A/N: I'm baaaaaaaack! Thanks to all the wonderful reviews so far, and everyone who patiently waited for the update. Sincere apologies to everyone whom I didn't respond to, but I promise that I won't be as tardy now.

I know, this a fairly boring chapter, and it's short, but hey, it's still an update! (*makes doe eyes*)

And my wonderful beta, Xrifree, thank you so much!


Brian's POV

Melanie and Justin had remained in the living room, while Lindsay had taken him into the kitchen, looking none too pleased.

"Since when did Justin start working with Melanie?" Neither Melanie nor Justin had volunteered too much information to his earlier question, apart from the fact that Justin was helping Melanie on a 'project'. Lindsay would be infinitely easier to pry details out of, Brian thought.

"He's not working with her, Brian. He's helping her on the election...you know, educate people about the real Stockwell. Trying to undo the damage you're doing."

"Well, I wish them both luck. They'll need it."

As Lindsay placed a plate of chicken in front of him, Brian remembered his earlier meal from the diner; he had almost spat out the mouthful he had taken of the sandwich when he had realized what the stupid blonde had done. Brian refused to let himself be amused by Justin's antics; there was nothing at all funny about it and that was all there was to it.

Lindsay prattled on, her relief at Brian having turned up clearly winning out over her annoyance with him and Brian listened with half an ear as he let his mind wander. It was becoming quite clear to him that Justin Taylor was determined to lock horns with him in every manner possible, whether Justin realized it or not.

In fact, he was as annoyed as fuck with both Lindsay and Justin. Lindsay, because against his better judgment (and Michael's), she had convinced him to have a child with her. And now, in spite of himself, here he was, sitting in her kitchen, Gus gurgling away in his arms. Domesticity was contagious it seemed, and the steady diet of drugs and alcohol hadn't sufficiently immunized his system.

He was annoyed with Justin because of...well… for the events of the previous evening, for one thing. Justin had pissed him off beyond belief with his sanctimonious speeches, and Brian had wanted to wring the blonde's neck when parts of his speech had started replaying in his head like a cheap Hallmark movie voiceover today, while he fought a losing battle with his conscience over Marvin Telson. Looking over baby pictures at Babylon had merely been amusing; being told that having sex trumped over being with a six year old with a broken arm was anything but.

I should have just slept with the fucker, Brian thought. I should have just screwed him over, and thought to hell with his daughter and wife and family and love and all the other bullshit that I've managed to steer clear of for the better part of my life. But nooooooooo. This blonde fucker stuffs my head with ideas I don't even believe in, and suddenly, here I am, putting someone else's family above my career.

What I need is to go to Babylon, Brian figured. To get drunk and high and fuck someone into oblivion. Yup, that's what I'm going to do, he decided, even as he nodded and mumbled a generic response to Lindsay's question.

"Great! I'll go tell them. This way, you can show Mel that you have a compassionate, human side." Lindsay said, winking at him.

"Huh? What?" Fuck, what had he agreed to now?

"I'll go tell Melanie and Justin to let us know when they're done so you can drop him at Deb's place. He's really not bad, you know. Extremely polite and well brought up. His poor parents; they must miss him terribly. I don't know what I'd do if I lost Gus somewhere..."

Fuck fuck fuck. Brian cursed. Dropping Justin at Debbie's was the last thing on the planet that he wanted to do. Scenes from the previous evening threatened to overtake his imagination (and other body parts) and Brian cursed some more. Two blow jobs and a cold shower hadn't managed to quell the frustration he had felt last night; he had had to wait all morning for Vance to do the honours with his preaching about bottom lines.

Realizing that Lindsay had already left, Brian followed her into the living room, thinking that he had better go in there and put an end to this nonsense.

"Don't be silly Justin; you wouldn't be imposing on Brian at all." Lindsay was saying."In fact, Brian offered to drop you himself."

"Yeah, I just bet he did, but really, I can walk."

Melanie's eyes darted between Justin to Brian, and he knew the instant she figured out that there was something amiss between the two of them.

"Hmf. He's worked all day and halfway into the night and he'd still rather walk home than get into a vehicle alone with you. Great going, Kinney."

"What?" Lindsay looked confused.

Poor Lindsay, Brian thought. The only one in the room who hadn't figured it out yet.

"It's not an imposition, so don't worry about it. Brian certainly doesn't mind. Right, Brian?"

Melanie snickered.

"I can walk, really. And there's Soli, too. She's waiting outside."

That prompted an outright guffaw from Melanie.

