- Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:

So, how do you think Brian will take the news of Justin's 'visions'? Read on and see. Enjoy! TAG


///~///~


Chapter 7 - He’s With Me.



Once again, Brian began to close the door, but Justin managed to grab hold of the edge of the slab of metal and stop the door’s slide. 


“I think I know who took him.”


///~///~



That caught Brian’s attention. He froze in place, allowing Justin to slide the door open once more. But then Justin didn’t know what else to do or say, so he just stood there as well.


“What did you just say?” Brian asked when he finally found the ability to talk again. 


“Okay, so I don’t actually know the person’s name, but I think I might be able to help you find who took Gus,” Justin bumbled through a sorta explanation. 


“Get your ass in here and explain,” Brian ordered, grabbing Justin’s arm and literally dragging him into the loft. He shoved the boy down onto a barstool at the kitchen island and then demanded, “start talking!”


“Okay . . . So, I’ve been having these wild dreams ever since we hooked up last fall, you see, and at first I just thought they were regular dreams, because, you know, you said I’d see you in my dreams, so I was like, wow, great dreams . . .” Justin rambled, getting more and more tied up in his explanation as he went. “But then I started having these other dreams, and they weren’t so ‘wow’, they were, like, ‘eek’. You know?”


“No. I don't know. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Brian snarled impatiently. “Get to the part about Gus already.”


“Right . . . Okay . . . Um, those other dreams I was having, the scary ones, they started out with me seeing these images of a baby. And at first I didn’t know why I was seeing rando babies in my dreams, because that’s weird, right? But then I had this one where I saw YOU in the dream with the baby I’d been seeing, so that’s when I knew it was probably Gus and not some stranger baby.” 


“Justin, what does you dreaming about my son have to do with anything?” an exasperated Brian asked.


“Well, the dreams about Gus were sorta creepy,” Justin admitted. “And at first I was all confused and weirded out that I was dreaming about stalking a baby, because that’s not my usual sort of dream, right? And my best friend was accusing me of having some kinky baby fetish and all. But then the person in my dream - who I still thought was me - started thinking about doing mean stuff to Gus, so I realized it couldn’t be ME who was doing the stuff in the dreams. I mean, I wouldn’t try and smother your kid with a stuffed bunny, would I?” Justin looked up at Brian and realized he was losing his audience so he rushed on. “That’s not me, Brian. I love kids. You can ask my friend, Daphne. I’m really good with kids - I babysit my little sister all the time - and I would never, ever, hurt a baby. So, after that, we figured out that the dreams weren’t really MY dreams, but that I was maybe channelling someone else’s thoughts about babies . . .”


Justin waited for Brian’s response to that statement, trying to gauge how he should proceed based on the man’s reaction. He wasn’t all that encouraged by the eyeroll and head shake he received. Clearly, Brian wasn’t buying his story yet. Justin didn’t think the rest of the story was going to go over any better, though. Yep, this was proceeding just about as well as he’d predicted.


“Can you just get to the point already, please. I don’t have time for this shit,” Brian complained.


“I know this sounds insane, Brian, but I promise you I’m not crazy or making this up,” Justin insisted, reaching out to touch Brian’s arm in the hope that physical contact would help reestablish the connection they once had. “After the bunny thing, I realized that I was seeing someone else’s thoughts and the things I was seeing weren’t just dreams. They were real. The person I was watching in my dreams - or visions, I suppose you could call them - was actually stalking Gus and planning to hurt him.”


“You know what, I’ve heard enough.” Brian stood up, shaking off Justin’s hand and moving towards the door. “Get the fuck out.”


“Brian, you HAVE to listen to me,” Justin pleaded without getting up.


“No. I don’t. I don’t believe in any of this psychic shit and I don’t have time to waste on your new age bullshit while some sociopath out there has my kid. So just get the fuck out and leave me the hell alone.”


“I saw him again last night,” Justin hurried on, trying to come up with something he could say to make Brian believe he wasn’t just an attention-seeking nutcase. “I saw whoever it was. He was sitting at a table and looking at all these bills and complaining about how you had more money than you knew what to do with but wouldn’t help, so he was going to make you pay attention. He thought if he took Gus, you’d finally help out a bit more.” 


