FIC: "Unknown Variable" (1&2/?)
This is an unfinished fic of mine from 2002, and it will likely remain unfinished... If your muses would like to take it over, just let me know and they'll be welcome to it... I'm posting it because, as it is, I think it's pretty good and could make for a good AU if anyone else is inspired.
No NC-17-type stuff, so I don't care who reads this... ;D
Title: Unknown Variable
A Queer As Folk (US)/Highlander Crossover
Author: Lila-Blue
Date(s) written: Part 1: 02/10/2001; Part 2 02/15/2002
Pairing(s): Brian/Justin, and perhaps the suggestion of Methos/Duncan?
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and/or concepts of "Queer As Folk" - CowLip, Showtime, et al. own them. I also don't own "Highlander" - Rysher, Panzer, et al. owns that. I am not making any money from this; it is purely for fan entertainment.
Author's Notes: I’ve never been to Pittsburgh, don’t know a thing about it, except what’s on the show, and I know that’s not accurate. Furthermore, I am not a doctor or an EMT. All information concerning medical conditions, procedures, etc. are learned from various TV sources. Also I haven’t researched information on mental reactions to major trauma. In other words, most of this stuff is probably inaccurate -- don’t take the technical stuff as gospel, k? I blame my Muses entirely for this. They made me do it. They dictated it word for word, and I could barely keep up with them. I had also not slept in almost 20 hours. I hope this explains the madness sufficiently. Italics are thoughts.
Note: This takes place during the end of ep. 122 of QAF, and what immediately would have followed had this plot bunny been born to Ron and Dan. This is a Crossover with “Highlander: The Series” although very little from that show appears in this fic - pretty much just their concept of “Immortality” and “First Death.” You don’t really need to know much about it, except that this is what happens if the first time an Immortal dies and it’s a violent death.
Beta: This is unbetaed (I had three betas at the time so I wouldn’t have this problem, and they totally disappeared on me - ::huff:: ), so all mistakes are mine alone.
Warning: Technically, there is a character death in this fic, but he doesn't stay dead. I promise. This is rated R for the suggestion of violence.
Part 1
"No, no, no, no, no!! God!" He felt at Justin's throat. No pulse and he didn’t appear to be breathing.. What do I do!? He pressed the white scarf to Justin's forehead. "… Justin, no, you can't leave me! Not now!" Please!
Suddenly, Justin's body jerked and he gasped for air. Hobbs was still crying across the floor and grasping at his leg, but Brian didn't register his cries. He was utterly focused on Justin, as his eyes fluttered open. "Justin! Oh God! I thought you were dead! Thank you God!"
"Brian…" Justin murmured, his head pounding as he tried to grasp what was happening. One second, he was walking away from the Jeep, elated that Brian had shown up at his prom, and the next, he was looking up at Brian's beautiful face, contorted with an expression that Justin couldn't identify or make sense of, just now. "Brian?" he said again, more sure and yet not.
"I'm here, Justin. You're going to be fine." He kissed at Justin's face again, as he had seemingly dozens of times since he had been crouched over him on the concrete floor of the parking garage, heedless of the blood that had spattered Justin's forehead and cheek, which Brian noticed again, as if for the first time. He reached for his cell phone, angry with himself for not thinking to call 911 before now, and dialed.
A crowd was beginning to form, as students from the ballroom inside began to come out for their cars. "Stay back!" Brian warned them, cradling Justin against him with one hand and holding the ringing cell with the other. Brian quickly explained to the dispatcher what had occurred, and that Justin was conscious when she asked, and was told that the ambulance was on it's way. He hung up.
"Justin! Oh my God!" It was Daphne pushing through the crowd. She had only heard about something terrible happening to Justin in the parking garage. She’d had no idea what until she had gotten there. She fell to the ground by his side as she reached them, tears of worry streaming down her face.
