The following morning dawned more quickly than was to Justin's comfort. He gingerly sat up, unsure of what to expect of his bodily responses following the horrors he had experienced the previous night. The initial movement rendered a throbbing ache in his temple, causing him to force himself to focus on his desire to reach the bathroom medicine cabinet for aspirin to dull the pain. Looking to his bedside table, he took a small swallow of the now warm lemon-lime soda Brian had left with him; his eyes blinking on the bottle of aspirin lying next to the medication Brian had delivered to him, in what had been his greatest hour of need.

He hadn't remembered placing the aspirin there last night. He was certain Brian had only placed the beverage, along with nausea and diarrhea medications within his reach. Shrugging his shoulders, uncaring how they got there, only knowing he was in extreme need, he popped the lid from the aspirin before proceeding to take two of the small pills. Once they were down, he took a dose of the two medications Brian had brought him, remembering his advice that he needed to keep the drugs in his system. Slowly, he stood as he hoped to take a much-needed shower, hoping it would provide him a boost to begin what would be a long - and with any luck - a very good day.

Bypassing the kitchen, knowing he could not eat nor partake of any acidic beverages such as orange juice, he settled for the clear liquids that Brian had recommended; his stomach telling him it was in no way looking to be fed yet. Perhaps later when his performance was over; that is - if he could manage to get through his program without a total collapse. No, he cautioned himself - that was not an option. He would overcome this and he would go out there and give the performance of his lifetime. He was strong. He knew his skills far surpassed that of his competition. They would not defeat him this way. It still burned him that someone would stoop this low, but he surmised it went with the old saying: desperate times call for desperate measures.

Moving toward the bathroom, Justin noticed Daphne's bedroom door was still closed. He assumed she must still be sleeping. She wouldn't get much sleep following work to attend the Nationals - but he had no doubt she would be awake shortly; knowing there would be nothing that would prevent his friend from appearing to cheer him onto what he hoped to be a flawless victory. God, how he hoped for that to be the case.

Twenty minutes later, Justin had stepped out of the shower when his cell began to ring. He picked it up and looked at the number, smiling as he already recognized who the caller was. He could very much get used to such special attention from this man. Although, he had to wonder just how long it would last. Picking up the phone, he breathed a soft response, "Good morning, Mr. Kinney."

"Mr. Kinney, hmmm... I think I will have to personally teach that perfect mouth of yours just how to articulate my name..." Brian purred in a way of a greeting.

"Is that so?" Justin cooed, distance making him much braver.

Brian chuckled, instantly gratified to hear Justin had his spunk returning; a sure sign that he was on the mend. "I see some of the fire has returned. That's good for several reasons."

"Perhaps I'm just a morning person," Justin suggested.

"That wouldn't surprise me, however, I can imagine being one as well with something as young and luscious as you to start my day with," Brian growled, his meaning very clear.

Unable to deny his shocked gasp from escaping, Justin whispered, "Uhhh, you never miss an opportunity, do you, Brian?"

"Hardly ever, Justin. Most especially when the prize is something so worth acquiring," Brian purred huskily. "However, back to the point of my call... how are you feeling this morning?"

"Weak still... to the point of feeling almost drained. But the symptoms have lessened greatly," Justin answered, in relief that his bouts of running to the bathroom hadn't returned during the night or morning.

"That's excellent. Make sure you keep taking those pills regularly, at least until you get through your performance. Again, it won't be easy... but just focus on your goals and I know you will make it through," Brian declared, his voice stating he was full of confidence in the validity of his words.

"Yes - Sir, Dr. Kinney," Justin answered dutifully. "I took my medicine right before my shower."

"Mouthy little twat. You keep adding to your bill... one that I intend to collect on handsomely - and very soon," Brian warned. "So, am I to assume you are all dressed in your tight little ‘skater boy' attire?"

"Oh, not quite yet, Brian. You reached me just as I had stepped out of the shower," Justin responded, knowing making such a brazen comment to an obviously already aggressive Brian could come back to haunt him... but unable to resist such temptation.

Brian's breathing accelerated, but to Justin's surprise silence followed for long moments. Becoming a bit concerned, he asked, "Is everything alright, Brian?"

"No. Everything is not alright, you teasing little shit," Brian answered, his voice dropping several notches. "So are you telling me, as we speak, you are draped solely in a towel?"

All sense of self-preservation gone for the moment, Justin whisked the towel away to begin the process of drying. Rubbing the soft material against his skin vigorously, he whispered back, "Well... it was until a moment ago. Now, I'm using it to dry off."

"Fuck! I swear, little boy... I'm going to make you pay for this. I was going to extend your reprieve until you were fully recovered... but I'm not quite sure I can be so generous..." Brian rasped, in between uneven breaths. "You just wait until I get my hands on your ass..."

