Chapter 13

He could only stare, horrified...

J.M. Barrie

Justin was on a roll, broad slashing strokes of his brush left bright swatches of color on the oversized canvas he had been working on since Molly's call. She had been concerned for Brian, sure, but her concern for Justin eclipsed it on a grand scale. She had told him that she feared Brian's attack and subsequent hospital stay would re-ignite Justin's old trauma. Sometimes he had to remind himself how young she had been when he was bashed, and then tell himself she was no longer a child and deserved an honest expression of his feelings. They had grown much closer over the last two years, so he was comfortable sharing how he felt with her.

He felt lighter than he had in days after talking to her. It was evident in the painting he was currently working on. He knew, on a gut level, that it would be one of his best pieces and decided to hold onto it until he had another solo show, and not a group feature, in one of the better galleries. He switched to an ultra fine brush and carefully lay in the hair thin lines of cobalt blue to finish it off and quickly moved to an easel with a canvas already started.

It was a nude. Taken directly from Justin's memories the last night he and Brian had before Justin first came to New York. Brian was naked, splayed cross-wise on their bed, facedown and arms curled up around the pillow under his head. Justin had thought, looking at him, that he would forever marvel at the long lean lines of Brian's body. He had wanted to do this painting for a while, but only worked on it in between other projects. He studied it now, noting how he had captured the cowlick on the left of Brian's nape and the way his skin had glowed golden, his latent musculature evident but not pronounced. He was a man completely confident in his nakedness and comfortable in his own skin. The portrait teased the viewer with only a partial profile of his face, hinting at the firm line of jaw and barely a corner of parted lips.

No broad or abstract strokes for this painting. Justin took his time making sure each detail was perfect. As soon as his hand started to tighten up, he stopped working on it. It was why it was taking so long to finish. He only worked on it when he was in complete control and his hand was in good shape.

Stepping back, rubbing the big muscle at the base of his thumb, he gathered his brushes and carried them to the sink for cleaning.

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Cynthia traversed the bowels of the station until she came to Everett's command center door. It was open and she could see him sitting at the console eyeing all of the various feeds and smoking what she smelled was a clove cigarette. His back was to her so she leaned on the jamb, watching him work. Every few minutes he would type a command into the computer and a different set of feeds would present on the monitors.

She was not sure how she felt about him yet, other than wanting him in her bed. She was not much older than Lara, and Everett was old enough to be her father. Not that it bothered her; she had slept with men even older. With Everett, something was different. She could not point to anything directly, but it was keeping her from sleeping with him. They had made out, she even went so far as to jerk him off on the ship, and she certainly wanted to fuck him. She couldn't think of him without images of their coupling intruding. He wasn't pushing for it or alluding to it, so why was she all of a sudden almost obsessed with the idea and unwilling to just go for it?

She was so lost in her musings, she hadn't noticed he had snubbed out his cigarette and turned to face her. He used those brief moments to study her. She was obviously deep in thought, and though it was most probably about Brian's situation, he really didn't think that was it. Something about her posture, her arms crossed at her waist, lent an air of vulnerability he had never seen her carry before. She appeared far younger than her thirty-one years. Normally people assumed she was much older, given her penchant for single-handedly running million dollar business deals and corralling not one, but two corporate offices full of underlings needing direction. Not to mention the fact that she had at least one finger in every single one of Brian's business pies. A lot could be said about anyone capable of keeping up with Brian, but Cynthia was in a league of her own. Not only did she keep up, but he relied on her, respected her, and most of all trusted her with everything they had built. Cynthia was more capable than most of the upper echelons of military commanders Everett had worked with. She was well versed in her craft, was very insightful, intuitive, funny, and ready to go for the jugular if necessary. She had nearly instant recall of just about everything she read or observed which made her a very dangerous adversary when she was crossed.

For all of those reasons he was attracted to her, but seeing that hint of insecurity, as she leaned in the doorway, cinched tight the rope she had on his heart. He knew that he would remember that instant as the tipping point. The moment he fell in Love with her.

