Brian was at a loss. He had a stranger in a red hoody in a motel room tied to a chair, which was less than ideal and definitely a crime but necessary for a couple of reasons. One, the man was still out cold. The restraints held him upright. Two, he was an unknown quantity. He'd apparently been following Brian and Justin and had scared Justin enough to engage Justin's fight or flight response and, miraculously, had produced fight (rather than flight). Granted, assault was a crime, and Brian was pretty freaked out about that (the last thing he wanted was Justin to face criminal charges), but Justin was clearly making progress. A month ago, even a week ago, he would NOT have "fought."

Brian saw the problem as two-pronged. One, was Justin justified in assaulting the man? If the man had attacked Justin in any way, they were on fairly solid ground. Two, who was this man, and why was he following them? As an addendum, could being followed constitute a threat as far as law enforcement was concerned? Would that justify self-defense? Justin did have a serious case of PTSD and social anxiety disorder (and he had taken a HUGE step in joining Brian to get the last tape, which likely contributed to Justin's perhaps over the top reaction), and those conditions could mitigate Justin's 'crime,' BUT Justin had not been formally diagnosed, and, in order to gain leniency, Justin would have to identify himself publicly, on record, as being what Justin considered 'broken.' He would most likely also need to submit himself for evaluation by a court-appointed psychologist. And in light of recent events – Kayla, Daphne, custody, and so on – Brian felt sure Justin would rather chew glass than make such an identification.

All of these thoughts whirled through Brian's head at light speed, while Brian was watching Justin. Justin had spent the last ten minutes sitting on the edge of one of the queen-sized beds, the one closest to the door, staring at the TV, which was not even on.

Then suddenly, Justin exited his haze and rejoined the land of the living (well, the land of the conscious, speaking people). He turned to face Brian and stood. Then he started pacing in circles.

He shook his head and sighed. Then he half-moaned, half-whispered, "This is bad, Brian. So bad. What did I do? I can't believe I even had that in me! I'm going to jail no question. And now I have no hope of getting even partial custody. I'll never see Kayla again! Oh God! What was I thinking?" Justin's voice increased in volume, pitch, and speed as his anxieties gained momentum.

While Justin worked himself up into a fervor, Brian approached slowly and, when he was standing directly in front of Justin and close enough to reach him (at the perigee of Justin's orbit), he pulled Justin into his arms. He held him tight, placing his face in the crook of Justin's neck and sliding his hands down, down, down Justin's back so that he was holding as much of Justin as possible – in the hopes of making him feel safer. Then he said simply, "I'm proud of you."

Justin's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "What!? Why? I'm a monster. As bad as …"

Brian cut Justin off abruptly, with a harshness in his tone he didn't intend. "Don't even!" He lifted his head and looked at Justin. "You are NOTHING like that so-called friend who bashed you. You felt threatened. You fought back. End of story."

Justin looked at Brian helplessly. "He didn't hit me. He just came out of the darkness toward me, and I reacted. In the porn guy's office, I started to have a panic attack, so I went outside, and the guy just came at me out of nowhere. I started flashing back to the parking garage on prom night … and I … I don't know. My body took over. I don't even remember hitting him. One second he was lunging toward me and then next I'm on top of him trying to figure out how I got there."

These new pieces of information caused Brian to worry even more, but he gave no sign. "He was following us. He came at you suddenly in a dark parking lot. We can work with that."

Justin smiled weakly. He wanted to believe Brian. He wanted desperately to believe he hadn't ruined his whole life in the space of five minutes.

Their conversation, such as it was, was interrupted by a low moaning then. The stranger was coming to. Justin and Brian both wheeled around and gaped and gawked at him in a rather comical fashion.

The man moaned louder and shook his head, as if to clear out the fog. Then he looked up. His eyes widened. He glanced around frantically and realized he was bound. He started pulling against the ropes and cried, "Untie me! What the fuck? Where am I? What are you planning to do with me?"

Brian collected himself in the minute or two it took the man to get his bearings. He squeezed Justin's shoulder and then approached the man slowly, his face impassive and eyes intense. Then he took the free chair, spun it around, and sat in it backwards. He had his arms folded on the top of the chair's back. He regarded the man coolly for a solid minute before speaking.

The man stopped railing against his bindings, just staring at Brian with wide scared eyes.

Brian stated matter of factly, "You've been following us. Why?"

The man's eyes held guilt then. Apparently, he was hoping he hadn't been recognized. But instead of answering, he asked, "Is that why he attacked me?"

Brian didn't blink. Or show any emotion. He kept his voice even, as he reiterated, "Why have you been following us?"

Now the man was becoming defensive and still stubbornly refusing to answer the question. "So what? Are you planning to hold me hostage? You can't keep me here forever. Every second I'm bound like this you're digging yourself in deeper. As it is, that kid beat the crap out of me for no reason. I call the cops, he's done."

Justin was growing more and more tense by the second. More and more panicked. He started kneading his right hand in between his thumb and index finger (one of the body's pressure points) and started softly humming Like a Virgin. He had no idea why, but that was the first song that popped into his head.

Brian didn't tense up or flinch or back down. He remained exactly as he was, posture, facial expression, intensity of eyes, and tone of voice. He repeated, no hint of annoyance, "Why have you been following us?"

