He laughed. And that was his second mistake. His first was to deny Uncle Jim what he owed him. "You think I'm scared of that?"

He looked over at the boy, frail looking, with a mop of blond hair falling over one shoulder, curling in soft waves almost to his waist. His shoulders were hunched and his head in a constant tilt towards the floor.

"You don't have to be scared." Uncle Jim said, moving over to the boy, caressing his neck slightly and unclipping the silver collar that adorned his neck.

The boy blinked, clouded, faraway eyes suddenly becoming brighter. Two pools of bright blue sky looked at the stranger in the room, storing the face to memory, the height, weight and the way he moved on one spot.

No emotions rushed him, no sense of pity, no anger or hatred. His mind was empty of all but one thing. The freedom, the rush of air to his neck, the sting as fresh sores were given room to breath.

When the collar came off he knew what to do.

The man didn't see him move. Blond hair flew into the air almost as if in slow motion and a small delicate hand curled in precision, hitting him hard in the kidneys before his knuckles curled backwards and he hit the man's nose with the heel of his hand, sending bone through flesh and blood, burying it deep into brain.

The man didn't have time to look shocked before he fell to his knees. Most people underestimate the young, delicate boy, often mistake him for a girl, and that was how Uncle Jim liked it.

The element of surprise always put him in a good mood.

The boy, he didn't care one way or another.

The collar was clipped back in place around his neck and his eyes clouded over, his head tilted downwards and his shoulders hunched in.


The basement was illuminated by a stark bulb that swung from the middle of the ceiling. He lay on the bed silently and waited for the hatch to shut and the lock to move across before he brought his knees up and looked sideways, down into the dirt riddled floor.

He moved his hand, letting his fingers drag absently in it, he felt the dirt fill the gaps under his fingernails, but ignored the uncomfortable sensation as he concentrated on the patterns his fingers made. He swirled his finger in the dirt, making patterns with no forms. He had no thoughts in his head other than to move his hand, no picture already mapped out waiting for him to bring it to life, just an urge to see what happened with each movement.

He finally fell asleep, hand resting on the cold floor, surrounded by finger trails that made no sense, but left him with a strange, content feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The doodles were forgotten as Uncle Jim, stomped in front of him, large feet stamping in the dirt until there was no trace left of what had occupied the boy's free time.

"Get up, J. We have a job to do. Dress Smart."

J waited until he was gone before moving from his small bed and finding his comb, slowly pulling it through the knots in his hair, wincing at the laborious job of keeping it tidy.

He opened the wardrobe of 'Dress Smart' clothes and took out white cotton pants and a matching, flowing shirt. Dressed now, he stood waiting until he was called up and out.

Uncle Jim was waiting for him, took him by the arm and steered him outside. He smiled proudly at the boy, a look a father might give his son for getting good grades at school, and to him it was that kind of feeling. He'd brought the boy up, made him what he was.

And he was magnificent.

"We've got more work to do, J. It really gets to me, how some people think they can get away with smuggling drugs in my town. But what gets to me more is, how those lily assed faggots on Liberty Avenue refuse to even 'negotiate' my terms. It's quite simple really. If they want their queer clubs and bars to stay open then they have to give me a little something in return, right?"

J didn't answer.

Uncle Jim laughed and patted him on the shoulder before brushing J's hair over to one shoulder. "That's what I love about you, J. You're so compliant and you never answer back."

Uncle Jim got into the back of his car, waited for the boy to follow and nodded at his driver. The drive to Liberty Avenue was a quick one, much too quick for his liking. He didn't much care for how close his home was to this place.

The car stopped outside of a club called Boy-Toy; he wrinkled his nose at the name and curled his lip up at the sight of it.

It looked derelict in the harsh light of day, but he knew by night it was thumping with faggots looking for a quick lay. He walked around to the back door, J following almost silently behind him.

He banged on the door impatiently, ready to reach for his gun and blow the door open if no one answered.

A member of staff gasped in surprise as she saw him and stuttered unbecomingly.
"Take me to your boss." He gave her a charming smile that didn't reach his eyes and she mumbled a response before ushering him and his silent follower to a small, upstairs office. She knocked on the door, two quick taps with her knuckles.

"He won't be a minute." She went back downstairs; he watched her reach for a mop and bucket.

He didn't wait to be let in, rather, opened the door himself, found Steven Fai behind the desk, a pile of papers in front of him.

"Now, now, Steve, don't get up. You can write me a cheque better from there, I'm sure."

Steven did get up; he shot Jim Stockwell, Mayor of Pittsburgh, a dirty look and leaned over his desk. "You're messing with the wrong fags, Jim, if you think you can get a penny out of us, out of me. I'm not helping you destroy this town."

"I take it you don't have my money then?" He said pleasantly.

"I'm not paying you a cent."

"I can't say I'm sorry to hear you say that. I enjoy this part." He walked over to J, and released his collar.

J lifted his head, eyes focusing and turning to Steven Fai.

"What, the fuck, is this about?"

"Just a warning to you and your little butt-fuck friends." J circled Steven Fai and his desk, eyes unblinking. "If you don't pay in money, you pay in blood."

"He's a little fresh to be one of your goons isn't he, Jim?"

Stockwell chuckled, and gave J and affectionate look. "The fresher they are, the easier they are to train."

J lunged, taking Steven by surprise and pushed the other man over the desk, sending him crashing to the floor. J leaped after him, landing on his chest, knocking the wind right out of him.

Small fingers turned into a fist and punched. Steven groaned as the fist smashed his cheekbone and tried to wriggle free, moving side to side to try and throw the young, deadly blond off.

J rode him like a horse, tightening his thighs and letting his body flow with the movement. He grabbed the man's ears, pulling his head painfully up and banging it back down on the floor, repeatedly.

Steven's eyes started to blur and blood bubbled in his mouth as he looked over at Jim. "You'll never get away with this, there are witnesses here."

"There are, aren't they? That sweet little lesbian cleaning the bar. He doesn't discriminate between sexes you know." Stockwell nodded towards J.

"People will have seen you coming in here…"

"Me? In here on a Sunday afternoon? Everybody knows it's family day."

"What about your boy? Think people won't link you together?" J put a hand over his mouth and pushed downwards, until he heard skull connect with fake laminated floorboards.

