DISCLAIMER: I don't own QAF, the characters…blah blah blah. You know the drill. If I had any right over these characters, the finale would have never have happened.

A/N: Once again, a HUGE thank you to Xrifree for aiding in untangling this story, and for her helpful insights, ideas and comments. I hope you like it!

BACKGROUND: Apparently, I find it difficult to stick to the script, because this is another Alternate Universe story...or perhaps several universes...he he he.

I'm not going to give a background as such because this time, we start at the beginning and move forward...more or less.

I hope you all enjoy it!

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

William Shakespeare, "Hamlet", Act 1 scene 5

Justin surveyed the mess in front of him. Ok, so maybe 'mess' was the wrong word. What he was looking at wasn't a mess. A mess was a college dorm (not that he had ever been inside one). A mess was what Molly had made when she played with Justin's paint tubes. A mess was day-old dinner left in the kitchen sink.

This was what would result if an old war museum had a child with a storage facility, and then that child decided to throw up.

"Justin, you're never going to finish cleaning this by tomorrow!" Daphne was shaking her head as she handed him a can of Red Bull.

"I don't have much of a choice, do I? So much for odd jobs on Craig's List…I swear that Mrs. Bates is crazy! There must be at least four generations worth of junk here…well, mostly junk."

Justin was glad that Daphne had turned up to help him. He was getting paid good money to clean out a batty old woman's attic, but there was no way he could meet her deadline without help.

"Daph, no, not those. Mrs. Bates said that I could keep those things for myself if I wanted to. So, I'm taking them."

Daphne scrunched up her nose. "Hmmm…an old kerosene lamp, a glass bowl, an ancient camera – that might actually be worth something – a set of foot stools and a table? Have I ever told you that you're crazy? Ugh, and this massive painting? It isn't even finished…and it totally gives me the creeps. "

Justin stuck his tongue out at Daphne. "I happen to like that stuff and they'll fill up my new place. That painting…there's something about it, I don't know…look at it. The fabric feels like canvas, but I'm pretty sure that it isn't. I want to do some painting on it, just to experiment. Look at how weird the colours are…it's so dull and gloomy, but this picture of a man on a bench…it's so bright and sharp like it was just painted yesterday. I wanna try and see if I can get the same effect."

He ran his hand over the fabric as he spoke, and got a fine layer of dust and powder from the fabric on his fingers in the process.

"Oh my god, Justin!" Daphne was looking at him, concerned and horrified at the same time.

"Daph, what is it?" Justin felt it even as he formed the question. He raised his hand from the painting and across his face, just in time to keep the blood from trickling on to his t-shirt. He had a nosebleed. What the fuck? Again?

"Justin, are you ok?"

Justin pulled out an already bloody handkerchief and wiped his nose. "I'm fine…it's weird, this is the second time I'm getting a nosebleed since I got here…it's probably nothing though."

It didn't strike Justin to wash his hands, and thus he didn't notice the dust and powder and blood all mixing together, being inhaled and rubbed into his skin.

It took him a while to get cleaned up, and it took him even longer to convince Daphne that he was fine.

"Have you actually managed to find a place?" Daphne eventually asked him. "You know that you can stay with me –"

"I know, I know, and I love you for it. But I need my own place – like it or not. I can't sponge off you forever. Anyway, remember that apartment we looked at on Sunday? Well, the landlord called me back about an hour ago. The place is mine if I want it."

Justin had been living with Daphne for over a month now; as soon as his physiotherapy had reduced, Craig had made it abundantly clear that Justin was not welcome. Thank heavens for Daphne.

"Justin, that's not an apartment – it's a closet! Plus, it's a basement. It looks damp, and you'll freeze to death in the winter. I don't understand why you refuse to share with me."

"Because you want to be on campus. And you can't do that if you're going to stay with me. Or rather, if I'm going to stay with you."

Daphne was frowning. "And PIFA? Is your dad still refusing to pay? How are you going to afford an apartment, even if it is a basement closet?"

"I'll be paying the PIFA tuition on my own. And the rent. Well, actually, mom said that she'll pay first and last. She has some savings of her own that she'll dip into. She'd pay the rent too, I'm sure, but I told her that I'll manage somehow. That would have been Dad's money, at any rate. PIFA has agreed to let me start in the winter semester, so I have till then to pay the tuition."

"Justin, it's already August. How will you find the money between now and January for the tuition? Plus rent? Here, help me carry this – it goes into recycling, right?"

Justin went to help Daphne. "Weeell, I sort of found a job…one which, if I save properly, will finance my tuition, rent and food. I'll probably have to shop at thrift shops for clothes, but all things considered, I think I can manage."