She finally noticed him watching her, dropped her arms and stood up straight, looked him dead in the eye and entered the room, closing the door behind her.

Yep, Love with a capital L.

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Emmett convinced Marc to borrow Noah's sport coat and pretend to be his assistant while they shopped for another vehicle. Marc was not convinced, however, that Emmett would be able to procure one at almost seven-thirty at night.

The two of them had been walking around the used car lot for barely four minutes when the young sales man came out from the offices and introduced himself.

Emmett cut him off before he could launch into a sales pitch. "I will give you eight thousand for the Dodge Ram Quad Cab on the back of your lot over there." Emmett pointed and Marc grimaced at the giant yellow beast.

"Well, sir, the price on that particular truck is twelve thousand, but since I was just about to lock up and head home for my dinner, we can settle on ten and finish the paperwork in less time than it takes a rattler to strike." He plastered a big toothy smile on his face.

Marc was still trying to process the color when he heard Emmett say, "My assistant here, would probably say that would be a fair deal, but you and I know better. I will bet when you took over this lot, likely from your daddy, you thought you could bring in new hipper and younger buyers by offering something so different, so cool." Emmett raised a brow, "But no one around these parts wanted to drive anything sooo unmanly as a yellow truck with a black hard top shell so it's been sitting there since you got it and your daddy has never let you live it down. I'll bet it has never even been test driven."

The sales man turned a florid shade of red and shifted from one foot to the other.

"So here is the deal, I give you eight thousand cash. You and my assistant go inside and you get him started on the paperwork. You bring me the keys and I drive it around the lot making sure all is as it should be until the paperwork is finished, at which time you will cheerfully wave us goodbye, go home to your dinner, and quit being the butt of jokes from your father. All in less time than it takes a rattler to strike, hmmm"

Wavering in indecision for less than two seconds, the sales man indicated for Marc to follow him inside.

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By nine thirty they were back at the hotel after stopping for gas and finding out that the mattress store was already closed. Marc used his key to open the door and preceded Emmett into the room where he stopped abruptly, causing Emmett to squeak in surprise and peek around the man's beefy shoulder.

"Of all the, what the hell happened in here?" Emmett surveyed the room. All three of them were passed out in what appeared to be weed and junk food comas. Noah sat at the end of the coffee table, head on the surface and drool leaking from his open mouth as he snored. Lara was draped haphazardly sideways in the club chair, fingertips and lips covered in Cheetos residue, and Brian was face down on the sofa, arm trailing to the floor with what appeared to be Gummy Bears stuck in the back of his hair. The entire area was littered with empty wrappers, soda and beer cans, and crumbs. Lots and lots of crumbs.

"Fuck it." Emmett shook his head, giving Marc a no-nonsense face. "I did my part today, this is on you. I'm going to bed." He left Marc standing there, unsure if he should try to wake everyone and send them to bed. Marc took a page from Emmett's book and left them to sleep it off and commandeered Brian's room.

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The next morning the only ones interested in eating breakfast were Marc and Emmett. Everyone else made a concerted effort to stay away from the table as they tried to set the room to rights. Brian gave up after only a few minutes due to the pain in his shoulder and disappeared under the guise of needing a shower. Lara silently followed after him with a glass of water and the satchel holding his meds.

Marc and Emmett shared amused looks as they ate figuring having to clean up their mess was punishment enough. Noah ventured to the table briefly, to make three cups of black coffee, holding his breath the whole time in an effort not to vomit. As soon as he accomplished it, he too took off for Brian's room.

"Good to see they are banding together." Marc offered around a biscuit slathered with honey.

Emmett nodded as he chewed a bite of ham steak. After swallowing he asked, "Dare we leave them here alone again, while we pick up the mattresses?"

Marc chuckled, "I think they will be all right in a couple of hours. Any other stores we need to hit while we are out?"

"No, we can have them meet us downstairs and pick them up on the way out of town if you want. I can drive the truck and you can follow in the Suburban."