"Wait a moment, J. Let him have his say, it'll be his last after all."

"The only sweet-seventeen year old blond I know is my poor nephew, institutionalised at the age of seven for killing his sister, such a sad thing really. But I do my bit for my only sister and her husband, I look after the boy, even visit him. He never leaves the home," he shot J a look, "do you?" J didn't answer. "Get on with it, J, there's another one downstairs."


J pulled Steven Fai's head up and twisted it sharply, until he felt, rather than heard, the tell tale snap, before letting go, leaving the head to bounce on the floorboards. He walked past Stockwell, downstairs, bright blue eyes focusing on the woman, how she moved, her weight, taking in the slight pattern she had as she mopped the floor. One shuffle right, two shuffles left.


The people of Liberty avenue were in a state of unrest, sadness washed over the community as they heard about two of their own, being murdered so brutally.

There were Chinese whispers and hushed gossip about the new mayor and his less than stellar motives, no one talked of the blond assassin, he was only seen by those who went to a place no one could talk about him.

Debbie threw the newspaper onto the table in disgust. "Asshole," she said, glaring at it.

She then proceeded to whack her surrogate son over the head. "I can't believe you helped that son of a bitch get elected."

Brian shrugged and picked up the paper, flicking past the small article about the gay/dyke killing and onto the sports page.

"A job's a job..."

"...a job, I know that," Debbie popped her gum, and chewed angrily, "But did you have to take that one? Things have gone from bad to worse here, since he took over."

Brian shrugged and studied the paper, not letting Debbie know how much this had got to him. He didn't regret much in life, but that, he did, not even the extra money and accounts it had brought in could ease his conscience, or his annoyance as every decent club seemed to close down, one by one.

He'd heard about the blackmail from the clubbing grapevine, but didn't know how he could change what was going on, he was an ad-exec, not a miracle worker, and he'd already worked what little magic he had...and look how that turned out.

He shifted in his chair, cock as hard as a rock, begging for a quick release, the kind of no name, no face, no talk, release the back room of Babylon used to offer, before Stockwell had closed it down.

Brian downed his coffee and threw some change onto the table, getting into his jeep and heading to Vanguard, and one of the many accounts Jim Stockwell had put his way.



Jim Stockwell's wrath wasn't just directed at the gays and lesbians of Liberty Avenue; his temper was shown to all manner of down and outs, of seemingly law abiding citizens, of his old buddies on the police force.

He'd started out corrupt and becoming Mayor just paved the way for bigger deals, for more power and corruption.

If there was a crooked cop on the police force Jim would find out about it, make them pay in money or blood, if there was a hooker on the street, he would demand a cut, and what he liked the most, was, no one could touch him.

People knew about him of course, but not the law abiding folk of Pittsburgh, they went about their daily business happier for the cleaned up streets, for the stop on crime.

The only people who knew his methods, and even then they didn't know about the boy, were people no one would believe if they did try telling someone. Stockwell had contacts everywhere. It was a good life.

"Clean up," he demanded of J and watched as he shuffled to the bathroom to wash away the grime of the job. He was back in less than ten minutes, hair soaking wet and leaving a trail on the floor.

Jim tried to quell his anger, after all, you don't beat a dog if it sheds on the carpet, this was much the same thing.

J flinched as the hatch shut over his head and stood in the middle of his place, his room. It had a small camp bed off to one side and an old fashioned wardrobe housing his Dress Smart clothes.

The basement was filled with junk, but only very occasionally did J ever sift through it. Only when he had that strange feeling in his stomach that made his eyes water.

He pulled a box open and found broken toys, a doll with one arm, a car with no wheels, and it puzzled him, he didn't understand what people wanted with such things, whether they were broken or not.

He pulled out a few books, pages yellowed with age, and flicked through, his eyes drawn to the colourful pictures of children; one child even had a doll similar to the one at his feet.

He tried to think back to when he was small, but thick clouds seemed to be blocking his mind, stopping him remember that far back. He wasn't sure he even had a 'that far back' all he remembered was this room, and before that, training, such hard training he used to cry at the pain, until one day the pain didn't matter anymore, nothing mattered.



Brian Kinney, former King of Liberty Avenue, wasn't as popular as he once was. Everyone knew he worked for Stockwell, and it took away the eagerness to be fucked by such a beautiful man.

People were unsure of how beautiful he was on the inside, even his closest friends were disappointed in him.

And truth be told, he was disappointed in himself. It had started out as a joke, a way to prove he could do it, and a way to rub Stockwell's face into it. A fag had won him the election.

He phoned around the clubs, talked to managers and owners, arranging a time to meet with them all, he apologised, kissed ass and promised a glimmer of hope he wasn't even sure he could provide. He only knew that everyone needed to start talking, and share information, and he hoped he could help with that.

Everybody met at Debbie's house, it seemed the safest option. Everybody knew a procession of fags marched through her threshold each and every day, no one would question it.

Of course that meant Debbie had to be involved, but she was definitely the lesser evil.

He kept Mikey out of it, not sure if his best friend would be able to keep his mouth shut, and not wanting to endanger him or his new family in any way.

Maybe that was his first error, the newest addition to the Novotny/Bruckner household probably knew more than most.

Brian arrived at Debbie's house early, in time to get roped into fetching and carrying an array of different food platters. "You didn't have to cook Deb."

"You invite a whole troop of businessmen to my house and you expect me not to feed them?" She raised an eyebrow and glared at him, ushering him into the dining room to add to the already over flowing table.

Vic let the first arrival inside, and couldn't help noticing the hostility, Brian couldn't help but feel the ice cold daggers thrown from the manager of the Meat Hook's eyes. "Glad you could make it Martin." Brian said smoothly, offering the large man a seat.

"You better not be trying to soften us up or get information out of us to give to your new boss." He curled his lip in disgust and sat opposite Brian, his leather pants squeaking as he sat on Deb's old sofa. "Only reason I'm here is because Deb would never be so underhand."

"Come on Martin, you know how much I like to get my dick sucked, would I get you all over here to help the son of a bitch who's closed every back room, damn near every decent club...no offence. I don't think so. We'll wait for the others to get here and then I'll talk."

It didn't take long for everyone to arrive and fill the plates Deb demanded they take. Brian refrained from eating and waited impatiently for Debbie to stop forcing her fat-filled pasta on to everyone.

