Part Seven

The rest of the interview went swiftly and then the senator asked me to show her some of my art, so I did. The camera followed us around as I showed her some of my completed canvases and sculptures that were waiting to be bronzed. Brian liked to tell me how talented I was, but I was a little embarrassed to have to share my work with the world like that.

When they finally left, it was well past the time we usually went home so Brian drove us to a restaurant for takeout and then we headed back to the loft. Over chicken curry and rice we discussed the interview.

"Senator Baxter wants to change some of the laws surrounding PCs in an effort to eventually abolish the practice entirely," Brian explained. "That's the reason I gave that check to support her campaign."

"I did not know you felt so strongly about my… situation," I said.

Brian shrugged. "Like I said. I might have been a PC myself if my mother hadn't been such a religious nut."

"I'm very glad that I ended up with you," I told Brian. "You are a very good man."

Brian snorted. "I'm a selfish bastard. Just ask anyone."

I shook my head. "Then they don't know you like I do. You are a good man Brian Kinney. The best man I have ever met."

Brian kissed me and that night I attempted to show him just how much I loved him through my actions and I think perhaps, he might have been expressing some of those same feelings for me. I felt like for the first time we were truly making love instead of just fucking.

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The interview with Senator Baxter aired on the local news and then the national news. I was surprised, to say the least, that there was so much interest in my life. There were two outcomes from that day, however, that were totally unexpected to me. The first was the slew of phone calls and letters Brian received enquiring about my art. Suddenly, there were critics and gallery owners and private collectors all clamoring to see my work. I was sure that it was only because of the novelty of having art created by a PC, but Brian kept saying that it was because I was "fucking brilliant."

Either way, it didn't matter much to me. It was nice to have people admire my work, and it was even nicer to know that I was able to contribute something to Brian's income considering how much money he liked to spend on me. The money that my paintings and sculptures made went to Brian by law but that was all right with me.

The other bombshell that came from that interview took almost two weeks to arrive. Brian and I were at the loft, discussing the fact that Marston had been surprisingly understanding about his inclusion in the interview—in fact, he had offered the senator a generous donation for her election campaign—when a knock sounded at the door.

Brian and I exchanged a look before he rose to answer the door. "Can I help you?"

I looked over from my position on the sofa to see a young woman of mixed racial descent standing in the doorway. She said, "You're Brian Kinney. I'm… I'm looking for Justin. My name is—"

"Daphne?" I cried out as I rose from my seat and rushed over to the door. I froze a few feet away from this woman who used to be my friend. "Is that really you?"

"Justin!" Daphne said with a huge smile that I would recognize anywhere. She ignored Brian and any protocol and threw herself into my arms. The hug was tight and I felt her crying on my shoulder. For the first time since I was seven years old I felt tears well up in my eyes as well. "I thought I'd never see you again! But I never gave up. I looked for you and I asked my parents what happened but they would never say. Then when I went to college, my mom finally told me what happened to you. I thought… but then there you were on the TV and I had to come home from school and find you! It took forever to get through to Senator Baxter, but she told me where I could find you and so here I am. I've missed you so much!"

A single sob broke free and the tears that had been in check fell down my cheeks. For more than 12 years I believed that no one cared about me, that no one missed me or wanted me, but here was Daphne, after all that time. And she had cared all along. She had looked for me and had never given up on me.

Brian watched us with an indulgent smirk on his face, never once interrupting as he closed the loft door. And when the tears had dried, he sat and listened as the two of us caught up. We were like two little kids again, all of my training and all of those years of misery were forgotten as I reveled in the rediscovered friendship. There was no awkwardness and no hesitation on either of our parts. It was as if there had been no time between then and now.

Of course, eventually, we got around to talking about our current lives. "I'm so glad that you've been able to find some happiness despite what those assholes did to you."

"I'm very happy with my life right now," I told her.

"I'm going to Harvard," Daphne said. "I want to be a lawyer so that I can fight for the rights of those who are being exploited. It's inhuman what they do to kids in those places. It's brainwashing and slavery. And I just can't sit back and do nothing when other little kids are being stolen away from their lives to be sold like cattle to the slaughter."

After many long talks with Brian and Debbie and Vic, I wasn't surprised that there were people who felt that strongly against the trumped up slavery that was the PC market. Still, it made me feel all warm and loved to think that Daphne felt that way because of me.

"Thank you," I told her as I gave her another hug.

Daphne had to go back to school a few days later, but we spent most of the time she was home together and when she left again, it was with promises to email me and come back to see me over the summer break. Brian seemed happy that I had a friend, and encouraged me to keep in contact with Daphne.

