Chapter 11

                Run away with me.

                J.M. Barrie

Brian had not seen the movie Mary Poppins until Gus was three and it had become his son's newest obsession. He had heard of it, of course, but nothing had prepared him to see it. Gus had come to spend the weekend at the loft and Brian had unzipped the boy's coat to find the movie safely stowed against his chest. When he shot the girls a questioning look, Mel had rolled her eyes, and Lindsay shrugged as if to say "Who knows?".

Later on that evening he had parked Gus on the rug to watch the movie, while he finished working at his desk. His son's delighted laughter had prompted him to forgo work and sit next to him on the floor. Gus's happy squeal when Mary began pulling the large standing lamp from her carpet bag was very much like how Brian now felt when he managed to find his old, worn out, super soft pajama pants in the giant duffle bag Jennifer had been digging in since his first morning at the hospital.

He struggled a bit to get them on one-handed, but once they were finally hugging his hips, a contented sigh slipped from his lips. Who would have thought an old piece of clothing could make you feel whole?

For the first time in days, he felt like himself. Digging around in the bag produced a pack of cigarettes (thank God), a box of condoms (he snorted), and the well-worn copy of The Man In The Iron Mask (how did she know?).

He stuck the smokes and his cell phone into the pocket of his robe, covered Justin with the blanket (so his bare ass wouldn't greet whoever happened to walk in the door), and laid his lover's clothes on the end of the bed. Moving the chair blockading the door, he took a deep breath to try to settle his thoughts, and stepped into the hall.

Emmett saw him first, and surprise gave way to the second-most sunshiney smile Brian had ever seen. Everett noticed him a moment later, concern marring his brow until he schooled it away and stood.

"I am going out for a smoke." Brian announced and started off down the hall as if he owned the place.

There was a mad scramble to catch up as Everett, Lara, and Marc dashed after him with Emmett's laughter ringing in their ears.

********************************************************** 

Carl glanced at the clock on the wall of his office. Eleven-thirty.

He wondered, briefly, if he could get away with staying at the precinct all night and dealing with Debbie in the morning. Shaking his head, he knew that would only make things worse, as she was most likely still waiting up for him to get home. Better to get it over with now and secure her help before the rest of the family got too out of line. He figured it would be best to talk to everyone else after Debbie understood what she could and could not say to them. Carl had never asked her to keep a secret before, was not really sure he should now, but someone had to help him keep control of the reins in Pittsburgh and he didn't think Ted was tough enough to do it alone.

Eyeballing the clock again, Carl shut down his computer, grabbed his coat, and headed home.

 ********************************************************

Sam shifted her briefcase to the other hand and Bobby eyed her quizzically.

"What?" she huffed.

"Just been a long time since I've seen you nervous." He only half-teased.

"Not nervous. Just don't want to set him off again." She continued to stare at the elevator doors.

Struck with an insight, Bobby said "You like him."

Sam harrumphed "Not like that, just..."

Bobby could understand her confusion, since he had carried it with him since their earlier meeting.

"Something in your gut says he needs protecting."

Sam glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "Yeah, but it's more than that."

"Well he is extremely good-looking."

Sam was shaking her head before he finished saying it.

"Not that. Something else. More primal... I think."

It had been a very long time since his partner had been this concerned about someone involved in one of their cases.

"What's more primal than sex?" Bobby really wanted to understand.

"Don't know yet, it just feels like...potential?" Sam wasn't even sure that word described it either but dropped the conversation as the doors opened on the eighth floor.

 ************************************************

Lindsay strode purposefully to the information desk at the hospital currently manned by a young brunette that barely looked old enough to drink. Her nametag shouted, Pamela, in bright pink lettering. Lindsay set her purse on the counter and unbuttoned her coat.

"Hello, Pamela, could you give me directions to Mr. Kinney's room please."

Pamela paled noticeably and began typing into her computer. When she paused, she asked "Can I have your name please?"

"Lindsay Peterson."

Pamela scanned the list of names the big scary man had left with her earlier, not finding anyone named Peterson anywhere. Bile rose in her throat. As if the big scary man hadn't been enough, he had been followed up an hour later by the Terrifying Lady that threatened her life if anyone not on the list made it to Mr. Kinney's floor.

Pamela swallowed convulsively and said, "I am truly sorry, Ms. Peterson, but you are not on the list of approved guests, so I am not allowed to give you that information."

Lindsay had not expected to be turned away and was momentarily at a loss for words. Sizing up the youngster, she decided to try and bluff her way past this obstacle.

Putting on her best manners she smiled "I am the mother of Mr. Kinney's only child, and I need to see him right away. Please, I am sure he would want to see me."

Pamela, for all that she was sure that might be the case, didn't ever want to be on the wrong side of the Terrifying Lady. "I am sorry, but I was given a list, and you are not on it." Then she whispered, hoping to engender some sympathy, "It's my job, if I let you up there."

The pained expression on Pamela's face told Lindsay she would get nothing else from her, so she gave her a tight little smile and left, determined to find another way to get to Brian.

Pamela hadn't cared one whit for the so-called smile, and to safeguard her job she called the number the big scary man had left, just in case.

 **********************************************************

Dr. Anders was sitting in his office, staring at his desk phone, willing it to ring. It didn't matter that it was the middle of the night. The e-mail he had sent, hoping to get Brian the help he needed, would either precipitate a questioning phone call or it would be ignored completely. Such was the nature of the woman he had contacted. He told himself, if he didn't hear anything within the hour, he would check on Brian one more time then go home and get some much needed sleep.

He was drifting on the edges of slumber, head tilted back into his chair, when the call came at three-twenty-six in the morning.

 Brian was on his last nerve. All he could think about was a cigarette. He didn't care that it was cold outside. He didn't care that he wasn't dressed for the weather. He didn't care that it was a non-smoking facility. He didn't care that he didn't have shoes on. He didn't care that everyone meant well. He didn't care it was the middle of the night. He didn't care that he wasn't supposed to be out of his room and he most especially didn't care about the furor he was causing amongst the hospital staff.

His hands were shaking, so he shoved them into the pockets of his robe. His head was pounding. Acid was rolling in his stomach, threatening to override his control. He wanted to scream when someone draped a heavy pea coat over his shoulders and pressed him into a wheelchair. He wanted to tear his hair out when a blanket was tucked around his legs. He wanted to maim whoever it was that tugged a knitted cap down over his ears. He hated it when people felt they could touch him without his express permission to do so.

Anger welled. Vicious, evil thoughts, raced around his brain in circuitous loops of bloodshed. He braced his elbow on the armrest of the wheelchair and settled his chin into his palm, effectively covering his mouth with his fingers. Physically keeping his tirade behind his teeth. He tried to summon the will to hold it back long enough to gain what he so desperately wanted. A cigarette.

Is that really too much to ask?

Everett's phone rang, and before he could answer it, Brian said "Lindsay" and shuddered.

The big man stepped away to take the call, as Brian was wheeled outside.

