Disclaimer: Jeez, Judith, okay already! You want me to start writing, I'll start writing! Gad! What are you, my overbearing workaholic mother?

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Psychiatrists notes - Bree Van Der Kamp

After the debacle two weeks ago, I was unsure as to the...sense of seeing her again. With such a unique case, I couldn't be sure as to whether any of her personalities (the dangerous ones, I mean) would recognise me and see me as a threat. But the matter was taken out of my hands. Bree turned up to see me anyway, on the dot. Sandy, my receptionist, tells me that she was here the previous week, when I was still in the hospital, regular as clockwork. Even when the poor girl told her that I wasn't here and that she would call the police if she didn't leave, Mrs Van Der Kamp gave her a polite smile and started chatting about needlework. Sandy couldn't even dial 911, she was so petrified. I may start to hire proper security for my office, especially now James no longer has the appointment after Bree.

Still, this week, Bree turned up and was as nice as pie. Perhaps there was some vestigial guilt from putting me in the ER, but apart from a slight increase in her willingness to co-operate, I still saw no progress made. Not that I was truly probing her for weakness. My collarbone is still fragile.

Instead, I was perfectly happy to indulge in small talk this week. One hundred dollars in return for an hour of small talk and the ever present threat of GBH. I personally consider it a fair trade. I may try and begin the experimentation next week, but in the meantime I can work on the thesis for the National Medical Journal. This may be the case to make my fortune...

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Gabrielle pulled back into her drive, the adreneline from macing the clerk having disappeared somewhere between the jail and home, exhausted. She sat in her car for a minute, head bowed. There would be repercussions for that, she knew. You couldn't just go around macing employees of the prison holding your husband and expect nothing to happen. Unfortunately. She could wipe the next conjugal visit off the calendar. Carlos, too, wouldn't be pleased. Then again, she could lie it was his fault. Gabrielle knew her husband. He would have done something else that was stupid enough to cancel a couple of visits by the next time she went back.

She got out, and slammed the door behind her. The stress of the day was starting to get to her, and she felt a tear start to collect in her eye.

"No. I refuse to cry. I utterly, categorically, superlatively refuse to cry." Gabrielle pressed the heel of her hand into her eye, rubbing away the tear with vehemence. Another one formed in her other eye. She sat down on the porch, recognising a lost battle when she saw one, and started to sob quietly. All day things had been going wrong. Even little things had been getting to her. It had been the kind of day when the fact that the floor had been cold under her foot was a personal insult. The man overtaking her on the highway had been a slap in the face. And then the clerk at the prison. The straw that broke the horses back, as they say.

Gabrielle glanced about, checking she was alone, tears still streaming down her face. Suddenly she noticed something that she hadn't noticed before, which was a little silly of her, considering its size. Johns truck was sat outside the house, replete with gardening gear. He must be working round back, she thought.

Which would be wierd. Considering he didn't do her garden any more.

Something else that was wierd. He'd been at hers all day. He'd had a day off. So that meant someone else had brought it here. While she was out. To come see John. Someone who used the truck as well. Someone blond. And handsome. And gay.

Gabrielle knew that was a ridiculous assumption. John wasn't gay. She knew that, first...hand. She was being silly. With an ashamed smile, she opened the door and walked in. As she did, she heard Justin shout from upstairs.

"Hey, John! I need something to wear! I left my clothes downstairs!"

Gabrielle felt the smile solidify. As the sadness she'd felt a couple of seconds before flashed into rage, she felt peculiarly jolly. Her husband had beaten up the gayboy that she was just about to murder. If that didn't prove they were made for each other, nothing did.

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A Couple Of Minutes Earlier, The Solis Household

Justin turned off the hot water, and stepped out of the shower. After a day doing people's gardens, plus a couple that John had foisted onto him to get a day off, he'd felt icky. It was hot, and after shunting the mower around for eight hours straight, he'd got to that point where the only reason he wasn't sweating any more was because the old layer of sweat was clogging up his pores. Yeah. Nasty.

So when he'd got here, he'd told John he wasn't doing anything until he'd had a shower. He was so desperate for one that he'd actually been taking off his clothes as he was running up the stairs. John hadn't been happy to receieve an impromptu moony.

The other boy had wanted him to come round after he was done with the yards, to give him a hand with the surprise for Mrs Sol-Gabrielle. Justin had to stop calling her 'Mrs Solis'. John had wanted help from Justin because of his 'expert advice on cookery, and decoration and shit'. When Justin asked how he was an 'expert' in these fields, John has said 'Y'know, you're gay. It's like...a qualification, isn't it?'. Justin had come this close to hanging up.

