Chapter 30 – Insanity

Brian pulled the door of the loft open while kissing Justin into oblivion. Years of practice at manipulating the sliding door and assorted men at the same time made the movement oddly graceful.

"We've only got an hour before we have to be at the police station," Justin murmured as Brian's mouth moved to his neck.

"I know," Brian paused to catch his breath, pulling his head back. "You don't have to do this."

"Brian, I want to do this." Justin grinned and reached for Brian's belt and started to undo it.

"Twat," Brian gave a small huff of laughter before catching Justin's hand in his own. "You know what I mean. You don't have to go down to the police station."

Justin shook his head at the irony – all he wanted to do was fuck and Brian wanted to talk. "I need to," Justin sighed quietly, taking in the determination in Brian's eyes. "I guess you need to understand why." At Brian's nod, Justin took his hand and led him over to the couch. "It feels like it's all coming to a head – the bashing, the prom, the bombing. It's hard to explain."

"I'm listening."

"The bombing turned everything on its head. Lindsay and Mel going to Toronto, us getting back together, Michael, New York. Everyone went a little crazy for a while."

"You call us getting back together crazy?"

"No – but buying the mansion was. My leaving was insane. I couldn't paint in New York without you. Brian, I…" Justin took a deep breath at the pain in Brian's eyes, "I can't believe I left you like that. All because Lindsay said I needed to go to New York."

"She was right – you had a show, got an agent."

"She was wrong." Justin looked Brian in the eye, "I got the show because of the press from Pittsburgh. I got lucky that Jared came to the show. A friend of his dragged him out to see Philippe's work – the other artist. And none of that would have mattered…"

Brian shook his head, "Why?"

"I couldn't paint." Justin swallowed hard, "That's never happened before. Those first few weeks when we weren't talking – I couldn't paint."

"I know. Daphne told me," Brian started laughing. "She came over, got me high enough that I fucking spilled my guts. I don't know how the hell she did it but the next thing I know, I'm planning the move to New York." Brian shook his head in disbelief, "How does she do that?"

"She just keeps asking questions until you figure it out."

"Unlike Lindsay, who just tells you what she thinks is best for you." Brian frowned as he thought about Lindsay, "Why did I listen to her?"

"That was part of the insanity. She convinced you it was what I needed." Justin smiled ruefully, "You've always focused on that. Don't blame Lindsay. We should have known she was an emotional wreck. Think about it – one of her best friends died in the bombing. Getting back together with Mel and moving to Toronto? It was obvious it was going to be a disaster."

"I knew that." Brian frowned, "I've been waiting for the train wreck for years – just wondering what would finish it. It's been fun to watch." Brian snorted in disgust as he thought back to his last conversation with Lindsay and decided to warn Justin. "When I was talking to her about the move to New York, she said she thought I was making the same mistake she did – rushing, not thinking the relationship through, and ignoring the history."

Justin looked up, instantly furious. "She said that! Jesus Christ, Brian, the situation is completely different." He got up and started to pace.

"That's what I told her… Well, I just told her to butt out. I didn't point out all the differences." Brian grinned, leaning back, waiting for Justin to blow.

"Our history is completely different!" Just threw up his hands in fury as he bounced off the couch. "We split because we wanted different things. We didn't spend the last two years being complete bitches to each other, lying to each other, lying to our friends. There is no comparison. We were always there for each other. Plus you've always wanted to go to New York and it's the obvious place for me to be. What the hell was in Toronto? Nicer people? They had no reason to go and every reason to stay."

Brian grinned – if Lindsay could see him now, she'd stop treating Justin like a kid - they all would. "What does this all have to do with seeing Hobbs?"

Justin stopped mid-rant, surprised at the question, before he began to grin sheepishly. "I'll explain, but one last thing about Lindsay first." Brian raised an eyebrow expectantly. "We take no advice on our lives from her. She's talking you into staying in Pittsburgh. She'll probably tell me I need to go to Europe next. We listen nicely, but we ignore her and talk to each other. I love her, but her advice sucks and not in a positive, life-affirming way. Agreed?"

"Agreed." When Justin didn't say anything more, Brian prompted again, "Hobbs?"

