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Author's Chapter Notes:

Who's ready for some angst? Well, ready or not, here it comes . . . Enjoy! TAG

*****Warning - Graphic descriptions of Violence/Torture.*****

Chapter 34 - Nobody & Nothing.

 

*Knock, knock*

 

Brian looked up from his computer to find Cynthia standing in his doorway. He quickly looked at the time and realized it was after three. No wonder she was hovering. If he didn’t get a move on he’d be late for his appointment at the bank.

 

“I take it you’re here serving as my wake up call?” Brian said as he quickly saved his work and exited out of the program he’d been working with.

 

“You got it, Boss,” Cynthia came in with a big smile on her face and her ubiquitous tablet in her hand. “Don’t forget that you have another appointment with Dr Ruby tomorrow morning,” she reminded her boss as she skimmed through his calendar. “How’s that going, by the way? Is she helping at all?”

 

“It’s . . . Surprisingly not horrible,” Brian responded with an almost bashful half-smile, which for Brian Kinney was pretty fucking remarkable praise as far as Cynthia was concerned.

 

“Good. I’m glad she’s helping. I gotta say that Justin seems to be loosening up just a bit already. When I sent him those specs for the Allegheny Building Coalition account this morning, he actually replied with two full words: ‘Got it’,” Cynthia laughed quietly at the happy surprise she saw on Brian’s face. “It’s the first time he’s responded with actual words, so I’m going to consider that progress. Hell, at this rate he might actually talk to us by Christmas or so.” When Brian just smiled some more, his uncharacteristic grin waxing even brighter than before, Cynthia gasped. “He’s talking to you already, isn’t he? That’s wonderful, Brian!”

 

“Yep. The kid’s a regular little chatterbox when he wants to be,” Brian joked but was still proud of his boy’s progress nonetheless. Cynthia looked dubious. “Well, okay, he may never become the president of Toastmasters, but he IS talking. A little.”

 

Cynthia watched the sheen of happy pride wash over her boss’ face and felt so captivated by this altruistic yet self-effacing man. She couldn’t resist. She immediately walked around the desk, reached down with both hands to tilt Brian’s face upwards and then planted a huge kiss on the man’s unsuspecting lips right then and there.

 

“You, Brian Kinney, are the kindest and most astounding man I’ve ever known,” she announced without letting go of the man’s face while Brian sputtered and tried to push her away.

 

“I mean this in the nicest way, Cynthia, but fuck off,” the embarrassed man protested as he peeled her fingers away from his chin.

 

“I’m serious, Brian. You are being so wonderful to that boy. I don’t think anyone else could have done what you’re doing - even assuming they would have tried. The way he was at the beginning, I seriously doubted that he’d ever recover enough to break through that scared, hurt shell. And I definitely didn’t think it would happen this quickly. But you’re going above and beyond trying to help Justin and you deserve to have someone tell you how truly unselfish and amazing that really is. So I’m going to tell you, and you’re going to listen,” Cynthia insisted. Brian didn’t say anything in response, he just looked away, not meeting the woman’s eyes.

 

“Okay. Enough said,” Cyn relented, realizing she’d reached the end of her unassuming boss’ tolerance for praise, and turning back to the calendar on her tablet. “Let Justin know we’ll need his work on the Allegheny Builders’ presentation by noon tomorrow so I can get everything finalized before your meeting on Wednesday morning. Knowing how thorough he is, though, it shouldn’t take long to get it all ready for you.” She tapped on a couple more items on the computer and recited the list off to the Bossman, who nodded or commented as needed on each. “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” she added at the end of the discussion. “I finally got Justin an appointment with that physical therapist. He can see you on Wednesday afternoon. I set up a tentative appointment for you guys for 4:30. If that’s not good, just let me know and I can change it.”

 

“I think that’s doable,” Brian assured her. “Good job on that, Cyn. I want Justin to get started on therapy as soon as possible. As much as I’m using him for my ad work, not to mention all the drawing and painting he’s been doing lately, his hand has got to be bothering him. The sooner we get started with that PT, the better.”