Marc finished his orange juice. "Sounds like a plan, Skipper."

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Brian adamantly refused to ride in the "banana-mobile" no matter how long Emmett extolled its luxurious interior and expensive upgrades. He shoved both of his young companions in the direction of the truck then climbed into the front seat of the Suburban and locked the doors before either one could recover enough to try for the back seat.

They hit Interstate 55 South and within forty minutes passed a sign for Hazlehurst, population 4200. Brian groaned, but they didn't stop there. Just south of Brookhaven, population 10103, they turned onto a state highway headed west. Driving straight through Lucien, population unknown, Brian was getting discouraged. The towns were getting smaller and more ramshackle the longer they travelled. They passed many buildings that had been left to the elements he was sure a strong wind could knock over. They cruised down the main drag of Quentin, there were only two traffic lights, and made a right onto a dirt road at the city limits, heading north into Homochitto National Park. The dirt road tapered away to nothing more than a grassy lane between towering trees, and Marc hoped he would never have to drive it at more than a crawl after it got dark. One and a half miles later, the trees opened into a full acre sized clearing, in the center of which stood a giant log cabin. Strike that, it was a lodge. Bigger than any of them had anticipated and certainly more accommodating than the surrounding towns had indicated.

They had all expected something barely a step above camping, but this could easily be a tourist destination. Two stories of old weathered hand cut logs and large double paned windows. It was evidently well cared for and the grounds maintained. They were barely an hour and a half from Jackson, and this place was in the middle of nowhere. Brian would not have been more surprised if he had found a five star hotel in the middle of the Sahara, and the knowledge that he wouldn't be bathing in the river went a long way in assuaging his bad feelings about not being in Tahiti.

As they climbed out of the vehicles, Lara whistled appreciatively and Noah's face split into a wide grin. Emmett pushed his Eyeconics sunglasses to the top of his head as he rounded the back of the truck and joined the group now gaping at the building. Brian threw his arm around Emmett's shoulders, saying with no small amount of awe, "I gotta hand it to you Honeycutt; this is the absolute last thing I was expecting." Brian gave him a dramatic exaggerated buss on the cheek and headed for the deep, wrap-around porch, plunking himself into the double seater wooden-slatted swing on the far right.

Emmett clapped his hands in two sharp slaps, "Time's a wastin', lets get the gear inside and I'll give ya'll the grand tour."

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After ten minutes of watching the others wrestling the mattresses into the building, Brian got bored and wandered around the back of the lodge. As he rounded the last corner, a good-sized barn and two smaller outbuildings came into view. He went to the barn first, as it was closest, and slid through the partially open door.

He was immediately assailed by the smell of large animals, or rather the byproducts of large animals. Underlying that was the scent of fresh hay. The left side of the barn was partitioned into six stalls. The first three occupied by horses, the next two held cows, and the last a small assortment of goats. The opposite wall contained what appeared to be some kind of medical station, and great big stacks of hay bales.

Back outside, he checked out the next nearest building, which turned out to be nothing more than a giant chicken coop he did not enter due to the nose-hair-curling aroma of ammonia. Giving it a wide berth, sidestepping the chickens milling around his feet, he was intrigued by the last building. It sat on the edge of the clearing as it backed to the woods, causing Brian to wonder what kind of farm animal could be housed within. It seemed to be a miniature replica of the lodge and had a human size doorway with no door hanging in the jamb. It was roughly twenty feet long, fifteen feet wide, and twelve feet tall. It even boasted its own glass windows. Brian figured it to be a child's playhouse and thought he would check it out to see if Gus and Jenny would like one.

He got no closer than thirty feet when a snarling growl sent icy fear racing down his spine. He stopped, looking around for the culprit, but couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. He took two more strides, carefully watching the woods, and completely missed the yellow eyes staring at him from the door. He glanced behind, to make sure nothing was sneaking up on him, then whipped his head back around as he heard heavy paws strike the earth and coming towards him.

