Chapter 18 - Dumb.
As Brian was pulling out of Lincoln, Nebraska, that phone conversation with Cynthia kept reverberating through his mind. He was in such a shitload of trouble that he didn't really even know where to start to fix it all. All he could think of was that he needed to get back to Pittsburgh as soon as humanly possible. Once he was home, he'd figure everything out. He could fix this, right? Right?
However, Brian's desire to get home as quickly as possible was tempered by a cautionary voice in his head that warned him to be as inconspicuous as possible in the meantime. He really would prefer to get home first and then - when he had the backing of his name and his family to rely on - he could start to unravel the legal mess he was in. He was pretty sure that if he got pulled over before then, especially in some little podunk town in the middle of nowhere, things would be substantially harder to resolve. So, when they passed a sign indicating an exit that would lead them off the interstate and onto a more southern but essentially parallel route, Brian took the turn. His hope was that no law enforcement types would be looking for him off the beaten track, so to speak. Even if this less travelled route was a little bit slower, he hoped it would be safer.
Justin had seemed pretty bushed after their shopping adventure earlier and had been sitting there quietly ever since they left Lincoln. Brian glanced over and saw the boy doodling happily in his sketchbook with an introspective smile. That meant, though, that for the rest of the drive heading south from Lincoln towards Nebraska City and from there on down to St. Joseph, Missouri, there weren't any distractions from his internal monologue. Which also meant that Brian finally had no more excuses to delay thinking through his current predicament. The conclusions he was coming up with, however, were not at all peaceful or reassuring.
So, yeah, from the start of this Brian had sort of been joking with himself about ‘kidnapping a mental patient’. He wasn’t serious about it, of course. And at the time he hadn’t known anything about Justin’s past or the allegations regarding his mother. Now though, it looked like at least the police were serious about that kidnapping thing. And even if he could prove he wasn’t guilty of kidnapping - because the kid HAD come with him voluntarily - there was still the possibility that the authorities would say he was somehow aiding and abetting an escaped criminal. It was a Catch 22 - either way you looked at it, Brian was going to be in trouble as long as he was ‘harboring’ the little fugitive.
He didn’t believe for even a second that Justin - this shy, gentle, beautiful boy who was scared of his own shadow half the time - was guilty of murdering his own mother. Not unless there were some pretty major extenuating circumstances. It just wasn’t in Justin’s nature to do ANYTHING mean let alone violent. And, well, even if he did hear voices . . . Brian didn’t think that would have been enough. Besides, in the week they’d been together, Justin hadn’t exhibited any behavior Brian would consider psychotic. He hadn’t caught him talking to anyone who wasn’t there. Outside of the occasional panic attacks, the kid seemed as sane as the next guy. However, as Cynthia has pointed out, it really wasn’t up to Brian to make that kind of psychological diagnosis. For all Brian knew, the kid was a raving lunatic and had just been really good at hiding it over the past few days.
And what exactly was Brian planning on doing with the kid once they got back to Pittsburgh anyway? He’d been so focused on merely getting the two of them back home, that Brian hadn’t really thought things through beyond that point. Once they got back to the Pitts, he’d have to take Justin back to the hospital, right? The kid didn’t have anywhere else to go, as far as Brian knew and he wasn’t going to just dump him on some street corner, wish him well and then drive off. Assuming that Justin really did need some type of mental health care - whether he was schizophrenic, psychotic or just suffering some kind of post traumatic stress thing that caused the panic attacks, he still needed someone to help him - the best bet for him to get that help would be at the hospital, right? Brian certainly wasn’t equipped to help the kid. There were days when Brian wasn’t sure he could take care of himself. In that case, the hospital was probably the best place for the kid. So either Brian would have to take him back to the hospital himself or the cops would take him there after they ‘rescued’ the kid from Brian.
The question then was, how would he deliver Justin back to the hospital and at the same time keep his own fine ass out of jail? Damn he had one hell of a conundrum to deal with. The longer it took to get the kid back where he belonged, the more likely it was that Brian would get caught. And didn’t Brian have enough problems of his own - his company was about to go under, he’d fucked up the possible contract with Adam Dennison, he still somehow had to deal with the probably-stolen-RV he was driving and he was on the verge of financial ruin. He didn’t really need the added stress of a runaway, possibly deranged twink. No matter how much he’d come to care about the little neophyte. It was inevitable that the cops WOULD catch up to Brian sooner or later since Brian had every intention of returning home to his business and his family, so it wasn’t really a question of whether Justin would be taken back to the hospital, just when. And in the meantime, Brian really just did NOT need this shit. He needed to simplify his life not make it more complicated. And the boy definitely qualified as a complication.
