Disclaimer:I do not own Queer as Folk Any characters and situations and anything else pertaining to real life is referred here for non-profit purposes only No copyright infringement is intended. Although everyone here is now so Out of character, I hardly think this matters. Sorry folks. These things happen. Brian/OC in this chapter.

Chapter 7

THE THIRD WEEK

Part 1 - Reversal of Fortune

The midnight hour passed. The night went on. Everyone in the castle slept. Liberty Kingdom (or at least the good of it) slept. Late night passed into deep night, deep night gave way to dawn, and dawn gave way to morning and the third week began.

Brian woke early, as was his custom, and he carefully extricated himself from Justin and did 100 quick push-ups. Then he dressed quickly in work out clothes and went out for his morning jog. He left a quick note to Justin telling him where he was gone to and then quietly let himself out.

He needn't have bothered. When he arrived back at the castle, and back to his rooms, Justin was still sacked completely out.

Still all sweaty and musky from his run, Brian stripped and stole over to the bed, climbed up on it and burrowed into the covers where he proceeded to give Justin a most divine, slow and mind-blowing wake-up blow job. Justin's eyes fluttered open at the start and ended up grabbing the headboard and curling his toes before feeling that wonderful explosion of mind-blowing pleasure again. He could definitely get used to this.

"Finally, Brian moved up to his level and looked deep into his eyes. "Good morning," he purred.

Justin smiled a million watt smile and stroked his cheek in return. Brian leaned into his touch and grabbed his hand keeping it there as they gazed into each other's eyes for a long time, communing without words.

Afterward, Justin would look back onto this moment in his lowest moments of anger, sadness, and depression for comfort. It was the last tender moment together alone they would share ever again.

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When they came down for breakfast, they found Michael waiting. They were both shocked to see him there but it was the way he was there that was the most chilling.

He wore a green shirt that matched his eyes exactly. His black hair was tousled and curly giving him a kind of rumpled-on-purpose look with a curly tendril falling down the exact center of his forehead. He had black jeans and comfortable shoes. He smiled and hummed as he bustled around the table, putting the plates down at three serving areas.

"Well, good morning sunshines!" he said brightly, "I thought you'd never come down!" He smiled again, sunnily.

"Uh...Michael...What are you doing?" Brian asked warily, putting himself in between him and Justin.

"I'm serving us breakfast of course, what does it look like? I went in to help and most of the servants ran off again. I'm afraid turning over a new leaf with them is going to be a bit harder than I thought. Oh, that reminds me...Brian, you're going to have to have a word with that skittish one...you know, the one that likes to call me...oh what was it? ...Oh, right, Diablo, or something like that..." Here Michael gave a musical laugh as if it truly amused him. "I couldn't understand what she said as she ran out but the one remaining cook said it had something to do with quitting. So if you want to keep her, you'll have to talk with..."

"No, Michael...I mean, what are you doing here? You didn't come to the weekend feast. We haven't seen you at all since that travesty you called a dance contest and you kicked yourself in the head. Since we broke up. I thought maybe you'd moved out," he said meaningfully.

"My goodness, that contest! My what a silly idea that turned out to be!" Michael chattered, oblivious, reminiscing on it as if it had been a year ago instead of two days ago. "You sure got me, Justin! Well, you got everybody, really! Imagine finding a coat that would let you fly! Kudos! And of course I didn't come to the dinner! I needed a few days to...lick my wounds...as they say. That and the dump...uh, breakup did hit me pretty hard, I must admit. So I've been in a separate part of the castle since then till I could figure things out." Seeing Brian's look, he hurriedly continued, "This place is so large and...spread out...I knew there was little chance of running into you so moving out really didn't occur to me. I mean where was I supposed to go...my mother's?" He laughed as if that were the most ridiculous thing he had heard.

Brian did not laugh. "For starters. You know, she'd easily forgive you if you'd give up this hostility toward her. If not there, then an inn. Or a more permanent apartment. There's nothing left for you here, Michael. Surely you can see that."

Michael deftly sidestepped the corner that Brian was forcing him into my simply ignoring it and pretending it didn't exist.

"Come and eat. If you still feel the same way when we finish breakfast, I'll go." He gestured to the three plates piled high with pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, ham, toast and hash browns. There were three goblets filled with orange juice.

Still warily eyeing Michael and approaching him slowly as one might approach an armed bomb, Brian said, "I didn't think you'd be comfortable eating with us anymore."