He was rooted, unable to move, as a hairy black bear charged him. Brian stepped back, tried to turn, tripped on god knows what, and ended up flat on his back with a hairy paw planted on either side of his shoulders and a snarling, tooth-baring maw dripping strings of saliva and hot breath inches above his face. Not sure if he should take comfort in the fact that he had yet to be bitten, he took a better look at the creature, realizing it was some kind of dog and not a bear.

What had Caesar Milan said? Oh yeah, show them you are the pack leader.

RIIIIIGHT.

Show a snarling mass of giant canine aggression who's boss.

Here goes nothing. Hope they don't put "Eaten by dog" on my headstone.

Brian made sure to make no eye contact as he rolled to his good side, nudging the dog in the process, and stood up. He struck his most confident pose and told the dog to "sit" in a firm voice. The animal eyed him warily and sniffed the air, but had ceased growling. He made a couple of circuits around Brian's legs as the human ignored him then nudged his snout into Brian's palm as it hung by his hip.

Brian did his best to stay still as the dog checked him out, only slightly startled when a wet and slobbery muzzle pushed into his hand. Brian didn't move as the dog advanced, effectively causing Brian's hand to run from the top of its massive head, down the long back, and ending with what seemed to be a full yard of tail.

The beast's ears pricked up, head swiveling in the direction of the forest, body going stone still. A shrill whistle pierced the air and the dog took off running, followed by another taller and less hairy behemoth from what Brian now knew was a big dog house.

Within seconds they were bounding playfully around a human in jeans and flannel, wearing an oversized straw hat and carrying a rifle. As the group approached, Brian assumed the gun-toting person to be the caretaker of the lodge and stuck out a hand in greeting, belatedly noting it was still covered in slobber. Quickly wiping it on his jeans he proffered the hand again, caught off guard as he stared into eyes exactly like Emmett's. Except, this wasn't Emmett. This was a woman that could take first place in a Kathy Bates look-alike contest. She was obviously amused by Brian's run-in with the dog, but shook his hand and politely refrained from commenting on it.

She gave him the once-over, noting the cast, "You must be the Great Mr. Kinney."

Brian was still trying to come up with something to say, that didn't revolve around her appearance, and settled for giving her a charming smile.

"Yep," she said matter of factly, bracing the rifle on her shoulder and absently rubbing the beast's head, "that smile announces you better than anything. It's exactly as Emmett described it. Come on up to the house, I'll get ya'll settled, then we'll have a bite to eat and give you the rules."

Brian had to double-time it to catch up with her as she rounded the building and headed for the big front door.

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Molly knew what she did was wrong, but she also knew that if she didn't find out all she could, she would never sleep. Worry would eat at her insides until she had the truth. Worry for Brian's well-being and ultimately the consequences it would have on Justin. Her brother was one of the few people that treated her like an adult. He didn't automatically dismiss her feelings as teenaged angst or whimsical musings. She often felt, because he had been so sure of himself at her age, that he was the only one capable of seeing any worth in a sixteen year old girl. He listened, like she was important, like her opinions mattered to him. She reminded herself of all of this as she snuck back into the dining room and retrieved her mother's tote bag. She rationalized it as protecting both Brian and Justin as she carried to her room and dumped the contents on her bed. Even when she realized that it was all medical documents, the tattered brown folder beckoned her with secrets. Was all of this what had put that forlorn expression on her mother's face? How much trouble would she be in if she was found out?

It didn't matter. She wanted to help, and the adults were shutting her out. Oh they were giving her what they thought were sufficient answers, but to her, they were telling her she was too young to be able to do anything to help.

A little angry, and very curious, she opened the brown folder first. It was a bit hard to tell what she was looking at, but by the fifth page she had figured out the medical shorthand and realized she was looking at a history of abuse. Nearly every entry was accompanied by some lame excuse of an accident given by a parent that by 2007 were tiresome clichés.

The second, newer folder was filled with Brian's medical history after he turned fourteen. The abuse had become more sporadic and the few times the parent/guardian line had been filled listed Debbie, or later on, Vic.

