Brian enjoyed the five minutes of peace and quiet he would receive when Jayden was off collecting the post. He often spent this time just enjoying the silence or thinking of Justin … how Justin was alive and well despite everything and against all odds, the kid was still going. Sometimes he thought of Michael and was glad that he too was rotting in some cell somewhere although he couldn't work out why the police who'd practically praised him for trying to kill Justin would then turn around and arrest him but he didn't care. He didn't care about Michael anymore, that stage of his life was over.

Of course, as with every other day. Jayden always came back after he'd picked up his letter and it wasn't long before heavy, clumsy footsteps began clattering along the metal floor outside the cell. Jay had no sense of being quiet, everything he did was loud and over the top and bumbling. Brian could easily understand why Jay had been caught so many times for shop lifting. The younger man came into the room and climbed up onto his own bed. Brian could hear an envelope being ripped and the crinkling of paper being pulled free. Usually, letter's meant Brian would have a few moments of silence whilst Jayden occupied himself with reading but not today, today he decided to read aloud.

"I've been struggling to work out how to begin this letter," he began, and Brian groaned. Why the fuck was he reading aloud? Couldn't he leave him alone? "I know it'll only be a short one because my hand's a bit of a mess." Brian frowned. Why would Jayden's mother's hand be a mess? "I'm writing this in your old room. The decoration is so much like you I sometimes feel like you're here. I only just remembered that you were in prison. I lost my memory of the baseball incident. No one would tell me where you were."

"Shit!" Brian shouted suddenly as it dawned on him exactly why Jayden had chosen to read this particular letter out. "That's for me! Give it here."

"I was wondering how long it would take you to realize," Jay giggled, handing over the letter but Brian ignored the paper and grabbed Jayden's wrist tightly in his grasp, pulling the kid's face close to his own.

"Are you coming on to me?" Jayden tried to joke but Brian's eyes were black with anger.

"You so much as touch any of my stuff ever again, I will cut your dick off and make you suck it."

Jay's eyebrows rose at the somewhat odd threat but Jay decided it was not only odd but very, very doable. If he'd learnt anything about Brian Kinney in the last few months it was that he didn't make promises he couldn't keep. "You got it?"

"I-I got it," Jay nodded, stammering a little. "Sorry Bri."

Brian nodded curtly and tore the letter out of Jay's hands. Jay didn't say a word for a long time, which allowed Brian to read and re-read the letter from Justin over and over again in peace.

'Brian,
I've been struggling to work out how to begin this letter.. I know it'll only be a short one because my hand's a bit of a mess and I can't always keep it under control. I'm writing this in your old room. The decoration is so much like you I sometimes feel like you're here. I only just remembered that you were in prison. I lost my memory of the baseball incident. No one would tell me where you were. It was horrible.

I can't say much but I think our luck will change soon. All these things are happening out here and I can't wait to tell you all about them. I'll tell you all about it when you get out.'

There was a jagged line straight across the page then. This must have been what Justin had meant when he said he lost control of his hand. Fucking Michael!

'Woops. I guess I'm getting tired. I should probably go.'

The last few words had really thick and large letters and it looked like Justin had been working really hard not to let his hand fail him again.

'No matter what happens or how long it takes, I'll be waiting for you.
I love you … so much.
Sunshine. (The name was Deb's idea.)'

"She's a smart lady," Brian muttered aloud. He hadn't been surprised that there hadn't been any communication to him from his friends. They couldn't risk having their letters read and then being found and arrested themselves but, he supposed this was just about vague enough to get away with. Anyway, the police thought Justin was dead, so they wouldn't jump to that conclusion unless it was staring them in the face.

"What was that?" Jayden asked suddenly.

"Huh? Oh … nothing," Brian discarded him quickly and began to reread the letter. He'd got through the letter again twice and was now just staring at the words 'I love you' and smiling like a Cheshire cat. He felt like an absolute lesbian, lying on his back smiling as he thought about how Justin loved him. The emotion was almost so strong, he felt sick and like his whole body was on fire but the flames were cold and tingling his entire being. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling. He read the words again and then Jayden interrupted.

"So who is Sunshine?" He asked. "A boyfriend?"

Brian thought about ignoring the kid. He thought about putting the letter under his pillow and going to sleep but he didn't. The truth was, he sort of wanted to talk about Justin. He really wanted everyone in the world to know how lucky he was to have him.

"Sort of," Brian confirmed.

"Really?" Jayden's confused little face peered over the side of the top bunk and he looked hilarious his features all scrunched up and upside down. "You don't strike me as the boyfriend type. More the fuck 'em and leave 'em type."