"I'm okay, Daph," Justin tried to reassure her. He was becoming more lucid with each passing moment, and he was anything but "okay." He was realizing that he'd been bashed, and by Chris Hobbs, who was being attended by his date not twenty feet from them, as he picked up bits and pieces of conversation going on around them. But Justin didn't remember the details, just surmised the facts of what must have occurred. But he attempted to calm her, nonetheless, even as he was clinging to Brian as best he could. There were too many people around, too close. But his mind was going so fast he didn't know what to do about that or even how to process it.
Daphne could see all the blood, staining his face, clothes and the once-pure white scarf, and the scared look in Justin's eyes that he couldn't hide, and was somewhat less than convinced by Justin's words. She looked to Brian, who answered her unspoken question.
"The ambulance is on its way, Daphne. Don't worry, he'll be okay." He only said it because he wanted to keep Daphne from falling apart at that moment, and because he had to believe that would be true, but he didn’t know for sure.
Daphne only sniffled and wiped at her eyes with her fingers, trying to compose herself. All they could do was sit and wait the eternity that was the few minutes until the EMTs arrived.
When they did arrive, the EMTs jumped from the truck and quickly unloaded a gurney and some equipment. "Make room! Move back!" they ordered the students who had stood by watching, as they approached Brian, Justin, and Daphne from Daphne's side. "Miss, you'll need to move back." Daphne stood, and got out of the EMTs way, but stayed close by.
Brian was afraid to let Justin go, afraid he'd disappear or... be something other than alive the moment he let go. But he had no choice. It was let go voluntarily, or be pulled from him, and they were there to help Justin. So he released Justin from his tight grasp and allowed him to be lowered back to the concrete. But Brian moved no further than he had to and kept hold of Justin's right hand, as the EMTs removed the scarf from Justin's forehead and assessed the wound and Justin's state of awareness. Pin flashlight checking pupil dilation, questions asked, stethoscope checking heart rate, pulse taken. Everything checked out alright, except for raised blood pressure, which could be explained by the stress of the previous fifteen minutes.
Justin himself was feeling fine, physically. The pain he had felt in his head had subsided and he didn't feel sick as he had when he had first awoken in Brian's arms. But he was frightened. He didn't know if all that was a good or a bad thing. What if I'm paralyzed or something and that's why I'm not feeling any pain? Justin just didn't know. He knew that he should be badly hurt. So he lay still and didn't protest the EMTs' continued prodding.
Then one of the EMTs began dabbing at Justin's forehead with gauze when he couldn't immediately find the source of all the blood. "Diane? Take a look at this."
"What is it, Bobby?" the other EMT leaned over to get a better look at the right side of Justin's head. "Isn't that where you told dispatch he was hit, Mister?" she asked Brian when she saw no contusions, no broken skin anywhere in the area.
"Yes. What's wrong?" Brian was becoming more concerned by the moment, and felt Justin squeeze his hand. He just waited for the answer to his question and rubbed the back of Justin's hand with his thumb.
"Well, there's no contusions. I have no idea where all this blood is from. There could still be subdermal damage so we had better take him down to Allegheny General, just in case." The EMTs applied a neck brace, wrapped Justin's forehead with gauze on the off-chance that they had missed something, lifted him onto the gurney, and loaded it into the van.
"What about me!?" Chris Hobbs yelled to the EMTs from where he still lay on the ground. "That crazy fuck busted my leg!"
"He is not getting in there with Justin! He tried to kill him!" Brian protested.
One EMT checked Chris Hobbs over quickly to make sure he didn't need immediate assistance, and had the driver radio for another bus on the way to the hospital. September and her boyfriend agreed to follow with Daphne, since she was in no condition to drive herself and only one person was allowed to ride with the EMTs, and Brian, most emphatically, was that person.
