This chapter's dedicated to Boriqua522 for giving me the idea at the end of it...

The scene ahead of him would have been funny if Brian hadn't been so shit scared just moments before. Standing just inside the gate of the house was Justin, standing on the other side of the gate was Debbie, both poised, guns pointed and each other and ready to shoot … sort of. Brian thought it looked like the most inept, colourful Mexican standoff of all time. But he was so relieved to see Justin there and to see that it was in fact Debbie at the door, not the police or some other member of a gang, that he didn't even really think about the fact that if one flinched, the other could be dead.

He just strolled over, a laugh bubbling up in his gut.

"Well, well, well," he smirked. "What's going on here?"

"She knows my name!" Justin cried. He was bright red and shaking furiously, as he tried to keep the gun trained on the strange woman ahead of him. "She knows all of our names!"

"Really?" Brian said his voice low and teasing. He had a similar expression to that of a cat playing with a couple of doomed mice. "Well, that does sound suspicious," he conceded, gazing at Debbie with a look of pure glee on his face.

"Quit with the games, asshole," Debbie snapped. "Call off your ward, now."

"Okay, Ma," he mocked. He walked close behind Justin and gently moulded his body to the younger man's being incredibly careful not to startle him. One wrong move now could result in a body bag for Deb. He placed his hand gently over Justin's and he noticed they were white and cold from where they'd been gripping the gun so tight.

"It's okay," he whispered softly in the kid's ear. His voice was calm and low and Justin could feel it rumbling out from Brian's chest and all around his body. "She's family."

Together, they lowered the gun until it was facing the floor, which was when Brian felt they were safe enough for him to pull the weapon out of the younger man's hand. Of course, he recognized the gun as the one he'd given the kid when they were back at the loft. He'd almost forgotten about it and he certainly hadn't known that Justin still had it concealed away in the inner pocket of his jacket. Just as Brian was putting the safety catch on the gun, he heard Justin gasp a sob, as he tried to force back the tears that were flowing freely down his face.

"Hey," Brian said. "What's wrong?"

"He's probably overwhelmed," Debbie piped up immediately. "If you let me the fuck in, I could give him a hug."

"Maybe he doesn't want a hug from a woman who had a gun pointed at his head just moments ago," Brian suggested, but he used the arm that wasn't around Justin's shoulder to type in the code and open the gate.

"Well, he wanted a fuck from a man who shot his father," Debbie pointed out, as the gate slowly began to slide away. She picked up a big carrier bag with a snowman on it from the floor and walked through the gap.

"How much has Mikey told you?" Brian asked knowingly.

"Enough," Debbie said, touching the kid's face gently. "And, if you ask me, he's as fucked up as the rest of you."

"Well, no one asked you Deb," Brian growled, squeezing Justin's shoulders, though the kid did seem to have calmed down a little. "So butt the fuck out. In fact, you shouldn't even fucking be here. I told Michael to tell you, you weren't allowed to come here. Did anyone follow you? I bet you don't even fucking know."

"Look, none of that's important. This poor child's been traumatized. Let's take him inside," Debbie said.

"The only thing that's traumatized him, Deb, is you."

"Asshole," she muttered as she managed to slide Justin from Brian's grip and take him towards the house. Deb was petting him and kissing him and hugging him as though he were some kind of long lost son. Well, like Brian had always said; 'Debbie puts the mother in smother.' It had been true when they were fifteen and it was still true now.

Brian just shook his head as he tapped in the code and watched gate carefully as it began to close. He waited until he heard the metal clang together. He waited until he heard the whirring of the lock moving back into place and then he trudged slowly back up to the house. He was sure Deb would have a whole, horde of horrendous holiday ornaments in that fucking bag. In fact, he was almost certain they'd be all over the sitting room by the time he arrived … he wasn't wrong.

Debbie was tacking horrible gold and silver 'Merry Christmas' banners to the mantelpiece and was clambering over his sofa's to tack them to the old-fashioned picture rails. She'd even managed to bring along a tacky set of tiny plastic reindeer complete with sleigh, which she was now balancing on the TV table in front of the infrared sensor for the remote. Fucking brilliant, Brian groaned internally.