"Well I said 'sort of'," Brian sighed. Jayden frowned a little and then his face disappeared. For a second, Brian actually thought the conversation was over but no such luck. Next second, the kid landed softly on the ground next to him and was sat on the bottom bunk near Brian's legs.

"It's him, isn't it?" Jayden said knowingly. "The one you thought was dead."

Brian looked carefully at the kid and shrugged a little.

"I fucking knew it," Jay grinned, almost jumping off his seat with triumph. "Has he got a name?"

"Yes," Brian answered shortly. There was no way in hell he could tell Jayden the person who'd written to him was called Justin because then the questions would never end.

"But you're not going to tell me," Jay finished for him. "Fine," he sighed. Then he looked very carefully at Brian. In fact, he was more staring at him, scrutinizing every little thing about him. Brian was about to ask him what the fuck he was doing when Jay said;

"you wouldn't know to look at ya?"

"Know what?" Brian asked, but he knew what because it was the one thing about Brian that Jayden was obsessed with. He didn't care that he'd supposedly kidnapped a guy, he didn't care that he'd supposedly killed a guy but he cared immensely that he'd fucked a guy … lots of guys. And it wasn't a hatred Jayden had but a genuine interest and right on cue, Jayden answered;

"that you're a fag."

"Oh," Brian said, rolling his eyes and turning his head away from his cell mate.

"You look straight."

"Only when I'm wearing a prison uniform and can't get my products."

"Christ, you really are queer," Jay snorted.

Brian just shrugged. "It's the way of the world. No breeder looks as good as I do."

Jay smirked a little. Then after a second he asked, "do you have gaydar?"

Brian laughed. He actually laughed, the first time since he'd been in this prison. What the fuck, he was happy. "Gaydar?" He repeated, still chuckling a bit.

"Should I take that as a 'no'?" Jay asked, looking like a petulant child.

"I don't have a radar in my head that screams faggot, every time I see another queer, no," he smirked.

"So how do you know?"

"There are signs."

"Like…" Jay encouraged.

"The way they look at you, the way they dress, whether they hold your hand just a little too long when you shake."

"I dunno," Jay said looking sceptical. "I still don't reckon I could tell."

"So ask another fag," Brian shrugged.

"But you're the only one I know," Jay protested.

"No," Brian said firmly but casually. "You know two."

"I do?"

"Yeah, Big Al, the gym whore, hangs around in the yard with the rest of the jocks."

"Yeah?"

"Massive bottom," Brian smirked.

Jay looked confused for a second before concluding, "his ass ain't that big."

"Christ," Brian frowned, staring at the kid in disbelief. "Fucking breeders. I mean he is a bottom, a catcher, a receiver, a bottom boy."

Jay's eyes grew wide in amazement. He just stared at his cellmate for a second in complete disbelief. "No fucking way," he snorted. His eyes bright like a child on Christmas day. "You mean he…"

"...takes it up the ass?" Brian finished for him. "Yeah. And loves it."

"Wow," Jay whistled. "Just goes to show, you really can't tell."

"Hmmm," Brian hummed his agreement before moving his leg sideways so he gave the younger man a bit of a kick. "Fuck off," he added as thought the gesture weren't enough. "I'm asleep."

Jay just shook his head and muttered, "asshole" as he climbed back up to his own bed.

::

Brian wasn't sure how much time had passed since his conversation with Jay and now. He didn't think it had been long but he couldn't be sure. Just because he'd intended to only close his eyes for a few minutes he knew that wouldn't have stopped him from falling asleep and napping for hours. But it didn't feel like much time had passed. The sun was still shining through the window at basically the same angle it had been before and he'd barely been getting into his dream about Justin. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure why he was awake at all.

"Kinney!" A voice bellowed from very close by answering his question. "Kinney, you son of a bitch. Get the fuck up!"

Brian rolled steadily off his bunk and stretched carefully.

"What seems to be the problem?" He asked slowly.

"The warden wants to see you."

Brian raised an eyebrow. The warden? Everyone knew you only saw the warden if you'd fucked up badly but he hadn't done anything. He'd barely said a word to anyone except Jay the entire time he'd been inside. He taken on a few of the guys at pool but in general he'd kept his head down and stayed out of trouble.

"What the fuck?" Jay said from his own bed as he sat up just in time to watch Brian being virtually dragged from the cell.

"Quiet Bradford!" The prison guard snapped and the cell door clanged shut.