"Well, I just figured since you'd made you position so...painfully...clear, it had become a non-issue. Besides, I did a little re-arranging and came up with this idea to make it more comfortable."

He showed them how he had somehow made the dining room table a bit more rectangular and placed all seating areas in a row. "There, you see. Brian, I figured you'd want to sit in the middle. Justin can sit on one side and I'll sit on the other. That way, there's no favouritism and you can be between me and Justin as I'm sure you still don't trust me quite yet."

"You got that right!" Brian growled.

"Please Brian! I'm trying to make things right here," Michael pleaded. He sat down on the left hand seat.

Reluctantly, the other two men took their places. Both men continued to keep an eye on Michael who continued to portray the picture of serenity and innocence. There were a few quiet moments where they all enjoyed their breakfast.

And then, when it did happen, many things happened seemingly all at the same time. Looking back, Justin wondered if there was something...anything...he could have done.

Brian took a sip of his orange juice. Then another. Then convulsively he chugged the whole thing. His eyes bugged out. He sucked in a breath but couldn't get any air. He pushed back from the table and stood up gasping for air. He gagged. He choked. His goblet fell from his hand and shattered into a million fragments on the floor. And then he joined it as he fell over, onto his knees and then full length, senseless.

As Brian gasped and choked, Justin was on his feet, watching him, moving to hit him on the back, otherwise panicking.

As Brian's goblet left his hand, Michael struck. As quick as a striking snake, he yanked out his blowgun and shot Justin in the throat. Justin's eyes widened, and then fluttered closed as he too collapsed on the floor.

Humming quietly, Michael replaced the blowgun into an inner pocket. He went over and grabbed Justin by the wrists and dragged him to a far corner of the room.

"Be glad I just need you out of sight for a few minutes," Michael whispered to his unconscious rival, his voice tinged with the manic insanity that belied his true nature as he plucked out the dart and hid it, "Otherwise knockout drops would have been replaced with the death that Hobbs failed to finish you with."

With that, he turned his back and left Justin where he lay like so much human garbage. He returned to Brian's side where he was alarmed to see that Brian was breathing shallowly. His face was tinged with blue.

Michael bent Brian's head back, made sure his mouth was open, his airways clear. It didn't seem to work. Brian's breathing only got slower and more labored. He turned bluer.

"No, no, no! This wasn't supposed to happen! He was only supposed to go unconscious! There was nothing in this about him dying! Come on, Brian! Come back to me!" Michael whispered out loud in the otherwise empty room.

But Brian didn't come back. He sucked in convulsive breath after breath after breath, slower and slower, and then...and then just didn't take another.

He was dead.

Michael lifted his still head and then his shoulders into his arms and cradled him, tears streaming out of his eyes. He rocked Brian back and forth a bit, wondering what to do now, wondering what had gone wrong, cursing that witch for deceiving him. This was not what was supposed to happen at all.

And then, Brian sucked in a HUUUUGE breath. It was a miracle. And when he breathed out a stream of golden mist breathed out of his mouth, hung in the air like yellow smoke for a moment and then dissipitated . The blue in his face was replaced by rosy pink once more as he slept in Michael's arms like a baby.

Michael waited breathlessly. This was it. This was his last chance. "Come on, Brian!" he urged, "Wake up! Wake up for me! Come on!"

But across the room another figure was stirring.

Michael ignored it. "Hurry, Brian! Come on! Can you wake up for me? Please!"

Across the room, Justin sat up, shaking his head. He groaned silently and held his head.

Michael wished he'd brought another dart.

And then, like a miracle, like a dream, just in time, Brian's eyelids fluttered and they opened. And of course, being cradled in Michael's arms, he was the first thing he laid eyes upon.

"Michael! What the fuck happened?" Brian rasped, struggling to sit up.

"You choked on something," Michael lied easily, "I took care of you. I'll always take care of you."

"Could I get something to drink?"

"Of course, Brian." Michael helped him up and to sit in a chair and poured him a tall glass of water. Brian drank it greedily.

"Thank you Michael. I can always count on you. He pulled Michael down for a hard kiss. "God, you are so sexy! It seems like ages since I noticed how sexy you are." And he pulled him down for another bruising kiss, Michael jumping into seventh heaven as he did so.

