Brian swore as he drove the Chrysler Town and Country minivan from his office towards the gallery on the south side of town. He hated this fucking van. It was an insult to masculinity everywhere. He had tried to talk Lindsay into getting an SUV. She had argued that the gas mileage and safety ratings were better for the minivan. It wasn't true. Brian had done his homework too—he was an ad man; he knew how this shit worked—but Lindsay hadn't wanted to hear it. So now he was stuck driving a fucking soccer mom minivan. It was just one more symptom of the suburban hell that was his life.

To top it off, instead of going home to a nice quiet evening in front of the television with a scotch or four to dull the intensity of his feelings of claustrophobia, he was now stuck going to some art show opening. Why the fuck did he need to be there? She was the art history teacher. She was the one with all the arty friends to emotionally support. But no, she had to stay home with Gus, their four year old son who was running a fever. Brian could have done that. Instead he was going to the gallery to make Lindsay's apologies to the artist, one of her former students at PIFA.

Brian swore again and hit the steering wheel hard. She was always pulling this shit. Dragging him to these horrible little affairs where everyone spoke pretentiously about the forms and color choices the artist used while they looked at paintings that Gus could have drawn. It was bullshit. And to top it off, there was always an abundance of gay men at these things. Inevitably, he'd be hit on at least once even with Lindsay by his side. He hated to think what tonight would be like, going in alone and unprotected.

Brian pulled into the gallery parking lot and turned off the engine. He thought about calling Lindsay back and telling her no fucking way was he going in there. She could call the twat tomorrow and give her apologies over the phone. She would likely do that anyway. Then he thought about how shaky things had been between them lately. They hardly talked unless it was about Gus or the house. There had been a time when Brian had felt like he could tell Lindsay anything. Now… He couldn't afford to screw this up. He would never find another woman like Lindsay. She didn't even complain that he never seemed to want to fuck. So he let her get her way with the minivan and now he would go to her fucking art show. He'd smile and be polite and go home in a couple hours and tell her all about the paintings he had seen, because that's what she wanted.

Brian looked in the rearview mirror and checked that his hair was perfect. He climbed from the van and checked that his Armani suit was lying properly. He checked the shine on his Gucci loafers. He took a deep breath and walked to the gallery entrance.

BJBJBJBJBJ

It was worse than Brian had feared. Almost everyone in the gallery was with a same-sex partner. As he glanced at the paintings, he understood why. Brian took another deep breath, tried to avoid looking at the art and made his way to the bar. He was on his second double scotch when someone touched his arm.

"Brian Kinney? Is that you?"

Brian looked down into the boyish face of a man he hadn't seen since freshman year of high school, before his father moved them across town to a better school district. He had once thought of Michael as a friend, but hadn't thought of him at all in almost twenty years. "Michael Novotny. How are you?"

"I'm great!" Michael beamed. "Just got married, so still blissfully in the honeymoon phase. Ben! Come over here and meet Brian!"

Brian wasn't really surprised that Michael had ended up gay. His uncle was gay. His mother was some gay rights fanatic. His dad was dead, so any hetero-male influence was absent. He listened politely as the two men told him about how they had met at Michael's comic book shop and then how they had gotten married in Canada just a few months before.

"What about you?" Michael asked. "I see you have a ring. So where is the lucky guy?"

Brian closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. When he opened them again, he had his casual smile back in place. "My wife, Lindsay, is home with our son. He had a fever and she didn't want to leave him with the babysitter."

"Wife… but I thought…"

"Michael," Ben tried to get his husband to drop the subject, but the other man wouldn't.

"No," Michael said to Ben. Then he turned to Brian angry, as if Brian's sexuality was a direct insult to him. "You were one of the… you had any guy you wanted. Fuck, you blew the gym teacher! I looked up to you. You said you were going to be the greatest gay man who ever lived! You were my hero! What the fuck happened to you?"

Brian scowled. "I grew up. Excuse me."

He grabbed his third scotch double from the bar and walked away.

BJBJBJBJBJ

Unfortunately, the only place left to go besides home, was to look at the paintings. Brian had to admit that they were very good, if a bit too provocative for Brian's taste. At least they weren't scribbles of paint. No, these were all too realistic. They were all of men in various poses and positions, sometimes two or three in a painting, all of them naked with beautiful bodies and sculpted muscles. They weren't pornographic by any means, but there was an almost tangible sensuality that made Brian very uncomfortable. He gulped down his drink and traded the empty tumbler for a glass of wine from one of the wandering waiters' trays.