The third file she went through was Brian's Medical Power of Attorney, listing her mother as the designee.

The fourth was Brian's medical history after he turned twenty-two. No more abuse, but a case of crabs, bi-annual checkups, testicular cancer, and syphilis, followed by his most recent hospital stay.

By the time the sky was streaking with the gray of pre-dawn, Molly had read everything and returned the tote to the dining room. She lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering if it had been worth the risk, and what, if anything, she could do to help.

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Cynthia was a little pissed and a lot frustrated as she sat at Brian's desk trying to get some work done. Her thoughts drifted, again, to last night's encounter with Everett. She had decided, while watching him, to fuck him then and there and hopefully get him out of her system, but when she approached him, making clear her intent, he had brushed her off. Sure he had been polite, apologetic, and even seemed to regret the decision, but he held firm, citing work he had to do and returned to watching his monitors.

The frustration was definitely of the sexual persuasion and the anger, at being rebuffed. Cynthia was not used to not getting her way with men. They were fairly easy pickings and the ones that weren't usually didn't take long to cave, once she put effort into it.

Everett was the first to say no, and stick to it, the bastard. It would be a cold day in hell before she came onto him again.

It was only one in the afternoon, but she poured herself a shot from Brian's private stash and returned to checking emails and following up with clients.

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Marc and Noah were putting the last new mattress in place as Emmett came into the room with sheets. The three of them had the bed made in less than five minutes and Emmett took Brian's toweling from his duffel and hung it in the adjacent bathroom.

"I don't understand why he gets the big bedroom all by himself." Noah said.

Emmett came back and cocked a hip, "Trust me, you will be grateful. Brian doesn't like people in his space when he wants to be alone. Plus, this room is the closest in size to his bedroom at home and the bathroom is on the same side. I am hoping that this, coupled with his own sheets and towels, will make the transition a little easier for him. I also made sure to get the food that he likes and his music preferences programmed into the player over there."

Marc and Noah shot each other looks that said Emmett was crazy, but kept their mouths shut.

Lara wandered in, glanced at all three men, and took off down the stairs with Marc on her heels. Emmett thought their behavior disturbed and sent a questioning look at Noah who shrugged and said "If we are all up here, no one has eyes on Brian."

They raced out of the room when a female voice started yelling, "Don't shoot, don't shoot, it's just my dog!"

They hit the bottom of the steps to see Marc; pistol braced in both hands and pointed at a snarling black dog the size of a small horse. Every time Lara tried to step around him, he would shift, effectively keeping his body between her and the dog. Brian and an older woman were standing just inside the door. Lara had seen the dog accompany them, but Marc had not and determined the dog a threat. She appreciated his protective stance on her behalf, but was capable of taking care of herself, and irritated that he had yet to holster his gun, even after finding out it was just a dog. She made to step around him again; he moved to step in front of her, so she planted her hands on his shoulders from behind and licked his ear, getting him to focus his attention on her. His hands dropped marginally and she used his shock against him by shoving her knee into the back of his and pulling with her hands until he was overbalanced and hit the floor flat on his back. The look of surprise on his face was barely visible before the dog took advantage of the situation and planted its forepaws on his chest and licked the shit out of his face smearing great globs of slimy drool everywhere he could reach. Marc tried to shove the dog away but it was like trying to move a wriggling mountain since the dog weighed as much as he did and had the upper hand by being on top.

Brian's hoots of laughter filled the room until Emmett figured Marc had had enough and said, "You can call him off now Aunt Lulah, or I will have to explain how Everett's best agent drowned in slobber. I don't think he would be happy with me, losing a man on our first day here."

Lulah grinned, showing a gap in her front teeth, then let out a short, sharp whistle and the dog went bounding back outside, nearly knocking Brian flat with a swipe of his tail on the way out.

Emmett hurried to her side and hugged her for all he was worth. She kissed both of his cheeks and framing his face with her hands, took a good long look into his eyes. Nodding once, she let go and offered a helping hand to Marc as he struggled to regain his feet.

