"Are you sure this is it?" Emmett asked, as he stepped out of Ted's car and looked up at the back of the abandoned Mexican Restaurant.

"I'm sure," Ted nodded, locking up the car and turning to the building. The door was boarded up and had the word 'FAGS' scrawled across it. And a very detailed picture of two guys fucking on the wall, with the words 'aids breeding ground', written in the cartoon cum that the bottom was shooting.

"That's a very accurate piece of art for someone claiming to be a homophobe," Emmett pointed out haughtily.

"Hmm. When you're done studying the artwork," Ted muttered, pointing to the rickety fire escape. "Pull this ladder down, I can't reach."

"Huh? Oh. My pleasure," Emmett smiled, jumping up to pull the ladder to a more reasonable level. Then he took his gun out of his inside pocket, "ladies with the best shot first," he smiled and began to climb.

"Honey," Debbie said, eyeing the fire escape nervously, "I think I should just wait down here. This thing doesn't look strong enough for all three of us."

"You'll be fine Deb," Ted reassured her. "The weight of us three divided by the …"

"Okay, okay," Deb cut off the intelligent, but boring, man before he could get too far into his mathematical explanations. "I'll come too. Just, well, I'm not coming in if he's … still there." She whispered.

Ted and Emmett looked at each other. If they were honest with themselves, that's exactly what they were expecting to find. Justin's corpse on the floor after somehow bleeding to death but they were determined not to think about that until they knew for definite.

"Come on," Emmett said decidedly. "Let's get going."

The climb was quick and easy and they weren't going to draw any attention to themselves on this dark evening. Emmett tried to peer through the window. He pressed his forehead to the glass and tried to shade his view from the glare of the street lamp so he could see inside but the space was so dark and gloomy, he couldn't make anything out.

"Anyone got a flashlight?"

"Hang on honey," Debbie said, rummaging through her handbag and pulling out a tiny light. "Here."

"Thanks," Emmett smiled weakly, taking the flashlight from her hand and passing it to Ted. "You shoot with the flashlight, I'll shoot with the bullets," Emmett said quietly.

Ted just nodded. Emmett was shaking almost violently. He'd really cared about the kid and Ted knew that if they saw the body when the light flicked on, Emmett would probably fall apart. They both took a deep breath and Ted counted down from three.

3... Emmett cocked the gun.

2... Debbie turned away.

1... Ted flicked on the light and …

Nothing.

Ted moved the beam of light around the room, peering into every corner and crevice but no one was there; no police, no other gangs, no squatters but most importantly no Justin. Emmett couldn't decide whether that was better or worse. He didn't want to see the kid's body but not knowing where he was at all … he shuddered.

"He's not there," he whispered aloud. Debbie opened her eyes and peered through the glass.

"You think your friends who own the restaurant moved him Teddy?" Deb asked.

The man just shook his head solemnly. "They weren't mentioned on the news. My bet is they hadn't even come into work. I mean, it was a Sunday. Then they saw the commotion on the TV and just left. There's no way in hell they'd come back here after all that. It would be suicide."

"Suicide?" Debbie repeated. "Why are we here then?"

"Because the police have gone. And anyway what the cops would do to us for finding us here is minimal compared to what Brian would do to us if he thought we hadn't even tried to find Justin."

Debbie just nodded silently and looked around the room, straining her eyes in the murky light. "So," she said eventually, "where is he?"

Ted shrugged. He had an idea, he guessed that the police had probably 'disposed' of the body somewhere no one would find it; buried in a forest, thrown in a river, anywhere untraceable. But he wasn't going to share that theory with the other two; they didn't need to hear it. Not yet.

Emmett just stared around the empty room. It was bleak and cold and horrible and made a cold shiver run down his back as he wondered what the hell had gone on in there but he knew he had to get a better look.

"Help me with this," he urged, tugging uselessly at the window. It took all three of them to pry the old thing open and when there was enough room, Emmett was clambering through. He looked around the room slowly as Ted, who'd practically fallen through the window after him, shone the flashlight around.

There was a bed that was half made, sketch after sketch of various different items around the attic, a duffle bag full of Justin's clothes and a large old-fashioned medical-looking bag full of Brian's stuff. There was a bag of forgotten Mexican food, stuff thrown everywhere and there was even a large brown suitcase that didn't seem to fit in with the rest of the room at all, but whatever it was there for and whatever had been going on here … this place was definitely abandoned now. Debbie spotted a beautifully bound notebook and pen with J. Taylor emblazed on it, she picked it up and put it in her handbag. In her mind, she intended to give that back to the kid when she next saw him … if she ever saw him.