"I've been hearing rumours," Brian started, making sure he had everyone's attention, "Rumours that Stockwell has been blackmailing the club owners of Liberty Avenue."

Every person there started to look uncomfortable, shifted awkwardly in their seats and stopped eating. "Maybe, if we all shared information, we'd be able to put a stop to it."

"We ain't telling you nothing, Kinney, you started this whole mess in the first place. You sold us out."

"I took on a very lucrative job, it wasn't about Liberty Avenue, it wasn't about queers or dykes, it was about how much money I could get and how much business would be put my way." He rolled his tongue into his cheek. "And, so I could rub it in Stockwell's face that he hired one successful fag."

"So why are you so interested in us now?"

"Because he's gone to far, he's taken not only my right to fuck in any dingy back room that I want, but your right too, and if I'm not mistaken, he's up to much more."



The hustlers had been warned. Clean up there act, or disappear from Pittsburgh, or something bad would happen. He didn't tell them what, or when, and the hustlers didn't listen, where could they do? What could they do, if not this?

They stuck closer together, kept more of an eye out, but they didn't move. They were mocking him, Jim Stockwell, ex-police, and now mayor of Pittsburgh.

Anger filled his belly, and fire danced in his eyes. He had a previous engagement, otherwise he would see to this himself. He opened the door to the basement. "J, you have a job to do." The boy climbed the wooden stairs quietly and stood before him. "You're going with Chris tonight. I have to be somewhere important. You know the drill. Collar off...kill. Good boy."

Stockwell left J with Chris, a capable young man with as much hatred as he for the corruption of homosexuals and those who would taint law abiding citizens.

Chris smirked when he saw the dog. He pulled hard on a lock of blond hair, he didn't get a reaction. The dull blue eyes stayed as dull as ever. They only brightened when the collar was off, when he was allowed to kill someone.

The dog lived for the killing, loved it.

Chris dragged him out of the house and into a car provided by Jim, with tinted windows. Chris loved that car.

"We're off to do some work now puppy, but I think we should have a little fun first don't you?"

He stopped the car in a secluded place and ordered J to get out. Chris stood in front of him, smirking, not hiding the pleasure he was gaining from seeing a boy, his own age, reduced to this.

"I could do whatever I want to you and you wouldn't stop me would you?" He asked, stepping closer.

J didn't answer, barely heard him. He listened at a distance unless the collar was off.

Chris prodded him sharply in the chest. No response.

"You're a deadly, killing machine, but you can't touch me can you? You're one of Pavlov's dogs. Trained to kill as soon as that collar comes off, until then, you're as useless as a baby."

He wrapped his hand around J's long hair and yanked, pulling the boy forward, until he stumbled against him. "I could punch you, like this," Chris punched him, fist connecting with nose, causing blood to gush. J didn't respond, didn't wipe the blood away. "And you wouldn't do a thing. I could even do this." He pulled on J's hair tighter, until J had to move closer to him.

Chris kissed him cruelly, teeth biting at his lips, clashing at his teeth, trying to get a response. He got nothing but more blood. He pulled away in disgust and spat the blood onto the floor.

"Clean yourself up, you taste disgusting."

J heard the muffled voice and wiped his nose and mouth with the side of his sleeve.

"Come one, we have work to do."


Chris drove them to Liberty Avenue, parked up a few blocks away and made them walk to the warehouse district. It didn't take long to get one on his own. He followed a trick to a secluded spot behind a run down café and Chris watched as he bared his ass, as the man pounded into him with no preparation whatsoever.

He gave a disgusted snort, trying to ignore his own erection.

Once the trick left, Chris unclipped J's collar. "Fetch boy." He said, watching the transformation from puppy to killer.

J saw the boy, so much like himself in looks, blond hair, pale skin and worn clothes. He watched as the boy winced with every step, saw him stop to rub his ass and J saw his chance.

He pushed the boy back into the wall, head bouncing off the brick. "Fuck man! Stop it!" He tried to pull away, but J seemed to have grown ten feet tall, his hands wouldn't let go, he seemed to predict his every move. "I'll let you fuck me for free." He pleaded.

J wasn't even sure what that was. He'd heard the others talk about it, saw Jim bring back different women, but he had no experience in such things.

His small, delicate fingers found the hustler's throat, pressing on his windpipe until his skin turned from pale cream to red, until his lips turned blue.

The fight seeped out of him and J hoisted him into the garbage, jumping slightly as he felt Chris caress his neck and put the collar in place.



Brian was in good spirits as he made his way to the diner. They had made a lot of headway last night, all coming to the same conclusion. Jim Stockwell was as bent as they were, only not in a good way.

Of course, all they had at the moment was hearsay, they needed concrete evidence, but now everyone was on the same page Brian was sure they would get that.

He opened the door to the diner, heard the small tinkle of the bell when he heard the scream. He knew the voice instantly and his heart skipped a beat. He ran back outside, round the building and saw Debbie, hands to her face, whole body shaking.

"What's wrong, Deb?" He held onto her shoulders, trying to give her support.

"In...in the garbage."

He left her to take a look and saw the reason for Debbie's scream. A young man, blond, blue eyed, skin to match. He flipped open his cell phone and rang 911. "Police please." He said calmly, though he wanted to scream as Debbie had done.


The police arrived swiftly, an ambulance came to take the body away, they uttered the right words, but Brian didn't believe them. No one really cared about a 'Jane' Doe.

No one but Debbie it seemed, who knew what he ate for breakfast, but didn't know his name. For some reason that bothered her, made her feel guilty. She should have taken the time to talk to him, find out who he was, so at least, he would be able to have a marked grave.

Debbie looked up at Brian. "They're not going to find who did this are they?"

Brian shrugged, he didn't want to lie to her, but he didn't want it confirmed either. He couldn't tell Debbie, who had the biggest heart he knew, that there were more important things than a dead hustler, like parking fines, speeding, unpaid bills and blackmailing business owners on Liberty Avenue. No, he couldn't tell her that.

"Let me take you home."

Debbie shook her head adamantly, "No, I have to work."

"No one is going to make you work after this, Deb."