End of Part 1
************
Part 2
It was a miracle that Justin hadn’t died the night of the prom. Even more so because he was completely uninjured by the attack. The presence of so much of Justin’s blood at the scene was never really explained to anyone’s satisfaction. He had no injuries that could account for it. And his EKG, cat scans, and all the hospital’s other test had come back completely normal, and there were no neurological impairments evident. It was utterly baffling.
Chris Hobbs was being prosecuted for aggravated assault only because Brian had witnessed the attack and knew that Justin had been knocked unconscious and was unresponsive for several minutes. The ADA expected a conviction based on Brian’s deposition and the evidence from the scene, but doubted that Chris Hobbs would serve any time in prison.
Brian hadn’t told anyone, but he was certain that Justin had died that night. He was sure that he hadn’t been breathing and had no heart beat when he had check. Brian had never been more scared in his life. As a result, Brian had asked Justin to move into the loft with him a few days after he had returned to Deb’s.
Brian had been having trouble sleeping when he was alone. He had nightmares that Justin was dead and he had to go to his funeral and see him laid out in a coffin. They seemed so real. When Brian had woken up alone after the first one, he couldn’t tell if it had been a nightmare or if it had really happened. He’d driven over to Deb’s house in the middle of the night to find Justin sleeping fitfully in Michael’s old room. He’d roused the entire house coming in so late, as he knew that he would, but he couldn’t wait the few hours until everyone was awake to make sure. The next time it had happened, he knew it had been a dream, but it still had shaken him. The next day, he’d asked Justin to move into the loft.
Justin had been having nightmares too. He didn’t really understand them and didn’t remember much of the details, but what he did know was that they were graphically violent. They’d startle him awake in a cold sweat, his heart pounding, and then he’d have a difficult time getting back to sleep again. Brian knew about them from Deb and used that as his excuse for having Justin stay with him.
Justin still had school and Brian had work, but on the evenings and weekends they were together most of the time. Justin wasn’t being given such a hard time at school anymore. Too many people were horrified by what had happened, and they wouldn’t put up with the words in the hallways and cafeteria. Many of the teachers were also more sensitive to the problems Justin had been facing on a daily basis most of the year. Most of them were not like Mr. Dixon. Besides, Chris had been the instigator of most of the harassment at school, so without him around, the occurrences were greatly diminished.
Both Justin and Brian needed time alone occasionally, but Brian made it as brief as possible and made sure that Justin was never alone in public places. Justin got nervous in crowds when he was alone. He was fine with just the guys there for a little while though, when Brian would go off to do whatever it was that Brian did when they were out. Justin knew Brian was still tricking, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much. Sure, it’d be nice if he were enough for Brian, but Brian wasn’t ready for it and Justin knew it. Besides, he never had to see it, as Brian was careful not to toss it in his face anymore, and he didn’t bring tricks back to the loft. And Justin was sure that eventually he’d probably fuck an occasional guy too, once he got more comfortable with people again.
Being in crowds didn’t seem to be getting any better for Justin though. Sometimes, he’d just be walking down the street and he’d get this weird feeling. It was a sort of fuzzy, dizzy, achy feeling in his head and it made him nervous. He’d been lucky that Brian hadn’t noticed it, but he was sure that he would eventually - he had a tendency not to miss much of what was going on with Justin these days. It happened sometimes when he was alone in the loft too, but to a lesser degree.
They were all at Woody’s tonight. It had been just over three weeks since the attack, and Justin was comfortable enough for Woody’s, if not Babylon yet. The boys were playing pool and Justin watched. He’d never quite gotten the hang of the game. Brian had gone to the bar for a beer for him and Justin. As he turned to go back, he saw Justin flinch and sag against the wall. He made his way through the Friday evening crowd to Justin’s side. “Justin, are you alright? What’s wrong?” He put a hand on Justin’s shoulder; he looked as if he needed steadying.