"Hobbs." Justin's shoulders dropped as he took a deep breath before sitting on the couch beside Brian. "Why do I need to see Hobbs?" Justin paused, gathering his thoughts, "It's the last thing to do to finish the prom and the bombing. It's as if, we just finish this and then we'll be able to get on with our lives, leaving it all behind." At the look of pain in Brian's eyes, Justin swore, "That's not what I mean – I don't want to forget the prom."

"It's okay if you do, Justin. You got bashed in the head with a baseball bat because of that dance."

"Is that what you think?" Justin demanded. At Brian's reluctant nod, "Hobbs told me to stay away or I'd regret it. That's why I went. Think it through. Where do you think he got a baseball bat? The guy didn't even play baseball."

"He brought it with him?" At Justin's emphatic nod, Brian sat, stunned, for a moment. "The whole thing was planned?"

"Of course it was. Now that I remember, it's obvious. Before you came that night, Hobbs told me I shouldn't have shown up." Justin watched as Brian finally realized the bashing wasn't his fault, as the beautiful face in front of him lightened, "You saved my life that night. The attack had nothing to do with our dance, nothing to do with you saying you love me."

"I'm not stupid enough to think you got hit in the head because I said I love you," Brian muttered, glancing off to the side.

"Not consciously, no. Christ, Brian, I'm so sorry," Justin said, eyes shining with moisture.

"For what?" Brian refocused on Justin. "It's not your fucking fault."

"For saying you didn't do romance, that you couldn't say you love me, when the truth was, I just didn't remember it." Justin laughed ruefully, "The most ridiculously romantic thing ever and I didn't remember it."

Brian got up abruptly, walking to the window of the loft, looking out. "It's history now," he said, his voice choked slightly.

Justin joined him, hugging him from behind. "Our history," he agreed, "and I love my memories of the prom."

Brian cleared his throat and turned, "We're running out of time and you still haven't answered me. Why are you going to see Hobbs?"

"To finish it – to finish off the insanity caused by the bombing so we can get on with our lives. If there's a chance he'll confess, I want him to do it. Then we won't have to come back for the trial. It'll be over."

Brian thought about warning Justin that it's never over. Put Hobbs away and another bastard will appear, but Brian chose not to voice reality. This wasn't the time. Brian simply pulled Justin in and stood, holding him, looking out over the city.

As Brian and Justin entered the interview room at the police station where they would wait for Hobbs' arrival, the district attorney stood quietly observing them. "Welcome, gentlemen. I wanted to thank you for coming personally. I'm Don Rennick, the DA."

Justin shook the outstretched hand with a slight smile. Brian held back slightly, assessing the man in front of him. Ignoring the hand, he asked bluntly, "Don't you have enough to put that bastard away without staging scenes?"

Rennick paused at the question, thinking. "Gentlemen, can I speak frankly and trust you not to spout off to the press?" After a quick glance between them, Brian and Justin both nodded. "If you weren't both gay, if Babylon wasn't a gay club, I'd say yes. I'd be going after the death penalty." He sighed, "I don't trust our jury and sentencing system enough. A jury of your peers would be great, but it won't be your peers. It only takes a few homophobes to swing the vote. And there are too many around to guarantee jury selection." Don grinned ruefully, "And if the press finds out that I believe that, it'll make headline news. I'll get a lot of questions about unequal justice. I want to keep them focused on the bomb – not where it was set off." Don looked at Justin, "Your press conferences haven't helped me do that."

Justin shrugged his shoulders, "I gave a few interviews to get the reporters hounding me off my back. I can't see how it hurts your case."

"It doesn't. It just polarizes the population and makes it a bit harder to get an unbiased jury." Don stared at Justin, wondering how much he could help. "I want to get a plea bargain that saves us a trial by taking the death penalty off the table. Justin, I need you to goad Hobbs into talking."

"What makes you think he will? Won't he have his lawyer with him?"

"You're right, his lawyer will be there and will advise him to be quiet. Fortunately, Hobbs won't listen to his lawyer. He should – Dalton's a good lawyer," Rennick smiled, "but as far as we can tell, Hobbs doesn't listen to anyone. When he's not having a psychotic breaks, he's arrogance personified, completely convinced that what he did is right."