"You and a dog, in his jeep? That'll be the day! Besides, we all know that the only place he wants to go to is Babylon." Melanie sent a defiant glare Brian's way before patting Justin's shoulder. "You go on home safely, sweetie, and come by my office tomorrow and we'll try and do something about getting you a social security number, ok? You know I'd have dropped you if the car wasn't being serviced."

There was a silent challenge in Melanie's eyes that he was incapable of backing down from. Grinding his teeth, Brian looked around the room, and decided that his death, however it may happen, would undoubtedly be because of the three people in this room.

"I. Will. Take. Him. To. Debbie's." he hissed at Melanie, while gently handing over the sleeping Gus to Lindsay. He then turned towards Justin.

"Get the fuck in the jeep. Now. With the damn dog."


There was a hunger Brian was feeling, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with food. It had everything to do with the blonde inside his jeep, and something told Brian that this particular hunger was going to keep him awake two nights in a row.

He glanced at the dog, trying to distract himself. Despite the fact that the dog looked cleaner than the first time Brian had seen her, he made a mental note to get the jeep serviced as soon as possible. Still…

There was something about the way Justin was with the dog – Soli, as Justin called her – that kept you from dismissing her outright. Brian still thought she was an incredibly unfortunate dog to be born with a set of features that were not meant to belong together. But now she was beginning to look…homely, the way the bulldog on Tom & Jerry started to grow on you after a while. Justin had placed her at his feet, but the dog had found her way on to his lap. When Brian indicated that he wasn't pleased with that, Justin had proceeded to share his seat with the mongrel, who now formed a panting, slobbery wall between Brian and Justin (not that it helped). At least she was clean and healthy and…cute?

Ugh. Brian shook his head at the thought. I will not turn into a lesbian, even if it's about a dog.

In response to his thoughts, a wet tongue made its way up and down his forearm. Not the tongue Brian wanted.

"Non Soli! No."

There it was again; Justin and his Euro-speak. Brian didn't flinch, but looked at the blonde from the corner of his eye.

What the fuck was going on here? Justin was clearly American…and yet, he was also very clearly something else. Something else he was desperately trying to hide.

"Soli, you can't do that. You're not part of his routine. You're not familiar. He doesn't want to have sex with you either. I think."

That earned Justin an outright glare. Fucking twat.

Justin buried his face into Soli's back, and Brian could swear that he was trying to hide a smile. "He doesn't want to be liked, Soli. He wants to be cold and mean so you can't try and go make friends with the scary man, ok? That's right; just stay close to me like a good dog, hmmm?"

Soli wasn't the only one in the jeep that wanted Justin's face buried in his back…in his dick…

Brian's hands gripped the steering wheel; he was not a horny teenager. He did NOT want the blonde.

"The scary man is the driving the two of you home, in case you didn't notice."

"I told you that I could walk. Soli certainly didn't ask for a ride. It's not my fault that you like playing childish games with Melanie."

"Oh, so her gibes and taunts are ok but my responding to them is not?"

"Who can blame Melanie? Her partner is love with a man who's supposedly her best friend. She's marking her territory; it's human instinct."

"What?"

"Marking territory. This might come as a surprise to you, but certain people are known to mate for life. And those types of people in particular tend to protect their loved ones – and their position - with fierce determination. Animals do it all the time."

"Do you ever shut up?"

I know how you could shut him up, a voice inside his head volunteered.

Justin rolled his eyes. "You're the one who asked. What can I say; I guess you bring out the best in me. You see it in nature all the time; when a threat is detected –"

"Please stop with the sociology lessons."

The rest of the drive to Debbie's continued in silence, with Brian trying to make a long, mental list of everything that was wrong with Justin Taylor.

Unfortunately, beyond the first three (very) compelling reasons, the list had descended into a list of un-wrongness. It went something like this:

1. Is a liar.

2. Talks too much.

3. Way, way too romantic. And idealistic. Way too much of both.

4. Has the perfect ass.

5. The only one who can constantly get a rise out of me.

6. The only person who actually stands up to me.

7. Kissable.

8. Too kissable.

9. Too good at kissing.

10. Too good at making me want to kiss him.

11. Fuckable.

12. Too fuckable.

13. I want to fuck him. Over and over and over and over and over again.

Brian wasn't a superstitious person by nature, but the fact that the list ended at number thirteen didn't bode well. He hadn't gotten beyond that number by the time he pulled up in front of Debbie's place.

"Thanks for dropping us."

Justin turned away to unlock the door, and Brian found, much to his dismay, that his tongue had a life of its own. "What, I don't get a good night kiss tonight?"

At least his face had the presence of mind to rearrange its features into a leer, thus salvaging his reputation.

Justin paused slightly, before turning to look at Brian expressionlessly.

"Soli, please give Brian a good night kiss. And another one as a thank you for the ride."


