A/N: My gratitude to the reviewer who let me know that the little squiggles I had been using to separate portions of the chapters were not showing up and everything ran together – Yikes! Problem solved, I trust. Thanks for that! I hope you will enjoy and review – I do so love to hear from you.

xxxx

Bon soir, Monsieur Kinney." The night concierge greeted him. "May I make any reservations for you?"

"No thank you, Paul." Brian acknowledged. "I'll probably just order some room service."

The man nodded. "Have a pleasant evening, sir."

As he got into the elevator to make his way to the suite, Brian reflected on his time here thus far. To say that it had passed speedily was an understatement. Brian could not believe it was Thursday again. He'd been here for twelve days and he still hadn't seen much of Paris. It was his own fault of course; Gilles had urged him to and had offered suggestions as to what to see and do.

The previous weekend he had even taken Brian to Versailles and had been terribly amused that although Brian thought it impressive, he'd declared Louis XIV's taste to be incredible garish. Brian also thought that the monarch had been more Queen than King, but had refrained from saying so. It was fascinating to see places he'd only read about, however - especially ones with such rich history.

This weekend Gilles planned to take Brian to his house in Montpellier. Apparently, it was there that Gilles kept what he considered to be his full time home, although in reality he spent much of his time in Paris. Their main manufacturing plant in the country was located a little to the South of Montpellier, but the corporate offices were naturally in Paris. The two cities were only three hours apart by TGV train, so it wasn't as big a hassle as it sounded apparently. Brian was amazed at the way Europeans seemed to prefer public transportation. No wonder, given how efficient their system was compared to North America.

As he opened the door to his suite and tossed his briefcase on a chair, Brian realized he was looking forward to the weekend. They had gotten quite a lot of work done since he'd been in Paris and things had been progressing nicely …up until now.

Michaud Industries was a European leader in a specific area of the food industry. They were currently number one in supplying fresh dairy products and packaged water throughout Europe and Scandinavia, and number two in the area of cereal, biscuits and snacks.

Brian felt that the best thing to do was focus on one of their products for the initial introduction across the pond, try to build some brand loyalty, and then gradually introduce their other products over time. He felt that their bottled water was the best thing to focus on for the present, because it appealed to such a wide market.

Some of the senior executives were keen on the new flavored craze in the industry. Many sports companies were developing their own bottled water with that feature and those in existence were adding fruit flavors to theirs. Brian felt that this was a fad and not a bandwagon that Michaud should be jumping on. Gilles agreed with him and they had decided that although new flavors were out, new packaging was in.

Brian's idea was a "back to basics" type plan. Water was water, it was that simple and he felt that the North American public would quickly tire of gimmicks and seek the original thing again. When they did so, he wanted them to choose Michaud. Europeans already chose the company's Cristal brand as the number one bottled water on the continent and Brian was determined to do as well across the Atlantic. He'd been working on the idea of a new brand, specific to the market.

The current problem was coming up with a concept and name that would make North Americans want to buy, since he'd basically gone as far as he could until doing so. Gilles seemed undaunted, however, and Brian found the lack of concern a little mystifying. As he undressed and turned on the shower, he thought back to how he had told the man as much today.

"Are you sure we should be heading out of the city tomorrow, Gilles?" He had asked, feeling they should be focusing on work. "We really need to have something together in less than a month and if we don't, the spots we've reserved for winter will look pretty stupid with no product to pitch."

"You worry too much, Brian." Gilles had told him. "Sometimes the best thing to do is get away from the office and see what presents itself. I have no doubt you can worry just as well sight seeing as you can at your desk."

"I'm not worried." Brian disagreed. "I'm just a little… concerned."

"Tomato..tomahto." Gilles had laughed at him.

And Brian had allowed himself to laugh as well. He knew he should be utterly mortified at allowing a client to know he wasn't completely on top of something, but he and Gilles had become quite friendly, frequently sharing lunch together, but keeping discussion of personal lives to a minimum. That is to say, Gilles shared some of his but didn't pry into Brian's...for which Brian was grateful.

"I, on the other hand, am not concerned." Gilles had told him. "I have faith in you, Brian…you'll come up with something brilliant. I think you just need to take a break and let it come to you."

So he had acquiesced and agreed to leave tomorrow for the Languedoc region. He would try to relax and make sure that Gilles' confidence in him was well placed. He must admit though…the older man's belief in his abilities did make him feel good. Honest praise with an apparent lack of agenda was a new phenomenon for Brian - particularly in the business world.