"It's not Christmas without proper decorations," Deb was saying as she bustled around the room busying herself with things that didn't need doing. Michael was sat in an armchair looking suitably embarrassed.

"Michael," Brian said an eerie calmness to his voice. "Can I speak to you please … in the hall?"

Michael nodded a little and stood up silently. Justin couldn't help think he looked a bit like a kid who'd just been sent to the Principles' office. He was shuffling his feet, his head drooping; the guilty kid's march. Brian was looking stern as he held open the door and the shorter man walked past him.

They shut the door behind them but Justin could still hear exactly what they were yelling through the thin walls.

"I told you," Brian's voice was wavering he was so angry, "to tell your mom she couldn't come here!"

"But it's Christmas," Michael's protests sounded week in response. "It's a time for families to come together."

"Fuck families and fuck Christmas!" Brian shouted back. "I don't care about traditions! I don't care about presents or rituals or stables or reindeers or Santa or any other piece of shit attached to this holiday! All I care about is not getting caught and not going to prison. You know they could be watching your mom."

"They don't know I'm involved," Michael shouted back.

"Christ Mikey, how thick are you? It wouldn't take them long to find out that we've been best friends since we were fifteen. In fact, if I were the police you would be the first person I'd look for and when you weren't around I'd watch the closest person to you," he raised his voice, "your goddamn mother … FUCK!" He yelled. "You could have jeopardized everything."

"Me?" Michael demanded in disbelief. "What about you? If it wasn't for you wanting to fuck this kid none of this would have happened."

"Are we seriously going to have this conversation again? I didn't intend for this to happen but it has and now we have to be careful." There was silence for a moment and Justin could only assume Michael was pulling his 'I'm sweet and sorry face' because Brian continued calmly, "well, I guess she's here now so it's okay but don't do anything this stupid again!"

The door opened up and the boys came back in. Michael smiled at his mom and said, "I've managed to convince Brian to let you stay for diner."

Debbie just raised an eyebrow sceptically and Justin snorted a little as Brian put his hands on Michael's shoulders and said, "they'll have heard everything, the walls are thin remember."

The shorter man blushed a little and made some excuse about going to help Emmett with the food.

"I'm going to have a quick check of the security camera screens in Ted's room," Brian said. "Better to be safe that arrested. Not that it isn't wonderful to see you Deb," Brian mocked, "it's just you could get us all put behind bars."

And then Justin was left alone in the sitting room with this loud, brash over-the-top lady, who'd pulled a gun on him just moments before.

"So, Sunshine," she grinned at him. "What's it like being part of the family?"

::

Something was wrong. He knew it was wrong. He was even pretty sure the problem was with camera seven but he couldn't work out what was wrong with it. He'd been staring at it for 15 minutes and still he couldn't figure it out. It was still showing the road leading to the house from the left; it was the road Ted and Michael took when they went to the supermarket. It still had the same tarmac with that one tiny pothole to the left. It still had the same hedges and shrubbery growing either side of it and a couple of overhanging trees but something was wrong … very wrong. But what the hell was it?

"Hey," Justin interrupted his obsessive staring. Brian looked up to see the kid standing a little uncertainly at the entrance to Ted's room. "You coming down? Emmett's nearly ready and Deb's entertaining us with stories about some old guy she used to rip off."

"I've heard all the stories," Brian sighed. "Come here. Look at this." The kid walked over and looked at screen seven. "What's wrong with it?" The older man asked, looking up at the younger man as his blue eyes squinted a little in confusion.

"It's too still," Justin said after a moment or two. "Those trees and the plants, they're not moving at all. It's windy outside, they should be blowing about, like these." He pointed to camera six, which pointed down the same road but in the opposite direction.

Brian stopped. He felt like someone had dropped an atomic bomb in his stomach. The kid was right. The camera wasn't running. It was like it had been paused, showing the same still image for … how long?