He looked at painting after painting until they all seemed to blend into a huge orgy of naked men in his mind. Suddenly, Brian was overwhelmed by everything: the noise, the crowd, the paintings, the memories that Michael had stirred…memories he had denied even to himself for twenty years.

Brian saw the emergency exit propped open and slipped outside into the cool night air and took several deep cleansing breaths. It took him a few minutes to realize he wasn't alone. It was the smell of smoke that first gave the other refugee away. They were in the back alley and Brian contemplated going straight out to the parking lot and leaving but the man leaning against the wall under the light caught his attention.

He looked over the blonde man. He was at least five inches shorter than Brian, but he was trim with a compact body that he obviously kept in shape. His hair was a little shaggier than Brian would ever consider professional, but it looked good on the kid. He was unshaved with a day or two of beard growing in, though the stubble was blond and almost disappeared against his milky smooth skin. He was dressed more casually than most of the patrons, but he looked nice enough in khakis and a sweater.

"Can I bum a smoke?" Brian asked. He wasn't sure why he was asking. He hadn't smoked in two years. Lindsay hated when he smoked. The blonde smiled up at him and offered him the pack and Brain was soon lighting the cigarette and inhaling the familiar fumes. It burned because he wasn't used to it anymore, but it was so soothing on his shattered nerves that he didn't care. "My wife hates when I smoke," Brian said.

The blonde stood up looked at him quizzically. "So you're straight? I wouldn't have guessed that."

Brian frowned. "Why not? Why the fuck does everyone assume that I'm gay? Why?"

The blonde shrugged. "Your hair, your clothes, and the way you take care of your skin. But it's more than your appearance. It's the way you carry yourself. And it's the way looked me over when you first noticed me. Straight men don't do that."

"Fuck you too," Brian muttered and took another drag on his cigarette.

The blonde laughed. "I'm Justin by the way."

"Brian."

"So why are you hiding out here?" Justin asked as he lit another cigarette.

Brian shook his head. "I was just… getting a little claustrophobic."

"I can understand that," Justin said. "Living in a closet can make you feel that way."

Brian glared at Justin but didn't have anything to say that wouldn't sound childish.

"I ran into a guy I knew freshman year of high school," Brian finally said. "He… reminded me of some shit that I don't think about."

"Why don't you think about it?" Justin asked, as though he knew exactly what memories Brian was avoiding. He took a drag on his cigarette and let the smoke blow towards the taller man as he looked him over. They were standing pretty close together, but Brian hadn't noticed. Or didn't want to notice. "What could be so horrible that you lock it away?"

Brian shook his head. He couldn't voice those things, even to this stranger. "After freshman year, my dad moved us to another part of town. He said he didn't like the influence that school was having on me. He meant Mikey and his family. He made sure I remembered who and what I am." Brian subconsciously rubbed at his arm with remembered pain.

"You hid those thoughts and feelings away because they were dangerous," Justin said. "I know how that is. But you aren't a kid anymore. You don't have to be afraid of your father. You are your own man now, aren't you?"

Brian stared at this kid who couldn't be more than 22 or 23. "What the fuck do you know about it?"

Justin shrugged and leaned back against the wall. "My father had very specific ideas of what was acceptable for his son. His son was going to be a business major and take over the family business some day. His son was going to get married and have 2.3 children and live in a nice little house in suburbia. His son wasn't going to be an artist and he would see his son dead before he let him become a fag."

Justin lifted his shirt and showed Brian a long curved scar that went from his back near his shoulder blades, around his side and almost reached his navel. "That's from when he decided to throw me out of the house by way of the picture window in the living room."

Brian reached out and almost let himself touch the raised scar before drawing his hand back. "Christ."

"What did your dad do?" Justin asked quietly.

Brian shook his head and refused to look at Justin. "I feel like I'm at an AA meeting."

Justin looked at the almost empty wine glass that Brian was holding and smirked. "Been to many of those?"

Brian noticed what Justin was looking at and chuckled. "One or two. My wife is a worrier. I'm not an alcoholic. If things are going well, I can go for weeks without a drink. And I almost never get drunk, though I should probably stop drinking now if I want to be able to drive home anytime tonight."