He stepped under the water and tried to wash off the day. It was still early, only six o'clock, but Brian didn't feel like going out. He'd already explored several of the gay watering holes and found them adequate for his purposes. The imperturbable Paul had discharged his duties as concierge admirably on more than one occasion in that regard, and had even arranged to gain Brian entrée into the very exclusive Les Bains, last weekend. Some bars had gay only nights and theirs were Sundays and Mondays. He had found it on the pretentious side, certainly, but that suited him well enough. He'd still had his pick of the place and decided that perhaps they should start selecting people for entry based on their level of skill. There were many pretty faces to choose from, but he had been disappointed to discover that most of them tended to trade on their looks. Maybe it had just been because he'd lost a little of his taste for it, since his recent preoccupation with luring Justin to Paris.

Brian had managed to restrain himself from checking his email immediately, upon arrival at his room. It was doubtful there would be one from Justin in the two hours since he had last checked - since there had not been one for the past week.

He had written last Wednesday, having not been able to wait longer and had been somewhat surprised that the response wasn't immediate. For the first couple of days he had told himself that the kid could hardly be expected to check his email daily – he probably went to some Internet café to do it. But Brian found it increasingly difficult to be patient.

As he dried himself off, he thought about what to do for the rest of the night. He fastened the towel around his waist and walked to the phone. He ordered up steak et frites, having become alarmingly fond of the dish. It would be about half an hour before the food arrived and he felt disinclined to turn on his default station of CNN, so instead, he found himself glancing around the room in search of amusement.

He spied his carryon luggage stashed in a half open closet and walked over to get it. He bent down and reached into the side pocket for a book he remembered putting there and as he pulled it out, a piece of paper came fluttering to the floor. He picked it up and walked over to the bed, then leaned against the headboard and opened the paper to discover it was a short, handwritten note – it's salutation leading him to believe it was indeed intended for him.

Asshole,

I liberated Lindsay's address book from the fortress that is her purse at great personal risk - for which, I doubt you are suitably grateful. Your favorite Frenchman and mine (may he rot in hell) can be reached at 01 47 07 24 24, and I think he TA's a History of Art course at the Sorbonne. I am certain he saw Justin and who knows - maybe he can finally make himself useful. If you intend to beat the information out of him, you can repay me with a few "after" pictures.

Mel

Fuck. Leave it to Melanie to figure out a way to one up him from thousands of miles away. Why hadn't he thought of that? It might be at least a clue, better than nothing … and the fact was that he was so desperate for any news at this point that he was willing to put up with the odious Guilliame to get it.

Brian immediately dialed the number on Mel's note and was relieved when someone answered right away.

"Oui, allo?"

Brian didn't know why, but he hadn't expected the telephone to be answered in French and it took him a moment to compensate. "Uhh, bon soir… puis je parler avec Guilliame?" He had a feeling his grammar was off, but he knew he'd managed the gist of it.

"Guilliame n'est pas ici."

"Oh…uh a quelle heure est-ce….."

"Is it one of the American friends?" The voice interrupted.

"Uh …yes." Brian said gratefully. "I was really hoping to talk to him."

"Oh, I am sorry, but he is the whole night gone." The man, presumably a room-mate, told him. "He is have dinner and then they go to drink."

Brian smiled at the awkward phrasing and tried again, a little more prepared now. "I understand. I am in Paris for tonight only and I thought I would meet him. Do you know where he will be?"

And as simple as that, Brian had his evening plans. He went to the closet to pick an outfit and hoped that Guilliame could tell him at least something about Justin – any news would make him feel better. He didn't know it yet, but before the night was over… he'd change his mind.

xxxx

"Christ, mate – you look like an ad for death."

"Shut up and pour me some breakfast, would you?" Justin grouched, as he took a seat at the bar in front of Andy and rubbed his pounding head.

"You'd be better off with something to eat." Fiona's voice advised from behind him.

Justin felt too crappy to be cowed, however. "I wouldn't mind eating if it's possible to make a vodka sandwich."

Andy wisely slunk away to let them deal with each other minus witnesses, as Fiona hefted herself onto the stool next to Justin and stared pointedly into the red riddled, blue eyes. "Right … got bolloxed again, did ya?"

Justin nodded. "And laid."