The bottom line was that the sooner he could get the boy back to the hospital - or at least out of his own hair - the sooner Brian could get on with sorting out his own fucked up life. So, exactly how was he going to work this? Brian could just call the damn hospital and have someone come to get the young blond, or he could drop him at the nearest police station. Although that was a bit problematic, seeing as he was driving a stolen vehicle and, according to Cynthia, there was an APB out for his arrest. Brian didn’t want to be arrested the minute he drove up. But dropping Justin off somewhere wasn’t necessarily a bad idea - it just couldn’t be at the police station or anywhere else the cops were likely to be looking for him.
Right as Brian reached this conclusion, he came up on a road sign announcing that they were now entering St. Joseph, Missouri, population 77,147. Brian followed the signs that would take him to the cut off that would eventually land him on highway 36 East - the route he’d settled on earlier that would eventually get him to the Pitts via a more southern, less travelled, route than the interstate. Right before the first exit he came to once he was on the cutoff, there was the usual spate of signs indicating the services available on the side streets - gas stations, restaurants and parks. One sign in particular caught his immediate attention, though - the big blue sign indicating that the local Greyhound Bus Station was just off this exit. On an impulse, Brian pulled off the highway and headed in the direction indicated for the bus depot.
The Bus Station wasn’t a bad alternative place to leave the kid, right? It wasn’t like he’d be just be out on the streets somewhere. At least in a well travelled bus station, in the middle of the day, Brian figured that Justin would be safe. It also meant that Brian wasn’t actually turning the kid in to the police station or some hospital. It meant that Justin would at least have a choice about where he went next. If the kid didn’t want to go back to a mental hospital, he could get on a bus and go somewhere else. Brian would make sure he left him with whatever money was still unspent from the Fair drawing gig. With that, Justin could conceivably go wherever he wanted. He wouldn’t HAVE to go back to Pittsburgh or that hospital if he didn’t want to.
It was the best possible solution, right? Brian would be rid of all responsibility for the kid. He would be able to legitimately tell the cops that as soon as he found out about Justin being officially wanted by the police they had gone their own separate ways and that he therefore wasn’t guilty of helping the escapee. That should get him out of at least a little of the legal hot water he was in. And the kid could go wherever he wanted. Or, if he didn’t want to go anywhere, Brian was sure that someone at the Bus Depot would help Justin - they might call the cops and turn the boy in, but it wouldn’t be on Brian’s conscience.
Brian pulled the RV into the Greyhound station lot about five minutes later. He had to take up four parking spaces with the huge vehicle, but that seemed the least of his worries. Brian picked up the backpack the boy had been using and surreptitiously carried it to the back where he stuffed in a few changes of clothing and then zipped all the cash he had on him into the small front pocket. When he came back out, Justin was already waiting next to the door.
“I need to stop and make a few phone calls, Sunshine. Why don’t you bring your sketchbook. You can draw while you wait for me inside.” Brian suggested, leading the boy down the steps and out the RV’s door.
Justin followed him without complaint as they walked in through the sliding glass doors at the front of the station. Inside, there were rows and rows of hard brown molded plastic chairs connected by metal frames. Brian led the boy over to an out of the way row and tossed the backpack on a free seat.
“I’ve . . . I’ve got to make those phone calls. Stay here . . . If you want, I put some money in the pocket of your backpack - there’s some vending machines over there where you can get food or drinks.
Justin looked at Brian with confusion. “I don’t need any money, Brian. I’m not hungry yet. We can make sandwiches in the RV later for lunch.”
“Well . . . Uh . . . just in case, the money’s there.” Brian was fumbling around, trying to figure out what to say, shifting his weight back and forth from foot to foot.
Brian’s nervous behavior wasn’t lost on the boy. Justin started chewing at his full lower lip - a sure sign that he was feeling anxious, too. Brian found he couldn’t look Justin in the eye.
“You’re not going to be long, are you?” Justin finally asked when Brian didn’t seem to know what to say.
“No . . . I won’t be too long.” Brian reached out and grabbed Justin’s hand, giving it one last squeeze and then, rolling his lips in so that he wouldn’t be tempted to blurt out anything too sentimental or too incriminating, Brian nodded and turned to go without saying more.