::

Brian didn't know what was going on, he just kept his eyes facing the floor and allowed himself to be dragged, tripping and stumbling, up numerous flights of stairs until the guard stopped so abruptly, Brian almost fell into the back of him.

"You trying it on you fucking fag?" The guard roared.

"With you?" Brian scorned. "Not in this lifetime." Brian regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth and he regretted them even more as he felt the long guard's baton strike him hard in the ribs.

"Fuck," he gasped, doubling over immediately and clutching at his side. "Shit!" If he didn't know any better he'd be bitching about broken ribs but he knew they weren't broken and he knew moaning about him would probably only earn him another whack.

"Stand up straight, Kinney," the guard ordered. Brian did his best to obey, wincing as he stretched out his injured side carefully. "Right, in you go." He opened the door and as good as threw Brian into the tiny warden's office.

Brian had no idea what he'd been expecting to find in the room but it certainly wasn't this. The warden, who turned out to be a tiny elderly gentleman with a huge cigar and a cowboy hat, actually smiled at him.

"Ah, Kinney. Good to see you, take a seat," he gestured to an empty seat next to a woman in a trouser suit, who had short dark hair and a briefcase in her hands. Next to her was Stockwell. Chief Stockwell, the man who'd lied and plotted and done everything in his power to make the murder of Jason Kemp go away. The man who'd given the order to let Justin die.

Brian gritted his teeth and twisted his hands together to stop from strangling the man.

"Er, I'll stand … thanks," Brian said warily, his eyes fixed on Stockwell's head. Just one reason, one tiny reason to attack him and he would, like an untrained Rottweiler. It would be worth life imprisonment, he decided, just to take a pop at that smug, square jaw.

"Fair enough," the warden shrugged. He was used to dealing with awkward prisoners and what the hell did he care if Kinney wanted to stand or sit. "Kinney, I'd like you to meet Melanie Marcus, she'll be your lawyer in your upcoming court case."

"Mr Kinney," Melanie held out her hand and he shook it partly out of shock and partly because he was kind of auto-pilot, too busy willing Stockwell dead to take any notice of her at all.

"And I'm sure you know, this fine gentleman," he indicated Stockwell, "is Police Chief Jim Stockwell."

"Good to see you Kinney," Stockwell said cheerily. Brian just stared back at him. He wasn't a liar. He wasn't going to return the compliment or shake his hand or any other niceties that could be expected of him.

"Er, yes, well," the warden continued, trying to ignore the obvious hatred that seemed to ooze from Brian Kinney's pores, "Jim has some very exciting news for you, don't you Jim?"

"Sure do," the chief nodded, looking towards Brian. "Kinney," he said calmly. "I'm hoping you and I can make some kind of a deal."

::

The mood was celebratory. Debbie had even decorated the house a little. She brought out the good china and opened a bottle of fizzy wine. Yes, they were splashing out tonight.

"This is brilliant," Emmett grinned, taking a sip of faux-champagne. He'd already polished off three glasses and was more than a little tipsy.

"So you keep saying," Ted frowned, who was remaining stone cold sober. He wasn't going to be caught out if they suddenly needed to drive somewhere.

"But do you know what would make it more brilliant?" Emmett asked, slinging an arm around his friend's shoulder and tapping his nose with his index finger in a sloppy, drunken way.

"If you weren't hanging off me like a child on monkey bars?" Ted suggested, causing Justin to laugh a little from his place at the head of the table. After all, it had been him who had found Hunter and persuaded him to talk, so, naturally, he was the guest of honour.

"No," Emmett laughed, shaking his head a little more than necessary. "Music. Maybe some Madonna or Cher." Then loudly he asked, "Debbie … where do you keep the CD's?"

"In the cupboard under the CD player," she called, hunting through the cupboard for the fucking cheese grater, she was always losing the damn thing. She finally located it in a draw she barely ever used just as Emmett cranked up the volume to 'Vogue' and started to 'strike a pose' all around the sitting room.

Justin laughed to the point of tears as each and every pose became more and more ridiculous.

"Swan," Emmett called, trying to stretch his neck out as far as it would go. "Fairy," he said, flapping his wings a little and kicking one leg up to the side. "Statue of Liberty," he announced, doing a perfect impression of the statue. "You know," he said, when he'd got bored of holding his position. "I think I'm a lot like her in many ways."

"Because you're green?" Ted scorned.

"No."

"You wear a dress with sandals?" Justin tried.

"No," Emmett frowned.

"Then how?" Ted asked.