"Like there was any doubt o' that." Fiona rolled her eyes. "He can't be the reason you're late whoever he was, you never let them stay that long."

"I slept in." Was all Justin offered with a yawn.

Fiona wasn't willing to say criticize that, since she supported anything that would make him look better rested. "Well… it doesn't do much for my morale to wonder if I've been stood up, is all."

Justin sighed and looked even more deflated. "Sorry about that."

"Here now, never mind." Fiona said hastily. "I waited… and if you'll have a bit of breakfast with me, I'll put a little hair of the dog in some tomato juice for you. Just a smidge, though."

Justin smiled gratefully. "You're the best, Fee."

"That's true." She nodded and went around to the other side of the bar to give Marc their order and make Justin's drink. After doing so, she turned back to him and said, "All right… out with it already."

"With what?"

"With what." She mocked. "With the reason you've not half become alcoholic in the last week." She set down his vodka laced cure in front of him and leaned forward. "And I hear you you've been after breaking your own records for shagging and the like."

"Who's been keeping score for you… Maddy or Cal?"

When she just continued to stare at him, he answered more seriously. "Look, I've just felt like partying a bit this week, that's all. I was happy about all the work I've sold."

"That's absolute shite, and I'm insulted you think I'd go for it." Fiona sniffed. "You were your increasingly less maudlin self on Friday when you used the computer, and by Sunday afternoon you looked like the dog's breakfast - for the first day of many. Now, what the feckin' hell is… " Fiona stopped mid rant. She could not believe she hadn't figured it out sooner. She was getting old, that must be it - damn it. "Oh… so that's what. I'm right daft, I am."

Justin simply tilted his head and cocked an eyebrow. He didn't realize that he did it, and no one here would recognize the impatient gesture as not really belonging to him.

"You should've talked it over with me when you read it, and maybe saved your liver some damaged this week." Fiona shook her head and scolded. "Who was it, and what did they say?"

Damn. The woman was fucking clairvoyant and it drove Justin crazy. Well, there was no point in lying to her about it, and frankly he needed the advice – he knew that. "It was from Brian."

Fiona checked her surprised reaction and tried to think quickly. This was not what she had expected to hear. A guilt inducing note from his mother perhaps; a letter from someone mentioning this Brian and whatever he was doing now, but nothing Justin had told her about their situation, had encouraged her to think it could be from the mysterious man himself. "I see." She finally managed. "Well… what did he say?"

Justin reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper which, when he unfolded it, she recognized as one of those he'd printed out last weekend. She chose to act mercifully however, and say nothing about the fact that he'd obviously been carrying it around. She simply took it from him carefully and began to read.

xx
From: "Brian Kinney" kinneyb
To: "Justin Taylor" j_taylor
Subject: Tuition
Date: Wed, Jul 31 2002 14:38:51 -0400

Justin,

As you may know, I have been traveling a lot for work lately. It occurred to me that I didn't know when your tuition will be due, and I am likely to be away when you need it. I don't expect anything about our agreement to change simply because your living arrangements are different. Please let me know the amount for next year and I will get the funds to you.

Brian
xx

Fiona looked back up and cleared her throat. "Well… and what about this inspired you to drink half your weight in Vodka?"

Justin sighed. "I don't know."

"Sure ya do, darlin'... and I don't blame you a mite." Fiona smiled indulgently. "It is a little on the impersonal side."

"Yeah, well… Brian's a little on the impersonal side." Justin told her. "I don't know what I expected… not to hear from him at all, honestly. So why should I care that he refers our break up as a 'change in living arrangements'?"

"Because you love him and you wanted it to mean something more to him than that."

"I don't know, Fee." Justin said calmly, as though he truly meant it. "I think… I think that Brian was right about us."

As Fiona began to interrupt, he stopped her. "Don't get me wrong, I do think love is real… for some people. Not even just straight people or anything, but it's definitely not for everyone. I'm just not one of those that can do it, that's all. I thought I could, but I was wrong."

"Justin, I don't want to sound like the old fogey I surely am, but you have to trust me – you're very young to say for certain what's for you and what isn't, in this life."

"The last two years ought to count as twenty, Fee – I feel tired enough to support that theory."

"I know you do, luv. I know." She sympathized. "But you won't always feel that way."

Justin glared at her suspiciously. "I'm not changing my mind."

"All right." She spread her hands in a 'did I say anything?' denial.

