took the let and strode along at Reice’s side.

“You’re a bold one, coming out here to the base like this,” Reice commented to Brian as soon as they were away from the guard. “You two better be careful, though. The CO don’t take to our sort too well. If you get caught, it’ll be hell to pay.”

“Not a problem. I don’t plan to make trips out here a routine occurrence,” Brian assured him as they entered the building together and turned to the right down a long hallway that seemed to run the length of the building.

They were only a few meters down the hall, though, when an ear-splitting siren began to blare out of the speaker at the end of the passageway.

“Damn, I was hoping for a nice quiet day for a change,” Reice grumbled. “The Gerries are probably after another shipping convoy - that’s about the only time they come out in the daytime anymore. Gol-durned krauts!” Reice broke into a trot and Brian followed suit, trying to keep up. As they raced down the hall, Brian’s escort yelled over his shoulder, “I think I saw Taylor heading into the locker room earlier. It’s the second door on the left. I gotta fly; if you don’t find him there, go back to the CO’s office and they’ll eventually round him up for you.”

Brian didn’t even get to say thanks as the man bolted down the corridor towards a large double door at the end. He was almost sideswiped by two additional RAF pilots following on Reice’s heels, before he found the door he’d been told to look for. A peek around the jamb showed rows of metal lockers just like you’d see in Brian’s day, so he figured he must be in the right place. Now, to find his errant blond and get the hell out of this place for good . . .

The minute Brian stepped through the door, he knew something was wrong. Justin was there - thankfully - but he was leaning against the wall of lockers as if he needed that support to stay upright. On the floor at Justin’s feet was what appeared to be an unconscious man. And, even worse, when Justin turned around to face Brian, he was dripping blood from what looked like a nasty cut on his cheek, his rumpled uniform was torn in several places, and the pants were gaping and falling off his slim hips. It was clear that something very scary and very bad had just happened.

Before he could open his mouth and ask what what going on, Justin was in his arms, shaking but silent, clinging to Brian with the strength of fear. All Brian could do for the moment was hang on as tightly as he could. Meanwhile, the lump at their feet started to twitch as the man Brian assumed was responsible for all this mess slowly regained consciousness.

“I’ve got you, Blue Eyes. I’ve got you,” Brian whispered, glad to note that Justin’s racing heart was beginning to slow just a bit.

“Hobbs . . . He tried . . . He tried to . . . And I was so dizzy because I hit my head . . . You’re going to yell at me again, aren’t you . . . But I managed to . . . I didn’t. . . I didn’t let him,” Justin panted and stuttered.

Brian held his boy tightly, trying to make sense out of the disjointed explanation, and growing more and more angry with every word. With Justin still held in his arms, Brian walked over to the man still lolling on the floor and gave the inert form a nice, hearty kick with the pointed toe of his new Prada boots. The piece of shit moaned pathetically and tried to squirm away, but Brian followed, delivering another, even more vengeful kick.

“Stop, Brian. Stop,” Justin requested, tugging on Brian’s arm as he tried to pull Brian away from his victim. “He’s not worth it.”

Brian gave one last, satisfying kick, before he let Justin tow him back a step or two. Hobbs moaned and rolled away, slowly climbing to his knees. When he looked up at Brian, there was a look of pure hatred on his face.

“YOU!” the brute slurred. “You need to get the hell away from him. Taylor doesn’t need you.”

“Shut the fuck up before I beat your ass all the way back to the Stone Age where you belong,” Brian ordered before he turned again to Justin with concern. “Damn it, Blue Eyes, you look like shit.”

Justin wiped at a trickle of blood that was slowly dripping down the side of his face. “I feel like . . . well, like I just got beat up.”

Brian let out a small sigh of relief when Justin spoke. He knew his boy was still hurting and afraid, but the mere fact that Justin was trying to reassure him with that spark of light-hearted banter was enough to help lower Brian’s blood pressure. If Justin was able to joke, he couldn’t be too badly traumatized.

Meanwhile, Hobbs had crawled over to a nearby bench that was tucked away in a small alcove between two sets of lockers. The brute huddled there, practically invisible to those in the room, like an animal hiding while it licked its wounds. Hobbs had one hand pressed against the side where Brian had kicked him while the other rubbed at his throat where Justin had choked him out. Brian felt no sympathy at all for the degenerate. On the contrary, he was already contemplating how, exactly, he was going to avenge himself on the filthy little scumbag for daring to touch Justin, when a new arrival came bustling into the small locker room.

“Taylor! Good, you’re still here.”

“Lieutenant?” Justin answered, trying to pull his uniform shirt straight and look like he hadn’t just been attacked by a murderous homophobic psychopath rapist.

“We got a shipping convoy to the northeast that’s taking heavy fire. I know you’re not on till tonight, but we need all the bodies we can get. I’ve got a plane ready and waiting on the apron, get your butt in gear and get going,” the man ordered, not waiting for a response before he was already out the door again and off to boss somebody else around.

