The smell of pancakes wafted through the house, up the stairs, under the door and straight up Justin Taylor's nose. He was awake the second his brain registered the smell. Well, he was starving, he'd missed dinner last night. He looked to the man who was still asleep next to him. Oh well, he wouldn't complain about that. Still, that didn't stop his stomach pulling and tugging at his sides in protest. He slid out of the sheets carefully and pulled on a pair of shorts and pants. His eyes fixed on Brian the whole time. Just being able to see him, knowing he could touch him, kiss him, hold him was amazing. Justin had been beginning to fear he'd actually never see the other man again but now, here he was. Right with him … always.

He still had no idea how Brian had got out of prison, there hadn't been a lot of time for talking last night. He didn't know if it was legitimate or if Brian had escaped. Was Justin harbouring a criminal? Well, what the fuck did he care? He'd harbour Brian all day, all night and all the times in-between. He sighed happily. He couldn't believe how well everything was turning out. Brian was here. Hunter would testify. Rikert would be charged and Stockwell would be on trial too. Yes, it was perfect.

Suddenly a loud banging at the door distracted Justin from his general love of life.

"Sunshine, Brian. Stop fucking and come get some breakfast, will you? Everyone's waiting."

"Argh," Brian groaned burying his face in his pillow. "I hate this fucking house," he snarled, digging his knuckles into his eyes to try and dislodge some of the sleep from his eyes. "Never a moments rest."

"It's pancakes," Justin shrugged.

"Well, I guess it beats prison food," he sighed, rolling out of bed and pulling on his clothes. "God it's weird being out."

"I still can't believe you're here."

"I still can't believe I can walk more than four paces without hitting cinderblock wall," Brian grinned. Then he grabbed the waistband of Justin's pants and dragged him towards him until they were pinned together, Brian's arms holding the younger man firmly against him. "I'm glad you're okay," he whispered, running one hand through Justin's blonde hair. "I was so fucking scared when I saw them shutting the door on you in the attic." There were tears in his eyes but neither man mentioned them. "I thought there was no way you'd be able to survive…" he trailed off. He couldn't think about that anymore. He couldn't think about Michael or the baseball bat or anything else. He had to let it go or who knew what he'd do.

"I nearly didn't," Justin breathed. "But I'm okay now."

"Except for your hand," Brian frowned, taking Justin's injured hand in his own and massaging it lightly.

"It's not so bad," Justin insisted. "It just gets tired sometimes, that's all."

Brian nodded steadily. He felt guilty. He felt responsible. If he hadn't gotten involved in Justin's life maybe he'd never have had his head bashed in. Maybe he'd still be in school, in college studying art or business. Maybe it wouldn't be totally fucked up and the world wouldn't think he was dead.

"Come on," Justin's voice broke though his thoughts. "Let's go downstairs. I'm starving."

::

"About fucking time," Deb glared at them as they sauntered down the stairs and into the kitchen area. Brian had his hand on the small of Justin's back as he guided them to the two available seats. There was still an awkwardness about the table. Everyone had so much to say and ask but no one knew where to begin so Justin just smiled and took the initiative.

"Mmmm," he grinned as he looked at the four plates piled high with hundreds of pancakes. "This looks delicious, Deb."

"Thanks sweetie," Deb patted Justin's head like a dog and went to retrieve the chocolate, raspberry and strawberry sauces. Then placing the jugs on the table she announced, "help yourselves boys."

Justin took about ten pancakes off the one stack and Brian just shot him a look of utter disgust. "Do you know how many carbs are in those?"

Justin just shrugged and poured chocolate sauce all over the top. Brian actually shuddered at the site of it and chose for himself one pancake, which he sprinkled with a little sugar.

They were all eating in relative silence. Everyone kept taking glances at Brian and then looking away sharply before he noticed. It was ridiculous and uncomfortable, so Brian took a sip of the coffee Deb had made them and said, "is anyone going to ask me what I'm doing here?"

Justin smirked but the others just looked thankful that it had finally been brought up.

"A-actually," Emmett stammered a little. "I'd be interested to hear that tale if you wanted to tell us."