Daphne's eyebrows reached her hairline. "Justin, you're seventeen years old – no one is going to pay you enough to cover all that!"

"Ha! That's what you think. I've already found someone who's going to pay me."

"Really? Doing what?"

"I'll tell you, but you have to promise that you won't freak out."

"Oh Justin, what did you do now?"

"I saw this ad online…there's this gay club called Babylon, and they were looking for dancers…"

Daphne's eyes had narrowed into thin slits. "Dancers?"

"Uh…go go dancers?"

"Justin! Is that even legal?"

"What? Ok, so it isn't exactly the most respectable job I could do, but it pays so well! I can earn $400 in tips in just one night! And who cares if it's legal...I told them that i was eighteen...I'll be eighteen soon enough, so what's the harm? Come on Daph, there is no other conceivable way that I could possibly think of attending PIFA."

"But Justin…does your mother know? And how did you get the job?" Daphne had already resigned herself to the idea, mainly because she knew deep down that Justin wasn't faced with too many better options to make money.

"This is the part where you can't freak out…I let the manager blow me...and I get the feeling that it won't be a onetime thing. Mom thinks I'm working as a bartender. What she won't know won't hurt her. I wish I could tell Dad though…he'd just die!"

Daphne's face turned green, and she looked as if she wanted to throw up. "You're turning into someone out of Midnight Cowboy...how did it come to this?"

"Daph, come on. Lots of people earn college tuition like this…girls pose nude for magazines all the time. This is better than posing nude, right?"

"Not by much."

Justin sighed. "At least I'm just dancing. I'm supposed to start next week. Really, it's not a big deal."

Actually, it was a big deal. To Justin, it was a huge deal. He was just seventeen years old, and was about to start living in a hovel and working as a go go dancer to earn a living and finance his education. As far as he was concerned, it was worse than being some from Midnight Cowboy. Damn stupid motherfucking Chris Hobbs. And his father. Stupid motherfucking idiots, the both of them. Justin couldn't believe that in just three months, his life had so completely turned upside down. It was degrading and shameful.

Daphne must have seen through his false bravado, because she gently squeezed his shoulder, and Justin smiled weakly at her.

Oh well, if life gave you lemons, you were supposed to make lemonade, right? Justin was determined to come out of this nightmare alive. And if dancing on top of bars in a loincloth was what it took, then that was what he was going to do.

Saturday Evening

On the bright side, Daphne had been wrong. The place was much bigger than a closet. On the not so bright side, it was a hovel. The laundry room was right across the hall and he could hear the machines, which had been whirling for hours now. Justin hated it.

He had an old bed donated from his grandmother, and a sofa donated by Daphne's mother, but that was about all the proper furniture he had, not counting the foot stools and table that he had salvaged from Mrs. Bates' attic. All the knickknacks were either on the table, or on the ridiculously small kitchen counter.

He had refused to let his mother buy anything else, because Justin knew that it was his father's money. I'm not using a single cent of that man's money, he thought. Justin had taken all of his clothes and art supplies and paintings from his room when he left, but had left everything else.

Justin stretched on the bed, and closed his eyes. As had become a habit in the last four months, his mind wandered onto his usual obsession…that fateful night…

Four Months Ago

"Daph, I can't believe we're actually here in Vienna! And this hotel, isn't it fabulous?"Justin was sitting cross legged on Daphne's bed, while she applied finishing touches on her make up at the dressing table.

"I'm soooo glad that they picked Austria for the Model United Nations conference… you know that last year it was in Miami? That would have totally sucked, don't you think?"

Justin laughed. "I was afraid Dad wouldn't pay for this – he's been bitching about PIFA ever since I got accepted. I think his plan is to guilt trip me into going to Dartmouth once I get back. Where's Lisa?"

"Stuffing her face downstairs…I swear, all she's done is eat the entire trip! I don't know why she's even here – I don't think she's even read any of the papers we're presenting."

"Well, at least she can read. Did you know that Chris Hobbs managed to wrangle his way here? I think his dad must be paying for a new pool at St. James or something. The whole year, I don't think he attended a single Model UN meeting."

"Justin, listen, we don't have much time before Lisa comes so can we run through the plan just once more?"

Justin sighed in exaggeration. "What's there to run through? We wait till Lisa gets here, then we make a big deal about going to watch a movie in German, and then once we're out, you head to my room where Matt will be waiting, and I'll disappear till one o'clock, and at that time, we'll meet at the taxi stand. Actually, make that the underground park. In the unlikely event that I run into Lisa, I'll say that we had a fight and I left you at the cinema. Woman, you owe me one – it took some incredible amount of planning to make sure I got to share a room with Matt."