"He always was arrogant."

"That belief is what we need you to focus on, Justin. Push that button a few times and he'll start telling you why you're wrong, how easy it is to kill gays with bombs. Hopefully, he'll even name the other members of his group."

At Brian's questioning glance, Rennick shook his head grimly. "That's right. He didn't work alone. There's a group of about a half-dozen individuals. We've only been able to identify two of them. What we won't know until we find them is whether or not they're part of a larger organization or just like-minded individuals who met somehow. Even a confirmation that he's not working alone would be helpful. We haven't been able to get that out of him. I think there's a ringleader somewhere pulling all their strings, but I can't prove it."

Rennick nodded toward the door, "He should be out there now. Are you ready to do this?"

Justin nodded and started to move, but Brian held him back for a moment. "Hobbs is insane. How dangerous is this?"

Rennick smiled reassuringly, "Hobbs will be restrained, able to stand but wearing both ankle and wrist cuffs. He'll have two police officers with him and there'll be desks between you and him. There's no physical risk to you or Justin."

Justin and Brian shared a quick look and Brian gave a small nod. "Okay, let's do this."

The DA opened the door for the two other men and they entered the squad room. Silence fell over the room as the officers present waited for the staged scene to start.

"Hello, Chris. Fancy meeting you here," Justin said dryly as he spotted Hobbs sitting at a desk across the office. He could almost pity the man, dressed in the orange coveralls, bound hand to foot. Carl stood beside him, leaning on the desk. On the other side, stood a young uniformed police officer. Carl gave Justin a reassuring smile.

Chris stood up, staring in shock at Justin. "Taylor. What are you doing here?" His lawyer, Dalton, stood up beside him, a slim, medium height man in his mid-forties, his slightly greying hair giving a distinguished air offset by his inexpensive suit.

"Giving the police a statement about the bombing." Justin looked at Hobbs steadily. "I guess I don't need to ask why you're here."

Chris opened his mouth momentarily to speak, changed his mind and closed it again.

"You know, since we're both here, I'm curious about one thing."

Chris ignored his lawyer pulling on his arm and telling him to be quiet. "What?"

"Do you really hate being gay enough that it's worth going to prison for? Killing for?"

"I am not gay," Chris enunciated every word carefully.

"Come on, Chris. Remember who you're talking to." Justin smiled wickedly, "You loved that hand job."

"I was a child." Chris stood taller, arrogance personified even in cuffs. "A momentary aberration does not make me a deviant like you."

"Maybe not," Justin responded, "but you've been obsessing about deviants like me ever since then, haven't you? It must really piss you off."

"What?"

"That you didn't succeed. That I'm standing here, a free man, alive and well."

Chris shrugged his shoulders, "It could have as easily turned out differently."

Justin responded with a smirk. "You've tried to kill me twice, Chris and you're so incompetent that you didn't pull it off either time."

Chris' lawyer pulled on his sleeve, "Mr Hobbs, you need to stop talking. You're not -"

Chris looked down at the smaller man, scorn obvious, "Shut the fuck up. You're as useless as the rest of them."

The man pulled himself up, "If you ignore my advice, I won't be able to represent you effectively."

"Like your advice has been so good," Chris snarled, still focussed on Justin. "You should hear yourself - Don't say anything. It's best if you don't talk. Well, what if I want to fucking talk, have you thought of that?"

Dalton tried again, "If you talk, anything you say can be taken to court. I won't be able to do my job."

"I don't give a fuck about your job," the madness that had started years earlier now showed in Chris' eyes. "I only care about eliminating the poison that's contaminating our country. I don't need your advice on how to do that. You're just like all the rest – ignoring the spread of the poison. I don't need you. I don't need anyone."

Don Rennick interjected softly, "Are you dismissing your legal representative at this time, Mr. Hobbs?"

"I insist on consulting with my - " Dalton started, trying to get his client's attention.

"Get the fuck out. You're fired." Hobbs stared around the room, eyes insane, as Dalton began gathering his papers. At the look in hi eyes, Justin pulled closer to Brian. "Fuck you! Fuck all of you! We did something great. Even if I go to prison, it was worth it."