Brian nodded a little. "I see," he said slowly. Then he smirked. "I didn't escape, if that's what you think." Debbie actually seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at that despite sending him a file in a tuna casserole. "I was released on 'own recognizance'," he looked around at the blank expressions. "It's like bail but the cops cover the cost," he explained and then cut off some more pancake and put it in his mouth. He knew there would be more questions but it was too much fun to watch all their confused little faces to ruin it by explaining everything straight away.

"But you're charged with murder," Ted frowned. "They never give bail to potential murderers."

"Stockwell came to the prison and granted me with it himself," Brian shrugged. He really was enjoying dragging each and every emotion from his friends around him as he released just titbitsof information.

"Stockwell?" Debbie cried, "what was that asshole doing there?"

"Trying to save his ass. Or at least his friends. I'm assuming you have heard of him, Kenneth Rikert." He snapped the 't' at the end of the word and took another sip of coffee. The confusion on Debbie and in particular Emmett's face was a beautiful thing.

"Rikert, the guy who killed that Jason kid?" Ted said slowly, trying to piece together what had happened.

"The very same," Brian confirmed. "But also, Kenneth Rikert, good friend of Police Chief Jim Stockwell … apparently."

"So they really did cover up the murder?" Ted breathed.

"Yes," Brian smiled. "And then they tried to pin the blame on me except somehow, thanks to some undercover sleuths," he looked around the table pointedly, "Rikert's been arrested and Stockwell's shitting his pants." He chuckled a little as he remembered the way the Chief had practically begged him to help him out. "Turns out, the police are pretty sure it all came from my friends, they called you friends," he added quickly, "I still think of you as annoying shits that won't leave me alone."

"Love you too, Bri," Ted scorned.

And Brian just smirked a little. "Anyway, the police think you had something to do with Rikert's arrest. So they offered me a deal." Justin's head snapped around immediately. The last time someone had done a deal with the police, Justin had wound up on the floor with a bat-shaped dent in his skull.

"What was it?" He asked.

"I get given bail. The charges for murder are dropped and the kidnapping charges lessoned. And I get off with a few thousand hours of community service."

"And what do you have to do?" Justin asked, looking around anxiously as though expecting to see the police come bursting through the door at any second.

"Huh?" Brian looked confused. "Oh. I just have to get you to stop pushing this Rikert thing and get the witness not to testify. So, er, yeah." He looked around the table semi-seriously, "knock it off."

The mood around the table was immediately subdued. That was it then. Brian would stop Hunter giving evidence so he could get off virtually scot-free and Rikert and Stockwell could continue their little game of corruptions, without anymore hassle. Wins all around, except for the poor kid Rikert murdered and for Justin and for the truth.

"I don't fucking believe it," Justin snapped eventually, when it was obvious no one else was going to say anything. He got up abruptly and took his plate to the kitchen, he couldn't bear to be sitting next to the older man for a second longer.

"Hey," Brian protested. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Wrong with me? What's wrong with you?" Justin seethed. "We were so close to fixing everything. The police department was going to be shown up for what they were. Justice was going to be done."

"I don't give a shit about justice," Brian answered calmly. "All I care about is getting my ass out of prison long enough for me to hitch to Mexico with some old friends and get a one way ticket to Madagascar."

"Madagascar," Deb asked. "What the fuck is there?"

"Beautiful seas, white beaches, no extradition treaty with the US and no laws to castrate homosexuals." He noted the stunned faces around him. "Number 3 and 4 are the main reasons," he clarified, as though this needed clarifying. "Number one and two are just bonuses. I've already bought the house, you should see it. Six bedrooms with a jetty and a speed boat on its own little island just off the mainland. I basically own a tiny country." He grinned but no one else seemed to be finding this amusing or even exciting. "I might call it Kinney Island or Kinnetik or…"

"So you're just running away?" Justin interrupted in disbelief. He was so angry and confused he was almost in tears.

"Not running away," Brian said firmly. "Moving on to better things."

He could feel the disapproval radiating off everyone in the room. He could feel Emmett's frustration burning at his side, he could feel Ted and Debbie's disbelief boring into his skull but none of that compared to the look of silent disappointment in Justin's eyes. Brian knew he was letting him down badly but that wasn't his fault. The kid had built him up to be something more than he actually was. He wasn't a hero, like Justin seemed to think, he was a selfish, thieving, son of a bitch and he'd never claimed to anything more. Just because Ted, Emmett and Debbie had decided to turn detective all in the name of finding the truth, didn't mean he had to.