"Well," Emmett smiled smugly, "she wears a crown so she's clearly a queen." Ted had to agree that that was indeed a similarity. "She lives on Liberty Island, I live on Liberty Avenue. And," Emmett grinned proudly, "she had the largest flame of anyone for miles around." Ted smiled a little as his flamboyant friend did a bit of a twirl to demonstrate his point.

"Well," Ted conceded, "you do certainly have that in common."

"I know," Emmett grinned, picking up his glass of fizzy wine and taking a sip before shaking his hips and dancing all over again.

Justin just watched the display as he worked his way slowly through his first glass of the disgusting fizzy drink. He'd much rather have had a beer. This was too sweet, and too bubbly and quite frankly too Emmett for his taste buds to handle.

"Sunshine," Deb called from the kitchen, "do you want two pieces of meat or one?"

"One please," he said and she brought over his plate, setting it down carefully in front of him.

"The marinara sauce is in the centre of the table," she pointed to a big china tub with a silver serving spoon sticking out the top. "You help yourself," then she pinched his cheeks with her fingers, "my clever, brave solider." She placed a kiss on his cheek and went back to serving up the rest of the meals. She'd been doing this all day since Hunter had given his statement. He felt like she was treating him like someone who was both a baby and a war hero and it was strange and a little unnerving. But it sure beat general fussing and asking him if he was okay every four seconds.

"You know," Deb said when she'd finally sat down to tuck into her own food after making sure everyone else was okay, "I'm feeling really positive about this now. Hunter's made a statement. He's going to stand up in court and testify and this Stockwell won't have one goddamn leg to stand on. Finally, the little guys are going to win," she grinned. "And all thanks to Sunshine here." She reached over and squeezed his hand tightly. "If I was your mother, I'd be so proud."

Justin just gave her a sad smile. Every time he thought of his mom he was hit by a sickening realisation that she still thought he was dead. She'd even buried Jason Kemp's body believing it was Justin's. That was the worst thing that had come out of this, the fact the police and let his own mother bury someone else believing it was her own son.

"Hey," Deb warned him, "no long faces. Besides, you'll be able to see her soon and explain just what happened."

"Yeah," Justin nodded. "You're right. It's all going to be over soon. This is a time for celebration."

"Amen to that," Emmett grinned, raising his glass and downing the contents before holding his arm out for another.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" scolded Ted.

"Teddy," the queen whined. "I'm celebrating. I'm going to get some more fizzy wine. Anybody want some?" He looked around the table but they all declined. "Oh well," he shrugged, "more for me."

He got up slightly clumsily from his chair and walked drunkenly toward the kitchen and the bottle of faux-champagne. He managed to pour the drink like a pro despite his shaky walk and balance, his hand was as steady as ever. He was just about to take a drink when the doorbell shrilled through the air and didn't stop. It kept ringing and ringing and ringing and there was knocking at the door too. It was constant noise like someone in a rush or perhaps with a fetish for loud noises.

"Someone's in a hurry," Debbie frowned. "Emmett, honey, as you're up, can you go and get the door?"

Emmett nodded and half-danced, half-fell over towards the door. He pulled back the curtain to see who it was and the sight of the man waving casually back at him through the glass made him sober up immediately. "Shit," he whispered under his breath. He didn't believe it. It couldn't be. Could it? Well, there was only one way to find out. He unlatched the door and swung it open.

"Who is it, Em?" Debbie called, as Emmett came face to face with the man himself; Brian Kinney. His hair perfectly kept, eyes dark and smouldering, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt with a leather jacket. No one would ever guess he'd just finished a stint in prison.

"Jesus Christ," Emmett whispered.

"Not quite," Brian smirked, "but close enough." Then peering over Emmett's shoulder he asked, "where is he?"

"K-kitchen," Emmett stammered, gawping and pointing a shaky finger in the right direction.

Brian just nodded and without another word strolled into the kitchen. Everybody turned to look at him, three jaws dropped in amazement and confusion. Each person was burning with questions but there would be time for that later, for now, there was only one thing on Brian's mind. He walked towards Justin, grabbed his bicep firmly and said; "come on."

Justin jumped up immediately and allowed himself to be dragged up the stairs by the older man, a wide grin on his face as they disappeared out of sight from the others.

"Well that was subtle," Deb commented, taking Justin's plate and wrapping the food for him, he wouldn't be needing it for a while.

"How the hell did he get out?" Ted asked, looking from Emmett to Debbie.

Debbie just looked to the ceiling, as the sound of a door slamming suggested they'd entered Brian's old room.

"I guess we'll find out in half an hour," she shrugged.

"Please," Ted scoffed. "They haven't seen each other in six weeks. You'll have to wait until at least tomorrow morning."