 ***************************

Lindsay had stopped in front of a large placard listing the different areas of the hospital. She figured her best bet would the patient rooms on levels seven, eight and nine. Deciding to start on seven and look for someone she recognized or catch his name on one of the doors, she pushed the button on the elevator.

When she stepped out, she immediately recognized the floor for what it was. The happy, pastel décor, with little feet painted on the wall of the long hallway, made it the maternity ward. Taking as a sign, an omen, she wandered past the waiting room. Brian would not be on this floor, but what would be the harm in looking?

It was not long before she was standing in front of a big window allowing her to see all the newborns in their little clear plastic beds. Most of the infants were sleeping, tiny mouths making sucking movements as they dreamed. Lindsay took the time to spend a few minutes studying each baby. There were so many! All of them wrapped up in the hospital blanket of white and blue stripes. All of them like baby burritos. All of them adorable. Dark skin, light skin, some with hair and some without. All of them beautiful.

Lindsay took it as a sign, an omen.

 *******************************

Carl made as little noise as possible, as he unlocked the front door and let himself in. Seeing Debbie on the couch with Michael he realized he should not have bothered. Closing the door behind him and hanging up his coat he went to the kitchen and made three short glasses of bourbon and carried them back to the living room.

Passing one to each of his companions he sat on the coffee table to face them.

"Brian had an accident, the night of the fundraiser, and he has been in the hospital since."

Carl sipped his drink as Debbie and Michael began talking over each other, trying to get him to answer their questions.

Debbie, seeing the look on Carl's face, put a restraining hand on Michael's knee until he quieted.

Carl stared into his glass for a moment before continuing. "He has a couple of broken bones, arm and collarbone, but he will be okay."

Debbie eyed him suspiciously.

"He nearly drowned, had hypothermia, but seems to be doing a lot better now. He will probably be released in the next couple of days."

"Why didn't he call me, let me know what was going on?" Michael interjected heatedly.

"From what I am being told, he hasn't spoken to anyone. Didn't want anyone to know, come rushing to the hospital. You know how he is." Carl hoped it was an adequate explanation.

Michael seemed to take it at face value, nodding his head and rolling his eyes.

"Anyway, I have been told he is going to take a vacation, to heal up, before he makes anymore plans. Cynthia and Ted have the company in hand, it seems, and Brian doesn't want to stick around. He has asked that everyone leave him alone for a while, but if you have an emergency, he asked that you get a hold of Cynthia and she will let him know. For now I think it best to honor his wishes, let him get better."

Carl looked pointedly at Michael as he said the last, and noted that he at least had the good grace to blush. It didn't stop his mouth, though.

"Lindsay told me he asked her for a baby! Can you believe that shit? How the hell is he going to take care of a baby?" Shaking his head in disapproval he sipped his bourbon.

Carl figured that would be the least of Brian's problems at this juncture, but pointed out the obvious anyway. "I really don't think that is any of our business. Probably best not to bring it up or comment on it if it is mentioned." He swallowed the last of his drink, giving Debbie a look over the rim of his glass.

"Michael, honey, you should go home. Brian is going to be okay, so we can stop worrying. He will be good as new in no time, and I am sure, as soon as he feels better, he'll call you. Best that we leave him be for now." She patted his cheek and gave him a smile before tugging him to his feet and all but shoving him out the front door. She leaned back against it for a moment, then resumed her seat on the couch and knocked back her bourbon in one gulp.

Taking both of her lover's hands in hers, and using the low voice she reserved for solemn occasions, she said "Now, Carl Horvath, you will tell me what the fuck is really going on."

"Debbie, I can't..."

"Don't give me shit about how you can't talk about an investigation, or Brian wants his privacy, Brian doesn't ask for anything. I can keep a secret... for thirty years if I have to."

Carl had to give her that, she had kept Michael's paternity a secret for that long and he knew it. He also knew she would not give up wanting to know the truth. Brian was one of her "Lost Boys", probably her favorite if truth be told, so he hoped she would keep this one.

"It wasn't an accident, Red." Debbie had figured as much, so only nodded.

"Someone tried to kill him. Twice. I don't have all the details, yet, and couldn't give them to you if I did. I am outside the investigation, but Brian's head of security let me know in case something led back here."

"Do you know who did it?"

Carl nodded, "Caught the fucker right away. Everett said he was naked, if you can believe it."

"It figures." Debbie said and they both chuckled, letting the tension drain away.

Carl debated what to say next, but Debbie spoke first. "It's not over, is it Carl." Not a question.

"No, Red, I don't think it is."

Carl moved to sit next to her and she leaned into his side. "You can't retire now, knowing there is still a threat."

Carl loved a lot of things about Debbie, her big mouth, big heart, and most of all the fact that she wasn't stupid.

******************************** 

Marc had managed to find a very small courtyard outside one of the many fire exit doors on the ground level of the hospital. It was barely larger than a bathroom, but it was covered by the floor above and surrounded by an ugly cinderblock wall on two sides. He had arranged (by flirting) to have the alarm disconnected, so Brian could get his nicotine fix, and still be in a relatively easy position to defend, if need be.

Marc wheeled him through the door and set the brake on the chair taking note that Brian still seemed to be in the trance that had started when they parked his ass in the chair in the first place. He looked terrible. His eyes were dark and glassy, pupils blown wide. He had an unhealthy pallor to his skin that the growing beard couldn't hide, and the dark circles under his eyes were now creeping to the lids as well and making it look like he came out on the wrong side of a prize fight.

Trying to snap him out of it, Marc went fishing for Brian's cigarette pack, ignoring the way Brian flinched when his hand grazed Brian's thigh below the pocket. Squatting in front of the chair, he dug out the pack, and searched the other pocket for a lighter. Brian sat up straighter and rubbed his palm over the fabric of his pants. Then he did it again...and again.

"Don't have a light." Each word enunciated slowly, like they were new, or foreign.

"'Kay, be right back. So, don't go anywhere." Marc stood up, went for the door.

"Only Paris in the springtime." Brian said when the door closed. He pulled the coat tighter around him "You can come out now Noah."

The shadow of the man in question appeared from around the end of the wall furthest from where Brian was seated. As he entered the small pool of light from overhead he fished a lighter from his pocket and waited as Brian shook a cigarette from the pack and placed it between his lips.

"How'd you know I was here?" he asked as he lit the cigarette and gestured to the pack on Brian's lap.

Brian took a hefty drag, exhaling slowly and handed over the pack for Noah to help himself.

"Marc would not have left me unguarded." Another drag, letting his eyes close, to better savor the flavor. Another rub of the fabric.

"True, but how did you know it was me? I could have been any one of a dozen people he has here."

"Lucky guess." Brian didn't bother to open his eyes.

"What color am I?"

It was a true telling of just how out of it Brian really was when he answered immediately without thinking about it first. "Orange, micro-suede."

"And Marc?" Noah was hoping he was still cooperative.

"Navy. Ocean waves."

"Everett?"

Brian took another long drag, stroking his thigh when he answered "Black. Shiny mirror."

Marc came back out, and Brian shot Noah a look that promised dire consequences if he said anything.