That seemed to grab Brian’s interest again, prompting him to ask, “why are you telling me this now? Huh? If you’ve been seeing this shit for months, why didn’t you say something before?”


“Like I said, at first I didn’t know it was real. I thought it was just a bunch of weird dreams. And then . . . Well, for a while, I kinda thought you were the one I was channelling . . .”


“Me? You seriously thought I was the one having urges to kill my son? Fuck you,” Brian spat.


“Only for a short time, Brian. When I thought about it, I realized it couldn’t be you. But, you’ve gotta understand, the things I see . . . they’re all muddled up and hazy and don’t really make sense sometimes. It’s all super confusing . . .” Justin sighed, then got to his feet and shuffled closer to his former lover so he could look Brian directly in the eye. “When I really thought about it, and remembered how you were in the hospital the night Gus was born, I knew it couldn’t be you having all those violent thoughts. You’re not like that, Brian. I could feel how much you loved your son right from the start. I just forgot that for a moment or two.” 


Brian looked away, so that Justin could no longer see into his eyes, probably out of embarrassment that someone had seen through his mask of nonchalance for a moment. 


“Once I really thought about it, I knew it couldn’t be you who was thinking all those horrible things,” Justin continued his explanation. “But even then I just didn’t know how to approach you with what I was seeing. I figured you were gonna think I was a total nutjob and you’d probably just laugh at me, so I kept quiet.” Justin sighed, regretting his failure to speak up sooner even more now that he could see the devastation in Brian’s demeanor. “But last night, after I had that new vision, I knew I had to come tell you, even though you probably wouldn’t believe me. I was actually planning on coming to talk to you after school today, only . . . then I saw the Amber Alert this morning . . . I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I didn’t come earlier, Brian.”


“You know what? Fuck, it all,” Brian moaned, reaching up with both hands to scrub at his face. His hands ended up tangled in his hair, tearing at it with angry futility. “What the fuck do I know about any of this shit.” He allowed Justin to lead him back over to the kitchen where he collapsed on a stool. “I mean, dreams and visions? Why the fuck not? It’s not like we have any other leads, right?”


“The police don’t have any leads?” Justin asked, hoping that his nebulous dreams weren’t their only hope of finding the precious infant. “I thought they had a car make and model?”


“Yeah, but that’s it. Do you know how many older model Ford Fiestas there are in Pittsburgh? Lindsey couldn’t even say for sure if it was black or dark blue. And whoever took Gus hit her over the head from behind with a huge-assed fucking tree branch, knocking her into the damned bushes, meaning that she didn’t get even a peek at the guy’s face. So, yeah, I guess we're fucking going with psychic visions now.” Brian sighed and looked up at Justin again. “What else did you see in these dreams? Did you see his face?”


Justin’s mouth twisted with a frown of regret and he shook his head. “Sorry. No,” he confessed, his heart falling when he saw the renewed disappointment on Brian’s face. “It doesn’t work like that; I was seeing everything THROUGH the guy’s eyes. I only saw what the abductor saw. So I never actually got a look at his face . . .”


“Great. So, let me get this straight . . . What you’re saying is that your fucking ‘visions’ are absolutely No Help AT ALL!” Brian expounded, his voice rising with every word he spoke, his impatience spewing out, and his anger leaving him panting in the end. “Of course, that’s assuming that you’re for real and not just blowing smoke up my ass. And, as if that wasn’t enough, according to your fucking ‘visions’ all of this is MY fault, right? You're telling me my son was fucking kidnapped because some lunatic is jealous that I’ve got more money than he does? That’s great. Just. Fucking. GREAT!” 


Brian slumped down in his chair in abject defeat. His back was bowed, his shoulders were rounded over, and his head was buried in his crossed arms so that Justin couldn’t see his face. Every line of his frame screamed with anguish. But Justin didn’t need to look at Brian to feel his suffering because, right then, Brian’s emotional shields cracked and all his pain leaked out in a rush. 