“Looks like you’re going to have to let your lover boy get back to work,” Hobbs smirked from his corner. “It’s okay. I can take care of him from here.”

“Like fuck you will . . .” Brian growled, ready and willing to light into the fucker again.

“There you are, Taylor. What’s the hold up?” yet another officious, uniformed man interrupted, sprinting into the room and almost tripping over Brian in the process. “The LT sent me to roust you. The rest of the wing is ready and just waiting on you for take off.”

Justin looked up at Brian with panic clearly evident in his eyes. Was this it? Was this the mission that would end up being Justin’s downfall? They’d both thought he’d be safe as long as they got out of there well before his shift was supposed to start later that night. But, now that Brian thought about it, the reports he’d read had merely listed the date of Justin's supposed death without stating anything about the time of day when the mission had occurred. Brian should never have let Justin come anywhere near the fucking base today, regardless of when he’d been supposed to fly.

And here Justin was, trapped like a fish in a barrel. He couldn’t just say ‘no’ to a direct order and then simply walk out of there. The Lieutenant had specifically ordered him on the mission; if Justin tried to decline, he’d probably be arrested on the spot, and then who knew when he’d be freed again. Their plans would all be blown to fuck. But there was no fucking way Justin could go on this mission - not if he wanted to live to see the next dawn.

Brian was fucked if he was going to accept either of those options.

Looking around him, scrambling for a solution, Brian’s eye settled on the perfect answer sitting on a hidden bench in the corner. “Can you give us just one more minute? Taylor’s had a bit of an accident but he’ll be along as soon as we clean him up,” Brian announced to the man jittering in the doorway.

“I suppose, but get a bloody move on already,” the waiting crewman prodded. “Them Gerries ain’t gonna wait on the two o’ you before they drop their bombs on that convoy, mates.”

The airman was gone a second later, off to tell those waiting what was up. Justin remained frozen in place, staring at Brian with a look of mixed betrayal and dread. Brian, however, ignored his lover for the moment, and instead stalked over to the man still huddled in the corner. He grabbed Hobbs by the scruff of his collar, giving him a little shake for good measure, while towing the man to his feet.

“Guess what, Hobbs? You just volunteered to take Justin’s place on this mission.”

“Like hell I will . . .” the recalcitrant man started to object.

Brian leaned forward into Hobbs’ personal space, lowered his voice to a threatening hiss, and calmly explained matters. “Would you rather fly this mission or wait around here while I call the police and have you arrested for assault and attempted sodomy?” he asked point blank.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Hobbs spluttered, looking around Brian towards Justin, who was observing the interaction with a relieved expression on his face. But, since it didn’t appear that his former victim was going to offer Hobbs any assistance, he tried switching tactics. “Nobody will believe a story like that from a big old fairy like you.”

“I might be a fairy but at least I’m not a fairy AND a rapist,” Brian snarled at him viciously before continuing in a slightly less menacing tone. “Besides, even if you aren’t convicted, I doubt you’ll enjoy having your name dragged into court along with the resulting scandal such a sensational case would cause. So, what’s it going to be? You fly this mission while I take Justin to have that head injury seen to, or we tell the whole story to the police?”

Hobbs appeared to think it over for a few seconds before conceding with a scowl. “Fine. But you and Taylor better not try and bug out while I’m off flying tonight. I know what you two were planning and if you’re gone when I get back I’ll report you. I don’t care what you try and say about me. Nobody's going to believe the word of a deserter and his faggy accomplice, so your threats against me won’t work then. You hear me?”

“Whatever,” Brian replied unconcernedly.

“This isn’t over, Taylor,” Hobbs grumbled, pushing around Brian to get to his locker and pulling out one of the bulky, nondescript fight suits that all the pilots used.

Hobbs put the suit on, making a show of insolently buttoning and zipping everything into place, all the while glaring malevolently at both Brian and Justin. Even after he was dressed, though, he still stood there a moment, eyeing Justin with so much blatant longing and confused hatred that it made Brian’s stomach roil. Brian deliberately stepped in front of Justin, silently shielding him from Hobbs with his body, until the would-be attacker finally gave up. Pulling his goggles down over his eyes, Hobbs turned his back on the two lovers and stalked angrily out of the room without another word.

“Brian . . . We should stop him. We should tell him . . .” Justin muttered, as Hobbs’ footsteps disappeared down the hallway, heading in the direction of the hangar.

“Tell him what, Blue Eyes? This part wasn’t in the history books,” Brian replied, shrugging off his jacket and draping it over the younger man’s shoulders to cover Justin’s torn clothing. “Besides, a slimeball like that doesn’t deserve your concern.” Looking around the room, Brian spotted the bag Justin had been in the process of filling with his remaining personal items, and walked over to retrieve it. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here before something else happens to your head and all your brains leak out your ears, you twat.”

“You know, you still haven’t told me what that word - twat - means,” Justin responded as he fell into step beside a laughing Brian.