***********************************

Date: Nov. 1, 1977

Patient: Brian Kinney (M)                      Age:6

Reason for Visit: Fall down stairs. (Mother states)

Attending Physician: Dr. Anders

Diagnosis: Broken ulna (R)

                  Split lip, lower

                Multiple contusions, lacerations, located mid to upper torso and back.

Medication: Tylenol, antiseptic wash. Plaster cast.

Date: Dec. 25, 1977

Patient: Brian Kinney (M)       Age:6

Reason for Visit: Fall from Bicycle (Mother states)

Attending Physician: Dr. Anders

Diagnosis: Concussion

                   Recast arm, not re-broken.

                 Splinters removed from both knees, heels of both hands

                Black eye, (L)

Medication: Tylenol after 48 hours, antiseptic wash

Date: Feb. 14, 1978

Patient: Brian Kinney (M)     Age:6

Reason for Visit: Fight at School (Mother states)

Diagnosis: Scalp laceration, four stitches

                   Fractured orbital bone, brow (L)

                   Contusions eye (L)

Date: Mar. 17, 1978

Patient: Brian Kinney (M)       Age: 6

Reason for Visit: Fell from tree (Mother states)

Diagnosis: Fractured skull (Minor)

                 Whiplash

                 Nosebleed

                Contusions, upper arms (both)

Date: Jul. 4, 1978

Patient: Brian Kinney (M)     Age: 7

Reason for Visit: unstated

Diagnosis: Severe alcohol poisoning

Aug. 1978     Fractured left foot

Sept. 1978   Fractured ribs (LOWER 3)

Nov. 1978   Dislocated shoulder (left)

                      Contusions, upper left arm and neck

Dec. 1978   Sprained ankle (right)

                     Contusions, calf and shin, right leg

Mar. 1979 Fractured lower jaw, (Left)

                    Contusions jaw (Left)

                    Laceration, jaw (Left) four stitches

Jul. 1979   Broken ribs (Lower 2) (left)

                   Black eye (left)

Dec. 1979 Concussion, unconscious

Mar. 1980 Multiple contusions/lacerations (40% body)

                     Malnourished, underweight, jaundiced

Sep. 1980 Sprained wrist (Left)

                   Dislocated thumb (Left)

Feb. 1981 Broken ulna (right)

May 1981 Broken fingers (8-3(R), 5(L))

                   Broken ribs (lower 6 (R))

                  Broken Jaw (lower (R))

                 Bruised kidneys, spleen, gall bladder

                Blunt force trauma to skull, hairline fracture cheekbone (R)

                Multiple lacerations, contusions (90% body)

                Presented in shock on admission

Jennifer couldn't read any more. Didn't want to read anymore. Prayed to God, she didn't have to read any more.

 ******************************

"Give me what you have so far" the voice on the phone said.

Dr. Anders smiled, she was straight to the point, as always.

"My best guess, long standing untreated PTSD, traumatic brain injury, excessive fight or flight reflex, sleeping and waking terrors, near disabling anxiety, uncontrollable emotional outbursts, highly addictive personality consisting of but most likely not limited to drugs and alcohol. Displays some dissociative behavior. Narcissistic, high achiever. Abused physically and/or emotionally as a young child through early adulthood. Probably a whole host of other problems I am not qualified to diagnose. He hates shrinks or anything resembling therapy. So I'm told. Resents authority, and anything close to pity. Emotionally repressed. Some paranoia and extroverted sexual prowess."

"Jesus, Anders, he sounds like the Anti-Christ. Dope him, and put him away."

"Can't do that Ladybug, I really think you can help him. Please."

A long suffering sigh in which he knew she was chewing on her lip.

"He was the victim of an assault a couple of days ago. Attempted murder."

"Shit. Is he dangerous?"

"No, I don't believe so. Just really, really needs someone on his side."

There was a full two minutes of silence, where he thought she had hung up on him followed by "This the one that got away?"

"Yep"

"Send me everything you have, I'll take a look, but no promises."

He let his grin spread and before he could thank her, she did hang up on him.

 ***************************

Justin rolled over and felt a wash of air across his groin as the blanket slipped away. Laying his arm to the side, he realized he was in the bed alone. Pushing up to his elbow he called out for Brian, thinking he was in the bathroom, but the ensuing silence spoke for itself. He dressed quickly, slipping his feet into his shoes but not bothering to tie them, he left the room.

Emmett was propped in a chair in the corner of the waiting room snoring softly. A glance to the left, showed his mother sitting on the window ledge, closing a brown folder. He only made it a few feet in her direction before he realized how upset she was. She was shivering, and on the verge of tears.

He walked faster, folding her into a hug as soon as he could reach her.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, really honey. I'll be okay." She gave him what Brian called her "brave" smile, and he knew she was anything but fine.

Justin eyed the folders, sure that whatever they contained was the source of his mother's emotional stress. He reached for the one on top, but Jennifer stopped him with a hand on his arm.

"No, Justin."

He was about to argue, but the haunted look she carried left him unable to form the words. He hugged her again, until the shivering stopped, then asked after Brian.

"I think they took him outside for a while."

Justin smiled, probably not for the fresh air.

Jennifer declined his offer of coffee and told him she needed to be alone for a little while longer, but that he needn't worry about her. He knew she wouldn't talk about it until she was ready, if ever, so he went back to Brian's room and grabbed his tattered art bag. He sat cross-legged on the floor at the coffee table in the waiting room and began to draw.

That was how Sam and Bobby found him. Engrossed as he was they took the moment to watch him work.

"Taylor." Bobby said.

Sam nodded, even if they had not seen pictures of him in the file, they would have picked him out anyway. Only someone as exuberantly in the moment could ever have a chance of holding their own with Brian Kinney for any length of time. Taylor fairly oozed openness and sex appeal.

Sam took the floor across the table from him and Bobby sat in the chair behind her. It was several moments before Justin noticed they were there.

"Sorry, I tend to get swallowed up when I find a groove." His smile was hesitant but open.

"S'all right, I understand the inclination, especially when the subject is so beautiful." Sam glanced at the sketch. "May I?"

Justin leaned back, massaging his hand as she turned the pad to look at it right side up. It was a sketch of Brian, head tilted back, eyes hooded, mouth slightly parted, the tendons in his neck standing out. Passion leapt from the page, and the viewer could easily imagine the orgasm that surely followed seconds after the snippet of time he had captured on the page.

Sam slid it back to Justin. "Mr. Taylor, my name is Sam, and this is Bobby. We would like to ask you some questions, if that would be all right."

"Sure, I don't know how much help I can be, since I wasn't here, but I'll try." Justin leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table.

"How long have you known Mr. Kinney?"

Justin grinned, "Since I was seventeen."

"Have you ever witnessed Mr. Kinney have a physical altercation, a fight? In that time?"

"Yes. My father attacked him the same year we met, hit him with the car, though I didn't see that, and Brian gave his best friend a black eye at a party. To this day I don't know what started that, but I would assume Michael said something negative about me."

Bobby took notes as Sam continued with the questions.

"Can you think of anyone that might want to harm Mr. Kinney, for any reason?"

Both investigators were nonplussed by the sheer wattage of the smile Justin hit them with.