"It's hard to imagine Brian Kinney slumming it in here," Debbie whistled to herself as she lifted one of Justin's sweatshirts that hung over the back of a chair. "Prison might actually be a step up."

"Don't be facetious, Deb," Ted snapped. He was furious at the situation, furious that two of his best friends had been arrested and thrown behind bars, furious that one of those 'friends' seemed to have been an informant for the police as to the other's whereabouts. But he was also confused and terrified. He'd been so very certain that Justin's body would be here. He'd hoped so hard that the police would just leave it there until the case went away. He wanted to give the kid a proper send off. He figured Justin deserved that but the cops had just disposed of the evidence in some remote location, a high-end twist on throwing a body in a dumpster. Fuck.

"Oh my god," a gasp from Debbie drew both Ted and Emmett's attention. She'd stooped to pick up a pile of clothes that had been seemingly dumped on the floor near the door and as she'd lifted them away, she'd managed to reveal a large, deep red stain on the boards of plywood below. "Is it … blood?" she asked quietly.

Ted just nodded silently. The stain was big. Ted didn't think there'd be any way Justin could have got up and walked away from whatever injury had caused it. Besides, the blood would have left a trail to either the door or the window as he'd moved. He'd have needed help but no one had known he was here except the police. Shit. It really was all over for him.

"Poor kid," he whispered, his voice sounded choked and full of unshed tears.

Emmett's neck snapped up to look at him. "Wait, you think … God, no," Emmett sobbed suddenly, almost collapsing onto Ted's shoulder and weeping painfully. "He was so young. It's not fair. It's not fair!"

Ted wrapped his arm around his friend's waist and patted him carefully and a little awkwardly on the back. Debbie squeezed Emmett's shoulder comfortingly.

"It's okay, honey," she soothed. "Let it out."

And Emmett did. He was completely inconsolable and every sob wracked his body violently. Ted stood firm, his lips pressed tightly together. He wasn't the emotional type but even he could feel a tear at the corner of his eye. He wiped it away discretely as Deb said,

"why don't we give him a bit of a send off? I saw some candles a second ago, Teddy shine your flashlight this way."

Ted lit her way as she wandered over and picked up two discarded candle sticks. She handed one to Emmett and kept one for herself, lighting them both with a lighter from her pocket.

"Go on Teddy," she encouraged. "Say a few words."

"Yeah, go on Teddy," Emmett sniffed, drying his eyes a little as the glow of the candle set the mood around the tiny room.

"Oh, I wouldn't know what…"

"Just," Emmett interrupted, "speak from the heart. Come on, the boy deserves a send off."

"Right," Ted nodded dutifully. "Of course. You're right." He thought for a second and then began in a way he hoped was befitting a memorial for the late Justin Taylor. "He was a good kid … no, a man. He may have been tender in years but he was smart, talented and kind. I didn't know him long but in the time that I knew him, he'd worked his way into our family and into our hearts. He will be sorely, sorely missed by all of us. May you rest in p…."

"Little soon for that isn't it?" A gruff man's voice interrupted them. They all looked up and Emmett jumped into action, dropping his candle so that he could reach for his gun.

"Woah," the man shouted, jumping forward and stamping out the flame immediately. "You could have burnt the place down then, lad." And then eyeing the gun, he put his hands immediately in the air and said with a bit of smile, "don't shoot."

The man was probably in his early 50's and balding. He had a bit of a beer belly and was wearing brown shoes with a black belt, classic breeder wear, but that wasn't the worst thing about him. The worst thing was that he didn't seem in the slightest bit worried about having a gun pointed at him.

"Who are you?" Deb demanded, her hand hovering over her handbag ready to pull out her gun and shoot at any second.

"Horvath," the man said. "Carl Horvath. I'm from the Pittsburgh State Police."

"Shit!" Emmett hissed, cocking the gun and holding it steadily at the cop's head. "You alone?"