He could cook, though, and he liked spending time around John besides, so he'd sighed, kicked his dignity behind the bushes in the Kerman's yard, and drove over. Even now, John was downstairs. So close, while Justin was so...naked. Mmm.

Looking down at himself, Justin sighed. It wasn't the time. He caught sight of himself in the full length mirror that almost covered one wall of the bathroom, which just screamed Gabrielle. Very few women were happy enough with their body to see it at every angle all at once. Gabrielle wasn't one of those. Which was good, because Justin was very happy with his body too.

He turned, experimentally, hands on hips while peering at himself. Nice pecs, and a good tan, from working shirtless outside all summer. His six pack was looking good too, although it wasn't quite as defined as it should have been. Justin made a mental note not to eat at McDonalds five days in a row ever again. Andrew had told him before about taking care of his body...but he wasn't going to think about Andrew.

Justin shook his head quickly, and went back to admiring himself. Awesome back muscles, really defined. And his ass! Pert, soft, and with not an ounce of flab anywhere! It was his favourite attribute. He had no idea why John had got so cut up about getting a flash of it. If this had been John's ass, Justin would have felt honored to see it. He patted it, reassuring it that it was his favourite body area.

He blushed as he turned back to face the mirror, his erection still not all gone. THAT area of his body he was happy with too, but he was naturally prudish. Unwilling to gaze at himself anymore, Justin called down the corridor to John. "Hey, John! I need something to wear! I left my clothes downstairs!"

He grabbed a towel from the rack, and started to dry his hair. When he heard the bedroom door open down from the en suite, he pulled it around his waist. "Hey, leave them on the bed. I'm naked, and I know how you felt about seeing my ass earlier!" Laughing, he turned back to the mirror again.

Suddenly, he heard the patter of small feet on the tiles. He turned, just in time to catch a foot full in the face, before darkness dropped over his eyes and he went out like a light.

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Andrew sighed. Revenge wasn't as sweet as he'd thought it would be. In fact, it was salty. And bitter.

"You should stop drinking coffee, y'know." He looked up at R-J, perched on the wall above him, and wiped one corner of his mouth. R-J had flung his head back when he'd come, and he was still leaning backwards. Andrew slapped his leg.

"Oi, pot-head! Hello? Still here y'know?" He rocked backwards onto his heels. His knees were killing him.

R-J shook his head, and looked down at Andrew with awe in his eyes. "Dude, you're good at those."

Despite himself, Andrew felt pride well up in his chest. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Most of the girls who I've got one off were too wasted to know what they were doing. You really tried. You should charge."

Momentarily, Andrew thought about taking offence, then decided to let it pass. He had a rent-boy standard blow job. In a twisted, wierd, only-if-you-think-about-it-hard way, that was a pretty awesome compliment. Hell, if he never made it anywhere else, he always had something to fall back on. "Thanks, I guess. Was it the best you've ever got?"

R-J glanced down, a joint having appeared in his mouth with almost superhuman speed. "Was what the best I've ever got?"

Andrew pushed him backwards over the wall. R-J's legs stuck upwards into the air for a couple of seconds, before a cloud of smoke rose from behind them and R-J's voice drifted over the low bricks. "I was joking, you know."

"Yeah, well. Don't. I'd like to think that someone got pleasure from that, because I sure as fuck didn't. And pull your briefs up. Jesus."

R-J, with a lot of cursing, slowly pulled himself back up into a sitting position, and tucked himself back into his pants. Andrew looked at him with sorrow. "This is not what it's like with Justin."

"Ah, fuck Justin. Spliff?" Andrew took the joint being waved under his nose.

"Thanks."

"The way I see it is that you blew me because you thought you'd get revenge on Justin that way, but it just showed that Justin is what you like, not the giving head bit. So, in a way, you've just made yourself feel about a bazillion times worse. And now, you know that it's impossible to replace Justin, and that you're going to have to fight to get him back, or live your life full of regret." R-J shrugged. "Damned if you do, damned if you don't. Sorry, dude."

Andrew stood up and gave the other boy a glare. "I like you much better when you're wasted." He snatched the joint out of R-J's mouth and flicked it, and the one that he'd just given him, into the pool before storming off. The sound of the other boys shouting followed him all the way to the street.

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Justin slowly opened his eyes, to see John bent over him, his forehead furrowed in concern. The idea that for this, getting K.O'ed was worth it quickly vanished the moment he tried to move his head.

"Dude, don't move. Gabrielle caught you hard. You're lucky she took her stilettoes off." John turned to Gabrielle, who was standing at the end of the couch pouting. "Are you going to apologise?"

"I thought you two were...y'know...doing stuff! What was I supposed to do, give you my blessing?"