Justin pulled out a joint and lit it, "Here. This is better for you than alcohol anyway."

Brian leaned against the wall beside Justin and accepted the joint. The smoke burned on the way down, burned as he attempted to hold it inside his lungs and burned as he exhaled through a small coughing fit. "Been a long time since I've smoked weed."

"I can tell," Justin chuckled. "You didn't answer my question. What did your dad do?"

Brian stared at the dumpster on the other side of the alley like it had all the answers to the universe. "He caught me kissing some boy. I don't even remember who he was anymore. But I remember what Pops did. He'd get mean when he got drunk and he was always drunk, so getting knocked around was nothing new. But that night… I… I didn't think he was going to ever stop. I thought… I thought that I was going to die right there and then over what? A stupid fucking kiss? It wasn't worth it."

He looked up at Justin and said, "It still isn't worth it."

"Are you sure?" Justin asked him. "Where is your father now?"

"Dead," Brian said without emotion.

"He can't hurt you anymore" Justin pointed out.

Brian shook his head. "No, but there are millions of homophobes out there who can. And what about my son? How would he feel growing up with a fag for a father?"

"If you love him, I think he'll feel rather lucky," Justin said. "He could have a father a lot worse than a fag. He could have your dad or mine."

Justin took the last drag from the joint and then crushed it out. "As for the haters… well, I can't deny that they are out there. But I do know that if you live your life in fear of people like that, you let them win. I don't know you, Brian, but you don't strike me as the type who gives up without a fight."

Brian huffed a dry laugh. He wasn't a quitter. He hadn't built one of the best advertising agencies east of the Mississippi by giving up when things got tough. But this… this was huge. This would change everything. Lindsay, Gus, his company…every aspect of his life would be affected if he…

What?

What was he really contemplating?

Justin was just standing there, looking up at him expectantly. The light overhead was shining down on him, making his blond hair glow like a halo around his head. And his blue eyes…Brian thought he could get lost in those eyes. When was the last time he had felt like that with Lindsay? Had he ever?

Suddenly, Brian was tired. He was tired of thinking. He was tired of weighing the consequences of his actions. He was tired of watching his every word and his every glance. He was tired of hiding from himself and from the world. He was tired of being afraid.

BJBJBJBJBJ

Brian pulled the younger man to him and, with his hand at the nape of Justin's neck, he lowered his mouth to kiss the blonde who had been tormenting him for what seemed like an eternity. Their lips met and Brian remembered why he had loved this feeling as a boy. Justin's lips were soft, but Brian could feel the slight rasp from his blond stubble. He could taste the pot and the tobacco smoke on Justin's tongue when they deepened the kiss. Brian's other hand wrapped around Justin's waist and pulled the shorter man in closer to him. Justin's arms snaked around Brian and clawed at his shoulders and back, sending shivers up and down Brian's spine.

Brian pressed Justin's back up against the wall of the building and let his weight push into Justin. His legs bent slightly, almost of their own accord, to align their cocks. Justin's right leg wrapped around Brian's thigh and then they were rocking against each other. Their lips finally parted to suck in desperate gasps of air. Brian latched onto the blonde's neck and that seemed to make Justin lose control. His hips were thrusting back at Brian as Brian rocked into him. It was frantic and hot and like nothing Brian had ever had with Lindsay. Lindsay. His wife.

Abruptly, Brian pushed away from Justin and swore. Justin blinked at the sudden loss of heat and friction. It took him a few seconds to realize that Brian was pacing the alley swearing a blue streak and calling them both every kind of idiot in the book.

Brian stopped and looked Justin, still leaning against the wall where Brian had left him. His hair was tousled, his clothes disheveled, his soft lips still red and bruised from their frantic kisses, his cock still hard in those goddamn khakis. He was the most beautiful sight Brian had ever seen in his life.

"Fuck you are so beautiful," Brian whispered. Justin smiled a little sadly, knowing that Brian's next words weren't going to be quite as positive. He was right. "I have to go home. I can't do this to Lindsay. I… I'm sorry."

Justin nodded and stepped away from the wall. He pulled a card from his pocket and slipped it into Brian's jacket pocket. "Call me if you… well, just call me."

He leaned up and gave Brian a soft and gentle kiss of farewell and then stepped back. "By the way, I think you're pretty fucking spectacular too." And then he was slipping through the doorway.