"Promises, promises," Justin teased, his face flooding with color at this provocative and unwise game he was playing with Brian.

"Okay, I'm convinced you are on the mend and ready to perform. I think I had better finish getting ready for my part in this process... because if I don't - we will be engaging in some hot, lingering phone sex - resulting in the both of us being late," Brian hissed out in response.

Justin chuckled, finding the thought arousing along with confusing; still not totally knowing how to take Brian. "I swear... I don't think I will ever know when you are serious or just teasing."

"Come to Babylon tonight, Justin... and you will discover your answer quickly and effectively," Brian purred, in what was nothing but a veiled promise of intent.

"Hmmm, Babylon... yes, sounds intriguing, Brian. I'm sure a young blond, such as myself, could find someone to help me celebrate - that's if I have something to celebrate."

"Keep adding to your bill, Taylor. I'm taking notes," he threatened, with a low chuckle. "Now, to current events... be very cautious today. Do NOT accept anything from anyone. Not coffee, bottled water, a piece of gum, or candy. Nothing that you have not purchased yourself and view the seal firmly intact. Trust NO ONE! Any questions on this?"

"No, I think I can grasp that concept," Justin laughed. What he wasn't admitting to was how elated he was that Brian was expressing such an interest in his well-being. What it meant, he didn't know. It could just be an elaborate ploy to score points with him, but Justin didn't think that Brian went to such deceptive lengths; he acknowledged to himself - that Brian Kinney didn't need to do that. Unable to resist, Justin posed the question, "Brian? Why are you being so nice to me?"

Brian frowned at the question, not liking the little stab of caring it accused him of possessing. He didn't have those types of feelings. He lived for the moment before moving onto the next pleasurable pursuit. That's where it began and finished... nothing more. Curling his lips under, he answered offhandedly, "Sometimes being nice gains unexpected rewards. Now, quit babbling to me and get ready. You have an event to win."

"Very well. I'll just have to put you on the spot at another time," Justin quipped, knowing he had received all the answers he would for now, while knowing Brian was correct. He had an event to win... and a short amount of time to get ready. There would be time later to determine more about the intensely disturbing and provocative Brian Kinney.

"I'll look forward to that, Justin," Brian purred deliberately. "Good luck out there, skater boy."

"Thank you, Brian." Justin smiled as he closed the phone, thankful that the pursuit of his dreams had led Brian into his life. Win or lose, Justin knew that he had found a friend; with any luck, a long-enduring friend, and perhaps even more. He also knew for certain, whether the standoffish Mr. Kinney wanted to admit it or not - he did have feelings. His concern and care of him the previous evening had proven just that. For now, that would be enough.

Brian had finished adjusting his tie - more than pleased with the sight that greeted him in the mirror. He grabbed his keys preparing to leave, opened the loft door, and there stood a smiling Michael poised to knock. Arching his brow in supreme irritation, Brian asked, "What are you doing here, Mikey?"

"Good morning to you too, Brian," Michael grumbled at him. "I came to see if you were coming to the gym... you weren't at Babylon last night."

"I believe I told you - days ago - that I had some early mornings and that I would probably not be at Babylon on the evenings preceding them. This is one of those mornings..." Brian stated, as he pulled the loft door closed behind him, locking it. As his quick stride took him toward the elevator, he didn't bother looking to see if Michael was following, knowing without a doubt that his friend would be doing so.

"Oh right... the skating event. I had forgotten. So, I assume the gym is out then?"

Flickering his eyes to Michael, as he pushed the button for the elevator, Brian clipped out, "You assume correctly. It appears the good professor is rubbing off on you... or is it Stepfordville? Regardless, I need to go."

Michael, for once wasn't baited by the jabs, instead, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully on Brian. "I remember how agitated you were when you first accepted this job - at Lindsay's request. Something has changed. It doesn't appear nearly as repugnant to you now. My question is - why?"

"It doesn't matter!" Brian snapped, as he stepped into the elevator, watching Michael as he joined him for the short trip down. "All that matters is that today is the end of it - and then life goes back to normal."

"Clubbing, drinking, drugs, tricking... and other depraved forms of debauchery," Michael mused in amused disgust.

"Call it what you will... it's my life," Brian said with a condescending smile.

"So, will we see you tonight? Woody's - Babylon later?" Michael demanded to know.

Stepping out of the elevator and out of the building, Brian moved hurriedly toward his car, looking at Michael with a backward glance. "As far as I know, we're not attached at the hip. I thought that was reserved for your husband on paper."

"Mock all you like, Brian. You don't know what you're missing..." Michael huffed, preparing to walk away - at long last.

"Oh, I know exactly what I would be missing engaging in such a pointless and boring lifestyle. Now, I have a job to perform. Why don't you go back to Stepford Lane and find a noble cause."