"Shit," he breathed. He took camera four, the one that watched the front yard and span it around quickly to point roughly in the direction camera 7 should have been watching and as the picture was revealed his heart sank. He felt sick to the core.

"Oh my god," he heard Justin gasp beside him as police cars, vans and men appeared on the screen along with the odd news reporter. "What the fuck do we do?"

Brian ran a hand very slowly through his hair, pulling at the brown locks as he puffed the air out from his cheeks.

"Okay," he said calmly and picking up his cell phone. "We've got to find out where Ted is."

Justin nodded silently.

"You, go and pack a bag of your stuff. I've got stuff in the car but you haven't. And," Brian reached into his jacket and handed over a gun, the same gun he'd taken off Justin during the weird little standoff in the front yard earlier, "keep this with you."

He could see the tears welling up behind Justin's eyes but the kid just nodded bravely and took the gun in his shaking hands.

"We'll be okay, won't we Brian?"

Brian looked seriously at the kid. He didn't want to upset him but he wasn't the type to lie so he simply said, "just … go pack."

Justin nodded again and virtually ran to get his stuff sorted. This was shit. He'd almost settled down here. It was fucking Christmas day, he'd been looking forward to eating all the delicious food he and Emmett had been preparing and now he was throwing as much stuff as he could into a bag getting ready to run for their lives … again. He could hear Brian speaking in a low voice down the corridor; well at least that meant Ted was okay.

"I was just about to call you," Ted was saying. "I got near the house and the new GPS started going crazy. There's got to be four or five cars outside the gate just waiting. I got as far away as I could from there."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Ted confirmed. "They didn't see me, I've got everything I need … and a bag of flour," he said, weakly trying to add some humour to the situation.

"Do you have any idea how they found us?"

"I know exactly how they found us," Ted said. "Is a Miss Debbie Novotny there by any chance?"

"Shit!"

"Yeah, they followed her. According to the radio news, they've been watching her for some time."

"I'm gonna kill Michael," Brian growled.

"I'd wait until you get out of there." Ted said seriously. "And Brian, I found out something else too. I managed to hack into one of the police radio waves, to hear what they were doing… and, well … they don't exactly want to find Justin alive."

"What are you talking about?"

"That Police chief, Stockwell. He's been calling Justin Jason the entire time. You thought it was a mistake because he's a homophobe and a damn republican. But it's not. It's not a mistake. They were trying to cover up a murder of a guy named Jason Kemp, I guess that's the identity of the guy in the dumpster. I didn't get chance to find out why because they called in more enforcements and I had to leave before they got there but … if they catch the kid alive, who knows what the fuck they'll do to him. But they're not really interested in him. They're not that interested in me or Michael or Emmett … they want you, Brian. It's your face everyone knows and it's your blood everyone's baying for. They won't stop till they get you."

"Shit!"

"Oh and one more thing, the story's gone nationwide. Every single person in the whole of the fucking states knows who you are. I hope for your sake you've got another good place to hide."

"I'll find somewhere," Brian said with more confidence than he felt.

"Okay well, good luck."

Brian just nodded and then remembering he was on the phone he said, "have a good life, Theodore." His voice cracked slightly but Ted had more sense than to mention it. "If we ever get free of all this shit, I'll look you up."

"Sounds good, Bri."

And then Brian hung up. Fuck! This was really, truly happening. Fucking Debbie! Fucking Christmas! It had only ever caused him problems. Firstly because it was an excuse for his family to get drunk, then because it was a day he was reminded he had no family and now this.

He marched out of Ted's room and went towards the stairs, passing his and Justin's room as he went.

"Is Ted okay?" Justin called out.

"He's fine," Brian shouted back. "Keep packing."

Brian was virtually pulling his hair out when he got to the kitchen. The site ahead of him was completely surreal. There was a fucking turkey in the middle of the table, bowls around the outside each with a separate vegetable. There were weird cardboard tubes covered in Christmassy looking foil put at six place settings, three had been torn in half and Emmett, Debbie and Michael were all donning the crappy paper hats. And they were laughing … actually laughing.