Brian stood in the alley unsure what he should do. He had promised Lindsay he would seek out the artist, but… he didn't think he could face that crowd again. Not after… Justin. He felt wrung out and tired. He wanted to go home, to their familiar house with his familiar wife, to his familiar life. But a part of him wasn't sure if that would ever be possible again.

BJBJBJBJBJ

"How was the show?" Lindsay asked as Brian entered their bedroom and began stripping off his clothes to prepare for bed. Lindsay was already under the lacy duvet that Brian abhorred. She was wearing one of Brian's old t-shirts and Brian really wished that he could say that he found that attractive. He didn't.

"It was okay," Brian said. He hung up his suit, tossed his shirt into the hamper that they used for things that needed to be laundered. He was left in his briefs and t-shirt as he went to their bathroom to brush his teeth.

"Just alright?" Lindsay asked, speaking louder to be heard over the sound of running water. "Justin Taylor was one the best artists to pass through PIFA."

Brian froze. Justin? It couldn't be the same person. He spit and rinsed out his mouth before going back to his closet and taking the card out of his jacket pocket. Justin Taylor. Brian laughed and shook his head at the irony.

"Brian?"

Brian stared at the card and shook his head again. He wanted to laugh or cry or scream. He wanted to escape this feeling of claustrophobia that had been eating away at his soul for years. He wanted… He wanted Justin.

"I kissed him."

Brian's back was to her, so Lindsay wasn't certain at first that she heard correctly. "What?"

Brian turned and looked Lindsay right in the eye and said clearly, "I kissed him. Justin Taylor. Your artist. I kissed him. I pushed him against the wall and pressed our bodies together until we almost came from the pleasure of it. I kissed him. I kissed a boy. A man. I kissed him and it was worth it."

Lindsay stared at Brian and laughed. She laughed so hard that tears came to her eyes and spilled down her cheeks.

"I don't see what's so funny about that," Brian said. He climbed into the bed and sat back against the headboard.

Lindsay let her laughter die out and leaned her head against Brian's shoulder. "I kissed a girl last week. And I liked it too."

BJBJBJBJBJ

Brian was exhausted. This time it was a physical exhaustion, and not the mental, emotional and spiritual exhaustion that had plagued him for years. Despite having only gotten a couple of hours of sleep last night, Brian felt better about everything than he had since that fateful night almost twenty years ago.

He and Lindsay had stayed up all night talking everything out. They were getting a divorce, but Brian thought that he just might get his best friend back because of it. He missed the Lindsay from college, the one he could talk to about anything. Last night they had talked about Brian's experiments in high school and his dad. They talked about Lindsay's sexually repressed family and their influence on her choices. They talked about how they would handle their separation and divorce. They talked about shared custody of Gus and how they could schedule things so that it wouldn't disrupt his life too much. They talked about finances and the house and alimony. They sat at the kitchen table and wrote it all out so that there would be no reason to battle each other in divorce court.

And then Brian had packed a bag and slept on the sofa for a couple hours while he waited for Gus to wake up. They wanted to explain things to him together.

"You could stay in the guest room for a while. You don't have to leave right away," Lindsay had said to him as he packed.

Brian smiled sadly. "Yeah I do. I want to… I want to see where this thing can go with him. Even if it goes nowhere, I have to figure out who and what I want. I can't do that here, with you and Gus. It wouldn't be fair."

Once Gus woke up, they had breakfast together with him and tried to explain to the four-year-old why his Daddy wouldn't be living with them any more. It had been rough, and Gus had cried, but they had finally made him understand that Brian wasn't going away forever. He would still see Gus all the time. But Brian and Lindsay wouldn't live in the same house anymore. Brian had finally left with a promise to come pick Gus up for a boys' night out on Tuesday.

Now, Brian was sitting outside of Justin Taylor's building and waiting for it to be a decent hour so that he could go in and finish what they had started last night. It never even occurred to him that Justin might have found other companionship after he left. Brian didn't know Justin, but he didn't really seem like the type to pick up two men in the same night. Besides, there had been a connection between them that Brian was sure the other man had felt as well.