“I don’t know.” He looked pale. “My head feels funny.” It was the same feeling that he’d felt off and on for the last three weeks, but it was stronger than ever this time. He had the urge to look up, and as he did, he met two hazel eyes, not Brian’s. These belonged to another man half-way across the bar, who was staring back, his face unreadable. The guy just turned his head away and went back to nursing his own beer. The feeling faded, and Justin shut his eyes tight and shook his head. “Yeah, I’m better now.”
“You’re sure?” Brian was insistent. Before Justin could answer, he asked more questions, “How often does this happen, Justin? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Yes. Every now and then. I didn’t want to worry you.” He tried to grab for Brian’s beer that had been set on a nearby table. Brian snatched it.
“Don’t get smart! What if there’s something really wrong?”
“It’s nothing, Brian, really.” He didn’t want to get into this with Brian in the middle of Woody’s, so he tried to move away toward the pool table and pretend to become engrossed in the boys’ game.
Brian grabbed Justin’s arm and pulled him back. “Uh-uhm. We’re going back to the loft right now.”
Methos sighed at the bar. I really don’t want to get into this. I don’t need another child. I just left Mac in Paris… again. Amanda had come to town, and, of course, into Mac’s bed. Methos loved the imp… but not that much. So he’d come back to the States early. Paris was too overrun with tourists this time of year anyway. He snuck another look at the blond across the bar. And he’s got a boyfriend. He scoffed and shook his head. What god did I piss off this time? He finished off his beer and was about to order another, when he noticed the pair of them moving toward the door. Fuck! He grabbed his long-coat off the bar stool next to him and moved to follow them out.
They were already getting into a black Jeep when he reached the sidewalk outside, but he caught the plate number. He’d get the address and pay them a visit this weekend. Maybe he should give Richie a call… The kid looked about Richie’s age… Maybe he could pawn him off on him. Forget that, Mac would kill him because Richie wasn’t experienced enough to take on a student… No, he couldn’t do that. It would be like handing the kid a death sentence. And then, of course, there was the boyfriend. He’s going to be trouble… lots of trouble. Bloody hell! He sighed as he saw the Jeep round the corner off of Liberty. He went back inside the bar and ordered his seventh beer. He was getting behind; he was usually up to at least ten by this time of night.
The end... unless someone else wants it...
No NC-17-type stuff, so I don't care who reads this... ;D
Title: Unknown Variable
A Queer As Folk (US)/Highlander Crossover
Author: Lila-Blue
Date(s) written: Part 1: 02/10/2001; Part 2 02/15/2002
Pairing(s): Brian/Justin, and perhaps the suggestion of Methos/Duncan?
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and/or concepts of "Queer As Folk" - CowLip, Showtime, et al. own them. I also don't own "Highlander" - Rysher, Panzer, et al. owns that. I am not making any money from this; it is purely for fan entertainment.
Author's Notes: I’ve never been to Pittsburgh, don’t know a thing about it, except what’s on the show, and I know that’s not accurate. Furthermore, I am not a doctor or an EMT. All information concerning medical conditions, procedures, etc. are learned from various TV sources. Also I haven’t researched information on mental reactions to major trauma. In other words, most of this stuff is probably inaccurate -- don’t take the technical stuff as gospel, k? I blame my Muses entirely for this. They made me do it. They dictated it word for word, and I could barely keep up with them. I had also not slept in almost 20 hours. I hope this explains the madness sufficiently. Italics are thoughts.
Note: This takes place during the end of ep. 122 of QAF, and what immediately would have followed had this plot bunny been born to Ron and Dan. This is a Crossover with “Highlander: The Series” although very little from that show appears in this fic - pretty much just their concept of “Immortality” and “First Death.” You don’t really need to know much about it, except that this is what happens if the first time an Immortal dies and it’s a violent death.
Beta: This is unbetaed (I had three betas at the time so I wouldn’t have this problem, and they totally disappeared on me - ::huff:: ), so all mistakes are mine alone.
Warning: Technically, there is a character death in this fic, but he doesn't stay dead. I promise. This is rated R for the suggestion of violence.