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In many ways, my life was blissful in the weeks and months that followed that interview. I was happier than I had ever dreamed my life would be. There was only one dark cloud in my sky: Michael. Brian may have stood up to the jerk for me, but he was still Brian's oldest friend and it seemed impossible for Brian to totally break all ties with the man. I hated to see Brian unhappy, so I was conflicted the first time Michael showed up at the loft to apologize to Brian. He never apologized to me. Despite what Brian had said, despite what I knew Debbie had said to him after the party, Michael didn't deem me worthy of an apology. But I decided that I just wouldn't pay any attention to the little bastard and it seemed to work. After a while, Michael became more pitifully amusing than anything else. After all, I had what he wanted and would never get: Brian.

But as time passed, things in the world began to change. First, the senator won her election and she made sure that laws were passed to protect PCs. Then the training centers were abolished so that no new PCs could be trained and the children who had not yet been auctioned off were given counseling and other assistance to help them find some sort of normal life. Finally, almost eight years after the now famous interview, PCs were granted their freedom. Again, we were given assistance to try and find normal lives, but it wasn't easy. Many PCs were so indoctrinated in their role that they could not survive in a world of freedom.

I was one of the lucky ones. Brian continued to push me to make more and more choices on my own. He urged me to find my own interests and identity. I continued to sculpt and paint and he continued to bank the profits from my work.

The day that the PCs were freed, Daphne called me from Senator Baxter's office. After graduating from law school, she had gone to work there as an intern and had worked her way up. She had played an integral part in the drafting of the law outlawing the enslavement of personal companions and declaring their freedom. It wasn't a surprise that the law was being voted on, but I never allowed myself to believe that it would ever pass. Many of the politicians in congress actually owned PCs.

"We did it, Justin," Daphne said when she called. "We did it. You're free."

"I… I'm free," I said in a daze. I don't remember much about the rest of our conversation. In fact I don't remember much about that day at all. My mind was spinning at a million miles an hour and I couldn't seem to make sense of anything. The only thought that seemed to get through the chaos was that I no longer belonged to Brian. And that thought was devastating in so many ways.

When Brian came home from work that evening, I hadn't moved from the sofa. I was still in shock.

"Justin?" I looked up at Brian and I'm sure that he could tell that I had been crying. He sat down with me and pulled me into his arms. "Hey, what's the matter? I heard about the vote. You should be happy. We should be celebrating."

I buried my face into his chest and began crying again. "I… I can't…"

Brian lifted my chin so that he could look into my eyes. "Can't what?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to leave you."

Brian frowned. "Who said anything about you leaving?"

That caught me totally off guard. Of course I would have to leave. Brian had never wanted a PC, but he got stuck with me and he kept me around to protect me. But now he didn't have to protect me, so he wouldn't want me around. Or so I had believed.

"Justin, you are free," Brian said. "If you want to leave, you are free to do so, but I'm not kicking you to the curb. In case it escaped your notice, I fucking love you, you twat."

I'm sure that my eyes widened comically. Brian had never once in the almost nine years that we had been together told me that he loved me. In fact, during our first year together, he had once expounded for two hours why love was bullshit and how he would never let himself be caught up in something designed to trap people into bad relationships. But here he was telling me he loved me.

"You do?" I asked inanely.

Brian huffed. "Yeah. Just don't expect me to say it all the time."

"When?" I asked.

Brian shook his head, but he was smiling. "I'm not sure. It might have been at the airport, when you were so filled with awe, or it might have been the first time you said 'yes, Brian' in that tone of voice that tells me that you totally disagree with me and are being completely disrespectful in your mind. Or it could have been the first time I fucked you. All I know is that I do and I don't want you going anywhere. But you get to decide now. Stay or go, love me or don't. You get to choose."

I nodded and suddenly the prospect of freedom wasn't as scary as it had been just minutes before. "I love you too," I told Brian. "And I know exactly when it happened."

"When?" Brian asked.

"That first night," I told him. "You held me in your arms like I was the most precious thing in the world. No one had ever held me like that since my mother died."

Brian held me even closer when he heard that. "What do you want, Justin?"

I had heard that question so many times in the nine years I had been with Brian, but never had it meant so much. "I want to be with you. Forever. I want to keep working on my art and spend time with our friends. And I want to come home to you every night and wake up in your arms every morning."

"Forever sounds about right," Brian said with a smirk which I proceeded to kiss from his lips.

The End