Title: I’m Missing You…
Story Type: AU
Word Count: 2527
Rating: R
Warnings: Passion and Lust…
Beta Queen: bigj52
Banner: yvonne_reid

Summary:  Brian goes missing during a sea cruise…

Chapter Summary: Brian misses his flight back home…

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable charters, settings, plot, etc. are property of their respective owners, including, but not limited to Russell T. Davies, Cowlip, and Showtime. The author of this story is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended…

I’m Missing You…

Chapter 4 ~ Brian Goes Missing

Justin slashes a big red band of color across the canvas and watches as it seeps into the blue background and runs down the sides. He feels like he’s been stabbed; he can’t shake the bad feeling that’s running through his nervous system. He hears the phone ringing in the background but he dreads answering it. It rolls over to voice mail and he faintly hears Ted’s voice asking if Brian is there.

The thick blue crests of paint arch off the canvas and swirl like waves crashing along a rocky cliff. The light blue and white edged ripples twist around the edge and wash back out to sea. He sets his paint brush down and picks up the phone, already knowing what he’s about to hear. He expected it to be Ted again. Brian missed his plane; he should have been home last night and no one can get him on his cell phone. It’s Michael who wants to get together at Woody’s tonight after having dinner at the diner.

He’s angry that Brian hasn’t returned any of his phone calls. I try and explain that I haven’t heard from him since yesterday morning; that he was meeting with Jim Anderson and going for an afternoon cruise on one of the yachts and flying back late last night. I tell him it seems that he missed his flight and he hasn’t called to tell me when he’ll be back. I try not to sound too panicked although my nerves are totally on edge and I haven’t slept all night. I can’t shake the feeling that something terrible has happened. I agree to meet Michael tonight and go over the next Rage issue; anything to keep my mind occupied.

I can’t eat and I can’t sleep and the goddamn phone won’t stop ringing and the worst part is I know it’s not going to be him. I feel it in my gut - something’s happened but I’m too afraid to actually say it out loud. So I paint and paint but the only thing I can seem to put on canvas is angry waves crashing in the sea. I decide to have a drink to calm my nerves and then I find myself pacing in Brian’s office, looking at the pictures he has on his desk. There’s one of him holding Gus the night he was born, and one from the GLC art show with his arms around me, holding me from behind. God, we both look so young and then he has one of us in our suits for our rehearsal dinner from our wedding that never was. We look so happy in all the photos and I wonder if I’ll ever feel that way again. I sit down at his desk and open the drawer with his stash box in it and roll a joint. I move over to his leather sofa and sit down, lighting the joint. I still have the photo from the GLC in my hand. I can’t help tracing my finger over his beautiful face.

I lose track of time and realize that I’ve been sitting there for a couple of hours, just missing him. I’m startled when I hear someone calling my name and realize that it’s Michael and Ted. Then I know it’s true as I start to scream, “No, No, No” as tears start running down my face. Michael takes me into his arms and says, “Let’s not over react. We don’t know anything yet.” Ted hands me a box of Kleenex and I wipe my eyes and ask what they know. Ted says that he talked with Mitchell Anderson, Jim Anderson’s brother and business partner; that the yacht they went out on yesterday never came back. That they’ve been in touch with the Coast Guard and they’re looking for them now; that they’re doing an aerial search for the boat.

I just shake my head, saying they were only going for a short cruise. I get up and pour myself a glass of Jim Beam and down it fast and then I refill it again, sipping this one. I tell Ted that we need to go to Florida; that I can’t sit and wait for news here in Pittsburgh. Ted agrees to come with me and we leave on a flight later that evening. Of course there’s nothing we can do but sit and wait and Mitchell Anderson is more than understanding of our situation. He offers for us to stay in the company suites that they have at the Four Seasons. I ask where Brian was staying and request that I stay in his room.

I can’t help but running my hands over Brian’s suit, smelling him on his clothing as I pace around the room, wishing we’d hear something. Ted pours us both a drink and I say that I want to go to the beach where Brian took off; that I need to retrace his steps. Ted agrees that we can do that tomorrow. There hasn’t been any word from the search team and they called it off until dawn.

I’m trying to be optimistic but it’s already been over thirty-six hours since they’ve been missing and I’m exhausted and only running on adrenalin. Ted convinces me that I should try and get some sleep so I lie down in Brian’s bed and try to get some rest. Ted takes one of the other bedrooms in the large suite and I hear him talking on the phone to Michael as I drift off.

My sleep is restless and I dream of Brian lost at sea in the deep and cold water, drifting all alone, shivering and hungry. He’s holding onto a boat cushion for dear life, trying not to think about sharks and other sea creatures. I awake in a cold sweat, sitting up suddenly on the side of the bed. I’m starving and I need another drink. I decide to order room service even if it is the middle of the night and the hotel is more than accommodating.

It isn’t long before they arrive with my cheeseburger and fries and I have to admit that it tastes great as I sit and eat it. I decide that maybe it might be a good idea to hire a private detective to trace Brian’s last steps. Not that I don’t trust Mitchell Anderson but he has to know that if Brian isn’t located soon that I will have to sue him. After all it’s his company who’s responsible and I’m sure they must have liability insurance. Who knows how safe the yachts are and just how big was the boat they went out on?

I’m trying to be strong, but I can’t help but let my tears fall as I crawl back under the covers, wishing Brian was here with me. My mind drifts back to last weekend when we were swimming and skiing. Life seemed perfect and we were so happy although a feeling of apprehensive was already haunting me. I remember trying to convince Brian not to go to Florida. Now I wish that I had taken a couple of days off from painting and gone with him like he wanted; at least we would be together. God, I’m back to pacing as I can’t shake the panic that’s setting in, so I pour myself another glass of Beam and pray that he’s safe.