Once upright, he did his best to regain his composure as drool slid down his neck and introduced their motley crew and thanked her for the use of her home. She waved it all away as if it was of no consequence and leaned the rifle on the wall next to the door indicating they should all follow her to the kitchen.

She pointed to the table, where they all took a seat, and she pulled a platter of sandwiches from the ice box and bags of chips from the countertop. Placing it all in the middle of the table, she sat in the only empty chair and laid it on the line while they ate and Marc did his best to clean off the drool with a paper napkin.

"My name is Lulah. You can call me Auntie, Aunt Lulah, just Lulah, Ma'am, Your Highness, or anything else you like so long as it is not disrespectful. You will comport yourselves as adults, though you all seem a tad young, and you will clean up after yourselves. I am not a maid, nor am I your mother. I don't tolerate backtalk and you can expect a whuppin' if I deem it necessary. You will all help with the chores and make yourselves useful while you are here. Do I make myself clear?"

Most everyone wore an amused expression at her treating them like children, until she gave them each a pointed look, making sure they knew she was dead serious and the expressions changed to shock. She sat silently, hands folded on the table until she heard a "yes ma'am" from every occupant.

"Good." She nodded her head, grabbed a sandwich, and toting the rifle again, sauntered out the door.

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Justin rode with Fake Brian, as he had come to think of him, Everett, and Cynthia to the airport. The ruse, as Everett had planned it would be to fly to Montana where Remson Pharmaceuticals had a manufacturing plant, and stage a lover's spat and come back to New York, leaving Everett, Cynthia, and Fake Brian to attend a plant tour followed by two weeks of "meetings". The dreadfully cold weather would allow Fake Brian to wear heavy clothing and conceal most of his head in hats, scarves and assorted winter headgear when in front of any cameras or news people.

The trip itself had been tipped to the press to make sure that whomever was after Brian would have the opportunity to follow in their wake, drawing some of the danger away from friends and family, and hopefully give Everett a chance to snare a bad guy that would lead to whomever set the hitman on Brian in the first place.

Justin was just grateful to have Fake Brian out of the apartment so he could relax and get a chance to think in privacy about his next course of action. He knew Brian would have a fit if he left New York and the security that Everett's team offered, so whatever came next had to be local. He had a small show, only six pieces, at the Dimot Gallery the following Tuesday, but after that there was nothing pressing until the end of January. He had purposely not committed to anything for the holidays, hoping to spend the time with Brian and their extended family. Justin held onto the hope that the situation would be rectified by then and his holiday plans would not be ruined.

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Molly paced inside her room, turning down breakfast, and making herself a nervous wreck. Her first impulse was to pick up the phone and call Justin to talk to him of her discovery, but on the off chance that he didn't know, she didn't want to be the one to tell him. Justin sometimes had the penchant of shooting the messenger. Sure, he always apologized after calming down, but being in a state of distress herself, left her in no way capable of handling a Queen-Out.

Mulling it over and over, she finally came to the conclusion that she would steer a conversation in that direction, maybe suss-out how much her brother knew, then tell him about the files.

Feeling her nerves begin to settle, Molly lay on the bed, drifting into a nap.

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Ted made himself at home in Brian's old office in Pittsburgh. He spent an hour or so arranging his things in the desk to his liking and checking up on current accounts and his email. He noted the one from Michael and jotted himself a note to send a reply before leaving for the night.

There was a knock on the door and Ted looked up to see Carl on the other side of the glass. Waving him in as he stood, Ted offered him something to drink before sitting back down.

"I just came to tell you that Everett has been giving me updates, and I have let Debbie know that what she knows has to stay between us. She doesn't even know that you are in the loop. I figure that should cut down on any slip ups."

Ted nodded, relaxing, now that he didn't have to be the one to tell her. He did, however, give Carl a questioning stare.

"Don't worry, I fed the accident story to Michael, and for now he seems content with that."