Dalton finished gathering his papers and with a look of relief on his face, stated, "Let the record show that Dalton and Associates are no longer the legal representatives of Christopher Hobbs." With a nod in Rennick's direction, he left the police station.

Shocked at the erratic behaviour, Justin leaned back slightly, touching Brian. Brian's hand came up and squeezed his shoulder. Drawing strength, Justin straightened up to continue. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head lightly, smirking. "Something great? You didn't even kill me!"

Hobbs stood, panting as he stared at Justin. "I achieved everything I set out to do. Killing you would have just been a side benefit – a bit of random luck."

"Christ, Chris – no one believes that. Everybody thinks you were trying to kill me again and just couldn't do it right. Just like the first time."

"That's not true. We weren't trying to kill you. We were leaching the poison out of our society. Showing the world what happens to sodomites like you."

"We?" Justin sneered, "What – you found someone to help you?"

"He found me. We all work together. I set the bomb but I wasn't alone. Eventually you and your kind won't be able to plague our great nation anymore. Everyone will know the truth – that you're evil and need to be eliminated. They already believe that. I won't go to jail. It'll be just like the first time. People know that I'm right and they'll protect me."

"No, they won't. Not this time, Chris. A baseball bat to my head is one thing – but a bomb? You're going down."

"We'll kill you yet!" Hobbs threw himself to the left, knocking the young officer standing there down, a sickening crack sounding through the room as his head hit the desk. He then gave Carl a shove, a football move using his shoulder. Carl stumbled briefly. Hobbs took the opportunity to move through the desks in Justin's direction, but he was hobbled by his ankle cuffs and went down hard, to his knees. Carl moved quickly, grabbing Hobbs and pushing him into his chair, cuffing him to the desk. Another officer knelt beside the officer who had gone down. "He's going to be okay – but we should probably get his head checked out."

Brian grabbed Justin by the arm, looking him in the eye. "Enough. You've made your point." He looked over at Rennick, "I think you got what you needed, right?" At Rennick's nod, Brian turned back to Justin. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

Justin stared for a moment at Hobbs before heaving a deep sigh, "Okay." He flashed Brian a smile as he started towards the door. "Let's go."

Justin opened the door to the station, blinking in the bright sunlight. The emotions from the scene with Chris still coursing through him, his relief at having the encounter over was resulting in a euphoric high. "It's over." It was all he could do not to break into giddy laughter. "I'll never have to see him again. This had to have been easier than a full trial."

Brian snorted softly, "I doubt it. At least with a trial things wouldn't have gotten so fucking out of control. I wonder what he meant about having friends?"

"I know - it is hard to believe, isn't it?" Justin agreed, giggling slightly.

"Justin - remember what Rennick said at the start. Hobbs and his homophobic friends ran in a pack. It sounded like a threat to me." As Brian and Justin started walking down the street toward the corvette, Brian moved closer to Justin, protectively.

"Who cares?" Justin almost sang, "Hobbs' going away for a long time and I don't have to think about him ever again." Justin gave a little dance of happiness before Brian, slightly embarrassed, pulled him in tight. "Relax, Brian, it is over. Let's go home to New York." Justin shifted away and started down the street to the corvette. "We've got things to do and places we haven't fucked in yet!"

Brian started to tell Justin that he needed to pay attention to Rennick's warning when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. Squinting against the bright sunlight, Brian stopped abruptly as the figure down the street started to grin, his arm coming up, pointing towards Justin.

Brian heard himself scream, "No," as he moved instinctively into the line of fire, shielding Justin. He had a brief moment to wonder if he had it wrong, if he was just being an overprotective idiot again, before he felt the hit. As his body began to drop to the ground, he forgot how to breathe, how to hear, how to feel. Even pain was suspended for a moment as the shock of the bullet hit his nervous system. The last sense left was sight - he saw the furious face of the attacker as he turned to run. He didn't feel the pain of hitting the ground. He lay on the ground wondering why the cement was turning red when his sense of pain came screaming back and the world faded to black.