 

They spoke for about two more minutes, going over a few more instructions and sorting through a couple more calendar conflicts before Brian stood up and grabbed his briefcase. “Okay, I’m off to the bank. Time to sign away my life, or at least my home . . .”

 

“Like I said, before,” Cynthia smiled as she helped Brian on with his jacket, “above and beyond.”

 

“I’m just glad to get this part of the whole mess over with. With the money from the refi of my loft, and the quarterly bonuses that Vance owes me for PC Clearinghouse and the other accounts I closed over the past three months, I should just about be able to pay off Justin’s contract. And the sooner I’ve got that done, the sooner I can finally relax and maybe get my life back to some semblance of normality.” Brian tipped his head at his Assistant in lieu of goodbye and strode purposefully down the hall towards the elevators.

 

********

 

Cynthia went back to her desk and spent most of the next hour doing some more research on Craig Taylor, following up on the info Emmett had given Brian earlier in the day. She was able to track down Emmett’s friend’s brother and talked to him for quite a while. He was able to give her the name of the B&O rep who'd taken offense at Taylor's words. The rep, who's name was Carter Lawrence, and who had since been promoted to a regional VP position in his company, was more than happy to relay to Cynthia his version of what had happened. He REALLY was not fond of Taylor. Mr. Lawrence told her that B&O wasn't the only company that had blackballed Taylor Electronics. Lawrence also relayed some intel on the various conservative political groups and charities he knew of that Taylor supported - all of which pursued rampantly anti-LGBTQ agendas. Cynthia was able to confirm all the allegations by accessing the various organizations’ donations records. It was pretty clear that Taylor was the worst kind of homophobe.

 

Cynthia added copies of her new research to the file she'd already compiled. It seemed pretty clear to her what had happened to poor Justin. Between the Hobbs kid, Stockwell and his monster of a father, the boy hadn’t really had a chance once the fact he was gay had come out. But now that they had all this proof, hopefully she and Brian could fix things and get Justin’s contract nullified. They just had to find someone in authority that would listen to their story and take the appropriate action. She’d work on finding that someone the following day, after she had a chance to talk to her APC contacts.

 

Gathering together all her materials, Cynthia headed to the copy room, intending to make several additional complete copies. Maybe she was being overly paranoid, but this was too important to leave any details to chance. Brian could make fun of her if he wanted. She was still going to take whatever precautions necessary to make sure nothing happened to this info.

 

When Cynthia saw the line at the main copier, though, she quickly walked on by. Not only did she not want to wait in line, the copy project she had in hand wasn’t precisely agency business, which meant she didn’t really need any of the other office busibodies looking over her shoulder. Instead, she decided to sneak into Vance’s private copy room and borrow his copier. She didn’t think that Sandy, Vance’s Assistant, would mind even if she did catch her. Sandy almost never made her own copies anyway - she always farmed those types of jobs off on an intern - meaning that Vance’s small yet efficient copier usually just sat there idle.

 

The wily Office Maven was in luck, though. Right as she rounded the corner of the executive offices wing, Sandy’s phone rang. The CEO’s assistant swiveled her desk chair around towards the apparatus, conveniently presenting her back to the door into the small satellite copy room, allowing Cyn to easily slip in without being observed. Just as Cynthia was about to pull the door closed behind her, though, she caught a very interesting piece of Sandy’s phone conversation.