Justin stood there in place, watching the entire time Brian walked back down the aisle and out through the big glass doors. Brian could feel the expectant blue eyes burning a hole in the middle of his back. He didn’t dare look back though. He didn’t want to see the pain or the fear he suspected he’d see in those expressive blue eyes. As he was leaving, however, he couldn’t avoid seeing the reflection in the window next to the door - the reflection of a small-looking barefoot blond boy standing all alone in the middle of the big room and looking around him as if he was lost.
Before he had time for second thoughts, Brian rushed out of the building and back to the RV. With every step he had to fight the urge to run back inside. He felt like such a shit. He also felt almost as lost as the boy had looked in that last glimpse he’d caught. He couldn’t stop the crushing waves of guilt from washing over him. But this was for the best, right? This was the only solution to get him out of trouble with the cops and at the same time give Justin a choice about what he wanted to do with his life. It really was the logical thing to do. Wasn’t it?
Back inside the Bus Depot, Justin watched as Brian walked away from him without looking back. He knew that Brian wasn’t going to make any phone calls - he’d seen Brian talking on his cell phone and he wasn’t so stupid or so naive that he didn’t know Brian could make a stupid phone call anywhere, anytime. He didn’t know why Brian was leaving him here, but he had a really bad feeling about all this. Justin plopped down into the chair next to the one where Brian had tossed his backpack, looked around him at the unfamiliar surroundings and all the strange people and tried to stave off the flickers of panic that were licking at the corners of his consciousness. Brian had said that he wouldn’t be long. Justin had to believe him. He trusted Brian. Brian wouldn’t leave him here. His boyfriend wouldn’t do that.
Brian tried to shake off the misgivings he felt even as he was starting up the RV’s engine and putting the beast into gear. He simply wouldn’t think about Justin. There was no reason for him to feel guilty or sad. Didn’t he always say that he never did regrets? Brian Kinney had to look out for Brian Kinney, right? And he’d done the best he could for the boy. Justin would be fine. Right? It was time to let someone else take care of the kid from here on out. Brian wasn’t some fucking social worker. He wasn’t a damn lesbo either - so he shouldn’t be feeling so fucking upset over this decision. It was a done deal and he would just move on, right? Right?
However, no matter how much he tried to talk himself out of it, Brian knew in his heart of hearts that Justin would definitely NOT be fine. As he pulled back onto the highway, heading towards Illinois and all points east, Brian kept picturing in his mind the couple of times he’d seen the boy lapsing into the beginning stages of a panic attack. He heard over and over again in his head all the slightly too naive things the boy would say - the way he had no defense mechanisms at all and would tell people anything. How could someone so utterly innocent ever be safe in this crazy, fucked up world. Someone was bound to take advantage of him - probably sooner rather than later. Which immediately brought to mind the too-handy orderly back at Brighton Hospital - the one he’d saved the kid from when the creep wanted to take the boy aside for ‘tests’. Justin was not equipped to handle any of that shit on his own. Was he?
Meanwhile, back at the Greyhound station, Justin was frozen in the seat he was still sitting in. He felt like the world was closing in around him. There were so many people around him now and he didn’t have Brian there to reassure him or give him that little bit of self-confidence Justin had come to rely on when facing new situations. The older couple sitting in the chairs across the aisle from him were whispering and the old lady actually pointed at him. Justin didn’t know what they were saying, but it scared him even more. He was shaking and felt a tear escape from the corner of his eye as he looked around, desperately trying to figure out what he should do. Where should he go? How long would it be before Brian came back for him?
“Excuse me, son. Is there something I can help you with,” Justin was temporarily pulled out of his escalating bout of panic when a kindly looking older black gentleman wearing a blue uniform shirt came up and spoke to him. “You look a little lost.”
“Uh . . . um . . . I don’t . . . I don’t know . . . My b-b-boyfriend is just making a phone call,” Justin finally stammered out, his voice cracking and betraying the edge of anxiety he was just barely keeping back. “It shouldn’t be long.”
“Is there a reason you aren’t wearing any shoes, son? There’s a rule here in the station that you gotta have shoes.” Justin looked down at his bare feet and then back up at the man with a clear look of apprehension on his face.
“I don’t like shoes very much, they hurt my feet, sir.”
“It’s not like I’m gonna turn you in or anything,” the man rushed to reassure the panicky boy. “I was just worried. Maybe your feet are going to get cold?” Justin picked up the backpack and started rifling through it, looking for his shoes, but clearly he’d forgotten them again. “Are you sure you’re okay, son?” Justin gave over looking for the non-existent shoes, looked doubtful for about ten seconds and then nodded very hesitantly. “Well, if you need any help, just let me know, I’ll be right over there, okay?”