"Fuck you, Brian. You're an asshole! Just you wait... one day you're gonna fall head over heels in love and I will laugh my ass off if he rejects you."

Brian arched his brow, looking at Michael dubiously, before he cockily commented, "A man rejecting me? I hardly think so, Michael. But don't worry... I have no aspirations of becoming a lesbian."

Watching as Michael angrily stomped on his way, Brian slid into his Vette, thinking very clearly: no way will that ever be me. I'm Brian fucking Kinney. I don't do happily ever after - or relationships.

He determined he would get through the events of this day, performing his task with precision. Then, he would fuck that blond piece of heaven senselessly - until he had driven that delicious package completely out of mind. Then finally, his need would be satisfied - and life could once again be as it should be. Shutting his eyes, he remembered how he had felt when he realized Justin was ill - when he knew that the blond had been the victim of sabotage. Brian immediately shook it off to just being understanding in the knowledge of having gone through a similar fate.

He hadn't even touched the boy yet. There was no way he could possibly care for him.

One Hour Later - United States Figure Skating Championship

Justin was seated at the bench, waiting patiently while clutching his stomach... hopefully in nerves and not a return visit of his previous night. His coach sat down beside him, giving him a reassuring pat on the back. Looking at his pupil sharply, he asked, "Justin? Is everything alright? You don't look so hot."

"I - ahh, it's just nerves, Coach. That and I was up sick part of the night," Justin hedged, not going into the details of his illness while feeling slightly guilty he was holding back on his coach. But he knew nobody could know he had any involvement with Brian - not even his coach that had guided him for years. As for Brian's involvement... the less said the better.

"Shit, Justin. Stomach flu, now? Are you going to be able to perform?" he asked, watching him closely.

Eyes darkening in a fierce determination, Justin spat out, "Yes, I will perform... and I will succeed."

"How about I get you some water?" his coach offered.

Looking at him strangely, shaking his head for being a suspicious idiot - especially toward the person who had guided him toward the success he was today - he answered slowly, "No, I have a bottle in my bag. I have to take this pill for nausea and I should be set to go."

"Well, you'd better get to it then. Shortly after I arrived, a change in the lineup was announced."

Swallowing the pill with a long sip of water, Justin capped the bottle, replacing it in his bag, his eyes momentarily distracted by the incoming text from Brian. He picked up his phone, as he asked his coach, "Change in the lineup? That's never done. What's going on?"

"I don't know, Justin. All I know is you weren't due on the ice until about halfway through the lineup. I was just told you are up first. So, you have about fifteen minutes to get laced up and prepared. Now, are you still going to be able to pull this off with your stomach virus?" he asked, gauging Justin's response.

"Yes, I can do it. I have to do it. This is what my fucking life has been about ever since I first watched this championship. I must succeed," Justin growled with feeling, determined not to let anything stop him now.

Distancing himself a few feet, Justin moved to quickly look at Brian's text; knowing that in his position as a judge, it had to be important. Opening it, he read:

Justin, you don't need to respond in full. A yes at the end will be sufficient. The lineup has been changed. This is very uncommon... and I can't obtain any reason for it. This is obviously further sabotaging. They are hoping you are not completely back on your feet yet. If you performed later in the day, the medicine would be more effective. Now, this is what you need to do - take another pill if it's less than an hour away from the scheduled dosage. Are you seeing this?

Yes, Brian... I got it... and just took a pill when I heard the news.

Good boy. You will get through this. These bastards are extremely threatened by you - with good reason. Now, get laced up and show them how inadequate they truly are.

I will... and thank you, Brian - for everything.

Your welcome, twat. One more thing... delete this conversation - immediately.

Justin looked over his shoulder, satisfied that nobody had been close enough to read his texts. He promptly did as Brian had told him, seeing, but ignoring, the curious looks coming from the other skaters. Returning to his seat, he smiled to himself thinking the more he was exposed to Brian, the more he really wanted to know him. He almost chuckled as he realized how Brian continued to attempt to save his ass. Words spoken or not, Brian Kinney did give a shit. It was most definitely something to build upon.

The arena was filled, and the tension and excitement were audible. Brian smiled as he heard the introduction that would lead Justin to take the ice. Inwardly he was seething that these untalented pricks would stoop to this level. But he had been a victim once upon a time as well. He survived it... and so would Justin.

With his eyes faced downwards, Justin skated toward the center of the ice. When his head lifted, and his body posed ready to begin, Brian nodded when Justin's eyes pierced him intently. Yes, Brian thought, he was going to be just fine - at least enough to get through the next four minutes. This boy was a fighter. Nothing less than him leaving this arena as the undisputed champion would be acceptable. And Brian had no doubt whatsoever that Justin would achieve just that.

When the musical strands of Forever Young flooded the auditorium, Brian refused to acknowledge the suddenly elevated level of his heartbeat.

TBC