"Did you like Toronto?" Ben asked him.

Brian glanced at Michael's partner and mumbled incoherently. Truth be told, he was still fuming. His confrontation with Debbie about Justin hadn't gone the way he had imagined. In fact, it hadn't gone anywhere near what he had pictured. Apparently, not just Debbie, but Lindsay and Melanie had also been in constant contact with Justin for the last five years.

And they all had the same excuse – Justin made them promise that they'd tell Brian anything and everything, only if Brian asked them about Justin first. Brian hadn't asked, so none of them told.

Which was absurd, really, whichever way one looked at it, but there was no convincing Debbie and Co. of it. To Michael's credit, he hadn't been in touch with Justin himself, and said that he had assumed Brian would have asked Debbie about Justin, had he been interested.

"You're not upset about no one telling you about Dustin, are you?"

Brian sighed. "Justin. Not Dustin. Justin"

Ben laughed lightly. "I can't believe that all this time, I had gotten his name wrong."

Brian chose not to comment, and took a sip from his scotch instead. The crowd at Mac's was thinning.

"You are upset," Ben stated matter-of-factly. The man was relentless.

Brian sighed. There was just no getting away from it. "I'm not upset, Ben. I'm irritated. It boggles my mind that no one thought I might have wanted to know that Justin was alive and well, and not dead in some gutter somewhere. No one would have even known him, if not for me. Have you met him?"

"No, if I had, I'd have gotten his name right. I just knew of him, because Deb mentioned him on and off, and Michael explained who he was…and the girls…"

"Fucking Mikey."

"Michael didn't think you cared...or that it was important. You never asked, or said anything…I really thought that he was friend of Mel and Lindz and Debbie's that you had slept with at some point…none of us really discussed him…at least, no one discussed him with me, and not with Michael, as far as I know."

"I don't care." He didn't. It was just the principle of it, that was all.

"Brian, why don't you come over for dinner tomorrow night? The girls will be there, and Deb and –"

Brian sighed. "Thanks, but no thanks."

"No thanks to what?" Michael asked, as he came back from the men's room.

"I was just telling Brian that he should come over for dinner tomorrow."

"Yeah, why not Brian?"

"I have somewhere else to be."

"What, the Feldman bar mitzvah? They got busted while you were gone."

"What the fuck? Is nothing sacred anymore? Goddamnit."

Woody's had banned him, Babylon was closed until its legal woes were over, Meathook was gone, Adonis had turned straight, the bathhouse was closed for violations…and now the back of a fucking truck was gone too.

"Another one bites the dust," Ben said humourlessly.

"We have…Mac's."

"Don't be stupid, Mikey. This is a straight bar, with a designated 'Queer Night' once a month. It may be good enough for you, but certainly not for me."

"Don't snap at me, I wasn't the one who got Stockwell elected. It's your own fault that Liberty Avenue is practically dead."

"Here we go again, the lets-blame-Brian game, round six million and twelve." Brian was sick to death of having this same old tired argument with almost everyone he knew. That was the primary reason he had stopped hanging out with the gang. "I worked on Stockwell's campaign. Big fucking deal. I'm one person. I didn't elect him, the voters did. You know what voters are, don't you Michael? The voting public? The people who buy your comics, your former friends at the Big Q..."

"Who the hell else do you want us to blame?"

"Michael, let it go." Ben's voice had a hint of resignation.

"He started it."

"Right, blame me again. This is so typical of you."

"I'm not the only one who thinks this all your fault. You masterminded his campaign; people voted for Stockwell because of your work. Now he's shutting us down one by one. Kids can take E at any straight club, but Babylon gets shut down on indecency charges? There are cops everywhere. Why do you think they won't let you in to Woody's anymore?"

"Oh get off it Michael. They let me inside Woody's," Brian said flippantly.

"Yeah, they just don't serve you anymore. As good as banning you. They're giving you a dose of your own medicine until the next election."

"Fuck them. I don't need Woody's," Brian said. Truth was, he missed going to Woody's. He missed being able to walk down the street without bumping into a cop. He missed the freedom all of them used to have.

And each time this topic came up, it made him angry.

Stockwell made him angry. They had had a deal, and Stockwell reneged. Fucking asshole. There were no powerful clients, no moving up, no higher profile…there was nothing but a homophobic, backstabbing, asshole as mayor.

That he had helped elect.

"You don't need a goddamn thing, and you ruined Liberty Avenue for all of us!"

"Fuck you, Michael."

"Can we please move on from this topic? Brian was about to tell me about him meeting Justin in Toronto. You never corrected me; all this time I was calling him Dustin."

Ben's entreaty had some effect on Michael.

"We never talked about him often enough to correct you. How's Justin doing? Ma said that you went to his art show…? Was it good?"

"It was interesting. Thanks for letting me know that he was alive, by the way."

"If you had asked, I would have told you. Those were my instructions."

"Since when do you take instructions from Justin?" Brian barked.

"I take instructions from Ma. How the hell was I supposed to know that you cared?"

"I DON'T CARE." Jesus. How many times was he supposed to repeat the same thing? "Why the fuck would I care about Justin?"

"If you don't care, why get all antsy about it? I'm tired. I'm going home. Ben?"

"I'll get the cheque and catch up with you."

"You don't need to stay here on my account. I'm leaving anyway. And the drinks are on me," Brian said. Honestly, there was no point hanging around.

Michael had already left.

"Brian, you're still invited for dinner; I hope you come."

"What the fuck for? A repeat of this, ad nauseam?"

"Go easy on Michael. All these restrictions are tough."

"You think it's fucking easy for me?" Brian snapped. "You think it's easy, getting stabbed in the back by fucking Stockwell, being stuck here in Pittsburgh, with everyone sniggering behind my back? Michael's supposed to be my friend. Some fucking friend."

"Brian, none of us are sniggering behind your back. And you're not stuck in Pittsburgh – Vance is sending you to Toronto. You'll be heading that unit full-time. Doubtless he gave you this promotion and responsibility in no small part because of how professionally you handled the Stockwell thing. You've come out of this pretty much unharmed, comparatively speaking. None of us have been so lucky. Ted lost everything. It's been really hard for him, starting over. And Emmett too. Those two would probably still be together, if not for the raid."

Brian did not want to be listening to any of this, but Ben just continued.

"And us. We lost Hunter. We're still hurting."

"You didn't lose him because of me."

"We lost him because two gay men were not deemed a safe environment for him to live in. That comes directly from Stockwell's policies, and you know it. I'm not blaming you Brian, but we're still hurting. We always will."

"Michael blames me."

Ben sighed. "Yes, yes he does. He's just trying to cope, that's all. Deep down, he knows it wasn't you. He needs time to heal. Listen, I have to go now. But the dinner invitation is still open. I think it'll be good if you dropped by."

Brian wasn't supposed to go back to Toronto for another two weeks, but it looked like he was going to have to change his plans. Two more weeks in Pittsburgh was two weeks too long.