The man glared at Brian defiantly.

Brian sighed softly and stood. While standing, he managed to spin the chair around and slid it under the desk whence it had come, all in one smooth movement. Justin was a little ashamed to admit it, given the terrible situation they were in, and because of him, but Brian's smoothness and cool were starting to turn him on. He was at half mast already.

Brian shrugged. He grabbed a pillow, stripped the case off it, and then proceeded to tie it around the man's mouth, to gag him. Brian explained, "I can wait. I was actually feeling a little peckish." He turned back toward Justin a bit and smiled. "You hungry? I saw a diner nearby. We can have a long leisurely dinner, let this guy think about the question. Maybe after an hour or two of sitting in the dark, he'll remember."

Then Brian walked toward the door. He didn't look back to see if the threat had had an impact.

The man waited until Brian's hand reached the door knob before finally starting to speak, and loudly. He was crying out, "I'll talk! I'll talk!" But the gag made it sound like "Lem bok. Lem bok."

Brian ignored him and opened the door. It wasn't until Justin said, "Brian, I think he changed his mind" that Brian stopped and turned around. Slowly. He asked calmly, with a slight trace of amusement in his voice, "What?"

"I think he wants to talk."

"Oh." Brian sounded impassive. Like Justin had just informed Brian that it would rain the next day. Then he turned and walked back. Very slowly. Like he could not care less about this turn of events.

Brian untied the gag and stood there in front of the man, waiting, patiently. He did not sit down.

The man sighed. "I'm a reporter."

Justin gasped audibly. Brian was just as surprised, but he didn't show it. He said evenly, "Go on."

The man sighed again, this time more deeply. "Could you at least untie me?"

Brian shook his head. "Give me a reason."

"Fine. I work for the New York Times as an investigative reporter. Two years ago, I was on the fast track. Oddly enough on the science beat. I learned that the head of the Pakistan nuclear program had sold nuclear weapons designs to North Korea, Iran, and Libya two decades before. I moved right on … this time into agribusiness. I was following Monsanto's patenting of genes and litigation against small farmers whose land abutted that of bigger farmers using Monsanto's seeds. They would spread to the smaller farms and then Monsanto would come in claiming copyright infringement. A number of farms had gone bankrupt trying to fight the lawsuits. Monsanto got wind I was on the story and pulled strings. Next thing I know, they bust me back to 'lifestyles,' which is where good reporters go to die. I decided I wasn't going out like that. So I decided to try to find myself a whale. A socialite connected to somebody big, a big bad somebody engaged in underhanded dealings. That would be my way out. I searched and searched until I found Daphne Sutters."

Brian smiled, and Justin started to breathe again. Brian started untying the man's hands and feet. He prodded, "We're listening."

"So this guy Ken Sutters is as bad as they come. In college, he belonged to 'the Rape House' (the fraternity with the worst reputation for date rapes and gang rapes on campus). He and his brothers were constantly threatening FEM (Females Equal Males), the college's feminist group which was trying to force the college to fulfill its responsibilities under Title IX and actually investigate the rapes. In an ironic twist, those threats took the form of rape threats, often stated outloud publicly and online. Women on campus actually started a rape wall that most of his frat graced, calling out the rapists since the college wouldn't do anything. At age 21, he was eligible to gain access to his trust fund, but only if he married. Hence his whirlwind courtship of one Daphne Chanders. Three and a half weeks from the day they met, they married, in a ginormous, highly publicized wedding."

Justin breathed, "Oh God. Poor Daph!"

Brian was surprised, to say the least, but he didn't show it. He gestured to the reporter that he should continue and simply waited.

"Since the wedding, there have been whisperings about various things … several young, beautiful, and ILLEGAL domestics have left quickly, inexplicably. Only one would talk to me, but she wouldn't go on record for fear of being deported … she implied that Mr. Sutters was sexually harassing the women and maybe more … she also suggested that he might be abusing Mrs. Sutters psychologically."

Justin ran his hand over his face and then unconsciously covered his mouth. Brian's Plan B … was sounding like a necessity. Justin still didn't want to mislead her, so he'd try to avoid it. But push come to shove, he had to get her out of that marriage. He had to get KAYLA out of that house.

Brian crossed his arms, but continued looking at the man with a steady expectant gaze.

So the reporter continued, with not a little bitterness in his voice, "Most people would say none of this matters … I mean it sucks for the women in his orbit, but where's the story? No one gives a crap about rape or domestic abuse. Don't even get me started on that. But in this case, it DOES matter or should … because the mother fucker is about to launch a Senate campaign, and unless someone throws a kink in his machinery, he's likely to win." He finally breathed.

Justin shook his head and jumped. "Wait, how did you even get to us?"

"I followed Mrs. Sutters. I've actually been following her for the past month. She came here with her daughter and was acting strange ... I go where the story takes me. I've actually been wondering about her daughter. The timing is off. I don't think she's a Sutters."

Brian smiled and nodded. That was it. The reason Ken was so desperate to adopt Kayla and get Justin far, far away from the Sutters family. Justin was the scandal that could derail Ken's political career.

Brian took a deep breath. Then he said, "You forget about the assault, and we'll give you exactly what you need to take down the whale."

The man's eyes widened to the size of saucers. "Done."