"It's not a case of having to, I need to. Keep my mind busy, make sure the rest of my boys are OK." Her eyes widened and she clutched onto Brian's expensive suit. "Can you call Michael? I need to make sure he's OK. Ben and Hunter too."

"Sure, lets go inside, get you a cup of coffee and I'll call him for you."

She allowed Brian to lead her inside.



J let the car ride lull him, their conversation went over his head, he never joined in, it wasn't required of him. The collar chafed his neck, but he barely felt the pain, it had gone on so long and he had been desensitised to it many years ago.

The scenery whizzed past him in a blur of brilliant colour. Blue sky merged with green trees, the colours stayed with him whenever he closed his eyes, leaving a warm feeling in his heart.

He liked to go out during the day.

The car gave a huge jolt and J brought his head up in time to see another car ram into them from the side, denting in the car and cracking Stockwell's head off the window.

The driver veered off the road, down an embankment, rolling over, J cringed as glass shattered and his forehead banged off the seat in front. Blankness swirled in front of his eyes for a few moments. He looked at the others, Stockwell's head lolled to the side, eyes opened wide, and a large wound pouring with blood above his eyebrow.

The roof was too caved in for him to see the driver. He carefully wriggled his small frame out of the window, glass cutting into his side and hands. He paid it no attention.


He looked up the grassy hill, and saw nothing of the car that sent them careening. Waiting a few moments, he was sure Uncle Jim would get up, give him some direction. But after fifteen minutes he realised neither men were getting out of that car.

He climbed up the hill, back to the road and wandered back on himself, hoping to recognise something familiar. But the trees all looked the same, the houses looked the same.

He'd never had to pay attention to things like that before, wasn't quite sure what he should do in these circumstances.

"No! Let go, please!" he heard someone scream, slowly he turned his head in the direction of the noise, saw a woman hanging on to a pram for dear life, while someone tried to prise the bags from it. "Take the bags, I'll get them for you, just don't hurt my son."

J frowned and shook his head, heard a baby crying and wondered why it sounded so familiar. He walked over, slowly, stepping with precision. The pram almost toppled over as the woman's attacker grabbed for her bags.

With one careless kick to the knee he sent the attacker to the floor and righted the pushchair.

"Thank you, Oh, thank you. We should call the police." She fumbled in her handbag for her cell phone, but the man got to his feet and limped off. J didn't chase him. His collar was still firmly in place.

"He's getting away, shit, I don't know what to do." The woman started to cry, but pulled herself together as the baby wailed. She unclipped the small bundle and held him tight.

J frowned; he was so sure the baby would be blond, would have a small cotton dress with pink flowers embroidered onto it. The image disappeared back into his subconscious as soon as it came.

"Thank you so much. How can I repay you? Oh my! You're hurt. Bleeding. I didn't see it happen, but the shock, and making sure Gus was OK. And I'm babbling again." She chuckled nervously. "My house is only on the next block, let me clean you up a bit."

She tried to push the pram and hold the baby at the same time. She looked over at her rescuer. Blond hair tangled around his shoulder and blood seeping into his shirt. "Would you mind pushing this? I know you're hurt…but we would get you cleaned up faster, and I don't want to let him go just yet."

J took the pram from her and followed her lead, leaving the pram in the garden he let her lead him into the kitchen. "Let me get Gus settled and I'll sort you out."

It was a while before she came back down. "I should call the police...fuck, I don't know what I'm doing." She clutched onto the table and took a deep breath. "One thing at a time. I'll see to you first. Then I'll call the police."

She reached under the sink for a first aid kit. "Can you take off your shirt?" He looked at her, eyes questioning. "I just want to see where you're hurt." He pulled the shirt over his head without any more questioning.

Lindsey saw the jagged cut over his ribcage and frowned, wondering just how her attacker had managed to do that to him. "Sit down there, this may sting a little." She poured some alcohol onto some cotton wool and dabbed it. He didn't even flinch.

"Maybe we should call your parents, huh? They must be worried." Lindsey guessed this boy could not be much more than sixteen, and from the looks of the scars on his body she wasn't so sure he had parents to go to, or if he did, they were as bad as the parents Brian had.

He didn't answer her, and she looked up, into his beautiful blue eyes, so far away.

"Do you want to call your parents?" She pressed and sighed when he didn't answer. "You don't talk much do you? I'll get you a clean shirt to wear. I'm sure one of my painting shirts will fit you."

She disappeared upstairs again and J looked around, noticed the sketchbook on the table. He reached for it, and opened it, seeing drawings of baby Gus, of other people, of animals and tress and the sky. Some of the sketches had colour, delicate watery impressions.

J smiled as he saw them. He liked colours best of all. "I see you found my sketchbook, huh?"

J jumped back and dropped the sketchbook as if it had burned him.

"No, no, don't be afraid, you can look at it if you want. Do you like to draw?" He carried on looking at her as if he'd done something wrong, and just that look made Lindsey feel guilty, like she'd spanked a small child. "Would you like one?" She opened the sketchbook back up and flicked through it, noting his face as he looked at each picture.

His eyes lit up at one she'd done in the park, and later added water colour to it. "You can have this." She ripped it out of the pad and rolled it up, handing it to him. "Here. Look, do you have a name? I really should call the police now."

"No police." It was said so quietly Lindsey almost missed it.

"What did you say?"

He licked his lips and shifted on his feet, looking so small and afraid, Lindsey wasn't sure how he'd managed to save her. "No police, please."

"You can talk then. But I have to call the police, I can't ignore what happened, not with my son involved. But...I'll wait awhile, if you want to go." She didn't know why she'd said it, wasn't sure what the boy had done, or hadn't done that he didn't want the police involved.

He nodded at her, understanding completely. "Thank you." He clutched the sketch tightly to his chest and disappeared as quickly as he came.

Brian sat with Gus on his lap, looking at each finger and each toe, making sure he really was alright.

“I’m telling you Brian, he just appeared, saved Gus and I. I brought him back here–“

“You brought a stranger back here, after what happened?” He raised an eyebrow.

“He was a kid, and from the state of him, abused. He was covered in scars. I’m worried about him, Brian.”

“Sounds to me, like he can take care of himself.”

“He’s barely fifteen, younger than Hunter–“

Brian rolled his eyes at her. “Each time you mention him he goes down in age. Plus, there’s not a whole lot you can do, you didn’t get a name or an address.”