Maybe he’s like the folks on Gilligan’s Island; they’re safe and they’ve washed up on some remote island. I’m feeling a little drunk as I sit and watch the sun come up over the ocean. One thing for sure - the suite is very luxurious. I realize that I’ll be spending another day without much sleep and wonder what Ted and Mitchell will think when they realize that I’m slightly drunk. I try and lie down again for a little while but I can’t sleep. My mind is racing and my heart is pounding out of control.   

I can’t stop thinking about ships sinking and for some reason I think about the Titanic and all those people drowning. I think I’m going to be sick to my stomach and my tears are back. I try to calm myself down by washing my face and brushing my teeth. I finally decide to take a shower and shave and order breakfast. I’m beginning to think I’m one of those people who eat when they get stressed. It’s still early - about seven thirty when my breakfast arrives and I’m so glad to have a large pot of coffee. Maybe all this food will absorb some of this alcohol and I’ll be able to think straight and not appear drunk.

I hear Ted waking up in the next room. He comes out and grabs a cup of coffee and orders some breakfast. He looks tired and I don’t think he got much sleep last night. I tell him about my plan to hire a private detective to search for Brian and he just nods. Maybe he had been thinking about it as well. I’m feeling more optimistic that Brian’s alive but still lost. I don’t know - it’s just something I feel deep down in my soul. I think I could sense if he was dead. God, I can’t believe that I just thought that. One thing’s for sure, I won’t let myself say that out loud.

The phone rings and it startles us both. Of course it’s Mitchell calling to let us know that they haven’t located him yet. He sounds desperate and I can’t talk with him, it’s too depressing. Michael was sure that if we flew down here he would be found right away, maybe even be waiting for us. He’s so naive sometimes. I can’t believe how simple minded he is… Not that I don’t want that too, but I’m more realistic. The aerial search didn’t show anything and the longer it takes the less likely it is that they will find them.

Mitchell says he’ll be over shortly; that they’ve already started to search again about a half hour ago. Ted’s breakfast arrives and I sit and drink coffee with him. When Mitchell arrives he looks as sleep deprived as us. He sighs and tells us that his attorney says we need to inform the local news station so they can put their pictures out over the air just in case someone has seen them. He asks me if I have any pictures of Brian that are suitable for broadcast. Ted mentions that the one on the company website would be sufficient. He gets his laptop and loads Kinnetik.com and they choose several that would work.

Ted and Mitchell are working on the press release as they contact the Coast Guard to see if they have any new information. Mitchell says that the police will be there shortly and they have a lot of questions. That he was in contact with them yesterday but due to the late hour we arrived they felt it was alright to wait until today to start questioning us. I don’t understand what they think we can offer. We only know that Brian flew down here for a business meeting and then an afternoon cruise. God, I wish Brian had called me before they went out on the cruise.

The police and news interviews were hectic and stressful - all the same questions over and over again. It’s not like we have any information they don’t already know. I see the news broadcast for the first time and try my best to not start crying. I have to believe that they’ll be found. I overhear the police saying to Mitchell Anderson that they’ll have to change their strategy from a rescue mission to a recovery mission in the next day or so. They’ve done some research and the seas were calm that afternoon so they don’t believe that they met with bad weather. But it’s possible that they drifted off course and have gotten lost in the Bermuda triangle where they’re expanding the aerial search to cover that area today.

The waiting is the hardest part and I swear that I’m burning a path in the carpet from pacing so much. Then there’s all the calls from everyone back home. It seems that it’s finally made the national news with all kinds of reporters crawling all over Pittsburgh, trying to dig up information about Brian and Kinnetik. Ted says that we really need to head back home; that we’ve been gone a week now and there really isn’t anything we can do here. I’m resistant to leaving so we decide that we will hire a private detective before we go, just to have someone double checking all the police leads.

I’m at my wits end with so many questions. I know everyone means well but I just can’t take it anymore. So once we get home I lock myself up in the mansion and unplug the phones. I know I’m a mess; that I’m not eating or sleeping. I even called Anita and made arrangements to replenish Brian’s stash. At first I was just using a little cocaine to help me focus and paint. But it’s slowly become a daily habit as I’d rather spend all my time alone, closing out the real world. I finally decide to listen to all the phone messages and it breaks my heart to hear everyone talking as if he’s really gone. I refuse to believe that… 

I’ve been up for days now and I’m stoned out of my mind. I can’t take the pounding at the front door so I decide to just answer it after splashing some cold water on my face and changing my shirt.  It’s Debbie and my Mom. I let them in. They’re carrying bags of groceries and some of Debbie’s lasagna and tuna casserole. Of course the last thing I want to do is eat. They’re here to tell me that I need to get out of the house. Maybe go to the movies or hang out at Ben and Michaels - anything to take my mind off missing him.

I try to be pleasant towards them but I can’t take all the “everything’s going to be alright and I have to be positive” bullshit. Nothing is alright and I’m not going to be okay! I’m sniffling and of course my mom thinks I have a cold. She starts pouring me orange juice and insists that I need to eat something and take my vitamins; that I need to keep my strength up. Little does she know that I have a quarter of an ounce of cocaine in the next room. To them I just look tired and worn out from so much stress and not sleeping well. They’re right on that account. I’m not sleeping.

It took forever to get them to leave and now I’m finally alone and ready to finish my painting. After all I have a show in ten days and God help me, how am I going to make it through my show?

TBC…