"Most people just want to fuck him, not fuck him up. But sure, there are a lot of people that think he is an asshole for one reason or another. He doesn't appear to have a filter when it comes to his opinions, and he is not afraid to let you know exactly what he thinks in any given situation. He lives unapologetically, and he is an extremely successful gay man that doesn't even pretend to try and hide it. He has turned down plenty of people for plenty of reasons, in his business and his social life. So, yeah, I'm positive there are legions of people that don't like him."

Sam's brow furrowed, "You make it sound like no one should like him."

Justin gave them a smile that was bigger and brighter than the first.

"You can't help but like him. Because he is unapologetic, and calls bullshit when he hears it or sees it. He is loyal to a fault, and helps everyone he can, though he would deny it if confronted. He is shameless and blameless, and knows more about the people around him than they will ever be allowed to know about him. He is emotionally stunted, because to let it grow would mean he wouldn't have control. He loves me and I love him, and I wouldn't change a thing about him."

Bobby's mouth was hanging open and his pen had stalled. Sam cleared her throat and nudged his knee as she opened her briefcase.

"Would you mind looking at these mugshots and telling me if you recognize anyone?"

Justin took his time, committing each face to memory, before sliding them back and shaking his head. "Sorry, no."

Sam collected them and put them away.

"You said you were not at the fundraiser, why is that?"

Justin crossed his arms over his chest. "Brian and I had a disagreement. I went to Pittsburgh to cool off."

"It was a costume party, were you going to be his assistant, before Mr. Honeycutt?"

"No, Brian and I were going to go as the "Spy vs. Spy" characters. He was gonna be the Black and I was gonna be the White."

"Why didn't he go in the costume he already had?"

"Brian? Go as half of a duo? No way, he would consider it the epitome of tacky, though you will have to ask him to be sure." Justin chortled.

"When did you find out he had been hurt?"

"When I arrived outside of our apartment building, I was told there was an accident and I was driven here, where I learned the full extent of his injuries. I haven't left since."

"Would you know if he had any ties to a gang, or associations with gang members?"

"I would and no he doesn't."

"Has he ever physically harmed you in any way?" Justin gave her a knowing smile, pouring on the sex appeal, "Not that I haven't consented to and thoroughly enjoyed."

"Thank you, Mr. Taylor.."

"Call me Justin, please."

"Justin then, can we call you if we have more questions?" Sam rose and extended her hand, giving him her business card.

Justin took it and tucked it into the outside pocket of his bag while he nodded. "Anytime."

************************************************************************************

Lindsay stepped from the elevator and turned left. She checked the names posted next to the doors on the left side until she reached the end of the hall and turned to make her way back up the right. Still no Kinney. She passed the elevators, the nurses station, a vending alcove, then caught sight of Emmett asleep in the waiting room and two standing suits talking to Justin as he sat on the floor. She ducked back into the vending alcove, hoping she didn't have long to wait until she could get by them and into Brian's room.

 ***********************************

Noah kept their conversation light, easy, as Brian chain smoked. He was on his third cigarette, but the compulsive rubbing of his pant leg gave way to calmer hands and a more alert gaze. Marc, seeing the change, relinquished Brian, and stood the post Noah had been manning on their arrival, just outside of the wall.

"Any word on when you're getting outta here?" Noah lit a second smoke, resolving to buy another pack.

"Coupla days, maybe." The pounding headache drummed on unabated, as did the acid in his belly, but he no longer wanted to maim anyone.

"I hate hospitals. Something about the smell, I think. Not to mention the food."

Brian felt no false edges from the man, "You'd think with all the money they charge, the food would be gourmet." Another drag and a roll of the good shoulder. His skin felt too tight.

Noah's grin split his dark face. "If they had good food, no one would ever leave."

Brian cocked his head, as if to say, point taken.

"I would sell my mother's self-proclaimed, sainted soul, for a bottle of Beam right now." Brian let the sharky smile hover long enough to make Noah a true believer.

A quick check of his watch and Noah snubbed out his butt. "Time to go, you get your meds in fifteen."

***************************************

Everett couldn't find Lindsay anywhere, and how the hell had Brian known she was here? He did find Cynthia, passed out on the sofa in the grieving room they had previously used for their meeting. Everett left her, found a patient room with no occupant and appropriated the pillow and blanket from the bed. She didn't even stir as he covered her and got the pillow under her head. He figured she would be safe enough, for now, until he could get one of his plain-clothed agents to make their way to this floor and keep an eye on her while she slept.

He just finished making the call as he turned the corner and saw the investigators walking away from Justin. Time to make amends.

Everett waited for them to get closer, before offering a handshake to each. "I'd like to apologize, for Mr. Kinney. It has been a stressful few days. I hope you can understand."

Bobby spoke first. "It's not a problem, Mr. Ryker. We have seen worse, and frankly I would have been surprised had there not been a display of temper from someone used to getting his own way." Sam nodded her agreement.

Everett felt the unintended double edge of that statement, but let it slide, since neither of them had been privy to his conversation with a certain sleeping beauty.

"Was there something else I can help you with? We really were not expecting to see you again so soon."

Sam moved closer to the wall, and the two men followed. "We followed up on your missing attendant. Darren Saunders was murdered about six hours before the start of the fundraiser, ear to ear, nothing taken. No prints, or other forensic evidence other than the body. No connection we can find to any gangs affiliated with the perpetrator."

"Convenience." Everett was pissed at the sheer waste.

Sam nodded. "We are indebted to you, Mr. Ryker, for your swift actions and your efficient and thorough gathering of the evidence."

Everett waved it off, unconcerned. "I need you to keep me apprised of any new information or leads as they come about, in order for me to give Mr. Kinney the best service I can."

"I'm sure you know we can't give out details of an ongoing investigation, it could compromise any court proceedings that may come from an arrest."

Everett pulled out his wallet and removed a somewhat tattered business card, handing it to Sam as he said, "Call, he will verify my credentials, and answer any questions you have about my abilities. I am sure they will be adequate enough for the New York District Attorney's Office."

Everett strode off as Bobby looked at the card. His eyebrows shot to his hairline as he read out loud, "Gilbert Shaw, Director of the Department of Defense, Pentagon."

"Not too shabby, for a billionaire ad-man from Pittsburgh."

**********************************

Brian was ensconced in his bed, hungry after his talk of food with Noah, using his best forlorn expression to get Justin to go after something to eat.

"You could go to that Mexican place a few blocks south of here, where we fucked that hot mariachi band in the alley." Brian was not as fond of Mexican food as he was of Thai, but right now he didn't give a shit what they ate, and Justin loved food, period.

Blondie slumped his shoulders, "I don't want to go back there without you..." he kissed the tip of Brian's nose, "what if they remember us and gang up on me." He licked an earlobe. "I am too tired to handle all of them by myself." He let his forehead sink to Brian's and let out an exaggerated sigh.