“We can ask about, he’s so distinctive someone has to have seen him.”

“You mean he’s dog ugly?”

“Jeez, Brian, why do you have to be such an asshole? No, I meant he has blond hair down to his waist, he’s delicate, feminine looking, with bright blue eyes. Someone must know him.”

“Great, he sounds like every dykes dream. You have one son already, you don’t need another.”


J made it back to the house, but paused on going back down into the basement. He didn’t want to go back down there. He unrolled the sketch the lady had given him and smiled.

“There you are. I wondered when you’d come crawling back.” J looked up quickly at the sound of Chris’s voice. “You left the boss to die, you cunt. No one is sure he’ll make it, I bet that makes you happy, doesn’t it? Well, I’ll make you pay, puppy.”

It was only then J saw the metal adorning Chris’s hand. He didn’t flinch as it hit his shoulder, didn’t cry out as he jabbed him in the stomach, didn’t scream as he fell to the ground.

“The puppy is helpless until I give the order, and guess what? I’m not gonna give it, you’ll have to lie there and take whatever punishment I give you.”

Chris ripped the shirt off his chest, saw the plaster the lady had put there and in a rage ripped it off, fingering the wound until it opened up again, started to bleed and lead a crimson trail down his chest.

“I could do whatever the fuck I liked and you’d not be able to do a thing about it. I bet you’d even like it, you sick fuck.” He scratched at J’s pants until he managed to open them and push them off his hips.

He grabbed his limp cock painfully and squeezed. “Do you like that? Are you one of those queers, Jim hates so much? I bet you, fucking, are. See, like that, don’t you?”

J’s eyes were dull, that far off look he had whenever he wasn’t needed. He didn’t react to pain, but this was different, a feeling he’d not felt before. Not nice, not bad–confusing. He only understood things in terms of the collar and this made his body react in a way it never had before.

His cock hardened under Chris’s cruel touch, it wasn’t long before he came, a creamy white liquid covering the other boy’s hand. Chris moved away in disgust and wiped his hand down J’s ruined shirt. “You are a sick, fucking, queer! I knew it.” He hit J in the mouth, blood spurting from his lip, and when that gained no reaction he picked up knuckle duster again and hit him hard across the side of the head, happy when the dog’s eyes closed, almost peaceful-like.

Chris stood and spat at the unmoving body of the Mayor’s dog, wiping his hands down his jeans and again ignoring the erection his work had brought on.


J came to feeling immense pain, it had been such a long time since he’d felt anything. He tried to sit, but his head throbbed so badly it took him a few attempts. He saw his shirt, and realised his pants were undone.

It made him feel unclean in a way he couldn’t comprehend. He put on his sullied shirt, the shirt the nice lady had given him, and pulled up his pants. He had to get away, didn’t know why, was so confused by everything.

The sketch the nice lady had given him lay on the floor, his own blood ruining it. Tears filled his eyes and added to the confusion. He didn’t understand tears, didn’t understand anything but what to do once the collar was removed.

He stumbled out of the house and into the darkness, not really aware of where he was going until he got there. He banged on the lady’s door, holding the frame, unsure he would be able to stand up on his own.

She opened the door, gasping at the sight of him, a man stood behind her, holding Gus. He quickly took the baby back inside and J was sure they would shut the door in his face, but the lady held on to him and helped him inside.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he gasped, trying to stand on his own and annoyed that he couldn’t. The man came back and helped him into the living room, placed a blanket over the sofa and made him lay down.

“What happened?” The lady asked, brushing his hair back from his face. The action seemed vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn’t quite remember why. J hurt all over, and tears filled his eyes, made his lip tremble. “He put his hand down my pants.”

The beating didn’t really register in his mind, he’d gone through it before, beatings, training, collar, kill. But no one had done that to him before.

“Fuck, I told you Brian, he can’t go back there, wherever the hell it was. They’re doing more than abusing him.”

Brian stood, features unmoving. “We should get him to a hospital.”

J scrambled up off the sofa. “No, no hospital, they’ll send me back.”

“We don’t have to, do we Brian?” Lindsey looked at him with the doe eyed expression she’d used when she asked him to father Gus. He could never resist that expression.

“He needs a shower though, so we can asses the damage, clean him up. I’ll take him.” Brian helped the petite blond to his feet, not quite sure why he’d let himself get roped into this.

He sat the boy on the toilet lid and turned on the shower. “Come on, you need to get undressed.” Brian said impatiently. Dull blue eyes blinked and looked up at him. “You need to undress for the shower.”

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he said softly. Brian moved him quickly from the toilet and sat him on the floor, pushing the lid up and letting the kid heave his guts up into the bowl.

He wrinkled his nose at the sight and smell, but carefully helped him stand when he’d finished and took off the remnants of his shirt. When the boy didn’t finish undressing himself, Brian undid his pants and pushed them down, mindful of his earlier statement, keeping his hands firmly away from the boy’s cock.

It obviously made no difference to the kid and his hand clamped down on Brian’s wrist painfully. “No, don’t touch me there.”

Brian pulled his hands away, feeling like a dirty old paedophile. “No one should touch you there, or anywhere else unless you say so.” Brian said. The boy looked puzzled, like he couldn’t quite understand it. “I’m just trying to help you into the shower.”

“I can do it.”

Brian nodded and watched the boy strip off everything but a silver collar around his neck. He kept a mindful eye on the boy but refused to look directly at him, didn’t want to invade his privacy or feel like he was a peeping Tom.

J stepped into the bathtub and under the spray on wobbly feet, letting the water soak his hair and sooth his aching limbs.

The man was quiet, but stayed away as he promised. J kept glancing at him as he shampooed his hair, rinsing out the suds, not sure if he could be trusted or not.

When the water ran clear he switched it off and twisted his hair into one long pony tail, ringing it until the water was squeezed free.

“Lindz left some clothes for you.” Brian handed him a towel and left the clothes on the toilet. “Give me a call if you need anything.”

“Lindz.” Justin rolled the name over his tongue, liking the lady’s name, it suited her.

He dressed quickly and limped back downstairs, suddenly unsure of his place there. He didn’t quite understand why he’d come here, but he couldn’t stay at the house, not without his uncle.