Part 1
"No, no, no, no, no!! God!" He felt at Justin's throat. No pulse and he didn’t appear to be breathing.. What do I do!? He pressed the white scarf to Justin's forehead. "… Justin, no, you can't leave me! Not now!" Please!
Suddenly, Justin's body jerked and he gasped for air. Hobbs was still crying across the floor and grasping at his leg, but Brian didn't register his cries. He was utterly focused on Justin, as his eyes fluttered open. "Justin! Oh God! I thought you were dead! Thank you God!"
"Brian…" Justin murmured, his head pounding as he tried to grasp what was happening. One second, he was walking away from the Jeep, elated that Brian had shown up at his prom, and the next, he was looking up at Brian's beautiful face, contorted with an expression that Justin couldn't identify or make sense of, just now. "Brian?" he said again, more sure and yet not.
"I'm here, Justin. You're going to be fine." He kissed at Justin's face again, as he had seemingly dozens of times since he had been crouched over him on the concrete floor of the parking garage, heedless of the blood that had spattered Justin's forehead and cheek, which Brian noticed again, as if for the first time. He reached for his cell phone, angry with himself for not thinking to call 911 before now, and dialed.
A crowd was beginning to form, as students from the ballroom inside began to come out for their cars. "Stay back!" Brian warned them, cradling Justin against him with one hand and holding the ringing cell with the other. Brian quickly explained to the dispatcher what had occurred, and that Justin was conscious when she asked, and was told that the ambulance was on it's way. He hung up.
"Justin! Oh my God!" It was Daphne pushing through the crowd. She had only heard about something terrible happening to Justin in the parking garage. She’d had no idea what until she had gotten there. She fell to the ground by his side as she reached them, tears of worry streaming down her face.
"I'm okay, Daph," Justin tried to reassure her. He was becoming more lucid with each passing moment, and he was anything but "okay." He was realizing that he'd been bashed, and by Chris Hobbs, who was being attended by his date not twenty feet from them, as he picked up bits and pieces of conversation going on around them. But Justin didn't remember the details, just surmised the facts of what must have occurred. But he attempted to calm her, nonetheless, even as he was clinging to Brian as best he could. There were too many people around, too close. But his mind was going so fast he didn't know what to do about that or even how to process it.
Daphne could see all the blood, staining his face, clothes and the once-pure white scarf, and the scared look in Justin's eyes that he couldn't hide, and was somewhat less than convinced by Justin's words. She looked to Brian, who answered her unspoken question.
"The ambulance is on its way, Daphne. Don't worry, he'll be okay." He only said it because he wanted to keep Daphne from falling apart at that moment, and because he had to believe that would be true, but he didn’t know for sure.
Daphne only sniffled and wiped at her eyes with her fingers, trying to compose herself. All they could do was sit and wait the eternity that was the few minutes until the EMTs arrived.
When they did arrive, the EMTs jumped from the truck and quickly unloaded a gurney and some equipment. "Make room! Move back!" they ordered the students who had stood by watching, as they approached Brian, Justin, and Daphne from Daphne's side. "Miss, you'll need to move back." Daphne stood, and got out of the EMTs way, but stayed close by.
Brian was afraid to let Justin go, afraid he'd disappear or... be something other than alive the moment he let go. But he had no choice. It was let go voluntarily, or be pulled from him, and they were there to help Justin. So he released Justin from his tight grasp and allowed him to be lowered back to the concrete. But Brian moved no further than he had to and kept hold of Justin's right hand, as the EMTs removed the scarf from Justin's forehead and assessed the wound and Justin's state of awareness. Pin flashlight checking pupil dilation, questions asked, stethoscope checking heart rate, pulse taken. Everything checked out alright, except for raised blood pressure, which could be explained by the stress of the previous fifteen minutes.