 

“Hello, Mr. Lapointe. How can I help you this afternoon . . . I’m so sorry, but Mr. Vance is out of the office for about an hour or so. Is there anything at all that I can do for you? . . . I don’t know if he’s available to meet with you tonight. This is rather short notice . . . I see. Well, if it’s that important . . . That does sound serious . . . Alright, I’ll call Mr. Vance right away and advise him about what’s going on. If it’s as important as you say, I think he’ll make time to meet with you . . . What time should he plan to be at your house? . . . Yes, I think 7:00 pm would be fine . . . Okay. I’ll call you right back to confirm everything . . . Of course, Mr. Lapointe. I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

 

From her vantage point looking through the ajar copy room door, Cynthia could see Sandy hang up the phone, pick up the message book she’d been using to jot down notes from her call, and then trot off in the direction of Vance’s office. She was probably off to pull the PC Clearinghouse files before she called Vance. Cynthia couldn’t tell what the call from Lapointe was all about, but she’d heard enough to know that whatever it was was NOT good.

 

She quickly darted back out of Vance’s copy room and ran down the hallway to the main copy center where she proceeded to pull rank and pushed her way to the front of the line. No longer bothering to try and be surreptitious about what she was copying, she just went for it, and quickly ran off five full copies of everything. There would be one she would keep for herself, one for Brian of course, one for Justin since he was the one with the most to gain or lose from this endeavor, one that they could give to some outside source as their backup and the last for whomever they planned to send the evidence to. That should be plenty, Cynthia hoped.

 

As soon as the copying was finished, she rushed back to her office, put each copy in it’s own manilla file and secreted them all in her bag. Then she looked around the office as she leaned back in her chair and tried to think about what she’d heard a few minutes earlier. Something about the conversation gave her an uneasy feeling in her gut.

 

Lapointe shouldn’t be calling Vance behind Brian’s back. Brian was the exec in charge of the PC Clearinghouse account. If Lapointe had any problems with the account, he should be calling Brian, not Vance. And since Brian had only just started working on the client’s ad campaign - meaning that there wouldn’t be anything ready to present to the client for weeks yet - there really was no reason at all for Lapointe to be calling. It was all very suspicious and very disturbing.

 

Cynthia wasn’t a fool, though. She wasn’t going to just sit back, do nothing and hope it was all nothing to worry about. She wasn’t the type to just wait and see. She had always been the proactive type. She wasn’t going to change now, either. So, just in case there was something untoward going down, Cynthia decided to hedge her bets - and Brian’s too. With a nod of her head, she vaulted to her feet, and started to gather together the most important files and documents she had. Using the camscanner app on her phone, she quickly scanned everything possible and emailed copies to her private gmail account. She made sure to get copies of the current client contact lists and the contracts for all of Brian’s accounts. Then she gathered up all of Brian’s personal papers and files and added those to the other docs waiting in her bag. If she was wrong, and it turned out that nothing came of Vance’s clandestine meeting with Lapointe, she could just delete all the files she’d scanned and put Brian’s stuff back. But, if anything did happen, at least Brian’s private documents and all the data he’d need on his clients would be safe.

 

As soon as she had everything she could think of, Cynthia shut down her computer, picked up her bag and headed out for the day. Luckily, nobody seemed to notice how overloaded her shoulder bag was that evening. She hoped she was wrong and she’d just walk back in the next morning without any drama . . .

 

********

 

‘Stop your fucking sniveling, boy!’ the Handler snarled at him.

 

The next lash with the hollow plastic tubing landed squarely across the boy’s shoulder blades causing him to cry out even though he'd promised himself not to. His back stung from the seemingly endless beating and each additional stroke hurt just a little bit more when added on top of those that had already come before. He supposed it could have been worse. At least the hosing they used for these ‘discipline’ sessions didn’t leave any lasting marks or break the skin. Unlike the metal cuffs that secured his wrists above his head to the chain link fencing - they were digging into his flesh from where he’d unconsciously been tugging at them as he tried to avoid the worst of the lashing. He'd most likely get yelled at for that too. The Handler didn’t like his stock getting damaged in any way. Not unless HE was the one in charge of the damaging.

 

‘You're nobody. You hear me? NOBODY!’ The lash that punctuated that statement struck across his lower back, adding to the bruising over his kidneys and causing him to groan again. ‘You’re a PC now, boy. You don’t have a name. You don’t have a life. You don’t matter at all. All that does matter is that pretty face and that exceptionally plump ass - those are the only attributes your owner is going to care about. Well, that and how he can use them to give himself pleasure. Hahahaha!’