"Just me," Horvath confirmed and for some reason they all decided they believed him but what the hell was a member of the PSP doing in this attic room long after the Pittsburgh PD had abandoned it. Things were just getting stranger by the second and even Ted, who prided himself on understanding most things, had absolutely no idea what was going on but luckily, this man didn't seem to know them either. Maybe they could just say that Emmett's weapon was legal and they could get out of here before the guy arrested them but before Ted could put his somewhat sketchy plan into action the cop said, "you're friends of Kinney's."

It wasn't a question so much as a statement and none of them knew how to react. He didn't seem angry, he didn't actually even seem bothered, but was just like someone stating a fact about the weather or the time.

"Kinney?" Emmett laughed, too hard and too loud. "No. No! We're just here because we're er…," he paused for what felt like forever until he came up with, "we're concerned about the welfare of Justin Taylor."

Horvath smirked at the tall man in front of him. He was without doubt the worst liar he'd ever encountered but what did it matter. These weren't the reason he was here.

"Look guys," he said casually, kneeling next to the red stain and fingering it lightly as though hoping the mere touch of it would throw up a clue. "I haven't got time to be messing around with petty crooks like you or even Kinney. Because that's all you are to me. You're not drug lords, you're not dangerous and you're certainly not a threat to the public. You're not even registering on my radar. I'd let the Pittsburgh PD deal with you, except they haven't been dealing with you. They've been making you scapegoats. You're only famous because you got mixed up in a corrupt police department at the worst time."

"You think it's corrupt?" Ted asked immediately.

"I know it's corrupt," Horvath corrected, getting to his feet again. "And it's my job to find out just how corrupt they are. I'm investigating the murder of a young man name of Jason Kemp. You might not have heard of him."

"We've heard of him," Ted said quickly.

"That's a surprise," Horvath said, "because Stockwell made the whole thing just … go away. He mixed it up with your young Justin" he looked to the dark stain on the floor. "He made the public believe what he wanted them to believe and he made Kinney the fall guy."

"So," Deb said once the shock of Horvath's words had settled in, "were you the one that moved Justin's body?"

Horvath nodded slowly but he didn't say anything more.

"And where did you dump him?" Emmett asked, trying desperately to hide the tearful wobble in his voice.

"I didn't dump him anywhere," Horvath promised slowly. "I had him taken to a hospital not far from here as soon as the Pittsburgh Police had left and the news crews had become bored. Doctors there think he took a heavy object to the head. Probably," he looked to the floor near the door and picked up a long thin object, "this baseball bat. He barely made it through last night but he did. Now he's sitting in the hospital asking for Kinney over and over. I've asked the doctors not to let him watch the news because I need him to make a statement about the night Kinney was arrested but at the moment he can't remember a thing. He doesn't know who hit him, he doesn't know how he ended up in hospital, he doesn't even know that Kinney was arrested, but I can't tell him because I can't tamper with a witness."

"He's not just a witness," Emmett cried. "He's a human being."

"Sure," Horvath agreed, "to you. But to me, he's just a way of getting me what I need. The mere fact that he is alive is condemning evidence but if he were actually hit by a cop, well…." He looked up at the three people ahead of him. "All I'm asking is that if you go to visit him, don't say anything you may know about that night."

"Um, o-of course we won't," Ted stammered a little. Ted felt sick. Justin had taken a baseball bat to the head. No cop on earth would be that stupid if they wanted to rub someone out. They'd shoot him or tranquilize him. They wouldn't leave anything to chance. Brian wouldn't have hit Justin and the only other person who'd been in the room that night was … he didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about it. Not yet.

"Good." Horvath gave them a small, almost friendly smile. "In that case, you're free to go."

They weren't really sure what to do, except practically run out of the window and down the fire escape. Debbie, like the true super-mom that she is, made a dash for Justin's bag first. She knew he'd need clothes while he was in hospital and as she was there she picked up Brian's bag as well before chasing Ted and Emmett down the ladder. Emmett kept his gun ready the entire time, just in case Horvath had been lying to them, but the officer didn't seem to be making any effort to catch up with them and it seemed he'd been telling the truth when he'd told them he was alone.

Ted unlocked the vehicle and they piled in. Debbie threw the bags into the back seat with Emmett. As soon as the car engine roared into life, the headlights came on and lit up something in front of them that they'd missed on the way in.

"Brian's car," Emmett whispered as they all stared at it. "God," he whistled. "Seeing it there…" then he stopped as a thought occurred to all of them. "Do you think he knows that Justin's…?"