Brian, not looking to be put off or denied, put on his most convincing "stepford airs" as he laid his palm over his heart, "But darling," he breathed, "you have put in such a long, hard, day." His eyes twinkled with mirth, "I pay a lot of money every month so you don't ever have to feel lonely. You should take them all with you. Enjoy yourselves. Drink lots of toasts to yours truly. Have a little fun."

Justin and his mother laughed at his antics and Everett managed to crack a smile, but was already shaking his head.

Bobby offered Sam and himself to watch over Brian while they were gone and Everett took his cue from Brian's direct stare. He handed his radio to Bobby, ran through the channels and signals they were using and collected the rest of their group to get them out of Brian's hair for a couple of hours. Brian closed his eyes in thanks, then opening them with glee when the nurse came in with the stronger pain meds Dr. Anders had ordered.

 ************************************

Lindsay heard Justin and Jennifer discussing what they should order for Brian as they waited for Everett to let his crew know where he was going to be and who they should contact if it became necessary. They ran a few checks on the comms and Everett stepped back in to make sure Brian was really okay with them leaving en masse.

It had been a good ten minutes since he had been dosed and he could see the younger man relaxing as the medication was doing its job.

"You sure about this Boss?" Everett didn't even try to hide his concern.

"She won't show til she thinks I'm alone. She's not that brave." Brian's sharky grin gave Everett goosebumps.

"Fine, I'll let Martinez and Hale know what's up. Give me your word, you'll call them if she gets to be too much."

Brian stared. It was all Everett was going to get from him.

Smiling, he indicated to the group that he was ready to go, and as he passed Noah at the turn, brushed his thumb to the backside of the second knuckle of his index finger on his left hand. Noah, melted away, message received.

 ***********************************

Brian's money and connections opened a lot of doors around town, so it had been no trouble getting the owner of the restaurant to accommodate their group in the wee hours of the morning. His name was Saul Ruiz and he recognized Justin immediately. He and Brian frequented the establishment often enough, for business purposes and socially.

Saul grouped some smaller tables together so Justin's guests could stay close to him. Justin pulled the older, portly man to the side as his friends seated themselves, and offered him his bank card, and telling him to add a fifty percent gratuity to the bill for the inconvenience.

Saul waved his hands emphatically, refusing to take the card, or even to touch it. "NO! Senor Taylor, I hear on the news Senor Kinney is in hospital."

"He is going to be alright Saul, we just got tired of the hospital food and Brian suggested your place." Justin offered the card again.

Saul made the sign of the cross in front of himself then kissed his fingertips. "So good to hear, my family prays for him." Saul pushed Justin's hand holding the card, away again. "It is blessed I am, to have him think of my restaurant. Tonight we shall celebrate! Whatever you like, is on the house!"

He made himself busy behind the bar and Justin took the open seat at the end of the table as his companions looked over the menus. I was not long before their selections were made and margaritas were flowing freely. Justin ate and watched as the tension and worry left his little group. Even his mother, who'd been wound tighter than a spring, began to ease and smile at the stories passing around the room. It wasn't long before the stories took on a theme, as they usually did, centering on Brian and his ridiculous antics. As the alcohol consumption increased, so did the sordidness of the tales being shared.

"One time, Brian was picking up Michael at the Big Q," Emmett was laughing so hard he could hardly speak as he waved his hand in the air. "It was, like, a week before Christmas," Justin groaned, he had heard this story before.

"Michael was busy with something, so he wasn't ready to leave yet, so Brian is fiddling with things, you know how he does, and he starts checking out Santa's workshop, you know where the kids go to get their pictures taken?"

Jennifer gasped, almost spewing her margarita, "NO! Tell me he didn't fuck Santa!"

Emmett, coming to the punchline, snorted while shaking his head emphatically, "Uh Uh, but he did say afterwards, and I quote, "I understand now why Santa keeps all those short guys around, they are the perfect height for giving blowjobs." In that snarky/sarcastic way of his."

Everyone laughed, certain it was one of the tamer stories, but finding it humorous just the same. The tales continued, featuring an increasingly naked Brian as the meal progressed. Justin was surprised when his mother piped in.

She was definitely buzzed as she broke into the lull, "After Justin was bashed," she sent him a loving smile, " I went to the loft, to ask Brian to take him back, to help him." She turned a bright shade of pink at the remembered embarrassment, "He opened the door completely, stark, naked. I was mortified and transfixed at the same time." Jennifer shook her head, "God! How one man can be that fucking beautiful I will never understand."

"Mom!"

"What? I can't appreciate the view? For heaven's sake Justin, I was married for twenty years and never saw as much nakedness as I have seen since the two of you got together. Besides, it's not like he's shy or anything."

Heads nodded in agreement as snickers abounded all around and Justin was mildly uncomfortable. "I know, it's just, gross, I guess, you checking him out."

"I don't check him out, as you put it, I just observe what he presents, like looking at the statues in the museum."

Justin wrinkled his nose then smiled as he grasped her hand. "He is a work of art, isn't he? Like a tragic hero from one of those epic greek sagas."

Speaking of epic heroes, "My God! Cynthia takes the cake there sweetie." All eyes turned back to Emmett, "Everett grabs me, while I'm trying to schmooze some money out of this pretentious older couple at the fundraiser, drags me outside for... well you don't want to know what I thought. Anyway, I see Cynthia at the railing, kicking off her shoes and trying to unhook the clip at the back of her dress, and she's all desperate and fixated at the same time, so I thought there was poison in her dress or something, like that movie Elizabeth? So I just, pull out my trusty pocket knife and cut the band, not wanting to get poison on me, and she strips the thing off like it's on fire. Doesn't even look at me, just climbs to the top of the railing, nothing on but panties mind you, and does a perfect swan dive. Like some sea-nymph in fairytales." Emmett sighs at the memory. "That moment, just before she was gone, was perfectly beautiful and horrifying. I was scared to death. But that was pure art."

Everyone went silent at the reminder of just how they had come to be there. The weight of what had almost happened settled like a wet cloak over their happiness.

 *****************************

Brian didn't have long to wait, Lindsay slipped into his room minutes after everyone was gone. He feigned sleep as the medication dulled the pain and she closed the door behind her. He was grateful, in that moment, that he did not need to explain himself to Everett. The man seemed to be keyed into Brian on a fundamental level, knowing what was needed of him and not requiring Brian to speak it aloud.

He smelled her first, the perfume she wore when she knew they would be alone. Deep, woodsy, unlike the florals she usually wore. She moved about the room, slowly, and he felt her eyes on him, clinging and assessing. It made his skin itch. He struggled to focus on how she felt. He didn't like to intrude on people in that way, even though he knew they were unaware, but he had to know or this wouldn't go well. He slitted his lids enough to see her. She faced away from him, looking out the window, back straight and arms crossed in front of her. He suspected the reason for the visit and it was confirmed in the lines of her back, loose and languid. She normally brought images of soft yellow haze and warmth, but now he felt slick, magenta night with gray nap. The last time she had been magenta, she had been begging him for his sperm. The rest was confusing. He wanted this over. Needed it to be over, he already had his answer from Melanie so this was, to him, just theater.

"You shouldn't be here Linds." He watched her carefully as she jerked in surprise and turned to face him. She tried to catch her breath, "Jeez, Brian, I thought you were sleeping."