 

Another slash to the backs of his thighs, a spot which seemed to be particularly sensitive, and therefore particularly painful, was followed by a series of additional strokes pelting his back. The boy gave up trying to avoid the pain. It was too much. He let his head droop until it was resting against the fence and just gave up. It was easier than fighting. He would just accept the pain and hope that it would end soon. Maybe this time the Handler would go too far and kill him. He really hoped so. It was the only way this nightmare would ever end.

 

‘You think you’re so smart, don’t you, boy? Well, fuck you! You know nothing!’ Another bruising lash to his shoulders. ‘You don't deserve to have thoughts or opinions of your own anymore. Now that you're a PC you don’t get the privilege of thinking for yourself. I’ll tell you what you can think. What you can believe. What you can fucking FEEL! And until you finally get that fact of life through your thick skull, boy, we’re going to keep having these fun little teaching sessions.’

 

The boy barely even heard the last sentence. The world around him was begining to get fuzzy around the edges and the light seemed to dim. Even the whipping of the hose against his back seemed to hurt less. He felt his knees giving out, which caused a momentary jolt of pain through his abused wrists, but then that too started to fade away.

 

‘Oh no you don’t!’ This time the words were accompanied by a shocking splash of icy cold water hitting his face. The boy jerked back to full consciousness, panting through the waves of renewed pain that came with the revived awareness. ‘That’s better. We’re not through. Not even close. Because you haven’t yet learned your lesson, have you boy? HAVE YOU?’ The handler screamed in his ear, his face so close that the youth could feel the man’s acrid breath tickling against his skin, causing him to jerk away more violently than any of the whipping had so far.

 

Of course, that only made the Handler chuckle. ‘Awww, Cupcake, why do you have to be like this? Why do you fight me? You know you only make things harder on yourself, right?’ A meaty paw reached up to roughly caress the boy’s cheek, the fingers trailing over his temple and then sifting through the sweat-matted hair in an almost intimate gesture. However the caressing fingers ended up knotted in the blond tresses, the gesture turning sadistic as the hand gripped a handful of hair and used it to yank the boy’s head backward angrily. ‘You’re so fucking stubborn, aren’t you? Well, that’s not going to help you in the end. Fight me all you want, boy, but you aren’t going to win. I WILL break you. I break everyone eventually. the sooner you realize that, the sooner this will be over.’

 

The handler released his grip on the boy’s hair with a shove hard enough to send the young man’s face crashing into the metal mesh of the fencing in front of him. This new pain caused little flashes of light across his vision. He could feel a trickle of blood dripping down from his throbbing nose over his top lip. The coppery tang of blood filled his mouth as he licked the drops away.

 

‘Are you ready for this to end, boy?’ The Handler whispered in his ear. ‘All you have to do to make the pain stop, is say it. Just say, Yes, Master, and I’ll let you go back to your cell. That’s not so hard, is it?’ The Handler ran his hand gently over the boy’s back, petting him as he offered up this simple and oh-so-reasonable way to end all the pain.

 

The boy was so tired. He really did want this to end. Giving in would be so easy. It made perfect sense, too. All he had to do was say the words and this would be over. Right? So, why was he being so intransigent? This stubborn refusal to speak was completely illogical. It just caused him more pain. More suffering. More anguish. Why couldn't he just give in and accept his fate? His father had contracted him out. He was a PC now. This was his life. It wouldn’t do any good to fight. He knew he couldn’t win. He would do it. He would say the words and end this . . .

 

‘SAY IT!’ the Handler demanded, his patience giving out a split second before the boy would have complied.

 

The man’s hand, the one that a moment before had been softly rubbing his sore shoulders, now moved to a particularly bruised patch of tissue just at the nape of the boy’s neck and pressed into the spot. Hard. The surge of pain was like an electric shock to the boy’s system. The words that he’d been about to utter died on his lips. Instead of speaking, his jaws clamped tightly shut, smothering even the groan that the pain was trying to force out.