"I mean it… I'd rather shave my head; I'd rather jump out of a plane; I'd rather eat pussy; I'd… do you see where I'm going with this?

"Not to Pittsburgh."

"Right."

"Fine then, what is yer grand plan?"

He took a deep breath and tried to remember that Fee was only being a good friend. "I'm going to be a wealthy, artistic ex-pat… famous Europe wide for converting straight men." He smiled a little at the fantasy.

"Speaking as a straight woman… could you leave a few for me... if it wouldn't be too much trouble."

"Anything for you, Fee."

"Good, then eat this." She demanded as Andrew brought out their breakfast and set it on the bar in front of them.

Fiona came around the counter again and resumed her seat next to Justin. "So…" She began. "what did you reply?"

"I didn't." He said. "What the fuck would I say?"

"Well, I should think you've all sorts of things to say to the man, not the least of which might be…thanks for being decent about it." Fiona's expression made plain that she thought that was obvious. "From what you told me about your behaviour, he had every right to tell you to piss off altogether, never mind pay for your school."

"I didn't want him to pay for it." Justin told her. "And it's a moot point because I'm not going back."

"So you plan to ignore the man's polite question on top of walking out on him in front of everyone he knows."

Justin shook his head in frustration and trained his eyes on his breakfast. "I knew I shouldn't have told you everything."

"Everything indeed…." Fiona scoffed. "I know there are crucial pieces of this that you aren't telling me. Things which might change my advice to you."

"Which, as is stands, is what?"

"To write him back, of course." Fiona waved imperially, as though declaring it so by her gesture.

"Look… I know it's the right thing to do, okay. I just don't think I can."

"Justin." Fiona said solemnly, putting down her fork. "Are you serious about staying here?"

"Did I not make that plain with the pussy eating?"

"Well, as long as you don't deal with him, you've left that door open." She pointed out. "If you're serious, then you need to close it and not look back. Close the door on Brian taking care of things and, quote, 'running your life'. You needn't get upset… you don't have to torture yourself over it…all you have to do is say 'no thank you'. If that's what you want."

What did he want? Well he definitely knew what he didn't want. Analyzing every word out of his lover's mouth trying to figure out what he really meant, for a start. Guessing, wrong about how much it was safe to express his feelings for the man. He definitely did not want that anymore – that's what contributed to his overall weariness to begin with. Feeling so out of control – that's what it really came down to. He'd had a lifetime of that it seemed, although he knew that wasn't so – it just felt like it.

Justin remained quiet for a moment more and Fiona didn't prod. "Do you know what I really want?" He asked finally.

"Tell me."

"I want to feel rested." He said after another pause. "I want to have something to hang onto that makes me feel strong again and able to handle anything. I want to hang out with people I like, draw my pictures and just be… content. I don't think that's too much to ask, really. I just … I just …"

"What?" She asked gently.

"I just don't want to feel as though I'm struggling against the current anymore."

Fiona knew what the solution to that was, but she also knew he wasn't ready to believe it. She'd learned years ago, of course: The trick was not to struggle at all; to swim along with the current. But Justin hadn't figured that out yet.

"And Montpellier feels like a bit of solid ground, does it?" Fiona guessed. "Some place to put your feet down and rest a bit."

"Exactly." Justin gave her a grateful smile. "You are my sand bar, Fee."

She laughed obligingly at his attempt to lighten up. "What a terrible pun!" She exclaimed. "And it's a café, not a bar – an entirely different sort of atmosphere, I'll have you know."

"Picky picky." He teased, then turned serious. "You're right. I need to reply and I'll do it after brunch – no sense putting it off longer." He took another drink and looked down at his plate. "I'm getting closer to figuring out the kind of life I want, Fee and it doesn't revolve around Brian Kinney anymore."

Fiona was fairly certain it wasn't her that his statement was meant to convince.

xxxx

Brian had no idea how he managed to get through the trip today. Gilles had been full of apologies about having to go over a little work on the train – thank god. Brian chose to plead a little flu and was thus able to sleep most of the way, without arousing much in the way of suspicion. Not that Gilles was likely to look askance at a night of indulgence. He'd been urging Brian to have fun since he got here.

He wouldn't exactly call the previous evening fun, however he had given in and imbibed more than his share. It had not been one of his finer moments and he had a vague recollection of Paul helping him up to his room through the hotel's service entrance. That man was swiftly working his way towards a big fat tip, although Brian suspected Paul was just a decent, albeit reserved, guy. Wasn't even gay, as far as he could tell, despite the impressive knowledge of the city's homo hot spots.