The flood of sensations hit Justin like a tidal wave. It was enough to cause him to react physically, taking a step back as if he was about to be literally washed away. All that emotion that Brian had been balling up inside for who knew how long was all of a sudden released and it was almost too much for the sensitive empath. Justin was a little shocked by the suddenness of the flood; he felt all of Brian’s pain on top of his own and it was almost debilitating. His own heart was breaking in sympathy with this poor, anguished man. But then he rebounded, swallowed their shared pain and took control, since it seemed Brian could not.


“Brian,” Justin sobbed out the name as he moved close enough to wrap his arms around the distraught man’s shoulders. “We’ll find him, Brian. I know we will. Gus is going to be alright. You can’t give up hope yet.”


“Yeah? And how, exactly, are we going to find him? Huh? Tell me!” Brian’s pain continued to roar out of him; his sadness changing in midair into a red-washed cry of rage.


Justin could feel every single ounce of Brian’s pain, but he knew that he couldn’t let that one feeling take over. Pain and sadness were negative emotions that would only drag them both down. Rage, on the other hand, while also negative in some respects, was an emotion that could be harnessed to enable action. He knew he had to support Brian through the sadness to get him through to the anger. Then they would at least have the drive to move on.


“That’s why I came to see you, Brian. I thought, maybe, what I’m seeing - my connection with the person who took Gus - can help us find him. But I need your help. I don’t know what I’m seeing. I don’t know what clues to look for.” Justin could feel the way his words calmed the man he was holding, so he kept on talking. “What I saw tells me that whoever has your son is someone you know, Brian. They did this on purpose. They want something from you - your time or money or both - so I don’t think they’ll hurt Gus. They’re using him to get to you. And maybe . . . I don’t know . . . Maybe something I see will help find him. Or, maybe, I can use the connection I have with the guy to figure out what’s going on . . . There’s got to be a way to use whatever is happening to me to help Gus. But I’m going to need you to help because I don’t know this person and you do.”


Okay, Justin was kinda grasping at straws there. He didn’t know if the visions would prove useful or not, and the idea of using his connection to the abductor to trace back to his location had just come to him while he was babbling, but the point was to reassure Brian that all was not lost. It seemed to work, too. Gradually, Justin felt Brian’s flood of emotions ebbing as he reined in his fear. Eventually, Justin felt Brian putting back up his shields, and reestablishing that wall of blankness he’d come to expect. 


“Interesting,” Justin mumbled under his breath, surprised and curious about the other man’s ability to corral and block his emotions so efficiently; something the empath had never experienced in anyone else.


Justin might’ve even commented on that revealing factor if he hadn’t been interrupted by the ringing of Brian’s cell phone. 


The father who had, only seconds before, been totally distraught, immediately pulled himself together and tapped at the icon to accept the call. “Mel? What’s going on over there? Any news? . . . What kind of development? . . . Shit, you’d think it was some kind of State Secret or something . . . Fine, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”


Brian pocketed the phone again and started towards the door. Justin jogged after him, trying to divine the other side of the call from the little he’d heard. It didn’t sound like good news though.


“The police say there’s been a ‘development’ but they won’t explain what that means until we’re all there in person,” Brian explained as he pulled his jacket on and pocketed his keys. 


“I’ll go with you,” Justin offered. 


Brian looked at him skeptically and seemed on the verge of declining the company. “I don’t think your ‘visions’ story is gonna go over big with the Munchers, let alone the police.”


“No, I wouldn’t expect it would,” Justin admitted. “Besides, I didn’t plan on telling anyone other than you. But, if you let me come with you, I might see something that’ll help - a clue that’ll make sense of some of the stuff I’ve seen - or at least be able to add a little insight to what the police tell you.” 


He didn’t add that he also wanted to be there as an emotional support for Brian, who he now knew was just barely keeping it together; he was pretty sure that explanation would get his ass immediately booted. Nevertheless, it was obvious to the empath that his friend and former lover desperately needed somebody who would stand by him. Preferably someone who could see through the mask of invincibility Brian tried to hide behind. Justin figured he was probably the only person around who had even a glimmer of a chance in that role.