"Ooo, ooo, here he is," Emmett grinned virtually bouncing in his chair as he wiped away a tear of laughter from the corner of his eye. "We've got Christmas Crackers," he chuckled.

"What?" Brian frowned, because at that moment in time nothing seemed to be making sense. Did they not know how much trouble the were in?

"It's a quaint British Christmas tradition," Emmett smiled. "A guy I used to fuck showed me how to pull my cracker," he winked. "He was a bit of a dog actually but you know how I'm a sucker for that accent. One 'cheerio' and my legs are up pointing north."

Debbie let out her infamous cackle at that and Michael laughed a bit too.

"He looks so confused," Debbie chuckled, noting Brian's strained expression. "Michael, tell him the joke, from your cracker. Cheer him up."

"How do snowmen get around?" Michael asked reading from the small piece of paper that had apparently come from his broken cardboard tube. "An icicle." All three collapsed with laughter as though it was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.

"That's great," Brian frowned "but I…"

"Wait," Debbie held up her hand to stop Brian, "before you go any further, riddle me this; what do you call a penguin in the Sahara desert?"

"I don't know but there's a…"

"Lost," Debbie announced, laughing hard at the shit joke.

"Great but there's…"

"My turn," Emmett beamed. "what do you get if you eat too many Christmas decorations? … Tinsilitus." He laughed a bit before concluding, "these really aren't that funny. What does yours say Brian?" He asked, throwing a cracker to him.

"What's got blue lights and siren and is outside our front door right now? The fucking cops."

"I don't get it," Emmett frowned. "It's not funny."

"It's not meant to be funny, Honeycutt," Brian snapped. "It's a fact. They're outside and they're waiting for us. We have to leave and I mean now."

Just then Justin ran into the kitchen. He had the duffle bag with all his clothes and Brian's laptop case of guns slung over his shoulders. His face was flushed from running down the massive staircase but his eyes were terrified as he panted,

"there's a man drilling the front gate. He doesn't look like it's going to take him long."

"Right," Brian turned to the others. "We have to leave, right now."

"But what about Teddy," Emmett cried.

"It's okay," Brian reassured him. "I've spoken to Theodore and he's fine. Thanks to his new GPS machine, have you both got yours?"

"They're right here," Emmett said, going into the living room and coming back with the two gadgets Ted had given them that morning.

"Excellent." Brian said, and then he turned to the kid and took a deep breath. He didn't want to do this. The thought of never seeing him again was more painful than he would ever admit, even to himself, but he had to do what was best for the kid. "Justin, you go with Emmett."

"What?" The kid cried, "no fucking way."

"You'll be safer with him," Brian insisted.

"I don't care," Justin was equally stubborn. "I wanna go with you."

"Well, you can't!" Brian yelled. He really didn't have time for this. Not with the police working their way through the gate.

"But I love y-"

Justin was cut off mid-word by the most horrendous, screechy, wailing alarm cutting through the house. That was it. That was the thirty second warning. That meant they had to go; no time to be nostalgic, no time to pick up anything else, just enough time to escape … they hoped.

"FUCK!" Brian said, pulling his gun from his waistband and cocking it. The others all followed suit, except Justin. He just stood glued to the spot his bags clutched tightly in his hands. He was completely petrified until he felt a strong hand on his bicep and Brian hissed, "move," in his ear. And then they were off, straight through the French doors and down the garden.

Justin didn't think he'd ever run so fast in his life. The other men seemed to just stride the distance out no problem. He assumed Emmett and Brian's long legs would help them but Michael and Debbie were quick too, maybe because they all knew that one day they'd have to run. Justin was quickly lagging behind but Brian refused to leave him. He just held his wrist and dragged him along. Justin tripped and stumbled his way after them, willing himself to stay upright, knowing if he fell it could be all over.