 

Fuck it! He wasn’t going to give in. Not ever. They could take everything away from him. His life. His hopes. His body. But he would never give in. The boy would never give this monster the satisfaction of HEARING him admit to his subjugation. He knew it wasn’t much of a rebellion. It wouldn’t change anything. But it was all he had left and he wasn’t going to give that to these men too. They could do what they wanted with his body, since there was no way he could stop them, but he’d keep his words, his mind, and his soul for himself.

 

And he would never, ever, trust anyone with those again.

 

*Click, click, rattle, clank*

 

The sound of the loft door being unlocked and then rolling open along the metal track that held it in place tore the boy out of his memories.

 

He didn’t remember when he’d found his way to the couch or how long he’d been sitting there lost in the pain of his past. He’d felt unsettled all day. After the Master had left him that morning, he’d tried to be productive. He’d painted for a few hours, but wasn’t really feeling inspired. Then, when the email had come through from Cynthia, he’d worked on the ads that the Master needed for a few more hours. But nothing seemed to relieve the jittery feeling in his gut. By three in the afternoon he’d finally given himself over to pacing the loft and worrying. Apparently, at some point, he’d transitioned from pacing to huddling on the couch as the flashbacks overwhelmed him completely.

 

“Hey, Sunshine!” The Master’s voice echoed loudly off the open beams of the loft’s ceiling as he strode through the door, hung up his coat on the wall hook, and then walked over to the desk to deposit his briefcase in it’s usual spot. Then he approached the boy with a big smile on his handsome face. ”What are you doing over here all curled up on the couch again? I thought we’d gotten past that stage, Sunshine. I was hoping to come home and find you doing something all artsy.”

 

The boy realized how self-indulgent and unproductive he’d been all afternoon and immediately slid to his knees on the floor at the Master’s feet with his head bowed so low that his forehead touched the coolness of the wooden floorboards.

 

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa. What’s this all about, Sunshine?” The Master sounded angry, but the boy couldn’t move so he just huddled there, trembling, waiting for his punishment. “Justin? Justin, get up from there. You know I hate the whole kneeling at my feet thing. Get up, already,” he demanded, so the boy gathered his resolve and climbed to his feet. “That’s a little better,” the Master said, reaching out to lift up the boy’s submissively bent head and causing the boy to flinch at his touch. “Shit! I’m gone for just over nine hours and we’re back to the no-touching thing again already? What’s wrong, Sunshine? Why won’t you even look at me?”

 

The gentle fingers traced along the boy’s jawline then over and around the shell-like ear. The boy tried to remain still, to not give in to the seductive touches, to keep himself separate, but his body betrayed him and he found himself leaning into the warmth of the man’s caress. He knew he shouldn’t let himself surrender to this man. He couldn’t believe how weak he’d been the night before. He couldn’t believe that he’d let the man talk him into giving up so much control. But it was only a momentary setback. The boy was sure he could regather the shreds of his defenses and retreat to a safe emotional distance again. He just had to be strong. He had to resist. He couldn’t let anyone get that far under his walls. It would kill him if he let someone in only to be betrayed yet again. He wouldn’t let that happen. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bear it.

 

It took everything he had, but the boy managed to pull away from the Master’s touch, wrenching his head to the side.

 

“Stop it, Sunshine,” the Master ordered, his hand dropping down to firmly grip the boy’s shoulder. “It's just me. You know I won't hurt you.” The Master took that last half a step closer and then slid both his arms around the thin shoulders with a slow but determined motion. “See? You're fine. It's just me.” The boy stiffened at the touch, his spine rigid and unyielding as he fought the urge to melt into the comforting embrace. But the Master held on, slowly tightening his arms, pulling the smaller body closer with every breath. “That's it, Sunshine. Just relax. Let me take care of you.” Against his will the boy felt his body following directions. “You're like a little wild animal, aren't you, Sunshine? I have to keep reminding you that you're safe with me. Don't worry, though, I won't give up on you. We’ll keep working on this till we figure it out. You'll see. It's gonna be okay. Shhh. You're fine, Sunshine. You're just fine.”