Debbie just shrugged but Ted shook his head. "I don't think he believes Justin would have got out of that situation. I didn't think Justin would have got out of it."

They were silent for a second. Emmett felt queasy. Everything just seemed so desperate right now. He felt so bad for Justin and for Brian. Both locked away, neither sure what had happened to the other one.

"I'm going to get it," Emmett decided suddenly, turning to rummage through first Brian's bag, then Justin's in search of the keys. He found them, stuffed safely in a side pocket of Justin's duffle bag and allowed himself to wonder for a second why Justin had them but he didn't think about it too long. He just jumped out of the car and told them he'd meet them back at home.

After all, Emmett thought as he unlocked the door, Brian would never forgive them if they allowed the car to be impounded.

::

"Seriously dude, cheer up," moaned Jayden, poking Brian with the very dip of his shoe. "It's been three weeks and you've barely eaten."

"Why the fuck do you even care?" Brian groaned, finally whipping out a hand to catch Jayden's ankle and lifting it higher and higher so Jayden was hopping about just to keep his balance.

"Let my leg go, fudge-packer," Jayden protested. "Are you just trying to get a better look at my cock?"

"I've seen your cock," Brian shrugged. "It's nothing to be proud of."

"Asshole," Jay smirked, pushing the older man's legs over and sitting on the end of the lower bunk. "I have a question…"

"Go on," Brian muttered, because if he hadn't Jayden would have been a million times more annoying until he had conceded defeat and let him ask the question, which would, undoubtedly, be inane.

"Is it actually, physically possible for you to smile?"

"I smile all the time," Brian replied into his thin as paper pillow.

"I've never seen it."

"Exactly."

Jay just shook his head and smiled. He couldn't help it. Despite all of Brian's obvious and considerable flaws, Jay found he actually liked the man. He wasn't scary or intimidating, he looked after himself and he was funny at times. He was easily the best cellmate Jay had had in the nine long months he'd been in the cell and that's why he found it so hard to believe what he'd seen on the news about him. He didn't seem like a murderer. No way. He didn't even seem like the kidnapping kind. Maybe one of those, keep your hands clean but reap the benefits drug lords.

"So," Jay drawled, "did you really kill that boy you kidnapped?"

"Fuck off," Brian said immediately, kicking Jay off his bed, so the kid landed with a thump on the floor. This wasn't the first time Jay had asked this question but Brian was standing resolutely by his answer.

"Come on, Bri," Jay whined, rubbing his ass as he got to his feet. "What was that for? We're all friends here."

"Ha," the older man scoffed. "Friends. Fat lot of fucking good they are to you."

"God," Jay groaned. "I actually can't take your negativity for another second without tying this sweater around my neck and hanging myself from the bars on the window."

"Well, if you need a hand," Brian offered politely.

"Fucker," Jay chuckled. "I'm gonna check the post."

"Tell your mommy I said hi. And ask Uncle Albert about his prosthetic leg, I've been worrying about that."

"Piss off!" he smirked. "I'll bring you back any letters that are yours."

"I won't hold my breath."

"You never do."

"I really don't think our visits are doing him any good," groaned Emmett as they walked along the now very familiar white wash corridors towards Justin's hospital room.

"Nonsense," Deb dismissed. "He enjoys speaking to us. Anyway, it's not right for a kid to be alone all of the time."

"But all he does is ask for Brian," Emmett said. "I hate not being able to tell him where he is."

"You heard that cop," Ted warned his friend sternly. "Who knows what he'll do to us if he finds out we abused his trust?"

"Which brings me to concern number two," Emmett agreed. "Why is that man letting us stroll around when he knows who we are?"

"Because we're more use to him as bate?" Ted suggested.

"Bate?" Emmett gulped.

"For Stockwell," Ted nodded. "We're just pawns in a much bigger game of chess."

"What's porn got to do with chess?"

"Nothing," Ted sighed. Sometimes his friend was truly thick. "Actually," he amended suddenly. "That's not true. There is chess porn."

"You're got to be kidding me."

"No. It's called Checkmate and it's about how a bishop takes a queen."

Emmett looked at his older friend with a face of pure disdain.

"It's hot," Ted insisted.

"Mm-hmm," the taller man hummed sarcastically.

"It is!"

"I never said it wasn't!"