"So you decided to let yourself in and make yourself at home?" He did his best to keep his tone even, but it came out sarcastic anyway.

Lindsay bristled, "I was worried about you. I needed to see you were okay." She gave him the shy smile she used to get her way.

"Not gonna work this time, Linds. I know why you're here." His voice was resigned.

"I just told you..."

Brian cut her off. "Sure, sure, you just came to see that I'm alright." He gave her the trademark leer, "Or rather, you came to see that my cock was alright."

"Brian there is no need to be crude." Brian snorted at her waspy tone, but she pressed on, "It is true, I came to see how you are doing, and...to... let you know I have decided to, uh, agree to your proposal... of another baby."

"Mmmm." Brian closed his eyes, knowing what was going to come next.

Lindsay's voice came from very near his ear, and he was disconcerted that he hadn't heard her approach. "I was so worried, when I couldn't get a hold of you. Then I heard about the accident on the radio and I got so upset at how close we came to losing you. It made me think, we should do this right away, so if something did happen, we would have another small piece of you, Gus would have a brother or sister..." She brushed a kiss over his closed lids.

Brian flinched and pulled away, fury blazing in his too bright eyes. Harsh, humorless laughter fell out of him.

"Really, Linds? You were so worried, even though Cynthia told you repeatedly that I was okay and would call you back when I wasn't busy? And you heard about the accident on the radio? That tells me you were in the car, and since that report only came out a couple of hours ago, it would seem that you were on your way here, if not already here."

Lindsay stood up, if for no other reason than to get away from his stare that always saw too much.

"As for having another, "small piece of me", that would never happen again. The child would be mine alone, and if I did manage to kick the bucket, Justin would get custody."

Lindsay gasped, tears welling, "But I thought..."

"Yeah, and I let you. Even if we weren't together, he would still get custody, unless he didn't want it, in which case it would be Jennifer."

"But Brian..." Lindsay was desperately trying to regain control of the conversation.

"No, Lindsay, she is the best mother I have ever seen. My child, my choice." Brian's temper had hit a new level and he struggled to control the viscous thoughts sliding in his brain.

"Regardless, Melanie already said no, which tells me you are here without her knowing or you are getting divorced. Either way, that is not what I wanted. I wanted my son to have two parents that love him and want to be together, the fact that you are here against Melanie's wishes only confirms that I should not have asked you in the first place or at least that I should have included her. FUCK."

Lindsay moved to step closer, to comfort, to draw him back in, and he pushed her away.

"You need to leave, Lindsay. Now." Still she hesitated, thinking she could salvage the situation somehow. Brian saw it for what it was, "I will call the cops outside to remove you if I have to."

That seemed to do the trick as she shouldered her purse and grabbed the door handle, "Peter?"

"Not anymore. Never again." He whispered.

***********************************************************************

Bobby felt some empathy for the blonde that tried to make a dignified escape from Brian's room, but Sam harbored no such feelings. The two way radio Everett had left activated in Brian's room under his bed had made them privy to the entire episode. Everett leaving it, assuming Brian would not ask for help even if he needed it, had put them in a position of eavesdropping.  It was a somewhat, uncomfortable circumstance, but one that was necessary, given the patient and the situation.

Neither of them followed her, assuming correctly that Everett would have taken care of that as well. Once she was out of sight Bobby stood and pointed to himself, silently asking if Sam wanted him to take a turn with Brian. She shook her head and handed him the radio. She removed her blazer, leaving her badge and service weapon exposed at her waist, and headed back to Brian's room.

He was flipping through channels on the muted television when she knocked then let herself in. Brian gave her a dark look at her presumption, but offered no comment. She clasped her hands, pulling them over her head, then as far behind her as possible, trying to work the kinks from her shoulders and lower back. Lowering them, she twisted from side to side, making several vertebra pop in protest.

"You come in here to show me your workout?" Brian asked flippantly as he stared at the stations whizzing by.

"Just making sure I am in top shape to take on the champ one more time."

She smirked when he let out a full belly laugh, and a smile that reached his eyes. Yeah, she could see how Lindsay would be in love with him.

Brian indicated the unforgiving chair next to the bed, but she opted for the upholstered recliner instead.

"Are you going to pick my brains again?" He had stopped channel surfing and was eyeing her warily.

"Not really. I'd just like to talk to you, get some of your observations about your friends and family. We have interviewed most of them in the last twenty-four hours or so, but I would like your take on them." She reclined the chair and almost moaned out loud when the pressure was taken from her too tired bones.

"You don't really think any of them had anything to do with this." Brian could read the response before she answered.

"No, but I would still like your input. For the file." She closed her eyes, giving him privacy to decide whether or not he wanted to respond. She almost drifted off before he said anything.

"Who do you want first?"

She kept her eyes closed and picked the one she felt he was most comfortable with. "Cynthia."

"She is loyal, hard-working and hard-hitting. No bullshit, and she will call you on it too." Brian let an affectionate smile play at his lips. "Incredibly bright and highly intelligent."

"Isn't that the same thing?" "No. She is also head over heels for my Head of Security, but hasn't realized it yet."

"That would be Everett, of the Pentagon persuasion."

Brian laughed again, "Yeah, though I didn't know it when I hired him."

"I thought you were partners."

"Yes, but mostly just financially and right now he works for me, not my company."

"I see."

"He is also head over heels for her, but he already knows she will take some convincing. She is a tough nut to crack."

"You sound like you speak from personal experience."

"You could say that, though I hope their journey is easier." Sam was sure she heard a note of wistfulness thread its way into that statement.

"Justin?"

"Hmmm" Brian's lips folded in and his nostrils flared on his next breath. "Not an easy journey."

"Tell me about him."

He couldn't help the dorky grin, really he couldn't. "He is charmingly snobbish, but unpretentious. His moods change as frequently as the weather, as do his whims. He's an idealist and a realist with a smattering of spontaneity that will keep you guessing as to which one you will get at any given time. He is fantastically talented and supremely brilliant but not smug, well... mostly not. He is addicted to the internet and the availability to get information on whatever happens to pop into his head."

"Sounds a little mercurial and high-maintenance." Sam was careful not to offend.

"Maybe, he'd probably say the same about me." Brian tilted his head back and closed his eyes, picturing Justin in his mind.

"Jennifer?" "I really didn't want to like her, in the beginning, but she just grew on me. Guess Justin had to get it from somewhere. Her job is her job, but her passion is raising her children to become good people. She's really good at it too. She pushes them to excel for themselves... expects them to live up to their own expectations. It doesn't hurt that... she's gotten really good.... at not just... listening... but... hearing." Brian's words had slowed and his breathing was getting heavier.

"And Emmett?"

Brian snorted. "Big...ass...nelly...queen..." he said it with no small amount of affection.

Sam gave him a few more minutes to allow his sleep to take hold. Slipping the remote from his hand and laying it on the rolling table by the bed, she took a moment to study the small smile still on his lips as he drifted further into his dreams, wondering all the while how he would have described himself.