“Fine. Whatever. I need to go,” Brian capitulated, too distracted to really think about something so trivial. 


The worried father quickly gathered his wallet, phone and keys and was out the door in under a minute. Justin quietly tagged along at Brian’s heel. Brian’s Jeep was waiting at the curb in front of the building. They hopped in for the short, silent drive from the Strip District, where the loft was located, up to the more trendy Lawrenceville neighborhood where the girls lived. The house was surrounded by police cars, with people swarming up and down the sidewalk out front. Brian had to park at least two blocks away. However, judging by the nervous tension evidenced by the way Brian had fidgeted in his seat during the ride over, Justin figured the walk would be good for him, giving the man time to gather himself together a bit.


They were met by a uniformed police officer who stopped them at the front porch. “Can I help you, Gentlemen?”


“I’m Brian Kinney, the father,” the tall brunet announced himself.


The officer nodded but looked over Brian’s shoulder to where Justin was waiting. 


“He’s with me,” Brian stated curtly.


The officer made them both show ID, just as a formality she said, but then let them go inside. And if they’d thought there were a lot of people outside, it was nothing compared to the packed chaos within. Between the uniformed and plain clothes cops, as well as a smattering of friends and neighbors, all milling nervously around the entryway and front room, it was almost impossible to find their way through the throng. Brian eventually muscled his way past a couple of nosy cops and a few random others, making his way over to where Gus’ mothers were sitting together at the end of their dining table. 


“Lindsey!”


“Brian! Oh, Brian,” Lindsey reached up to pull her friend down into a sobbing hug. 


Justin had only seen the woman that one time before at the hospital - when she’d been disheveled and exhausted-looking after going through the trauma of giving birth - but somehow, at that moment, she looked remarkably worse. 


Lindsey had obviously been crying - her red eyes and smeared makeup gave evidence of that fact - and her clothing was dirt-streaked and torn. There was a large piece of white gauze taped to her right temple with a spot of dark brownish-red seeping through from the wound underneath. Her hair was snarled into a blonde bird’s nest, only kept out of her face by the scrunchie that had probably started off as a ponytail holder. Melanie, Lindsey’s feistier brunet partner, hovered behind, eyeing Brian with a sneer.


“It fucking took you long enough to get your ass over here,” Mel snarled. Then she apparently spied Justin, who’d been hanging back a few steps, and added. “Ah, I see. You couldn’t break away from your latest trick long enough to come find out about your kidnapped son. I should have known.”


Brian pulled out of Lindsey’s embrace so he could face his detractor more fully. “Fuck you, Mel. I came over as soon as you called. The only reason I didn’t come over earlier was that the police told me, when they called first thing this morning, that I should stay put and wait for instructions,” Brian insisted, causing Mel’s expression to soften just a smidgen. “And Justin isn’t a trick, he’s . . .” 


Justin sensed a pulse of panic and confusion from the man as he stuttered to a stop. “Hi. It’s me, Justin,” he rushed to fill the gap in the conversation, stepping forward and holding out his hand towards Melanie. “I was with Brian at the hospital the night Gus was born.” He smiled his most disarming grin in the hopes of winning the women over. “I heard about what happened on the news this morning and ran right over to Brian’s to see if I could be of any help.”


This seemingly innocuous comment nonetheless left everyone staring. Justin felt like a strange bug being observed by concerned scientists. When he eventually noted the flood of confusion, disbelief, and sardonic humor coming off the two women, though, he finally understood the reaction. Brian showing up with a real trick would have been a lot less surprising to the girls than him bringing a repeat that maybe qualified as a pseudo-friend of sorts. Apparently Justin didn’t fit into their preconceived image of Brian. It was almost like they didn’t believe Brian was capable of inspiring any feeling other than lust; that he couldn’t possibly make a new friend. And that fact, in and of itself, pissed Justin off for some reason.