"That's why I love you Justin!"

"I can't believe you get to have sex before me." Justin pouted.

"Well, what about Chris Hobbs?"

"We didn't have sex Daph, I just gave him a hand job. Big difference. Plus, he's turned into the bane of my existence – definitely nothing to boast about."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Justin was in the lobby, wondering how to kill the next five hours without getting caught to Lisa. It was easy enough agreeing to this plan with Daphne, but he had no idea what to do with himself. Justin didn't speak a word of German and was fairly certain that if he were to head out anywhere, he'd either get hopelessly lost or hopelessly bored. Well, at least one of us gets to have sex, he thought. Justin wondered if he would have to wait till he went to PIFA to have sex…he wasn't quite sure that he'd be able to last that long.

He leaned against a pillar, watching a few well dressed men and women walk from the direction of one of the conference hall, presumably from a cocktail. Justin had seen a brass plaque in the hotel lobby earlier, about some advertising seminar or conference or training or some such – he hadn't paid much attention. Must be the crowd from that, he mused. Justin racked his brain – standing around the lobby for five hours was the perfect way to blow Daphne's cover…there must be someplace he could go to.

That was when he saw him.

This tall, sharply dressed brunette. The handsomest man Justin had ever laid eyes on. As he walked across the lobby, Justin could only stare hopelessly at the man, while his body responded likewise.

Their eyes met, and the man stopped walking, staring at Justin instead. All Justin could do was gape back at him, until the man walked over, and stood chest to chest with Justin. The chemistry between them was unmistakable.

"How's it going?"

All conversational skills failed Justin. "Just, uh, you know. Ok, I guess."

"You're American." It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement. Justin mutely nodded.

The brunette looked at him with undisguised interest. And desire. "Where you headed?"

"No place special." Inside, Justin sighed with relief at finally being able to form a reasonably coherent sentence.

"I can change that."

Justin let him lead him upstairs, into the man's room. He managed to find out the man's name was Brian, and though Justin introduced himself, he was fairly certain that Brian hadn't heard him.

Brian started stripping the instant Justin closed the door, throwing his blazer on a chair while heading to the mini bar.

"Want anything?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Again with lame-ass phrases.

Justin blinked rapidly, and took the drink that Brian gave him.

"Do you like Special K?" Brian was grinning.

Brian was discussing breakfast cereal? Justin was certain that he had brought him up here for sex.

"It's okay. I like Cheerios better."

"I don't mean the kind you eat with bananas." He pulled out a small packet from his pants.

"I'm really allergic to a lot of drugs. The doctor gave me penicillin once-nearly killed me. And ... Tylenol." What the fuck am I doing?

"Tylenol?" Brian laughed. " No one's allergic to Tylenol. Tylenol's what they give you when you're allergic to everything else." Brian paused, and looked at Justin intently. "Have you ever been with anyone before?"

"Sure. Well ... not exactly. This is sort of my first." Any minute now, Brian would kick him out of the room. Justin took a deep breath…please…

"I figured. Kind of young, aren't you? Well, I was fourteen my first time."

"That's really young."

"With my gym teacher. It was after school in the locker rooms. He was taking a shower. I went back for something: a book, my jockstrap, I don't remember. Anyway, there he was, all naked, soaping himself. He saw me there, a big boner under my chinos. Shit, I walked right into the showers with all my clothes on. Got down on my knees and sucked him off right there."

Justin didn't realize that Brian had managed to loosen him up with the story. "I bet you were scared."

"Well, I guess we're all a little scared our first time. But I don't remember any more." It was then Justin realized that Brian had managed to remove all of his clothes while talking.

"So, are you coming or going? Or coming and then going? Or coming and staying?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Justin had spent five hours in Brian's hotel room. Justin didn't need to have ever had sex to know that Brian was talented in ways most other men could only dream of. It was, by far, the most incredible five hours of Justin's entire life. There were rim jobs, hand jobs and blow jobs, interspersed with sex on every surface of Brian's room. He had even managed to sketch Brian on the hotel notepad, while they each rested and carried on a surprisingly interesting conversation.

But by twelve forty five, Justin knew that he had to head back to meet Daphne, and Brian had walked down with him, because he was apparently going to continue partying at some club. Justin wanted to ask if he could join Brian, but having to meet Daphne kept him from it. How many American Brians could there be at the hotel? Justin figured that he could find out what he wanted from the reception the following morning.