His car clock finally switched to 9:00 and Brian climbed from the car. He crossed the street and walked into the building's foyer. He pressed the button beside Justin's name on the call system and waited. It took a couple minutes, but then he heard the door unlock and he stepped inside. They rickety old freight elevator seemed to take forever, but eventually Brian reached the fourth floor and the sliding steel door to Justin's loft.

The door slid open and Brian stood there and just took in the sight of Justin. He was a mess. His hair was sticking up at weird angles as though he hadn't taken the time to even comb it after waking up this morning, as though inspiration had struck and he could do nothing until he got his idea on paper or canvas or whatever. His t-shirt was covered in paint splotches, as were his jeans, torn at both knees and obviously well worn. He wore nothing on his feet. He looked absolutely incredible.

Justin stared at Brian. "What are you doing here?"

"You said…" Brian cleared his throat and smiled. Then he started over. "Hello, my name is Brian and I'm a homosexual."

Justin's face lit up with a smile as he remembered Brian's comment last night about AA. And then he laughed from the sheer joy of the shared moment. "Welcome Brian."

BJBJBJBJBJ

Six Months Later

"I still say it seems kind of weird to throw a party to celebrate your divorce being finalized," Justin said as he climbed out of Brian's jeep and straightened his windblown hair in the side mirror.

Brian looked up from where he was doing the same in the rearview mirror and smirked. "It was an amicable divorce. Why not celebrate?"

Justin chuckled. "Any excuse for a party. Are you at least going to be civil to Mel? Lindsay really seems to love her."

"I'll be civil if she is," Brian countered. Justin groaned; that was a guarantee that there would be no peace tonight.

"Can't you be the bigger man?" Justin asked.

Brian snorted. "I doubt it. She's definitely butcher than I am."

Justin took Brian's hand and they walked together to the house that had once been Brian's home. Gus was spending the night at a friend's house, so the music was turned up loud and they could hear voices from the front walk. Rather than trying to wait for someone to hear the doorbell, Brian just opened the door and they went inside.

All the usual crowd was there: Lindsay and Melanie, Ted and Blake, Emmett and Drew, Michael and Ben. There were also about a hundred other people that Brian wasn't sure any of them knew who dancing laughing and having a great time.

"Didn't we fuck him last week?" Justin asked as a particularly hot man walked past them towards the kitchen.

"Yeah," Brian said. "He wasn't that great. Don't you remember what he did with his tongue?"

Justin cringed as he did remember.

One of the unique things about Brian and Justin's relationship was the fact that they had an open door policy. Justin knew that Brian had never had a chance to sow his wild oats and refused to lock him into a relationship so soon after discovering who he was. Instead, the two men enjoyed sucking and fucking with as many men as they pleased. There were only two rules: no repeats and total honesty. So far, it was working well for both of them. Justin had always enjoyed an active and varied sex life and Brian seemed to take to that side of the gay life like a starving man at a smorgasbord. And at the end of the day, they came home to each other.

Brian had stayed at a hotel for a couple weeks after he left Lindsay, until Justin convinced him to move in. For the last five and a half months, the two men had shared the loft like they had always lived together. Their bond was deep and almost instantaneous. From that very first conversation, where Brian told Justin more about himself than he had ever told anyone, they had connected like two halves of the same soul finally reuniting. Maybe Plato had something with his theory on love.

"So glad you two could finally make it," Lindsay said as she hugged first Brian and then Justin. "Come have a drink with me!"

"I think you've already had a few drinks without us," Brian said. His ex-wife was lit up like the Fourth of July.

"She has," Melanie confirmed as she took the glass of rum punch out of Lindsay's hand. "Hey."

"Hey," Brian returned. Justin sighed in relief. That was about as civil as those two got.

"Good to see you Mel," Justin said. He was going to ask her about her latest custody case, but was dragged away by Emmett before he could get a word out.

"I'll bring him back later," Emmett told Brian as he led Justin to the dance floor.

Brian grinned at his lover and shook his head. Mel took Lindsay into the kitchen and Brian was left alone to scope out hot prospects for a few minutes.

"Brian," Michael said. He had come from the living room where the dancing was taking place to get a drink from the punch bowl. "How's it going?"

"It's great," Brian said. "I'm officially divorced and I've never been happier."

"Ma wanted me to invite you and Justin over for dinner next week," Michael said. "You know how she gets."

"We'll come," Brian promised. He had been saddened to learn that Michael's uncle passed away a couple years back. Brian had always liked Vic. "I'll check with Justin to see when we're free and get back with you."