Justin watched the nice black man walk away. He didn’t know what to do though. He didn’t know how long it had been but he was beginning to worry that Brian might not come back after all. Then what would he do? Where would he go? Justin didn’t know anyone. He didn’t even know where he was, really. And there were so many strange people. He wished that he could just go back to his home - to the house he’d grown up in. It didn’t matter that his mother was gone or that he’d be all alone. At least he’d be back somewhere he knew. Somewhere safe. Somewhere where people wouldn’t look at him and point.
Justin looked over to the big desk where the black man was now standing. He could see the man talking on the telephone. The man was looking directly at him while he talked. Justin didn’t like that. He didn’t like people he didn’t know talking about him. But there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t do anything. He could only sit there, rocking back and forth, worrying and getting more and more frightened the longer it took Brian to get back to him.
Even as he was barrelling down the highway at fifty-five miles an hour, Brian found he kept looking over his shoulder at the seat where Justin should have been sitting. It seemed so wrong that it was empty. The boy should be sitting there, sketching, reading one of the pulp fiction novels he’d scrounged out of the RV stores or even just clicking away at the computer. Everything felt so wrong all of a sudden. When the RV was forced to come to a halt a few miles later due to construction, Brian made the mistake of looking down at the floor next to Justin’s chair and saw the boy’s abandoned sneakers. He shook his head - not at all surprised that the kid had once again forgotten his shoes, but now even more concerned because he knew the boy was stranded in the middle of nowhere without even a fucking pair of shoes.
Brian finally pulled to the side of the road after driving another 30 miles down the highway. “Fuck. Fuck! FUCK!” He pressed his forehead against the coolness of the steering wheel trying to collect himself. He just couldn’t do it. How could he be such an asshole? Justin was probably scared out of his mind being alone in that cold bus station for so long. He didn’t even have any shoes, for fuck’s sake! Not to mention the fact that Brian couldn’t stand the thought of some low-life stranger taking advantage of the kid’s kindness and naievity and subsequently pawing at HIS blond. Sweet little Justin was too unprepared for that. Not to mention that he was too beautiful and he had that absolutely perfect ass and he was so fucking adorable when he got excited about trying new ‘boyfriend things’. Brian just couldn’t bear to think of anyone else showing the kid those things. And if he just walked away like this, Brian would probably never see the kid again. That thought alone caused a stabbing pain to knife through his chest that definitely wasn’t heartburn.
“Fuck this!” Brian just could not do it. He couldn’t leave Justin behind like this. He didn’t care if the police, the CIA or even the whole Justice League was coming after him. He wasn’t going to let it end like THIS. If possible, he didn’t want it to end at all. There had to be something he could do to help the kid - some way to make this right. Even though it seemed hopeless, and he would probably end up in jail, Brian just couldn’t walk away from that sweet, innocent, young blond boy who had somehow snuck in under the wire and taken up residence in Brian’s previously walled-off heart. Nobody before had even attempted to scale Mount Kinney, but somehow this intrepid little blond had done the impossible and managed to conquer the previously crowned Brian Fuckin’ Kinney.
His mind made up - AGAIN - Brian put the RV in gear, pulled back out into traffic and at the nearest turnabout headed back to the Greyhound station to get his boyfriend, breaking every speed law known to man in the process.
“Um . . . Can you help me. I want to go home, please.” Justin had finally worked up enough courage to approach the counter and the nice black man.
“Oh, baby . . . Well, that depends upon where home is. Where do you want to go?” the kindly man asked.
Justin simply shook his head, the tears now streaming down his face without check. He didn’t really know where home was anymore. He didn’t know where he wanted to go. He just knew that he didn’t want to stay here in this cold scary place.
Just then, though, Justin looked up and saw, in the shiny chrome frame surrounding the board announcing the arrivals and departures of all the buses, a familiar reflection. He spun around. About twenty paces behind him stood a worried and contrite Brian Kinney.
Brian sighed and looked down at his feet. He didn’t know what to say. He was just so relieved to find Justin still there and apparently all in one piece, even though he could see that the younger man was shaking with fear and tears were coursing over his countenance. He felt even more guilty right then than when he’d left. How could he ever make it up to the boy?
“No more phone calls?” Justin asked with a watery half-smile.
Brian shook his head and replied with all the sincerity he could muster. “No. No more phone calls.”
Justin nodded and tried again to smile through his tears. Brian simply held out his arms and let the boy rush into his embrace. It wasn’t until he had the boy wrapped up tightly, the kid’s head tucked securely under his chin, that Brian Kinney once again felt that things were going right in his world. He would somehow make this work.