Justin didn't notice Chris Hobbs in the corridor as he walked out, laughing, from Brian's room. He didn't notice Hobbs in the lobby either, nor did he notice Hobbs follow himself and Brian into underground parking.

For the life of him, Justin couldn't be sure if he was meeting Daphne at the taxi stand or the underground park. Somewhat high and giggling himself, Brian merely followed Justin, alternately kissing and sucking his earlobe, hands roaming all over. That was when Justin decided that he'd do whatever it took to get Brian's information from the reception first thing in the morning, one way or another.

After wandering around the better part of the underground parking, Brian realized that he was nowhere near the taxi stand, and they argued, each pointing to a different exit as the right way out. They took different stairs, hell bent on proving the other wrong.

Justin heard Brian shout his name, for the first time that evening, and as he turned around, he felt cold metal make contact with his head, and then everything went black.

Justin never knew what had exactly happened. According to Daphne, Brian had called hotel security, who had then called the hospital, where Justin had been rushed into emergency surgery. Hobbs had been immediately thrown in jail, but St. James had been unwilling to have their name tarnished, either by having a gay student fraternizing with an older male (which was the song Hobbs had been singing), or with a homicidal student (Hobbs himself). To their luck, it had been Craig that had flown to Vienna immediately, instead of Jennifer.

As far as Daphne knew, no one except the Austrian police had bothered taking down Brian's details. Craig and the school had ensured that no charges other than those mandated by Austrian law be applied, and as far as Daphne knew, Hobbs would be deported back to America no sooner than his jail term expired.

Justin meanwhile, unconscious for much of his hospital stay in Vienna, had no clue about Brian and any attempts to find further information once he was fully conscious (and back in America) had been stonewalled, mostly by Craig but also by Jennifer.

He had also been rather distracted, first and foremost by the physiotherapy, and afterwards, by Craig informing him that Justin was not quite welcome at home, and that PIFA tuition would not be forthcoming unless Justin agreed to step inside the closet and attend Dartmouth while he was at it.

Justin sighed. Brian. I don't even know his full name.

Justin frowned as he heard a light refrain of a violin being played somewhere. That's weird, how loud does it have to be heard over those washing machines?

He rolled over to his side, and the painting caught his eye. He slowly walked towards it.

The half finished painting from Mrs. Bates' place was partially propped up against his easel (it was too large to be on the easel itself). The frame had rotted in places, and Justin had had to struggle to keep it up right. He walked over and rubbed the fabric between his fingers. It felt like canvas…but something wasn't right. He ran his fingers across the fabric once more. It almost felt as if it had been coated with some powder. Justin frowned. Who painted like that?

On looking at the picture again, Justin had to agree with Daphne. It was an eerie, almost creepy painting. It was all grey sky and trees, but too much had been covered in a mist to give it any proper definition. Justin didn't want to be too harsh, but whoever had done the painting hadn't been talented. At all.

Plus, large parts of it was left untouched, and the raw fabric looked decidedly worse than the painting itself. And then there was the image of the man, seated on what must be an attempt at a park bench…Curiously, the man was very well defined, and the colours hadn't faded with time. Justin could clearly make out his wavy brown hair reaching his shoulders. He wore a curious expression…angry, but arrogant at the same time, as if he knew a secret that the rest of the world didn't. Justin wondered at the amount of detail he was now picking up on, which he had missed earlier. He peered closer. Ok, there was also a small goatee (if you could call it that). A violin case lay at the man's feet. Actually, foot.

Justin giggled. For all the effort that had gone into painting the man's features and expression, the painter had forgotten to add the requisite limbs. The figure had no arms whatsoever, and only one leg. Well, I'm going to have to rectify that, Justin thought – he can't as well play the violin with just one leg.

Justin looked at the painting again. A brunette, far better looking than the one in the painting, came to mind. He had sketched Brian many, many times since he had come back from Vienna, but he had never painted him. Maybe he could first add Brian in before he gave the other figure limbs, Justin thought. Brian could be walking by perhaps, or better still, talking to the violinist. And then once he had improved the overall scenery, he could turn this into a painting worth hanging up somewhere.

As Justin reached for his palette, he felt a drop of blood trickle down his nose.

Model United Nations : Model United Nations (also Model UN or MUN) is an academic simulation of the United Nations. In standard Model UN, students take on roles as diplomats and participate in a simulated session of an intergovernmental organization (IGO). Participants research a country, take on roles as diplomats, investigate international issues, debate, deliberate, consult, and then develop solutions to world problems