And as usual – Paul had been right. Thursday was definitely club night as far as Paris was concerned. Brian had been annoyed at how packed the place was, but he knew eventually he'd draw his usual crowd; then Guillaume would see him and curiosity would undoubtedly get the better of the man.

Sure enough, he was half an hour into auditioning the evening's entertainment, when an annoyingly familiar voice addressed him.

"I knew you would branch out eventually." It told him. "You finally fucked everyone in America, so now you start on my country."

"I gave you plenty of time to get around to them, Guilliame." Brian turned to face him. "It's hardly my fault if you can't get laid."

"Oh, I've had my share, mon ami, I assure you." Guy was slightly confused, since the attractive American was clearly not surprised to see him. "So - how are Lindsay and Melanie and their son?"

Brian had to respect the man's ability to go right for the jugular, if not his fashion sense. "My son and his mothers are just fine." He said neutrally. "Actually, they suggested I look you up." Well one of them did, anyway – so it was partly true.

"Is that so?" Guilliame nodded. "Clearly, I have saved you the phone call. Please… you must have a drink with me … and tell me what you are doing in Paris. I assume it isn't really because you've gone through every gay ass in America."

So Brian had played along and made nice very briefly, well his version of it, which is to say, barely civil. After some meaningless small talk, Guilliame enabled him to get to the point.

"So Lindsay suggested you look me up?"

Brian casually avoided the question. "And I understand you had another visitor from the Pitts this summer."

Guilliame began to see what this was really about. Americans – they think everybody else is so stupid. Well, it didn't take a genius to see where this was going. "You mean the little blond artist."

Brian gave a look that indicated the affirmative.

"The one with the beautiful ass – magnifique." Guilliame tested his theory.

"Yes." Brian agreed tersely.

"Ah oui, I showed him around…" Guilliame's tone implying just what he intended.

Brian found the inference difficult to believe. "Really…"

"We had a very …very good time."

Brian found that strangely he had no stomach for this battle of insinuations. Normally he excelled at just this sort of repartee and he still could – he just didn't feel like it. And remembering the decision he'd made to do what he wanted over here – not what he felt was expected, he cut to the chase and laughed. "Sorry - I don't believe for a minute that Justin would agree to fuck you."

"Ah mon ami, his lips may have said "no," but his eyes… "

"If I know Justin…" And I do, Brian assured himself. "His eyes were saying 'read my lips'." He turned to the man and put his drink down. "Now – Lindsay and Melanie are actually kind of worried about the kid –so do you have anything remotely useful to tell me about him?"

Guilliame was taken aback at the straightforward question. "What might be considered useful?"

"Look, did you see him, or not?" Brian's patience was wearing thin.

"I did."

"And?"

"And …I told him some places to go, took him to lunch to discuss art, which we did and then I brought him out to the clubs. He didn't really need to be shown what to do after that."

"I see." Brian was relieved. "So he was fine."

"Well, if by fine you mean - did he drink like a fish and fuck everything that moved? Oui, he was fine."

"And still he didn't get around to you?" Brian taunted, surprised at the description and assuming that Guilliame was exaggerating.

"Ha ha." Guilliame made a face. "I think it was because he liked me too well."

"Yeah…" Brian scoffed. "That must be it."

Suddenly Guilliame stepped away from the bar and gestured to a young man with wavy brown hair, who stopped dancing and walked over to them. "Guy – ca va?" He said , smiling.

"Ca va bien." Guilliame replied, then motioned to Brian and said in English. "This is my friend, Brian. He is visiting and I'm introducing him to as many of my English speaking friends as possible."

"Hello." The young man shook Brian's hand, not noticing the look he shot Guilliame at the word friend. "You are new to Paris, then?"

Brian was confused as to why this conversation was taking place, but he wasn't ready to be rude to the poor kid just yet. "Yeah, I'm here on business."

"Oh, well, I hope you will enjoy your time in the city… I could make a few … suggestions of what to do, if you like." The young man was giving Brian a look that made it unnecessary to guess the nature of those suggestions.

"I'll keep that in mind." Brian dismissed him…completely baffled until Guilliame spoke again.

"I don't know, Serge." He smiled at his friend. "You didn't have such good luck with the last American you met here."