At Debbie's place around lunch time, the next day

Debbie had always been easy to pull the wool over, Brian thought with a chuckle. He was on his way back from a shoot nearby and had spilled coffee all over his shirt. Luckily, he had a spare shirt; he just needed to do a quick change. She had bought the story hook, line and sinker.

Downstairs, he could hear Cynthia chatting away with Debbie, just as instructed. Still, he paused for a second or two outside Michael's old bedroom before entering it as quietly as possible. Even with Cynthia keeping Debbie busy, Brian knew that he didn't have much time; Deb could be fooled, but not for too long. He didn't even know what he was looking for. He just needed something; some clue as to who Justin Taylor really was. What he was hiding. Where he was from. Something.

The room was neat and clean, and it didn't look like Justin spent too much time in there. There was a freshly folded pile of laundry sitting on the bed. On the bedside table, there were some folded newspapers; closer inspection revealed a series of articles on Stockwell that had been highlighted. Leaflets on Stockwell, presumably from Melanie were also scattered about, and Justin had underlined sentences here and there and made a few notes in the margin. Brian wanted to read what the blonde had written, but paucity of time made him replace the leaflet just as he had found it.

A few steps towards the closet, and Brian turned back. And picked up the leaflet again. Justin hadn't written any sentences; merely a couple of words here and there, possibly phrases.

The script was English. The words definitely were not.

Brian didn't stop to think; he whipped out his phone and copied everything he saw on the first page before replacing the leaflet for the second time.

Before your shift is up today Sunshine, I'm going to have pegged a country for you.

Brian finally moved to the closet. Old Navy. Calvin Klein knock-offs. FCUK knock-offs. Gap knock-offs. For a guy who wore so many knock-offs, Justin certainly carried it off with style, he mused. Then again, with that ass, what couldn't he carry off?

H & M. Banana Republic. Gap, again, but the real ones this time. The originals must be what Ted had bought, Brian thought. There was no accounting for some people's taste. He was about to move to the desk, considering that there was absolutely nothing worthwhile in the closet when he noticed the narrow shelf on top. Instinctively, Brian reached out to feel if there was anything there, and found a wallet.

Why would Justin leave his wallet inside the closet and go to work?

It was brown leather and well-worn. Kenneth Cole. No way could Justin afford such a brand…unless it was his from…from his past. Brian opened it, hoping for some kind of ID. But the wallet was curiously empty…empty, except for money. Fives, tens, twenties, fifties. Four hundred and seventy five dollars, in cash. Neatly folded, all in sequential order.

What the fuck?

Brian moved to the table, unable to quite process what he had just found. The wallet itself was clearly from whatever previous life Justin was running from; but where had the money come from? Had Justin saved all that money so quickly? Through Michael, Brian knew that Justin was paying Debbie rent, as well as buying a meager amount of shit for the house. Plus he had paid to get the dog all cleaned up. He couldn't have saved four hundred dollars on top of that. Was it stolen? Justin stealing money seemed almost implausible to him, though he couldn't come up with one good reason as to why. Or where the money had come from. Had it been on Justin from the first day he had walked into the diner?

Things got a whole lot stranger when Brian opened the top drawer on Michael's old desk. First, he found more money. Sixty dollars in cash, just haphazardly lying there. Gut instinct told Brian that this was Justin's savings from the diner; the money in the wallet was from somewhere else, kept apart from this for a particular reason.

Why?

To plan his next getaway?

Distractedly, he moved his hands through the drawers and then the top of the desk. Couple of pencils, markers, charcoals…charcoals? He stopped at the sketch pad and flipped it open. A pretty girl with frizzy hair and laughing eyes. An old man on a park bench, a certain peacefulness about him. Brian was amazed by the drawings. There was no doubt about it; Justin was incredibly talented. He flipped over and it was a picture of Debbie. Justin must have based it off an old photograph, because it was a much younger Debbie, looking unusually sad and somber…Brian couldn't imagine when someone would have taken a photo of Debbie looking so incredibly sad. All the drawings…Justin had captured the emotions so brilliantly…it was as if the people in the sketches were speaking to him, their eyes conveying so much more than words ever could.

As much as he wanted to take his time with the drawings, Brian knew that any minute now, Debbie would start bellowing for him, if he was lucky. Brian absolutely didn't want to be caught by Debbie, snooping through Justin's things. He quickly flipped through the pages, mentally already halfway out the door.

And then he stopped.

Flipped the pages back. One. Then another. Finally to the sketch that he couldn't quite believe he was seeing.

A sketch of Ted, unconscious, in hospital. Brian, seated next to him.

The same clothes…the same hair…the same room…

Drawn by Justin. As if he had been there.