****************************************************

The group that returned from the restaurant was less jovial than a mere hour ago, but considerably more upbeat than when they had left. Justin went straight for Brian's room and when Emmett followed a few minutes later with their bag of take-out, he found the blonde curled around a lightly snoring Brian in the impossibly small space left at the edge of the bed, fast asleep.

Emmett stowed the take-out in the mini-fridge.

Two peas in a pod, indeed.

***************************************************

Lara and Cynthia enlisted Marc and Noah to help them browbeat Everett into taking a nap on the couch Cynthia had vacated at dawn. He put up quite the fuss, as expected, but eventually gave in when the two men threated to knock him out the old fashioned way. He eased into sleep grumbling the whole time.

Lara checked his blood pressure before she left. It was a little high, but nothing to be overly concerned about. She spent an inordinate amount of time worrying about it lately, but hoped he would let her know if it was becoming a problem. Content that he was finally getting some rest, she let the crew know Marc was the AIC until Everett woke up on his own.

She saw Dr. Anders enter Brian's room and followed him in. Brian tipped his head at her, "Hey, Doc, long time no see."

She returned it and glanced at the doctor silently asking Brian's permission to stay. Brian didn't indicate that she should leave, so she made herself comfortable in the recliner.

Dr. Anders was making notes in Brian's chart when he said, "Well, Mr. Kinney, I think I can let you go home this evening, if you promise to take it easy for a while."

Lara could see the anxiety melt away from Brian's body as he sank a little deeper into his pillows.

"With your permission, I contacted someone I think can help you. She is not what you would call a "shrink" but she does have experience in helping with cases like yours. It is very unconventional, and I wasn't sure she would agree to do it, but she let me know a few minutes ago that she was game. Provided, of course, that you were cooperative and began a prescription regimen she recommended."

Brian really didn't like the idea of taking medication (except pain pills), but he knew he didn't have a choice if he wanted to get past the PTSD.

Taking his silence as assent, Dr. Anders continued. "I have ordered the medication, and you will fill your prescriptions before you leave here, and will begin taking them immediately. Some of them can take up to several weeks to reach maximum efficacy, so you will most likely not notice any changes right away. That is not, however, a reason to stop taking them."

Dr. Anders gave his patient the stink eye, making it clear that any behavior to that effect would be frowned upon.

Brian, in a rare moment of lucid hope, asked what had really been troubling him for days. "Is the program (he would not say therapy) successful?"

"For many, yes. For some, no. If you want more information, feel free to ask her about it when you meet. She's very open, and she won't under any circumstances, lie to you about it."

Brian figured he would give her the benefit of the doubt, for now, and reserve judgement until he actually met her.

But if she tells me to lie back on the couch, or offers to hypnotize me, it's game over.

True to his word, Anders had the release papers ready by seven that evening. Jennifer filled his prescriptions and Lara went over the doctor's chart on Brian and made a copy to keep on hand. Everett's crew had yet to find out where the leak of Brian's stay had come from, prompting him to suggest diversionary tactics with the press.

It was decided that Brian would give a statement, from the grieving room, and then leave immediately for Emmett's hideaway. The problem, the biggest one anyway, was Justin. He and Brian had been secluded in Brian's room for the last fifteen minutes shouting down the rafters.

No one was brave enough to interrupt that shit, so they sat around the waiting room, trying to pretend they weren't listening to every word.

It was when the room fell eerily silent, that they all began to worry.

*************************************************************************************

Justin was raking a hand through his hair, hand on hip, and pacing the floor as Brian watched him from the bed.

"I won't do it." Justin's hand balled to a fist. "We were supposed to have more time."

Brian understood the frustration. But in the end he knew, once Justin got over his hurt feelings, he would recognize the necessity for the plan Everett had put into place for Brian's safety.

"It is not a choice." Brian didn't want them to part ways on a fight, but if Justin wasn't going to cooperate then there was no choice but to exclude him and have him removed.

"Why can't I go with you?" Justin moved to sit cross-legged on the end of the bed.

Brian's voice was soft, "You know why, we already went over it. You are the best diversion. If this is going to work, it has to be you."

Justin sounded defeated, and Brian knew he would do it even before he said so. "Fine. In two hours you will give your little speech and I'll stand next to you like a good little husband. But for the next hour you are mine. No excuses." The last was said as he leaned over Brian, kissing his mouth and pressing him back into the pillows on the narrow bed.

Brian closed his eyes, not happy with having to part from him, but content that their parting would be on good terms.

Judging from the gleam in Justin's eye, better than good terms. Brian was smirking when moist lips met his neck and he tipped his head back to give Justin better access, letting a sigh slip in the process. Justin moaned softly against his skin and Brian felt the vibrations race straight to his cock.

Justin was already stroking Brian's erection with his right hand as he was pushing the robe off Brian's shoulders with his left. Brian leaned up slightly and captured Justin's mouth with his own, licking his way into the heat, as Justin unbuttoned his own shirt and pulled it off. Brian clasped his hand around the back of Justin's neck as he heard the rasp of a zipper. Justin squirmed on his lap, trying to pull away but Brian held him tight, thrusting his tongue into Justin's mouth the way he wanted to thrust into his ass.

Justin gripped his forearm; prying Brian's hand away so he could stand, block the door with the chair and strip off his jeans. Brian's tongue snaked out to lick his lips as Justin took his time coming back to the bed, making sure Brian got an eyeful of him jerking his own cock on the way.

"Naughty boy, Sunshine." Brian rubbed his own chest, wanting the twink in his lap and begging. The image brought forth a plethora of memories to choose from and Brian's brain, what was left of it anyway, latched onto the one of Justin riding him like a bronco bull.

Justin watched as Brian's attention drifted for a few seconds, and pure lust filled his eyes as they darkened to brown and his pupils blew wide. Grabbing a condom and the small bottle of lube they kept in the box, Justin set them on the rolling table and pulled it near the bed, Brian watching his every move.

"What were you thinking, just now?" Justin captured his bottom lip with his teeth and Brian's eyes were immediately drawn to it.

Justin straddled Brian's hips again, peppering his face with little pecking kisses. "Tell me." He brushed his hands down Brian's ribcage, careful to avoid the bandage over his new stitches.

Brian gave him a wicked grin as he grabbed the lube and squirted a healthy blob into Justin's waiting palm, before setting it back on the table. In deference to Brian only having one hand available, Justin began preparing himself as Brian tore open the condom with his teeth and rolled it on.

Bringing his mouth close to Justin's ear, and clasping his neck, he breathed, "Do you remember the fuck we had when you were trying to get me to sponsor you for the Liberty Ride?"

Justin had just managed to slip a second finger into his ass as he was assaulted with the memory Brian's words pulled forth. He moaned as he tried to turn his head, but Brian kept him still, as he kept describing that memory.

"You were so fucking hot, I didn't think I would last."

Justin used a third finger. Letting a small whimper pass his lips.

"You were so fucking determined I was going to come before you did."

Justin did remember, very clearly, as he slid himself slowly down Brian's cock.

Brian groaned, low in his throat, when Justin was fully seated.

"Is that what you want Brian?"