"But…"

"Will you two knock it off!" Debbie snapped as she pointed to the door nearby. "This is Sunshine's room."

She looked to the door with sadness in her heart. They'd come here every day since they'd found out he was here and he was still yet to remember anything about the night that had landed him here. It was a gloomy room, full of frustration and anger. The door to Justin's room was just like all the others. It was painted with cheap off-white and the paint clumped in places especially around the door handle and the window. It was horrible but it was what you got when the police were having to pay for it. At least they hadn't handcuffed the kid to the bed.

She knocked and pushed the door open a few inches.

"Brian?" She heard Justin's hopeful voice perk up. He did it every day and his unfailing faith in Brian had her staggered.

"Sorry Sunshine," she apologized sincerely as she poked her head through the gap. "It's just us."

"Oh." He looked disappointed but he quickly hid it. "Come on in."

She smiled and opened the door fully. Emmett flounced in first and gave Justin a quick peck to the cheek. "How are you baby?"

"Still haven't remembered anything," he moaned. "Hi Ted."

The older man just nodded in response.

"Has that cop been around?" Deb asked, rearranging the flowers in the blue vase by his bed. She'd only bought them yesterday but already they looked tired and old, just like everything else in this cell-like hospital room.

"Carl? Yeah. He came by this morning but he's getting pissed that I can't remember. I don't get it," he frowned. "What's so important about that night? I told him it wouldn't be Brian but he said that at the moment Brian's the only suspect but he didn't even have a baseball bat … and why would he…? It just doesn't…." His hands flew to his temple suddenly as a throbbing pain began to pulsate in his skull. "Shit!" He yelled. "I wish I could remember!"

"Don't you worry about it, sweetie," Emmett said, putting his arm around the kid and kissing his head through the hair. "Don't give yourself a headache."

"It's not just the headaches," Justin sighed, allowing his head to fall onto Emmett's shoulder. "The doctor told me today that I'll probably never draw again. He says the damage to my cerebral motor strip is more severe than they first thought. I can barely hold a fucking pencil."

"Sunshine," Debbie said soothingly, stroking her hand gently through his hair. "Maybe you should count your blessings. A month ago, we thought you were dead but now look at you … good as new."

"Better," Emmett agreed. "Nothing but a little scar," he smiled.

"And a permanently gimp hand and the knowledge that someone hates me so much they actually bashed my skull in and I have no idea where Brian is. Hasn't anyone got any good news?"

The three older people looked at each other anxiously. As the month had stretched on it had become more and more difficult to keep Justin optimistic but they didn't give up. They turned up every day and told him stories about their day, which prompted Debbie to say happily,

"Michael has met someone."

"He has?" Justin asked. "That was quick, wasn't it?"

"Well, he was released without charge the day after the, er, incident." She fingered the kids scar gently as though punctuating her point.

"I wonder how he swung that," Ted muttered under his breath. He was still almost certain that Michael was the reason Brian had been found and he voiced his opinion as often as possible.

"They realized he hadn't done anything wrong," Deb replied firmly. "Anyway," she added happily. "This guy is a professor at Carnegie Mellon."

"Cool," Justin sighed flatly but Debbie continued undeterred.

"Yeah. He teaches gay studies and he's also a best-selling author."

"He's written one book, Deb," Ted corrected.

"Will you stop?"

"Stop what?"

"Putting everything about Michael down. We don't know what happened in that goddamn attic, no one does."

Justin frowned. "What's Michael got to do with the attic?"

"Nothing," Debbie said quickly. "Ted's just making things up and being dramatic."

Being dramatic and making things up? That sure didn't sound like Ted. He was usually so practical, calm and down to earth. He was exactly the kind of man you'd turn to in a crisis to remain level-headed. Something was weird. Justin knew that. In fact everything was weird. He knew something huge had happened on that night in the attic. It was clear everyone, Deb, Ted and Horvath, all had their own opinions on what had occurred but the truth was locked somewhere in his head, probably never to be returned.

He wished everyone would leave him alone. He wanted them to stop fussing over him. He wanted them to stop pressuring him to remember. He wanted them to tell him where Brian was and what had happened for him to wind up here. But every question he asked only ever gave him more questions and no answers and he was sick of it. Totally sick of it.

"You know," he said sharply, "I'm feeling kind of tired. Do you think maybe I could be alone for a while?"