“There you are!” Lindz said with a big smile when she saw him. “I was beginning to worry. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll make you a sandwich.”

He did as she asked, sitting up straight, hands at his side. The man looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “You can lean back you know. You’re probably sore.”

J frowned, no one had worried about his comfort before, just his fighting abilities. He leaned back, still looking as uncomfortable as before.

Lindz came back with a chicken sandwich and placed the plate on his lap. “So, do you have a name?” She asked as he picked up the sandwich and took a large bite.

He chewed and swallowed. “J–ustin,” he said, not wanting the name his uncle gave him to be uttered from her lips.

The front door opened, shocking him, he stood quickly, the plate clattering to the floor. He swayed and clutched his aching head, but managed to stay standing as the stranger entered the house.

“Mel,” Lindz said, going over to kiss her wife on the cheek. “We have a visitor, this is Justin, he saved Gus and I when we were mugged.”

She looked J up and down, her eyes not as friendly as Lindz’s. She walked over to him and held out her hand. J looked at it for a while before placing his hand in hers. “Thank you for coming to their rescue Justin.” The words were all there, but her voice sounded cold.

“I’m just going to wash up in the kitchen, a word Brian.”

Lindz’s face dropped and she gave Justin a small smile before following them into the kitchen. “What’s wrong Mel, he saved our lives.”

“That may be, but we don’t know anything about him–he can’t stay here.”

Lindz folded her arms and pouted. “Did I even ask?”

“You don’t need to ask, I know you, remember?”

“You don’t know what he said to us, someone is abusing him, Mel. We can’t send him back out there.”

Mel put her arms around Lindsey, trying to comfort her. “And I’m not suggesting you do, but he can’t stay here, think of Gus. May be he can stay with Brian?”

Brian’s eyes widened and he shook his head adamantly. “Oh, no, a world of no. He’s not my responsibility. Let him go back out on the streets for all I care.”

“Brian, you don’t mean that. If it wasn’t for that boy, I could be hurt right now, your son could be dead. Let him stay with you for a few days, until we can think of something permanent.”

“I don’t take in strays. Take him to Mikey if you’re so bothered.”

“Please, Bri, just for tonight.” Lindz gave him the look and he knew he was screwed.

“Fuck, fine, tonight only, after that, you find him somewhere else to stay.” He strode back into the living room, motioned to the kid to stand up and walked to the front door. “You’re coming with me kid, hurry up.”

He ran to catch up with Brian, staying one pace behind him until they reached his car. “Get in.”

He opened the door and went to climb into the back, Brian stopped him. “Sit in the front.”

Justin’s eyes widened at the sight of Brian’s apartment, all crisp lines and cool colours, so clean and open. “You’re sleeping on the coach.” Brian moved about the place angrily, disappearing to find his guest an extra blanket and pillow, he threw them towards the kid, and rolled his eyes as Justin let them fall to the floor in front of his feet.

“Don’t get used to this, you’re not staying here.”

Justin stared at him, wide eyed, before breaking his gaze away and picking up the blanket.

Justin started to strip in front of Brian and he backed away in distaste, this was different from the shower episode, and he wasn’t in to girly boys.

Only, he caught a glimpse of skin, his eyes, so used to picking up tricks couldn’t stop assessing him as he did other men.

The slight body beneath the baggy, borrowed clothes was anything but girl-like. Creamy skin only marred by bruising and old scars covered a compact, lean body that held no inch of spare flesh.

Brian felt his cock harden and groaned, there was no way he could find that boy attractive. He was barely out of childhood and there was an innocence about him that made Brian feel like a dirty old man.

He retreated into the bedroom and shrugged his own clothes off, climbing under the covers and wishing Justin was anyone but who he was.



Brian woke him by clattering about in his kitchen, making coffee and toasting bread. Justin watched from under his blanket. “Are you just going to lay there and stare?” Brian said, slamming a cup down.

Justin sat up, and slipped into the clothes he’d been given yesterday. His hair was tangled around his head, falling in silky strands down his back, over his chest, twinkling like a spider’s web.

Brian glanced over and tried not to notice the beautiful face under the bruises. “How old are you kid?”

“Seventeen.”

Which was good, he wasn’t as young as Lindsey thought he was. “Who hurt you?”

Justin bit at his lip, unsure of the question. To him, the bruises didn’t count as a beating, it was who he was, what he did. It was the other thing that bothered him, and he couldn’t call that hurt, he wasn’t sure what it had been.

“Do you have a comb?”

Irritated, Brian sighed and went in search of a comb, handing it to Justin silently. The boy sat on one stool and shrugged all his hair over one shoulder, taking it piece by piece and combing methodically, starting at the ends and working upwards until it was free of knots.

Brian pretended not to watch, but was entranced all the same. He’d never seen a man with so much hair, never realised it could be so masculine.

He knew when the front door opened it would be Lindsey; he didn’t expect her to bring her husband and Gus though.

“What is this? A mothers, fucking meeting?”

“Don’t be a grouch, Brian, we came to see Justin, wondered if he might like to go to the diner for breakfast.”

“Would you like that, sweetie?” Justin carried on brushing his hair, “Justin, would you like to go out for breakfast?”

He looked up when she said his name and smiled, eyes that had been so dull yesterday suddenly alive. “Yes.”

“Are you feeling better this morning?”

“I’m feeling much better. Did you bring your sketchbook?”

Lindsey laughed, “I see you found your voice. I did bring my sketchbook, here, take a look.”

He flicked through it eagerly, eyes widening as he came to a picture of himself. “That’s me.”

“You’re an interesting person to draw.”

“I used to draw on the floor.” Justin remembered back to his doodles and wished he could do something as good as this.

“You can have that sketchbook if you want, I have some extra pencils, you can draw what you want.”

He grinned up at her, his swollen face becoming distorted, but not diminishing his happiness at the simple gift. “Thank you.”

He turned to a clean page and let his hand get used to holding a pencil and putting marks on a page. “Are you coming to breakfast, Bri?” Lindz asked.

He gave her one of his famous looks. “What do I usually do every morning before work?”

Mel smiled at him, almost showing her fangs. “Then you’d best hurry up and get dressed, and while you’re at it, daddy, you can change your son.” Mel handed him Gus and Brian grumbled all the way to the bathroom.