Before Justin could call them on their behavior, though, a large, burly man dressed in a rumpled tweed blazer strode up to their group and cleared his throat officiously. “Folks,” he nodded at them in a vague greeting. “I’m Detective Carl Horvath. I’ve been given point on this case.” He handed each of them a business card with his contact information on it. “We’ll be setting up a command center here at the house, so you’ll likely be seeing a lot of me for the time being, but if you ever do need to get ahold of me, my numbers and email are on there.”


“Great. So, can you tell us what the fuck is actually going on?” Brian demanded, cutting through the officious bullshit. “Mel said there was some kind of development? Does that mean you have a lead on who took Gus?”


“Not exactly,” the Detective began, then rushed on as soon as he saw the way all the parents’ faces fell, “but we found a ransom note.”


At that point Horvath realized that several bystanders had edged closer and were listening in on the conversation. “Sykes,” the cop yelled, getting the attention of a uniformed officer standing a few feet away. “Clear this place out. Family only unless I say differently.”


“You heard the man,” Officer Sykes ordered, herding the lookiloos out of the dining room area.


While that was happening, Horvath checked his notes and then looked around at the four people who remained surrounding the table. “So, I’m taking it that you two,” he nodded at the women, “are the mothers.” He looked at the little notebook again. “Lindsey Peterson.” Lindsey offered a watery half-smile. “Ma’am. And Melanie Marcus.” Mel thrust her hand out to shake with the detective. “And I’m assuming you’re the father, Brian Kiney?” Brian nodded with a frown. “So, then, who are you son?” Horvath asked of the blond youth who wasn’t listed in his notes. 


“He’s with me,” Brian asserted again, without further explanation. 


“As that may be, we like to limit operational exposure to the direct family only. It makes for fewer complications and limits leaks,” Horvath began to explain. “You understand, of course, Mister . . .”


“Taylor. Justin Taylor,” the youth offered.


But before Justin could politely excuse himself, Brian pointedly draped one arm over Justin’s shoulders, pulled the boy closer to his side, and planted a big, wet smooch on the younger man’s temple. 


“I said, he’s with me. And he’s staying,” Brian concluded, staring at the cop with a defiant grin, as if challenging Horvath to say something. 


Horvath surveyed the scene for a good sixty seconds, as if assessing the determination of the pair, but eventually capitulated. “If you say so, Mr. Kinney. But don’t come crying to me later if there’s a leak to the press or some other snafu,” the cop replied, clearly still not all that comfortable with the undefined addition. “Anyways . . .” The man sat down at the table in the seat next to Lindsey and pulled a plastic evidence bag out of the inside pocket of his blazer. “This was found in the bathroom at the park next to the play area. Based on where you said you were attacked, Ms. Peterson, we assume that the perpetrator was probably hiding in there, watching for you. When you stopped to get a drink at the water fountain, the perp snuck out, hidden by the nearby bushes, and came up behind you. But, before he did, he made sure to leave this note in a conspicuous place so we’d be certain to find it later.”


Horvath unfolded the bag which contained a single sheet of copy paper printed with large, all-caps writing.


‘IF YOU WANT THE BRAT BACK IT’LL COST YOU $500,000. GET THE MONEY READY. I’LL CONTACT YOU WITH FURTHER DETAILS SOON.’


“$500,000? Shit! Where the fuck do they think we’re gonna get that kind of money?” Mel huffed dubiously. “It’s not like we’re Rockefellers or anything. What the fuck?”


Brian and Justin shared a knowing look. It was exactly what Justin had warned about. Whoever took Gus wanted money. More specifically, Brian’s money. Because, while the girls didn’t have anything even close to what the kidnapper was demanding, Brian Kinney could probably get his hands on that much cash. If he really wanted to. Not that the girls knew that, of course. 


///~///~

 

Chapter End Notes:

10/6/19 - Good news: the RL shit that has been taking up my time should be resolved in a week and a half, so I will have more time to write and hopefully finish this story before NaNoWriMo starts. Bad news: I still don't have a good idea for my NaNo story... Oh well, I'm sure it will come to me. Now, off to finish this one! TAG

You must login (register) to review.