Meanwhile, still on the floor, Justin shook his head and did a bit of a double take as he waited for the cobwebs to clear. But they wouldn't clear any more than they were. He still saw Brian kissing Michael as plain as day. What was happening here? He had woken up with Brian madly in love with him and showing him pleasures he never dreamed existed. And now here he was kissing Michael and calling him sexy. It didn't make any sense. The last thing he remembered was...Brian choking! And then...nothing...until right now.

He got up and marched over there and cleared his throat noisily. At least that was one thing he could do that made noise.

The other two men broke off from kissing and looked at him.

Brian smiled. "Well, good morning, little man! Did you just get up?" he asked as if this were the first time he'd seen Justin this morning.

Justin looked at Brian and gestured his hands as if to say, "What the Hell!?"

Brian looked at Michael. "What do you suppose he wants?"

Michael shrugged. "Don't look at me. I've never understood him."

Brian looked around and saw the three plates. "Michael and I were just eating. I guess this is your plate. Are you hungry, little man?"

Justin shook his head, impatiently, moved around to Brian's side, grabbed his arm, tried to pull him to himself. He was shocked when Brian resisted him, stayed in his seat, shook him off.

"Justin! What's the matter with you? You should know better to accost royalty like this! Let me go! Nobody touches me without my permission! Look Justin, you have attained great fame, great wealth on your own merit and for that I'm - we're letting you stay here. But don't overstep your bounds or we'll have to re-think things. Michael doesn't mind you being here either, do you, my love?" He turned to Michael with this hungry and besotted look on his face.

Michael didn't exactly understand what was going on here but he thought quickly. Brian seemed to have his memories intact, although they were somewhat distorted. He had forgotten his love for Justin just as the Witch had predicted. He remembered the last time Brian had asked this he had gotten angry and jealous. Now he knew better. It was like a do over!

"Of course not, Brian. As long as he doesn't overstep his bounds," Michael agreed. "I love you, Brian. You're so wise and just."

"Ohhh, I can be a hard man too, if I want to be. Very...hard!" Brian growled as he leaned in to kiss Michael again who received him willingly. They both laughed softly against each other as they began to make out wildly.

Justin watched the scene with the utmost horror. Confusion, jealousy, hurt, sadness, heartbreak all passed over his face, one after another. His too blue eyes filled with tears as he turned and rushed from the room.

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And that was that. It was a complete reversal of fortune. It was as if he and Brian had never loved each other. Over the next day or so, with the help of interpreters, Justin managed to glean that Brian remembered rescuing him, had brought him in, helped him but...that's as far as it had gone. He loved Michael. He had always loved Michael. And he needed interpreters now. That special understanding, that connection they had shared was completely gone. Brian needed a written note or to be told what Justin wanted through an interpreter. He could not recognize the simplest of sign language anymore. He never called him Sunshine any more. It was as if that name had never existed. He always called him little man and treated Justin in sort of a crossway between the way one treats a little brother and the way one treats a favourite pet, like a dog.

Justin was heartbroken. He cried an ocean of tears in private and tried to keep a straight face in public which he learned to go into less and less over the following week. It was just too painful. Brian and Michael spent most of their time together, and most of the mealtimes making out. And Justin just had to sit there and endure it.

He of course, went to see Gus as soon as possible. He cried on bended knee, silently begging, and brought a pad of paper and painstakingly wrote out what was wrong, which the heron then read aloud.

Gus had grown up into a full-grown swan and all his feathers had grown back magnificently. He listened to Justin's problem soberly and then promised, "Let me fly over and see what I can see. Wait here."

He flew up and over to the castle. He flew once around it and then returned.

"The whole castle is awash in deep and evil magic," he reported. "The Prince is under a powerful spell which is beyond my understanding. I'm sorry, Justin. My powers can change you, help you. But I can do nothing against what is altering your friend. I'm sorry."

Justin bowed his head in sorrow and walked slowly back to the castle. He walked slowly everywhere now. His grief and his foot pains were very great.

Over the next few days he spent most of his time in his studio. He painted a few small pictured but he was compelled to work mostly on his magnum opus. He knew his time was short now and he wanted, no needed...it to be finished before he left. He took most of his meals there and came out only when he needed to wash up for dinner. In spite of everything going on, Brian still insisted on a formal and civilized dinnertime. However, since Michael usually made sure they were feeding each other or otherwise making out which Brian couldn't get enough of, the food was tasteless and about as palatable as chewing cotton for Justin. But through it all, he endured it, because he loved the Prince still. He knew Michael had placed him under a spell, which he could not break. And so he sat there and loved Brian still, and endured it.