The diner was bright, multicoloured banners hung from the walls and many different people piled into small booths.

A dark haired man waved at them and Brian made his way over. “Brian, you’re late.”

“Mikey, you know I’m never late, I just like to make an entrance.”

“And what an entrance that was, Brian Kinney, family man.” Mikey looked over at Justin, who was still clutching Lindsey’s sketchbook to his chest. “Family man, plus one.”

Lindsey butted in before Brian could say anything. “This is Justin, everybody, Justin, these are our friends. Justin saved my life yesterday.” Mel ushered Justin into the booth while Lindsey told Mikey, Ted and Emmett of her and Gus’s brush with death. It sent shivers down her back the more she heard it.

“And you’ve just taken him in?” Mikey looked dubious too, that made Mel feel better for standing her ground.

“He stayed with Brian last night.”

Justin opened the sketch book and started to draw, not sure what he was doing, just happy to be moving his fingers.

“Doesn’t he have a family to go back to?” Lindsey frowned, not wanting to talk about Justin’s private life. “He’s having problems.”

“What happened to your folks?” Mikey said, he was an expert at this kind of thing, if Justin was having trouble at home, it could be no worse than what Hunter went through.

“They didn’t want me.” Justin didn’t look up.

“Then who has been caring for you?”

“My uncle.”

Lindsey had to admit, Mikey had a gift for getting people to open up, she’d learned more about Justin in the last two minutes than she had the previous day.

“And where is he now?”

“He was in a car crash,” He looked up at Lindsay, “could I get paint?”

She chuckled softly, “Of course you can, sweetie.”

“It looks like you’ve taken in an orphan, Bri.” Mikey smirked and jabbed his best friend in the ribs.

“Watch it…it was a one night only thing, the girls are looking for a more permanent place for him.”

Lindsey looked at Mikey, using the big doe eyes that worked on Brian so well. He shook his head. “Don’t look at me, we have a full house as it is.”

Debbie walked over to the table, furry topped pen in hand. “Who has a full house?” She popped her gum and looked around, noticed the new face. “And who’s this cutie, and what the hell happened to him?”

Justin looked up, “he put his hand down my pants.” Debbie’s eyes widened and she glared at Brian.

“Not me!”

Debbie looked at Lindsey for confirmation, she shook her head quickly, motioning she’d explain later.

“I’m sorry about that, sunshine. So, what’s this about a full house, who’s looking for a place?”

“We’re looking for a place for Justin. He can’t go back to where he was, look what they did to him.”

“Well, I’m sure Vic won’t mind him using our spare room.”

“My bedroom,” Mikey pouted.

Debbie slapped him over the head. “When have you last slept there, you spoiled brat? I swear it’s ‘cos he’s an only child, never did like to share his toys, until Brian came along that is. So, what do you say, Justin, you happy to stay at mine for a while?”

“Yes.” He carried on drawing.

“Well, that’s settled then.” Debbie leaned over and ruffled Justin’s long hair, causing it to tangle.

“Do you have a comb?” He looked over at Brian and Brian rolled his eyes, hand going into his back pocket, pulling out a small comb.

“And I thought only lube and condoms were kept down there,” Mikey smirked.

Brian ignored him and watched as Justin righted his hair. He went to give it back, but Brian shook his head. “Keep it.”

“So what’s everybody eatin’?” Deb started to write their order down before they’d even uttered a word; she knew exactly what her kids ate every morning.

She looked over at Justin, face swollen, skin turning that horrible red colour it usually went before turning blue. She’d seen Brian’s face like that on many occasion and her heart went out to the new boy.

“What about you, Justin? What do you want to eat?”

He looked kind of startled to be asked. “I don’t know. I’ve never been to a diner before.” He’d been to places with his uncle, but he’d never been allowed to eat, or order something he wanted. He had to sit quietly and wait for the signal.

“Never eaten in a fuckin’ diner before?” Deb’s eyes widened. “That’s it, you’re having the breakfast special. Waffle, sausage, syrup, you name it! You’ll love it, kid.”

It took hardly any time at all for Debbie to be back, a large plate full of waffles and sausage, put in front of Justin. His mouth dropped at the size of it. He prodded the waffles with a fork, he’d never seen things like that before.

Lindz handed him a squirty bottle full of syrup. “You pour that on top, makes it taste sweet.” He squeezed the bottle, coating his waffles with a yellowy, clear liquid. “Wo-w, that’s enough, you don’t want to rot your teeth.”

Finally ready, he took a big bite full, his eyes closed in bliss and he smiled around the food, soon digging his fork in again to take another bite, and another.

“I take it you like that?” Mikey watched in amazement as the petite blond devoured the contents on the plate.

“It’s good.” It was his favourite food in the entire world. He wondered why Uncle Jim had never let him have this type of food.

Everyone’s food was brought over and they all ate in a sedate manner, not able to take their eyes of Justin and his enthusiasm.




Debbie’s house was nice. It was small, cosy and nothing matched. Trinkets and photographs covered every possible space and Justin took his time looking at the pictures showing Mikey’s journey from childhood to adulthood.

He wondered if his own mother and father had started a collection of him like that, before he did that–before he turned bad.

He couldn’t remember his own parents, or the sister he used to have. And perhaps it was better that way, from what his uncle said about them, and about what he did, it was best he didn’t remember.

But, maybe he would be different now, he had new people to take care of him, and they were nice, even Brian. Who was constantly crotchety, said mean things, but he lacked the coldness, the bite, his uncle’s words always came with.

He wondered if Uncle Jim was dead, wondered if he should feel something about that, but death and violence was an every day thing to him, he couldn’t mourn for the one man that had taught him that.

“Hey, Justin.”

Justin jumped as Vic descended the narrow staircase, clad in a stripy dressing gown and fluffy slippers. Justin grinned, he liked this man.

“Have you had breakfast?” He shook his head. “You can help yourself, you know.”

“I can’t cook.”

“Not even cereal?”

“How do you cook that?”

Vic laughed and motioned for Justin to join him in the kitchen. “Looks like you need a few lessons in Cooking 101.”

“Great. Lindsey is teaching me Art 101, Mikey is teaching me Comics 101. Debbie told Brian he wasn’t allowed to teach me How to be an Asshole 101, though.”