Justin himself was feeling fine, physically. The pain he had felt in his head had subsided and he didn't feel sick as he had when he had first awoken in Brian's arms. But he was frightened. He didn't know if all that was a good or a bad thing. What if I'm paralyzed or something and that's why I'm not feeling any pain? Justin just didn't know. He knew that he should be badly hurt. So he lay still and didn't protest the EMTs' continued prodding.
Then one of the EMTs began dabbing at Justin's forehead with gauze when he couldn't immediately find the source of all the blood. "Diane? Take a look at this."
"What is it, Bobby?" the other EMT leaned over to get a better look at the right side of Justin's head. "Isn't that where you told dispatch he was hit, Mister?" she asked Brian when she saw no contusions, no broken skin anywhere in the area.
"Yes. What's wrong?" Brian was becoming more concerned by the moment, and felt Justin squeeze his hand. He just waited for the answer to his question and rubbed the back of Justin's hand with his thumb.
"Well, there's no contusions. I have no idea where all this blood is from. There could still be subdermal damage so we had better take him down to Allegheny General, just in case." The EMTs applied a neck brace, wrapped Justin's forehead with gauze on the off-chance that they had missed something, lifted him onto the gurney, and loaded it into the van.
"What about me!?" Chris Hobbs yelled to the EMTs from where he still lay on the ground. "That crazy fuck busted my leg!"
"He is not getting in there with Justin! He tried to kill him!" Brian protested.
One EMT checked Chris Hobbs over quickly to make sure he didn't need immediate assistance, and had the driver radio for another bus on the way to the hospital. September and her boyfriend agreed to follow with Daphne, since she was in no condition to drive herself and only one person was allowed to ride with the EMTs, and Brian, most emphatically, was that person.
End of Part 1
************
Part 2
It was a miracle that Justin hadn’t died the night of the prom. Even more so because he was completely uninjured by the attack. The presence of so much of Justin’s blood at the scene was never really explained to anyone’s satisfaction. He had no injuries that could account for it. And his EKG, cat scans, and all the hospital’s other test had come back completely normal, and there were no neurological impairments evident. It was utterly baffling.
Chris Hobbs was being prosecuted for aggravated assault only because Brian had witnessed the attack and knew that Justin had been knocked unconscious and was unresponsive for several minutes. The ADA expected a conviction based on Brian’s deposition and the evidence from the scene, but doubted that Chris Hobbs would serve any time in prison.
Brian hadn’t told anyone, but he was certain that Justin had died that night. He was sure that he hadn’t been breathing and had no heart beat when he had check. Brian had never been more scared in his life. As a result, Brian had asked Justin to move into the loft with him a few days after he had returned to Deb’s.
Brian had been having trouble sleeping when he was alone. He had nightmares that Justin was dead and he had to go to his funeral and see him laid out in a coffin. They seemed so real. When Brian had woken up alone after the first one, he couldn’t tell if it had been a nightmare or if it had really happened. He’d driven over to Deb’s house in the middle of the night to find Justin sleeping fitfully in Michael’s old room. He’d roused the entire house coming in so late, as he knew that he would, but he couldn’t wait the few hours until everyone was awake to make sure. The next time it had happened, he knew it had been a dream, but it still had shaken him. The next day, he’d asked Justin to move into the loft.
Justin had been having nightmares too. He didn’t really understand them and didn’t remember much of the details, but what he did know was that they were graphically violent. They’d startle him awake in a cold sweat, his heart pounding, and then he’d have a difficult time getting back to sleep again. Brian knew about them from Deb and used that as his excuse for having Justin stay with him.
Justin still had school and Brian had work, but on the evenings and weekends they were together most of the time. Justin wasn’t being given such a hard time at school anymore. Too many people were horrified by what had happened, and they wouldn’t put up with the words in the hallways and cafeteria. Many of the teachers were also more sensitive to the problems Justin had been facing on a daily basis most of the year. Most of them were not like Mr. Dixon. Besides, Chris had been the instigator of most of the harassment at school, so without him around, the occurrences were greatly diminished.