Brian now spent almost every waking moment with Michael. As the Witch predicted, he pursued Michael relentlessly, stalking him, smothering him. He was at his door in the morning when Michael woke up and emerged to start the day. They were joined at the hip until Michael sent Brian to take a walk or something. Brian would comply, reluctantly, kissing him fervently goodbye, but he would be back almost exactly an hour later, unable to stay away. He brought him flowers. He gave him jewellery. He bought him candy. Michael accepted everything but did not return any affection beyond making out. Which was difficult. After dinner they spent all evening together and then Brian would walk Michael to his door and kiss him goodnight only to be separated from him when Michael finally closed the door in his face.

For the first few days, Brian made one sexual innuendo after another. He kissed him constantly. He pressed up against him showing off his blatantly aroused hard on. Michael groaned in pleasure inwardly but rebuffed him gently each time. Finally, quite soon, when he felt the time was right, he told Brian, he loved him and everything he was doing but that he wanted to save the next time they had sex for marriage. And so, on Wednesday Brian went down on bended knee and proposed to Michael at dinner. This was especially painful for Justin to watch as he knew whatever magic was working against him had beaten him. He was doomed. And yet, he loved Brian still.

After dinner, he went to his studio, locked himself in and knelt before his magnum opus. He put his face into his palms and cried and cried. He cried for what they had and what they had lost, no had stolen. He cried for Brian who had promised himself to one who was not worthy. And he cried for himself, mourned his own death since no one else would.

His forehead was sore and hot from crying so hard. He looked up at his magnum opus again and suddenly he was filled with a primal and all-consuming rage. He screamed in silence, threw books and pads and paints all over the room and then approached the magnum opus. He heaved the thing into the air and prepared to throw it across the room into the fire,

And couldn't do it. He just couldn't do it, any more then he could saw off his own foot.

So he replaced it and again screamed in hatred and fury. He felt so helpless. He was helpless. Justin ripped open his shirt, buttons tinkling everywhere. He pulled it off and threw it away. What did he care about shirts or clothes or other human trappings now anyway? He was not a human. He was a merman, a creature of the sea and soon he would return to it forever. He walked over to the windows and looked over the dark sea, gazing at his dim reflection, at his two necklaces, thinking dark thoughts, wondering what to....

Wait a minute! Justin lifted and held his conch shell necklace in his palm staring at it. He had worn it so often and things had been going so well, he had forgotten almost completely about it. But he remembered it now and he remembered what it was for.

"Here. If the worst should happen...no, let me finish...IF the worst should happen and his marriage to another is imminent, draw this off your neck and give the shell a blow. I shall hear it and I'll do whatever I can to help you."

At that moment there was a knock on the door.

Quickly, Justin threw the veil over the magnum opus went to the door, still shirtless, past caring, unlocked the door and yanked it open.

It was Brian.

"Hey little man! How are you doing? I was hoping you'd be here! Can you believe it!? Can you fuckin' believe it!? I'm getting' married! I'm fuckin' getting married!"

Unfortunately, what Justin wanted to say and the simple gestures he was forced to use were two entirely different things.

[["Well Brian, since I was right there when you asked Michael on bended knee, I can indeed "fuckin believe it"."]] Justin nodded.

"I'm so excited, I hardly know which way is up! I wanted - Wow! You look hot! You always work with your shirt off?"

Justin sighed and nodded.

"Not trying to steal me away from my man, are you? Well, it won't work!" Brian said facetiously.

[["Actually you were stolen from ME!"]] Justin narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.

"Look, can I come in? I want to ask you something." Brian moved forward and was startled when Justin resisted him, pushing back with his slight frame.

"What, I didn't offend you with my little joke, did I?"

Justin nodded. As thick as Brian had become, that he could understand.

"Aww, gee, little man, I'm sorry! Can I come in, please? It's important."

Justin sighed and made way. Even in his deluded state, he could refuse him nothing.

Brian bounced in. "Gee, thanks! Look, Justin ever- holy shit! What happened in here!?"

[["Well, Brian, as I've lost both you and my life, I was understandably upset. So I threw things around in a fit of temper and rage."]] Justin smiled wanly and shrugged cutely.

"Ahhhh, the artistic temperament eh?" Brian winked slowly in a way that made Justin's insides turn to mush. "Well, I'll have someone come and help you clean it up tomorrow."

"Justin nodded and bowed. [["By Neptune, this spell has made you thick!"]]