"I can't believe you! You flying kick my friend, then you won't apologise to him for something that was entirely your mistake?"

"I was emotional! I had lots of rage! Lots of pent-up rage, mainly at other people."

"I'm better now, I think." Justin tried to sit up, pulling on John for support, who offered an arm to lean on, still looking at Gabrielle with daggers.

"He's my roommate, as well! And a boy! Why on earth would we have been doing anything?"

"I experimented with my roommate, why shouldn't you have done?" Gabrielle covered her mouth with her hands, eyes wide.

John and Justin looked at her, with...differing expressions. John was the first to speak. "Er...what...er, what was she called?"

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. "Her name was Ebony, she was another model, and I didn't like it, so I'm not going to do it again. Now get those images out of your head, you pervert."

Justin tapped John on the arm. "Er, hello? Your friend who was kicked in the face by your fantasy is holding on line one?"

John shook himself, and rearranged his crotch quickly, earning two simultaneous groans of disgust from the others. "Erm...I'm not mad any more."

Gabrielle smiled, and turned to Justin, who sighed. "Well, I don't suppose I have any say in the matter, so I forgive you. Although I'd have at least checked first!"

"Point taken. Now, John, what IS he doing here?"

The two boys looked at each other guiltily, and Gabrielle narrowed her eyes. "If you're now going to admit you were having sex, I'm going to crucify you both."

"No, no, Gabrielle. Look, I thought you were going to be at the prison for longer, and I know that when you've come back before, you've been sad. So, I thought I'd make you a surprise meal. One problem, I can't cook. Justin can though, so I was going to get him to do it and pass it off as my own."

"And he was in the shower why?"

"Ah, I'll field that. I've been working all day, trying to cover John's shifts, and I felt really sweaty when I got here. John said I could have a shower before I started helping cook. I just hadn't been expecting to get taken out beforehand. Otherwise I would have brought my dancing shoes."

"Hey. I know I just kicked you, but sarcasm is my job. But...I'm sorry." Gabrielle shrugged.

The two boys stared at her in wonder. "Are you okay, Gabrielle?" John asked, tentatively.

Gabrielle frowned. "Yeah, why shouldn't I be?"

John and Justin looked at each other again, before Justin turned to her. "Well... it's just that...we've never heard you apologise...to anyone. Ever."

Gabrielle felt her foot twitch again, as Joh leant forward. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes! I have said sorry before, you know! I'm not ill! God, men!" She stormed off, and John sighed. "Dude, you okay now?"

Justin nodded. "Go on. You're the one who's doing her. See, this is why I don't like women."

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Gabrielle sat at the top of the stairs, and watched John approach her slowly. She pondered growling at him, but it would make the analogy of escaped tiger and scared animal catcher a little too close to home. John was already crouched low enough to be at her head level. All he needed now was an enormous butterfly net.

"Look, I'm not going to bite. I'm not in the mood." John relaxed, but not by much.

"Seriously, what's up? You ran in here like a mad woman, and then you become all sensitive. Is it...you know...". John gestured vaguely at Gabrielle.

She sighed. "Are you asking if it's my period?"

He winced, before nodding. She rolled her eyes. "No. It isn't. If you're going to attribute all my mood changes to it, at least start being able to say the word 'period'."

John nodded apologetically, and sat down on the stairs next to her. "What's really up then, baby?"

Gabrielle rested her manicured nails on her chin and drummed them irritably. "I don't know. Everything. Nothing. It's all just...damn!"

She felt her eyes burn again, and her sight blurred before John wrapped his arms around her. "Now come on. If this is about Carlos, forget him, or if this is about Justin, I'll go kick him out right now. Whatever I can do to make you happy, I'll do it. Illegal, illicit, wierd. Whatever. I can't stand seeing you sad, Gabrielle."

She leant back, to look up into his eyes. They were wide, and honest looking, and Gabrielle felt her sadness turn into even more love for this man. "John, just the fact that you said that has made me happier than I've been for a long time."

He smiled at her, and she smiled back, before lightly slapping his chest. "Now, stop all this shameless affection. I'll remind you we have a gayboy downstairs. And I have a meal I'm going to cook for us. You've done enough for me today," she said, as John began to protest, "and I'm going to draft Justin in properly. I'll be doing no real work, and we might actually be able to eat something tonight. I love you, John, but the most you've ever served up is a king-size Mars Bar. You go and occupy yourself. I'll call when it's time for dinner."

He smiled. "Every single day, we get closer to being a proper couple."

Gabrielle smiled. "And for once, that doesn't scare me."

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Weesh, that took a while, huh? I'm so waiting for when we actually get to see Justin and Andy getting it on over here in the US of Britain. Maybe it's tonight. Have fun! XXX