"Oh, of course honey," Debbie nodded. "We're sorry. You get some rest and we'll see you tomorrow."

Justin just nodded and waited for them to leave before flipping onto his front and trying to get some sleep.

It didn't help that this bed was too narrow to move in and was too hard and the pillow was too thin and the room was too cold. He hadn't had a proper night's sleep since he'd got there and now everything was beginning to catch up with him.

::

Debbie, Emmett and Ted went back the next day as promised. They went the day after that too and the day after that and everyday for two weeks, and it was on the Friday of Justin's sixth week in hospital that a nurse stopped them and informed them that Justin would be able to leave.

"Are you his mother?" She asked Debbie.

"No," Deb shook her head sadly. "His mother doesn't know he's here. We're just friends."

The nurse frowned. She was clearly confused. These were the three people that had been visiting her patient religiously for a month and a half and now she found out that they weren't related.

"Oh," she said, looking at her clipboard carefully and chewing the end of her pen. She tried to remain professional as she flicked quickly through the pages of information she had on the young man. There were results of spinal x-rays, MRI scans and CT scans, carefully documented notes of his day-to-day progress. Then she read the name on the sheet properly and remembered everything; Justin Taylor. The man the police had a particular interest in. The man who had to be kept away from all other patients in case they leaked something to the media that he was alive.

"Sorry," she said coldly, looking up at the three people ahead of them, recognizing Emmett now from the fuss when Justin was first kidnapped. "I'm afraid Mr. Taylor won't actually be going anywhere until the police have approved it."

"Of course," Debbie nodded. "We understand."

It was another forty-eight hours before the legal jargon and mumbo jumbo was cleared up and Horvath signed a few papers announcing that Justin was allowed to leave the hospital to reside in the care of Ms. Debbie Novotny. Horvath had decided to go back to Debbie's to finish the paperwork but it soon became apparent he'd only suggested that because he had a little present for Justin.

"Of course, I need your address," he said.

"Of course," she agreed.

"And you," he turned his attention to Justin, "need this." He slapped a thick mechanical bracelet around the kid's ankle.

"What the fuck is this?" He asked as the cold metal pinched tightly at his skin.

"Just a sort of homing device," Horvath explained, producing a black box to go with the bracelet and setting it up on the table of ornaments in the corner of the sitting area near the front door. "It just means you can't leave Deb's house."

"You're fucking kidding me, right?" He asked.

"He hasn't done anything wrong," Emmett agreed "and now you're putting him under house arrest."

"If he really hadn't done anything wrong, he wouldn't be caught up in all this," Horvath pointed out, tapping some kind of code into the box. "But this isn't about that; I just can't have you walking all over town when you're supposed to be dead." Justin was silent after that.

He was silent as Deb showed him around his room. She didn't have to tell him it was Brian's, he could already tell. It screamed of his minimalist décor, just a bed and a table and chair; all white, all designer. It had a picture of James Dean and one of David Bowie on the wall in frames. And there was this feel about the place that was just so Brian, he could have sworn the man was there. But, of course, he wasn't there and from all the information he'd been able to get out of the people around him, he wasn't anywhere.

He'd lied and told Deb he was tired and could do with a lie down almost straight away. He didn't need to lie down, it was virtually all he'd been doing for the last six weeks, that and trying to throw a fucking tennis ball or pick up some paper clips off a desk or even write his goddamn name on piece of paper. So far, he'd only managed to do some limited writing. He could write about three lines before his hand reverted to its favourite claw-like position.

He was sick of feeling helpless. He was sick of this blank space in his memory where something clearly very significant had occurred. He was sick of all of it but most of all he was sick of Emmett and Debbie's coddling. If they used one more cutesy little nickname for him, he was going to scream. Or he might just scream anyway and get it over with; maybe he could smash a few things in the process. At least then they might not think he was so useless that he couldn't lie down without being checked up on. Eventually, he just feigned sleep, which was pretty difficult with a bear trap cutting into your leg, but it worked because they stopped bothering him and let him be.

Justin led in the dark room, curled onto his side wishing he knew where Brian was and wishing he could feel him in his arms just one more time. Across the city, the man of Justin's thoughts was curled up mirroring his position perfectly and he wished he could be with Justin just one last time but that was impossible.

Justin was dead and Brian had disappeared and neither knew what had really happened.

He lives! Thanks for reading this far! LOTS more to comee!
xx