"Ah, yes…" Serge turned to Brian. You wouldn't believe - a gorgeous little blond with the most talented…" He smiled and cleared his throat. "And he seemed so… what is the word… sweet. Until later – what a horror."

Brian narrowed his eyes. "What happened?"

The foolish man went on while Guilliame took not so secret delight in Brian's increasing discomfort. "I didn't think he was serious about me not spending the night and I passed out after – I mean he was so… it was … anyway, I woke up from a deep sleep to find him hysterical. And when he realized I was there … he threw me out! Can you imagine?"

"Yes." Brian snapped. "I mean no… go on."

"Well, I saw him a few days later and I was very nice – I thought, well… maybe he was not feeling well… who knows." The boy shrugged. "So I ask if he'd like to get together again and do you know what he tells me? You won't believe it."

Brian had a feeling he certainly would.

"He said… 'I've had you'." The young man shook his head and gestured confusedly to Guilliame. "Now what is this supposed to mean? I've had you. Who says such a thing?!"

Brian turned his head a moment and tried to breathe. This was not happening. This was some cruel joke or something… Guilliame had found out he might be here and decided it was pay back time and… Fuck! He knew that was bullshit. He tried to focus on his surroundings and found that the foolish kid was still speaking.

"… but you don't look the type to do something so mean. I bet you really are sweet."

"Uh… Serge, why don't you return to the dance floor and we'll join you later perhaps." Guilliame winked at the young man, indicating he'd put in a good word.

"D'accord." The young man smiled and rejoined the throng of dancers.

Brian turned to Guilliame. "So – he fucked with one of your friends and you're pissed? What?"

"Not at all." Guilliame disagreed. "Everyone here is a big boy who should be able to look after himself. I just wondered if your boy could?"

"Excuse me?"

"Not that I care, but Justin seems like a nice boy who has had a bad example. Probably the best thing you could do for him is stay away."

"I'll take that under advisement." Brian said sarcastically, managing to sound as though Guilliame's words hadn't gutted him.

"Another drink?" The man asked casually.

"I don't think so." Brian said. "I just remembered something: you're annoying and my legs work." With that he left, not bothering to look behind him at what he was certain was a triumphant expression.

He'd gone into a variety of bars after that… it having seemed like a good idea at the time. He'd lost count of both drinks and blow jobs, and somehow ended up in a cab, trying to tell the driver that he was staying at the Bel Ami, without laughing wildly at the name. He didn't think the guy got the joke. He was sure Paul did though. The man escorted him around the side of the building and got him upstairs with a minimum of fuss and witnesses. And if the tray awaiting Brian when he awoke was any indication, Paul had also preordered a bloody Caesar for breakfast. Yep - a big big tip.

This morning he'd felt too crappy to do anything except shower and throw some clothes together before the day concierge called up that his car had arrived. On his way out the door he grabbed the book off the night stand and shoved it in his bag as well. It would give him something to hide behind in the event that Gilles wanted to converse on the way there.

Thankfully, that had not been the case and the trip was reasonably swift. Brian had to admit… as long as you had your own little compartment, as they did, then it wasn't a bad way to travel. They arrived without incident to find Gilles' Montpellier car waiting and they were swiftly whisked off to his house.

It was not what Brian expected. It was huge, of course, and extremely tasteful, but it didn't scream billionaire. He liked it – very much, in fact, but he'd always supposed that when you had that kind of money, everything was over the top. Apparently not and now he'd found something else to admire about Gilles – his taste.

"Brian, you are still looking a little tired." Gilles commented as he joined him in the kitchen, they having arrived shortly before. "And I have a number of boring errands to run. Why not relax for awhile and then we'll have an early dinner. What do you think – in say …three hours? About six?"

"That's fine." Brian was relieved. He could use some more down time. "Is there an Internet hook up anywhere?"

Gilles laughed at him. "That does not sound like relaxation Brian – that sounds like work."

Brian smiled. "I just want to check my email - then I'm going to relax."

"There's an outlet at the desk in your room. You shouldn't have any trouble hooking up your machine – I assume you brought it."

"Of course."

Gilles just shook his head. "Well, you must make yourself at home. I generally help myself around the kitchen, but just ask Lisette if there is anything you need and can't find."

Brian could think of something he couldn't find all right, but he doubted Lisette would be of much help. "Thanks. I'll see you later then."