His lungs were straining. Hhis eyes were streaming. His head felt woozy. The bags knocking against his knees only seemed to be encouraging him to fall over.

"Come on," Brian was saying at his side. "Come on!" So Justin kept trying, one foot in front of the other as fast as he could and then it happened. The sound like a whip cracking in the distance and the primal acknowledgement of something tiny and black whizzing past his face like … well, a bullet.

"Shit," Justin whispered, his feet began to slow down in shock but Brian just pulled him along with one hand whilst pointing back and shooting blindly at the cops with the other.

The sound of gunfire was resonating around the garden. It sounded like the final scene of a western, Justin thought. People shooting everywhere. The bad guys on the run as the good guys gave chase and Justin's stomach dropped like a lead weight. Never, in any film, book, play or TV programme had the bad guys ever won. Maybe in real life they could be more lucky. Suddenly, they stopped next to a smallish white building. Brian threw Justin behind him and was now facing the cops taking near perfect shots at all of them. Emmett and Debbie were doing the same as Michael punched a code into what looked like a stone ornament. As soon as the last number went in, a door that was concealed in the wall clicked as it unlocked and Michael kicked it open just as Emmett let out a blood curdling scream.

::

Justin tried to see what was wrong with Emmett but he was already being pushed roughly through the door by Brian, who then stooped to help Michael pick Emmett up off the floor and move him into the hut. The sound of bullet's ricocheting off the wall just inches from Brian's head meant Justin was having a hard time breathing and Emmett's painful moans were even worse as he was brought inside. Debbie was still shooting at the officers until she managed to firmly shut the door behind her and set the deadlock.

The room was pitch-black. Justin put his hand a few inches in front of his face and still couldn't see his fingers wiggling; of course it would be that moment that Brian would turn the lights on, illuminating Justin's childish display.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Brian asked.

"Nothing," Justin shrugged, turning around to see Emmett splayed out on the concrete floor, a deep red stain growing quickly on the left sleeve of his shirt.

"I'm dying," the queen was gasping. "Please, go on without me."

"Get over it you big baby," Debbie chided. "It's just a flesh wound. The bullet grazed you." Then she took off her Christmassy coloured scarf and wrapped it very tightly around Emmett's arm. "You'll be absolutely fine as soon as I can get some bandages and some anti-septic ointment." She looked to Brian pointedly.

"In the boot of the gold Miata," he answered, indicating the car on the left of the four impressive looking getaway cars stored in this garage.

It was obvious each getaway car had been hand chosen by its owner. There was a silver Bentley continental, sitting in the centre which could only have belonged to Ted. The white mini-cooper on the right and had a flower on the dashboard could only belong to Emmett. He probably thought it was 'so The Italian Job'. The green Corvette Stingray in the middle, the ultimate boys' toy was beautifully crafted and elegant; in short, it screamed of Brian Kinney. Which meant, the Miata that Debbie was currently rummaging through was the car Michael had chosen and Justin couldn't help wonder if he'd been high when he picked it because it was, without doubt, the ugliest fucking thing he'd ever seen.

Justin didn't have long to look at the cars however, as Emmett, who continued to do a very good impression of a dying tortured heroine at the end of one of those opera's Ted loved so much, let out a particularly loud cry.

"Tell my family how I lived," he called out in a theatrical voice. "I've lived a good life. I don't regret one second." He paused for a moment, "what are some really great last words from the movies?"

"What about 'ahhhhhh'?" Brian said. "Usually when someone walks off a cliff or a bridge."

"Shut up asshole," Emmett scorned, wincing a little as the pain in his arm smarted. "Ooo, I know, what were Jack's last words in Titanic?"

"Fucking hell, I'm freezing?" Brian suggested.

"No, it wasn't that." Emmett frowned. "God, I really am dying if I can't remember that."

"It was 'never let go'." Justin informed him, which earned a snort from Brian.

"How fucking ironic," he chuckled. "Still, it goes to show I guess you can't rely on anyone. Not even your 'true love' if such a sickening notion really exists."