"Brian got down to business. "Look, Justin, ever since Babylon...well what I mean is if Babylon had never exploded, I guess I'd be asking Uncle Vic this but since he's been gone, you've been my best friend except for Michael. You saved my life. I'd really like it if you'd be my best man. I can't think of anyone I'd like to have stand up with me."

Justin looked up into Brian's eyes, so full of the hope and promise of a bright future ahead of him. So kind and full of love...just not for him. And still he could deny him nothing. For he loved him still. He nodded.

"Thanks, little man! You won't regret it! This is gonna be great, I promise! Oh Justin, thanks! You've made me really happy!" And in a giddy frenzy, Brian launched himself into Justin's arms and swung him around. He kissed him chastely and was a little startled when Justin pressed his lips back a little too hard. Everything stopped for a moment.

"It's strange," Brian whispered, "Your hair...Your hair shines...just like sunshine!"

Justin looked deep into Brian's green eyes and willed him to: Remember!... Remember!...

But then Brian just gave himself a little shake and said, "Well, I'd better be going! Lots of stuff to do and not much time to do it in! Thanks again, little man!" He mussed his hair and bounced out the door.

Justin slammed it behind him and turned his back to it. In despair, he slid down until he was sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. He cried a few more tears and again thought back to that last morning. He tried to visualize Brian leaning into his hand that one last time. And he was a little frightened, because this was the first time, it really seemed like he was trying to remember a dream.

Again he picked up Emmett's shell. He looked at it very hard.

And then he jumped up and sprang into action. He ran out of the room, locked the door and set off at a dead run, bare chested, barefooted, in nothing but his slacks he had worn to dinner.

Down the hall, across the Great Hall, out the door, across the courtyard, across the drawbridge, and away, down to the sea. If anyone saw him, they didn't stop him and he didn't see them. He ran, ran, ran, down to the beach, to a wooden dock and to the very end of it. The night air was cool against his naked parts but he didn't care. As a merman, he'd felt deeper chills in the icy waters of the deep.

He sat down on the end of the dock. He rolled up his slacks and dipped his feet into the dark water. Ahhhhh! It felt refreshing and cool and...like home. He'd forgotten how friendly the sea could feel. For the first time since he'd come to be a human, he missed it. Really missed it.

He drew off the shell pendant and took a few deep breaths preparing. He had saved this for a long time, for the most dire of needs. And tonight, that time was now. The air seemed charged with electricity and promise.

He had no idea what was going to happen. He wondered how this tiny shell was going to help or if it would do anything at all. Emmett always was a flighty creature.

No. Emmett might be flighty, but he was loyal and he could see Justin's determination to leave and grow up. He wouldn't play him that way.

Well, this was the moment of truth. Justin took a deep breath, a deeper breath, a deepest breath. He blew into the tiny shell.

At first, it made a thin, high beeping noise, like a kazoo. But it grew louder and deeper. Encouraged, Justin kept blowing. The noise grew louder and louder and now sounded like a trumpet. Justin kept blowing and it grew louder and louder and it was as deep as a tuba. It was so loud they had to have heard it at the castle by now.

Justin kept blowing and it grew louder and deeper and now it was the sound of a bassoon. Louder. Deeper.

At last, Justin could not blow and longer. He blew a last breath and stopped, sucking in a huge, cleansing breath. But instead of fading away, the noise continued to grow and grow and went on and on and got deeper and deeper. The noise travelled across the waves, in all direction. It had to be heard in Spitzenburgher by now. The dock trembled. The ground trembled. Even the castle trembled. And still the noise went on and on.

The earth continued to tremble. Justin looked at the conch in wonder and saw that it was starting to vibrate as well. Faster and faster, until it fairly oscillated in his hand. It cracked and shattered and turned to dust in his hand.

And at last the deep horn sound slowly faded away. Slowly, gently. The earth stopped moving. The dust in his hand blew away and then there was nothing left but the chain it had been attached to.

Justin sat there, moving his feet in the water for a long time and wondered what to do now. Would Emmett come? Would he receive a vision? Should he just go and hope and take it on faith that something would happen. He liked the latter choice least of all.

And then suddenly he saw a darker shape against the dark sky. It wobbled and bit and grew bigger and bigger as it flew closer and closer. And then it was very close and scraped the water clumsily and slid in for a water landing. It was, of course, Gus.

He flopped clumsily a few times as he tried taking off again and couldn't quite make it for the short distance he wanted.