 

The boy hadn't realized he was crying until he heard the Master’s consolatory words and recognized the sobbing sounds for what they were. That's when he finally let himself collapse against the expansive warmth of the larger man’s chest. He knew he was a pathetic, weak, little faggot - just like his father had said - but he couldn't help it. It felt so good to be held like that. To be comforted when he was scared. To listen to the soothing nonsense words. To imagine that someone might actually care about him. He wrapped his own arms around the Master’s waist and squeezed for all he was worth, trying to reassure himself that this moment wasn't going to slip away and leave him lost and alone again.

 

“Hey! Where'd my brave little Sunshine go, huh?” the Master teased him a few minutes later, once his sobs had finally died down to sniffles. “Did something bad happen today? Something scare you?” The boy shook his head, no, but then shrugged too, because he had been scared - then again, he was always scared, so it wasn't really anything new. “Alright. Maybe you'll tell me what brought all this on later. But you do know you can call me if you need to, right? You don't have to sit here all day, all alone, worrying your little blond noggin off till you can’t think straight. The next time this happens, please, just pick up the phone and call me, okay?”

 

The boy inhaled deeply, taking in the comfort of the man’s warm, musky aroma, the scent making something in his stomach do a little contented flip-flop. He loved the way Brian smelled right then; warm, clearly masculine, and slightly sweaty after a long day at work. Something about that aroma seemed to allay all his previous fears, defying logical analysis and making all the boy’s doubts and fears seem ephemeral. Right at that precise moment, he wanted to believe that everything was going to be alright. He wanted to trust in Brian's words. He wanted, so much, to BE Sunshine. But he was self-aware enough to realize that the small, frightened, nameless boy who was too hurt to trust would probably always return. And when that happened, his first instinct, just like a wounded beast, would be to hide, withdraw into himself, and lick his wounds in silence.

 

Brian must have sensed the boy’s indecision. He squeezed the young man in his arms again and sighed deeply. “Do you need me to make this an order, Sunshine?” he asked. Without looking up the boy nodded his head, causing the Master to chuckle quietly. “Fine. Consider this Standing Order Number Three. Anytime - ANYtime- you're alone and start feeling scared or freaked out for ANY reason, you WILL call me. Do you hear? You don't have to speak if you don't want - like Debbie told you before, I'll know it's you even if you don't say anything - but you need to call. Okay?” Brian released his tight embrace enough so he could tilt the boy’s face up and see into the gemstone-bright blue eyes. The boy managed a tiny, insecure smile, and nodded. “Good. Because I don’t like seeing you this upset, Sunshine,” Brian whispered, offering his own smile in return.

 

The boy could hear the overwhelming sincerity in the man’s words. Between that, the reassuring feel of the big warm body enveloping him, and the kind look on Brian's handsome face, the boy felt the last vestiges of his panic and fear evaporating.

 

Sunshine reached up boldly, hooked his hand around the back of Brian's neck and pulled the tall man down until their lips met. Brian kissed his boy back enthusiastically. Sunshine sighed and let himself enjoy the sensation, reveling in the sense of acceptance he got just from knowing that Brian was there and that he DID care. He felt so much stronger when Brian was with him. He felt like Sunshine.

 

Maybe he wasn't ‘Nobody’ after all, Sunshine thought fleetingly before Brian cradled his head with one large hand and deepened the kiss, causing all other thoughts to momentarily disappear.

 

Chapter End Notes:

12/14/16 - Why is it that I can only write angst and drama in the winter months? You can gauge my moods directly by the tone of my writing. Let's hope that the weather clears up and the sun comes out soon or poor Justin's doomed to more heavily angsty chapters. Hope it wasn't too bad. TAG

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