"Yes, I won't be very long." Gilled turned back from the doorway. "I should mention – my daughter will probably join us for dinner. I think you'll like her."

"Great." Brian said to the man's retreating form.

"Great." He mumbled to himself as he climbed the stairs to his room. "Well that answers the question of 'does he know I'm gay'. I should have realized there was a catch – he wants to set me up with his daughter for fuck sake!"

He sat down at the desk and plugged in his laptop, waited for it to boot up and thought about last night. He'd really let Guilliame get to him. Surprisingly he didn't give a shit. Let the guy gloat if it made him happy… it's not like he had to see him again. Brian had more important things to think about.

The description he'd received of Justin didn't mesh very well with the picture he had of a young man traveling around Europe, taking in all the artistic sites and pining for Brian. Maybe the guy was exaggerating. So Justin had been an asshole to one trick – big deal. Clearly he hadn't wanted the guy to stick around and he had – that might piss anybody off. It didn't mean Justin was screwing his way across Europe. And anyway… as soon as he got his hands on the kid there's only one guy he'd be fucking for awhile if Brian had anything to say about it – and he intended to.

Ah ha! He might be well on his way to making that happen, since there in his in-box was what he'd been waiting days for. Finally, the kid had checked his email and they could start a dialogue. Brian would read between the lines and weasel out of him where he was. Then he'd either show up there, or lure him here. He'd have him in Paris in no time and he'd make Justin feel like his vacation had just started.

He clicked on the message and began to read.

From: "Justin Taylor" j_taylor
To: "Brian Kinney" kinneyb
Subject: re:Tuition
Date: Fri, Aug 9 2002 13:42:43 -0400

Brian,

I really appreciate that you wanted to pay for school, but I don't need the help. Thanks very much for offering though.

Justin

That's it? That's fucking it?! Where were the clues about where he was? The subtle inquiries about Brian? The fucking verbosity for Christ's sake? Justin hadn't been succinct in his life and he starts now? Two sentences. There was nothing for Brian to read between in two goddamn sentences. This was all wrong.

Fuck - he was crazy. What had he been thinking… get Justin back. Yeah right – what for? To be confused again; to be tortured again?

"No." His inner voice was kind to him this time. "To be loved again."

Brian got up from the desk, stalked over to his bed and flopped down with an annoyed sigh. Fuck. Now what? He was tired of thinking about this. Should he give up? Accept that it was over and that's all?

Except… except he didn't want to. What he wanted was Justin and it hardly seemed fair that just as he was ready to act on that – everything seemed to conspire against him. Why was that? He was ready to try to make the fucking romantic gestures, if that's what it took. The fact that he was should convince Justin to come home.

Brian closed his eyes for a moment and allowed himself to imagine what that would be like. He remembered how he used to come home from a brutal day to find his favorite CD playing and something great smelling in the kitchen. And something even better smelling in his bedroom. He remembered the dance floor at Babylon where he knew that they were the focus of everyone in the room and yet all he could focus on were the lithe limbs entangled in his, and the angelic smile that could make him do anything. The Sunday mornings they spent in bed, before the outside world could intrude; they would huddle in that shelter and be safe from outside expectations. The playful talk and caressing that occurred was something Brian missed more than the sex – and he didn't think that was possible.

Well there was his answer. There was no way he was giving up. Granted, Guilliame's revelations combined with Justin's terse note, did not do much in the way of encouragement. However, maybe the incident with Guilliame's friend had been an exception – Justin having an off day… or two. And maybe the email to him had been short because he thought that's what Brian wanted. Brian's better judgment ignored for the moment, he convinced himself that all this was the case.

Well… he'd show Justin what he really wanted. As soon as he could find him, that is.

xxxx

VIII ~ Strength : Love is a source of strength. Finding the strength to begin or continue with some difficult project despite fear and emotional strain. Strength to endure despite all obstacles. Trying to keep your emotions in hand; learning to handle intense emotional situations calmly. Acting passionately and having strong desires. Love for what you do. Enthusiasm. "Lust" for your own creativity. Courage to take risks. Harnessing natural energy so you can work in harmony with it.
In a reading: You have the innate ability to deal with whatever life brings. Draw on your enormous energy to break through and overcome obstacles even when you think you are too fatigued. You take control of your own destiny and move forward with your plans. By cultivating inner fortitude you attract the contacts and opportunities you need.