"Well, help us up then!" he said grouchily, and Justin did so willingly. He greeted Gus with a huge smile.

"I heard your calling. I couldn't resist the feeling that it was a sort of summoning. So, here I am."

Justin nodded.

Gus cocked his head as if he were listening. "Ahh, yes! Now I see! Emmett heard your call and is sending a message. I can't hear it word for word you understand but I'm getting the gist of it through my feelings, you understand?"

Justin nodded eagerly. He shook his head slowly and sadly.

Gus ruffled his feathers impatiently and gave a curt honk. "Oh, well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Just hang on a minute."

He walked up and down the dock a few times, bobbing his long neck and honking softly. Then he said:

"OK, here's the deal. Emmett heard you. He's going to do everything he can to help you break your deal with the Sea Witch." He cocked his head, listening. "How much time does he have? How many days?"

Justin held up enough to indicate the end of the week.

"The end of the week!" said Gus loudly. He listened some more.

"OK, he's received that message. There is nothing more Justin. I'm sorry. I feel nothing else."

Justin nodded in understanding.

"In fact," Gus continued, "I feel...nothing more for this place at all. I believe my time here, my guardianship of you, is complete. It is time for me to go."

Justin looked stricken, shook his head in distress. He held out his hands in supplication. "Don't go!" it all said.

"No, Justin, it is time. The ducks don't want me there. The heron is a good friend but he doesn't need me. I am a swan. I know that now. I need to find other swans who will want and accept me. I need to find a mate. I need to start a family. This desire has been growing in me for quite some time. The time is now!"

Justin's cheeks were again wet. It seemed he was destined to cry an ocean of tears. Must he lose everyone who was important to him? It didn't seem fair. But he could see Gus was determined.

He held out his hands. Gus came into them willingly, honking softly in pleasure. Justin stroked his feathered body one last time, stroked his long neck. He rubbed his cheek against the side of Gus' head in a last farewell kiss. (Well, as close as to a kiss as he could get from a swan anyways.)

"Thank you for the protection you gave from the ducks. Thank you for the King's bread. Thank you for helping me become what I am today. You have a kind and faithful heart, Prince of the Sea. The night will be very dark for you, my Prince but I yet feel sure there will come a time of triumph. Good-bye Justin." Gus whispered next to his ear and gave him a quick nip of affection.

And then it was time. Justin and Gus released each other. Gus was running down the dock onto the beach. He ran down the beach for a clumsy take off. He was flying, flapping hard, a graceful figure in the sky. He was a dark shape against a white moon. He was a speck. He was gone.

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A short time later, Justin walked slowly into the castle. He looked like an elegant castaway in nothing but his slacks. Around his creamy chest he wore his key and an elegant but empty gold chain.

Michael and Brian were waiting in a nearby room and dashed into the Great Hall when they heard the door close.

"Justin, Justin! Where have you been?" Brian cried.

"Justin! Did you hear that strange noise? Do you know what it was?" Michael cried.

Justin held up his hands. He pointed to Brian and then pointed simply outside. He pointed to Michael. He shrugged exaggeratedly. He would not tell him even if he could talk. He walked slowly toward them, pushed between them, passed on by.

"But - but - you must have heard something!" Michael spluttered shrilly, "It shook the whole castle!

Justin stopped. Slowly he turned. He pointed at himself. He gestured to his right ear. He pointed at Michael. He pointed to himself. He pointed to his eyes. He pointed to Michael. [["I hear YOU! I see you!"]] Michael looked stricken.

"What do you suppose he's saying?" Brian asked, clueless as always.

"Uh...You know me. I never understand him," Michael said, but his voice was shaky. He understood.

Justin narrowed his eyes and looked straight into Michael's troubled ones. He nodded slightly and smiled cruelly. "I know what you did," he said in silence. Then he made a sign to both of them that they couldn't help but understand. He flipped them the bird.

Both men gasped and their mouths dropped open.

But Justin was passed caring. He kissed his finger and flipped it toward them again, spun on his heel, (Here a blade point stabbed cruelly deep into that heel) and walked/limped down the hallway to his studio. He rarely went up to his real room any more as he had no valet any more, he was not risking another ambush, and because of his grief and therefore foot pain, it was a long way up those stairs. And he couldn't count on Brian's help in that department any more. He missed that most of all.

Brian and Michael's mouths were still hanging open when the door to Justin's studio slammed shut with a resounding BANG! The key turned in the lock.

TBC