"Will you stop being such a cynic on my death bed?" Emmett demanded, hissing and grimacing as Debbie began to unwrap the scarf from his arm and apply the anti-septic ointment.

"You're not really dying? Are you Em?" Justin asked, looking genuinely scared. The older man did look pale and there was a sheen of sweat across his forehead. Maybe it was worse than he'd originally thought.

"Of course he's not dying," Brian scorned. "He's fucking fine. He's just having a bit of a queen out."

"Brian," Justin scolded, "he's been shot."

"It grazed him," Brian snapped. And although he was right, the bullet had just caught the very edge of Emmett's arm, it didn't seem to matter to any of the other drama queens who were far too busy making this into something much bigger than it was.

"Look," Brian growled after a few more minutes of fussing over Emmett. "The police aren't gonna waste their time trying to get through this wall all day." He patted the stupidly thick, soundproof concrete wall that was currently keeping the cops out. "Soon, they're gonna try and find another way in and when they do, they'll be blocking our only exit out. We seriously need to get going."

"Well what are you gonna do with the kid?" Debbie asked, tying a final knot in the bandage on Emmett's arm, causing the man to grimace in pain. "He can't go with Emmett now. Emmett needs to come with me so I can look after this arm."

Brian looked at Justin carefully. He knew it was the most dangerous thing to take him with him, it could get both of them killed or arrested but what other choice was there. Debbie and Emmett were going together and Michael certainly couldn't take him.

"He'll have to come with me," Brian sighed.

"Don't do it, Bri," Michael begged. "Leave him here. Let the police take him back to his mommy and you and I can escape in the corvette," he stroked the bonnet of the green convertible. "Friends on the run, just like we always talked about." His eyes were shining with the idea of it but Brian just looked back solemnly.

"I can't do that," Brian said.

"Come on, Bri," he encouraged. "We all know that the only person we'll ever see after this is the person we drive away from here with today. This is the rest of your life Brian, the rest of our lives. Just leave the kid. He'll be fine."

Brian took a deep breath and walked over to his car, opening the door and admiring the white leather interior. This was his dream car. This was the vehicle he'd chosen for the time when all bets were off and all chips were down. This was the moment. He'd been dealt the shitty hand and now he just had to avoid the road to hell for as long as possible. And now he had to choose who he wanted to have at his side for this final gamble for freedom.

He studied his options; leave the kid and take Michael, leave Michael and take the kid. Logically, he knew that taking Michael was the right decision. Maybe they could give Justin the Miata and tell him to drive and never look back. It would be for his good. He'd be safest that way. The police weren't looking for him anyway. They didn't even want to find him. Loyally, taking Michael was the right decision. He'd been friends with Michael forever and he'd only known the kid a few months. Nostalgically, taking Michael was the right decision. This had been their dream for so long, riding off into the sunset with the police on their tails, a modern day Bonnie and Clyde.

But logic and loyalty and nostalgia didn't matter because when Brian looked over at the passenger seat of his Corvette there was only one person he could imagine sitting there next to him and that's why he said;

"Justin, you coming?"

The kid nodded enthusiastically, ignoring the stunned faces of the others as he ran over and threw his case in the trunk before jumping into the passenger side.

"You take care of yourself now, Mikey," Brian said, walking over to the stunned man and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Then he pushed a button on the wall to open a hidden garage door straight onto an empty country road, not a fucking cop insight. It was almost too easy.

"Honeycutt," he patted Emmett on the injured arm, smiling wickedly as he emitted a hiss of pain from the tall queen, "don't go getting yourself shot anymore."

"I'll try, Bri," Emmett said, shaking his head fondly as he watched Brian walking back to the Vette calling to Debbie as he went;

"Try not to get followed, eh Deb?"

"Thanks for the advice ... asshole."

And with that, Brian folded himself into the car, wound down the window and slammed his foot down on the accelerator, roaring the engine into life. As he blasted past them and out the door, he shouted joyously;

"See you in hell boys!"

Thanks to everyone who's reading ...