Ted stood and grabbed two Pepsi's from the mini fridge and handed one off to Carl as he said, "I got an email from him a couple hours ago, that I haven't responded to yet. He said he had something really important to tell me, but he wanted to do it face to face. Any idea what it is?"

Carl cleared his throat, he didn't want to spread gossip, but it seemed Michael was going to do it anyway, so figured it was better for everyone if Ted went into the conversation forewarned.

"He is probably going to tell you that Brian asked Lindsay to have a baby for him, but you didn't hear that from me. But, to my way of thinking, so long as he has that bone to chew on, along with the accident story, maybe we will get a little more time before he learns the rest."

Ted, realizing he was off the hook, for the time being, nodded his head vigorously while telling Carl he would do everything he could to keep it that way.

"One more thing," Carl said, "Lindsay was in New York. I don't have the details as yet, but the story is it didn't end well. You might want to keep on the lookout for bad feelings from that sector."

Ted's eyebrows nearly hit his receding hairline at that, but Carl offered no more on the subject before tossing his empty can and letting Ted know he would keep in touch as he left.

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Justin fulfilled his role in their little drama by shouting breakup garbage at Fake Brian directly in front of the doors of the airport bar, guaranteeing that someone with a camera would take video or stills and sell them to the nearest tabloid rag. For scene two, he stomped back to the tarmac and re-boarded the plane before it was even refueled. Sinking into the plush seat, he smiled to himself. All three of his babysitters were gone. It was time to get his ass in gear.

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Brian spent most of his first day at the Lodge, cleaning the bric-a-brac from his room and getting Emmett to help him rearrange the few pieces of furniture he allowed to stay. Among them were the bed, a nightstand on either side, a small desk under the window, and a highboy dresser with six drawers on top of which perched the small television. The small closet held the duffel and his shoes.

"I am definitely going to need more clothes. Is there an internet connection for my laptop?" Brian asked Emmett from his supine position on the bed.

Emmett busied himself in the bathroom, installing a shelf for Brian's ridiculously expensive toiletries. "Yes, it was one of the first things I asked Aunt Lulah to take care of, since you will need to keep in touch with things back east." Emmett tightened the last screw and pulled down on the shelf to make sure it would hold before arranging Brian's bottles and jars and tubes in a pleasing display. He put the screwdriver back into the small toolbox and glanced around the bathroom, making sure everything was perfectly aligned and seamlessly straight.

As he was leaving he noticed Brian had fallen asleep sideways in the bed and pulled his shoes off before covering him with the duvet.

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For the next three days, Brian only came out of his room to forage for food (and his meds), get an update from Marc, and occasionally sit in the porch swing. He spent most of his time sleeping. When Emmett expressed concern over how much time he was sleeping, Lara told him it was normal with the pain-killers, but with the new medications for the anxiety and PTSD, it would probably be a while before he found a comfortable sleep/wake cycle. With the amount of stress and trauma he had been through she was surprised he had stayed awake at all.

As for the rest of them, they fell into a nice routine with Emmett taking care of things inside the Lodge, like cooking, cleaning and laundry, while the rest of them did chores outside enabling them to keep an eye on the grounds and set of shifts for watch/patrol.

They cleaned the coop, collected eggs, mucked stalls, milked cows, and generally did whatever they were told. Not that much was accomplished those first days, since none of the agents had ever done anything like it before and had to be taught, but by the time the end of the week rolled around they had a nice rhythm going and naturally fell into the chores each of them seemed best at.

That is, until SHE showed up.

The SHE in a beige Dior suit, black Manolo Blahnik stilettos and a matching broad brimmed hat and oversized shades.

SHE, hauling a vintage Louis Vuitton travel trunk on wheels, in her wake.

SHE, who stood out like a sore thumb and was sweating through her suit jacket.

SHE, standing on the porch, knocking on the door for all she was worth, as they came around from where they were working behind the building.

SHE, who met Brian for the first time, when he was woken up by her knocking and answered the door bare assed naked (except for the cast).