Michael grinned at Brian. "You know, I still can't believe that you spent twenty years in the closet. And then when you finally come out, you hook up with the hottest thing to hit Liberty Ave since disco. You must live a charmed life."

"I do now," Brian agreed.

BJBJBJBJBJ

They stumbled into the loft and were already tearing clothes off before Brian had even closed the door behind them. It took long minutes for them to make it from the entry to the raised bedroom area since they kept getting sidetracked by kisses and caresses and long hot grinding embraces.

Justin was being particularly aggressive tonight and Brian wondered if he wanted to top. It didn't happen often, but Justin did get the occasional urge to take control of their fucking—and Brian's body. The brunet could still remember the first time Justin had fucked him. It had been two months after Brian had moved in, two months after Brian had fucked Justin for the first time. He wasn't completely against the notion, but it had been awkward and uncomfortable for him at first. Eventually, though, Justin's experience had outshone Brian's inexperience and the pleasure he gave to his older lover was incredible. Since then, Justin would get all aggressive and make it clear that he wanted to be in charge about once a month and Brian let him.

They fell to the bed and Justin straddled Brian while he continued his assault on Brian's mouth and body. But when Justin grabbed the condom, he slid it over Brian's cock instead of his own. Then he was slicking them both up and positioning himself over Brian. His descent on Brian's cock was slow and steady, but once he was fully seated, Justin grinned wickedly down at Brian and grabbed his hands. He leaned forward to claim Brian's mouth in a heated kiss and the shift did wonderful things to both men where their bodies were connected.

"You're all mine now," Justin said. As he sat back up and began to rock. It was a slow and torturous pace that aroused but did nothing to sate. "Admit it and I'll let you flip me over and fuck me hard. Tell me you're mine."

Brian smirked up at Justin and thought about denying it. He thought about using his greater strength and body mass to just take what he wanted. He thought about holding out and letting Justin slowly ride his cock until Justin couldn't hold back anymore. But he didn't do any of those things.

"I was yours from the minute I saw you under that light in the alley."

Justin groaned and rolled them over. "Fuck me," he ordered.

Brian was happy to obey.

BJBJBJBJBJ

"I never knew it could be like this," Brian said a little later as they lounged in bed together and shared a joint. Brian was sitting up against the headboard while Justin lay on his side with his head on Brian's thigh. "I mean, I thought I was doomed to a life of suburban hell. I had the wife and kid, and loved them, but I imagined decades of going to the mall, dropping my kids off at school, and having barbecues in the backyard. I was locked into a life as a home-loving, child-raising, God-fearing imitation heterosexual, but it was all a big fat fucking lie. And I hated every minute of it."

"But you escaped," Justin said. "It took courage, but you did it."

Brian nodded, "Now I have a brand new life. I have you and I'm as far from hetero suburbia as a man can get. I'm a cock-sucker! I'm queer! And to anyone who takes pity or offense, I say, 'judge yourself.' This is where I live. This is who I am!" Justin chuckled at Brian's sudden fit of gay pride—he almost expected the brunet to break out into Gloria Gaynor's "I Am What I Am." It had to be at least partially a result of some pretty potent weed. "And I have you to thank for all of that."

"Brian, I didn't do anything," Justin said.

But Brian was shaking his head. "No, Justin, you did. You say it took courage, but it was you who gave me the courage I needed to face my past and all of those things I was hiding from. It was you who gave me courage to tell Lindsay. If I had never met you, I think I probably would have spent the rest of my life suffocating in that hetero hell. Lindsay and I would have both become more and more miserable. We would have become bitter and unhappy, which would have made Gus' childhood unhappy as well."

Justin was sobered by that thought. "I'm glad that didn't happen."

"Me too," Brian said quietly. "Which is why I wanted to say thank you. And to tell you how much I really do love you."

Justin sat up and kissed Brian hard. In all their months of living together and fucking together, they had not once said those words to each other. "I love you too."

They kissed again and then Brian crushed out the joint and Justin shut off the lights and soon they were both settled into each other's arms. The city lights outside their windows reflected off the loft's ceiling, swirling and changing, reminding Brian of the colored lights at Babylon and he knew without a doubt that he was finally free and he was finally home and he had finally found the love he had always been missing.

The End