Both Justin and Brian needed time alone occasionally, but Brian made it as brief as possible and made sure that Justin was never alone in public places. Justin got nervous in crowds when he was alone. He was fine with just the guys there for a little while though, when Brian would go off to do whatever it was that Brian did when they were out. Justin knew Brian was still tricking, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much. Sure, it’d be nice if he were enough for Brian, but Brian wasn’t ready for it and Justin knew it. Besides, he never had to see it, as Brian was careful not to toss it in his face anymore, and he didn’t bring tricks back to the loft. And Justin was sure that eventually he’d probably fuck an occasional guy too, once he got more comfortable with people again.
Being in crowds didn’t seem to be getting any better for Justin though. Sometimes, he’d just be walking down the street and he’d get this weird feeling. It was a sort of fuzzy, dizzy, achy feeling in his head and it made him nervous. He’d been lucky that Brian hadn’t noticed it, but he was sure that he would eventually - he had a tendency not to miss much of what was going on with Justin these days. It happened sometimes when he was alone in the loft too, but to a lesser degree.
They were all at Woody’s tonight. It had been just over three weeks since the attack, and Justin was comfortable enough for Woody’s, if not Babylon yet. The boys were playing pool and Justin watched. He’d never quite gotten the hang of the game. Brian had gone to the bar for a beer for him and Justin. As he turned to go back, he saw Justin flinch and sag against the wall. He made his way through the Friday evening crowd to Justin’s side. “Justin, are you alright? What’s wrong?” He put a hand on Justin’s shoulder; he looked as if he needed steadying.
“I don’t know.” He looked pale. “My head feels funny.” It was the same feeling that he’d felt off and on for the last three weeks, but it was stronger than ever this time. He had the urge to look up, and as he did, he met two hazel eyes, not Brian’s. These belonged to another man half-way across the bar, who was staring back, his face unreadable. The guy just turned his head away and went back to nursing his own beer. The feeling faded, and Justin shut his eyes tight and shook his head. “Yeah, I’m better now.”
“You’re sure?” Brian was insistent. Before Justin could answer, he asked more questions, “How often does this happen, Justin? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Yes. Every now and then. I didn’t want to worry you.” He tried to grab for Brian’s beer that had been set on a nearby table. Brian snatched it.
“Don’t get smart! What if there’s something really wrong?”
“It’s nothing, Brian, really.” He didn’t want to get into this with Brian in the middle of Woody’s, so he tried to move away toward the pool table and pretend to become engrossed in the boys’ game.
Brian grabbed Justin’s arm and pulled him back. “Uh-uhm. We’re going back to the loft right now.”
Methos sighed at the bar. I really don’t want to get into this. I don’t need another child. I just left Mac in Paris… again. Amanda had come to town, and, of course, into Mac’s bed. Methos loved the imp… but not that much. So he’d come back to the States early. Paris was too overrun with tourists this time of year anyway. He snuck another look at the blond across the bar. And he’s got a boyfriend. He scoffed and shook his head. What god did I piss off this time? He finished off his beer and was about to order another, when he noticed the pair of them moving toward the door. Fuck! He grabbed his long-coat off the bar stool next to him and moved to follow them out.
They were already getting into a black Jeep when he reached the sidewalk outside, but he caught the plate number. He’d get the address and pay them a visit this weekend. Maybe he should give Richie a call… The kid looked about Richie’s age… Maybe he could pawn him off on him. Forget that, Mac would kill him because Richie wasn’t experienced enough to take on a student… No, he couldn’t do that. It would be like handing the kid a death sentence. And then, of course, there was the boyfriend. He’s going to be trouble… lots of trouble. Bloody hell! He sighed as he saw the Jeep round the corner off of Liberty. He went back inside the bar and ordered his seventh beer. He was getting behind; he was usually up to at least ten by this time of night.
The end... unless someone else wants it...