"Justin, look," he began and the kid fixed him with that horrible, disapproving expression and Brian felt his stomach clench. He felt bad but there wasn't anything he could do. He wished he could be the man Justin wanted and expected and perhaps even deserved but he wasn't that man. "I've only ever been interested in keeping my ass out of prison. And now I've been there once, I don't wanna go back there again. Especially not for life and not for a crime I didn't commit."

"That wouldn't happen," Justin replied steadily. "Hunter's going to give evidence and Rikert will be arrested."

"If Hunter gives evidence then I won't have to worry about prison because it'll be my life they'll be after," Brian said slowly. Then he shrugged a little. "I just can't do it. I can't care about a truth and a justice I've spent most of my life trying to avoid and destroy." He paused, taking a step towards Justin. "I have to go," he whispered, urging the kid to understand.

Justin just scratched the back of his neck and looked at the floor. He looked smaller than he ever had before, confused and let down and upset but when he spoke he sounded very logical and somewhat bitter.

"Fine," he said. "You go. You do whatever it is you feel you have to do."

Brian nodded a little, thankful in some small way that Justin seemed to understand and then he added the last sentence that shattered Brian's heart.

"But I'm gonna stay here and do what's right."

Brian just stared for a moment. He pinched his nose with his thumb and forefinger, fighting off a headache that was quickly pounding behind his eyes. Why did this have to be so hard? Why did he have to feel so much for this kid? Why did he have to love him? It had been so easy before Justin. He would have had no problem at all leaving everyone he knew and escaping to a new, better life. But now, the thought of never seeing Justin again was making him feel sick but he couldn't risk going back inside. Not again. He had a way out. He'd already set it up with Marv and Ignacio. They were going to smuggle him over the border to Mexico and he was going to catch a plane from there. It was sorted, it was easy. And yes, he probably should stay, staying would be the right thing. But he couldn't do it … not for justice, not for the truth, not even for Justin.

"I've got to pack my stuff," Brian said slowly. "I'm leaving soon."

As he reached the bottom of the stairs the doorbell rang. He went to answer it, half expecting it to be Marv. He actually opened the door to reveal a podgy balding middle-aged man, who seemed just as surprised to see Brian and Brian was to see him.

"Kinney?" He said slowly.

"Who the fuck are you?" He frowned. He was having to get used to the fact that everyone knew his name. It was a little unnerving to say the least.

"Horvath, Carl Horvath," the man introduced himself. "Is Debbie in?"

Brian nodded and jabbed a thumb in the direction off the kitchen but there was no need. As soon as Debbie and the others had heard the name of their visitor they'd all piled into the living room.

"What's happened?" Debbie asked anxiously. "Is it Michael? Is he okay?"

"No, it's not Michael."

"What a shame," Brian muttered, earning himself such an evil look from Debbie he actually thought he might have died a little with the power of it.

"Then, who?" Emmett asked.

"Or what?" Ted added.

"It's the kid," Horvath sighed heavily.

"Hunter?" Justin frowned. "Is he alright?"

"He's missing," Horvath said. "No one knows where he is. He just left a message at the station saying he couldn't testify and he retracted his statement. Now, he's disappeared."

Justin immediately glared at Brian, "was this something to do with you?" He demanded.

"I haven't seen the kid," Brian answered honestly. "But now, it looks like I won't have to." And he smiled, actually smiled like Hunter's disappearance was a fucking good thing, before heading up the stairs to pack his stuff.

Justin followed him. He was vaguely aware of Emmett telling him to leave it alone but he couldn't help himself. He couldn't just let Brian run away from all of this without saying something. He didn't knock on the door he just threw it open and stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips in angry wife mode.

Brian hardly glanced in his direction. He just went through his bag that Deb had rescued from the attic and swapped a few clothes for the ones he'd kept in his wardrobe in this house.

"Don't try and stop me," he warned.

"I'm not going to," Justin answered immediately. "I know as well as anyone that when you've got an idea in your head you won't change it for anything … or anybody."