"Yes."

Justin was rocking his pelvis, using the motion and his clenched ass to tug Brian's dick inside of him.

"You want me to ride you hard? You want to just lie there and take it?"

Justin grabbed Brian's hand and laced their fingers together, transferring the remainder of the lube in his palm. Brian smeared it on Justin's cock by making a tight ring with his thumb and index finger at the base and dragging it tortuously to the head, then grasping it with the rest of his hand and jerking it in swift, twisting, pulls.

"Yes. I want to see you covered in sweat before you're done. I want you to fuck yourself on my dick while I jerk you off."

Justin had already begun to raise and lower himself over Brian's hips, but hearing him talk about that night made him even hornier, more desperate and he sped up the pace.

Brian laid all the way back in the bed, confident he had fired up his partner for a wild ride, and thanking the powers that be he was no longer on the heart monitor. Justin got enough satisfaction from knowing he could hold his own, he did not need to hear the beep of the machine increasing as Brian's heart beat raced.

Justin grabbed at the safety railings of the bed, to keep as much of his weight off Brian as possible, only allowing it to fall on Brian's hips, and giving him better leverage to twist his pelvis and grind it into Brian's groin.

"Harder." Brian hissed between clenched teeth.

He threw his head back, arching his spine as Justin rode him every bit as hard as that long ago night, urging Brian to higher and higher peaks, making him emit those wonderful, gaspgroanhums of pleasure that hit all the right chords within his heart.

He pushed the pace even harder when Brian's stroking lost its rhythm and became extra tight and erratic.  Sweat dripped into his eyes, but he continued to watch Brian, until his mouth opened on a silent shout and Justin felt Brian's balls draw up and the familiar tingling hit the base of his own spine. He impaled himself three more times, making sure to hit his prostate on each thrust and let his orgasm take him over the edge, Brian following seconds later.

****************************************

Emmett had done his best to make Brian as presentable as possible for his short sound byte for the press. Looking at him now, Emmett figured the cosmetics that hid his pallor were not even noticeable under the camera lights. Freshly shaven he still seemed a bit hollow-cheeked, but his hair was perfectly styled and he was wearing a Prada dress shirt in a golden tan paired with dark brown Armani slacks, over all of which he had on a long, tan, Mohair dress coat.

Brian sat in the corner of the sofa with his injured left arm splayed along the back and his legs crossed, giving him a casual pose, while completely hiding the injury and soft cast. On the coffee table, were his briefcase, a glass of water, and a vintage Fedora. Justin sat on Brian's left, further concealing the injury and Cynthia took the remaining seat on the sofa while Everett hovered at Brian's right.

When the reporters were allowed in, the room became incredibly crammed as they all jockeyed for the best camera angles. Brian didn't even wait for them to settle before making his statement.

"As you can see, the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated."

Justin grinned and Cynthia had all she could do, not to roll her eyes.

"It has been reported, that I suffered severe injuries during my stay aboard the Crown Princess, and I am here to tell you that is not the case."

Brian gave the news people a mischievous look, "I was having a great time at the party, had a little too much of some very expensive champagne, and had a little mishap. There was a bit of overreacting, and here I am, no worse for wear, and wanting to go home." He made it all seem a drunken stumble as he donned the hat.

The three of them stood then, Everett leading the way as they walked out the door and Security Force personnel kept all the reporters in the room until they made it onto the elevator. In the corner stood a fellow with a long black coat buttoned to the top and a Steelers cap over longish dark hair. When they stepped in and the doors closed, there was an immediate rush to switch coats, and Brian's Fedora was traded for the Steelers cap with the wig attached. Cynthia was fastening the top button on the dark coat Brian was now wearing as he adjusted the way it laid.

"Shit!" Justin squawked, as he caught a glimpse of Brian's shell bracelet. He reached out to remove it and Brian shied away. "You have to give it up. It's a dead give away, Brian." They were running out of time.

Everett nodded when Brian turned his way, finally letting Justin take it off his arm and twine it around his double's wrist as the doors were opening.

The stunt double, hat pulled low over his brow, stepped out with Cynthia and Everett right behind and Justin holding his hand. A dark sedan was waiting for them in the drop off lane outside the hospital doors and the little group made a beeline for the open doors of the vehicle, ignoring the persistent questioning of the reporters that had not been allowed in the building.

Brian had turned right, when he exited the elevator, keeping his head tucked slightly, allowing the wig to conceal the side of his face and the bill of the cap to cast dark shadows over his features. As he was passing the restrooms, the door opened, spilling Lara and Noah into the hall on either side of him as they escorted him to an emergency exit and trundled him into a non-descript cheap rental car.

**********************************************************

"Brian."

"Brian you have to wake up."

"It's time for your medication."

I struggle to find the surface of my dreaming when I hear Emmett's voice. Not because I want to see him, but because, now that he has mentioned it, my shoulder feels like ice picks are being jabbed in it, digging into the joint and scraping at the muscle.

I tilt my head toward his voice, but I can't open my eyes yet. There is a terrible rocking vibration that chatters through my body, sending off waves of pain that ripple across my injuries and light fireworks in my brain.

Gotta wake up. Gotta get the drugs. Gotta make the pain go away.

*************************************************************************************

Emmett stood in the aisle, leaning over Brian, as his friend tried valiantly to wake up, but the stress of the previous days, and the incessant pain, was keeping him under a veil of semi-consciousness. Brian did open his eyes and focus them enough for Emmett to see that Brian recognized him and was trying to stay awake.

Marc helped Emmett get Brian to a standing position, his good arm draped over Emmett's shoulders and Emmett's arm wrapped around Brian's waist, as he led him to the restroom. Lara dug through the bag under her seat and fished out several pill bottles and began to prepare Brian's meds. Noah retrieved some pretzels and an apple from Emmett's carry on and sliced the fruit into a small disposable bowl. Everything was ready when the two men returned to their seats. Brian glaring, as Emmett praised him for going to the bathroom "like such a Big Boy."

"Now, you sit down here, and we will get you all fixed up and then you can go back to your nap." Emmett fussed with a throw over Brian's lap, and set the food handed to him on the tray that folded down from the back of the seat in front of him. Grabbing a bottle of water, he untwisted the cap and placed it near Brian's right hand on the table as Brian munched and shot glaring looks at his companions for treating him like an invalid. Emmett was oblivious, but the rest of them quickly found something else to do.

After a few pretzels and most of the apple, Brian swallowed his pills, and indicated that Emmett could take the rest of it away, as he leaned his seat back and swiftly fell into the arms of sleep.

Once he was asleep for about thirty minutes, they all gathered at the end of the railcar.

"Did he say anything?" Marc asked Emmett.

"No, I kept him distracted. I am not even sure he realizes he's on a train yet."

Lara interrupted, "I still don't see what the big deal is."

Emmett gave her a sarcastically sad smile and patted her cheek, "Sweetie, Brian is a city boy through and through. If he had one inkling of where we are going, he'd jump off this train, broken bones be damned, and run screaming back to New York. I can't say Mississippi will be singin' Dixie when they get a load of him either."