"Good," Brian sighed, taking a pair of jeans from the wardrobe and folding them carefully into his bag.

He would probably be okay for clothes, he decided but he could do with a gun at least until he crossed the Mexican border. He got to his knees and pulled open the bottom draw of a chest. This was the drawer he kept all his memories in growing up. His first football was in there, he'd punctured it with a knife after missing a catch and it hit him in the face. His first soccer ball was in there too. That was in a much better condition, he'd actually been good at that sport. There was a drawing he'd done when he was six years old of his family. It had been just him in front of a house, his dad was probably off bowling or fucking a neighbour or a secretary and his mom at church. When he was fourteen, Michael had found it and Brian had coloured the front door red and drawn in Debbie and Michael. The sketched Brian and Michael were holding hands. Brian just laughed bitterly and scrunched the paper up throwing it over his shoulder. He heard Justin bend down and smooth the picture out but the kid had more sense than to say anything.

Brian kept rummaging about until eventually his hand connected with an old six-shooter. It was old and scratched and it was the first one he'd ever owned. He'd scratched his initials 'BK' into the black handle and they were still there, barely visible just as they'd always been. The gun slid into his hand perfectly, like putting on a pair of socks after strolling round all summer in bare feet. It felt comfortable, like home. He almost stroked it until he realized he had company so he straightened up and slid the gun in his usual place.

"You've got everything, then," Justin commented as Brian began to zip up his bag.

The older man just nodded. He didn't know what to say in this situation. He didn't know what to say in many situations but this was easily the hardest. He sat down on the bed, facing the door and looked up at Justin.

"This is the last time we're ever going to see each other, isn't it?" The kid said firmly. Brian could do nothing but look away and nod mutedly. Even if he'd known what to say, he wasn't sure he'd have been able to say it. The lump in his throat was so big it was painful, restricting his swallowing and his breathing.

"I don't want it to end like this," Justin whispered, and Brian looked up to see a tear rolling down the younger man's face.

"So come with me," he shrugged. He was trying to appear nonchalant but the straining, strangled quality in his voice was giving him away.

"I can't," Justin hiccoughed, trying to hold back the tears. It was becoming more and more difficult by the second.

"I know," Brian sighed, looking at the floor, the duvet, his legs, anywhere but Justin. "Because you're a good person and good people don't run away. They stay … they fight."

"So stay," Justin beseeched, his voice cracking horrible as more tears began to flow down his face. "Fight."

The doorbell buzzed and the heard Emmett open the door. They heard Marv's voice asking for Brian and they looked at each other for what would probably be the last time.

"Stay," Justin whispered again, reaching up a hand to dry his face a little. "You're a good man, I know you are."

Brian shook his head slowly, getting to his feet and pulling the bag over his shoulder. He moved towards the younger man and stopped right in front of him.

"You've always had that wrong about me," he said apologetically. "I'm not a good man." He pressed a chaste kiss to Justin's lips and whispered in his ear, "have a really amazing life. You deserve it."

And with that, he was gone. Justin rushed to Deb's bedroom because it looked over the front of the house. Marv and Ignacio had some kind of massive RV that they were taking with them. He watched Brian get in the back, presumably to get a good hiding place ready for the drive to Mexico and then the engine coughed into life and the RV began to trundle down the road and that was it. Brian was gone. He was leaving the fucking country with no possible way of returning and Justin collapsed to the floor. He curled up like a baby, hugging his knees tight to his chest and cried like he'd never cried before. He felt so lost and so empty. A few hours ago everything had been perfect. They were actually winning. They were going to defeat Stockwell and now…. Now they had nothing. No evidence, no witness, no Brian.

He heard footsteps but he couldn't make anything out, his tears blinding him completely. Then he heard Emmett's voice soothing him and he felt the older man lift him up a little and hold him tightly but nothing would help. He was never going to see Brian again. It was all over, the adventure was done and it had gone out with a whimper and not with a bang. Now, all Justin could see was an endless ocean of nothingness. He was lost, totally and utterly and he had no idea what to do about it.

Thanks to everyone who's stuck with this fic so far ... I know it's long but I promise the end is in sight! =D
Hope you're still enjoying the ride!

Thanks for reading!
Xx