Vic laughed and opened the fridge, taking out the milk. He sniffed at it. “We’ll start small, with cereal, OK? First, sniff the milk, to make sure it’s not bad. If it smells horrible, it’s off. Here, smell. Good?”

Justin sniffed over the open milk bottle and nodded.

“Now, there are all kinds of different cereal, but Deb is convinced the added minerals and vitamins in Total cereal are good for me. So we’ll start there.” He opened a cupboard and picked up the box of Total cereal, pouring a small amount into a bowl.

“There. Now, you just add milk.” He poured the milk. “Now, why don’t you try?”

Justin managed to drip milk on the table, and a few crunchy flakes found their way to the floor, but all in all, he managed to cook his cereal.

“Of course, cereal is usually a breakfast food, and it’s…mid-day now, but I don’t see the harm in it.”

“I like waffles for breakfast.”

“He’s apparently visiting his ‘sick’ sister.” Carl said, Debbie sitting at his side.

Everyone viewed him with suspicion, the only reason he’d been let into their tight group was because Debbie had gotten close to him after finding the dead boy in the dumpster, she said he was a decent cop and could be trusted. He hated Stockwell and what the man stood for, almost as much as they did.

Brian had to admit, if Debbie’s cop-friend was genuine it would be a great help to have someone on the inside to get information for them.

“Visiting his sick sister?” No one sounded convinced.

It really didn’t seem likely, there had to be another reason for Stockwell to not only disappear from public view, but from his underhand business schemes.

The office at Babylon was cramped; the only bonus here was that Deb didn’t feel the need to feed everyone.

They had moved their meetings to the offices of Babylon ever since Justin had moved into Deb’s. She hadn’t wanted him to get involved with all this, and Brian felt better that it was kept away from him, he didn’t want to get the kid hurt in someway.

“How can we trust you, man?” Martin asked.

Carl stayed calm, and gave Debbie a sweet smile. “You have to take my word for it, I’m after the same thing, I’m a cop, we’re meant to be about justice, about helping people, some people seem to have forgotten that. I’m not even sure Stockwell knew it to begin with, he’s always been a ruthless bastard.”

“Where the fuck is he then? Does anyone know where his sister lives? Maybe we could check out the story he’s let slip.”

“I could find that out,” Carl offered.

“Just be discreet about it.” Brian warned, feeling stupid for telling not only a grown man, but a policeman what to do. “If there’s nothing else to discuss, I’m heading to the dance floor.”

Brian slipped out the door and down the stairs to the dance floor, letting the music flow over him, wishing he could find a trick and take them to the back room.

Mikey spotted his mother and Carl making their way to the dance floor, the only straight couple there, it was sickening. “Can you believe she brought him here?” He raged, gulping down his beer and shouting into Ben’s ear.

“At least this shows he’s accepting her community.”

“Yeah, well, they better not make it a regular thing, I mean, who else has their mother show up at a club? A gay club at that.”

Ben laughed and put his arm around his partner, hugging him into his side. “Hunter might be saying that about us in a few years.”

“Tell me, why did we take him in again?”

“It was a better idea than throwing a shoe at him.”

Mikey blushed slightly and leaned up capturing Ben’s lips with his own.



Hunter lay on his back on the floor, taking up most of the floor in Debbie’s small living room.

Justin lounged on the sofa, eyes glued to the TV screen. He loved movies.

“Do you have any smokes?” Hunter asked.

“I don’t smoke.”

“Ben took mine off me, I’m dying for a cigarette.” He put a pillow over his face and groaned. “I don’t know why I’m here anyway, I can look after myself.”

“Huh?” Justin asked, eventually looking at the other boy.

Hunter pulled the pillow from his face. “I don’t see why I have to baby sit you while they all go out.”

“I think it is me looking after you.”

“You’re only a year or two older than me, man, I bet I’m older when it comes to experience.” He smirked and looked at Justin suggestively, it all washed over Justin’s head. “Tell me, have you ever had sex?”

Justin broke away from the TV and looked at Hunter, cheeks blushing slightly. Had he and Brian had sex? Was it right to talk about it?

“I bet I’ve had more men than Brian has had. I wish he’d do me, he is one hot man. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah–hot.”

“I knew it! You like him don’t you? You want him to fuck you.”

Justin shifted, uncomfortably, suddenly wishing the other boy wasn’t here. He had a feeling he was being laughed at and he hated it. He’d never worried about getting laughed at before, but things were different now.

“Well, he’ll never fuck you, you know. I’ve tried countless times. Apparently he likes them tall, buff and brunette. But I would sure like his cock up my ass.”

Justin was tongue tied, he didn’t know what to say, how he should respond to this kind of conversation, especially when it was about Brian. He wanted to protest, tell him that he and Brian had kissed, done more than kiss, but he didn’t say anything, Hunter thought he was weird enough as it was.

He was new to this, didn’t know the rules of this kind of life.

“I used to see a lot more action than this, man. My friends, do you know what they did? They drove the mayor off the road,” Hunter laughed, the subject of Brian forgotten. “I should have been there, this guy, a hustler like me, was found in a dumpster behind the diner, hell I think Deb even found him, well, Stockwell wouldn’t do anything about it, so they taught him, they did.”

Justin’s face whitened, and he got up from the sofa. His heart thumped painfully in his chest. He didn’t want to think about that, thought he’d left it all behind. He wouldn’t listen. “I’m tired, I’m going to bed.”

“What the hell, you can’t just leave me here, you’re meant to be keeping an eye on me.”

“You’re too old to be baby sat,” Justin managed to say before he climbed the stairs and shut the door on Hunter and his chatter.

If the door was shut he didn’t have to think about what had happened in his old life. His hands went to his neck and he was shocked the collar wasn’t there, before remembering Brian had taken it off.

He concentrated on how Brian had touched him, trying to block out Hunter’s revelation and how close his old life was to his new. He couldn’t go back to that, not after living like he was now, with people who seemed to like him and who didn’t control his life with a silver contraption.

He would be OK, Brian wouldn’t let him go back to that, Lindsey wouldn’t either. She was such a nice lady, and she’d help him so much.

Justin eventually fell into an uneasy sleep, filled with images of a blond woman and a blond man, both crying hysterically, the woman holding a lifeless baby. He tried to talk to them but he couldn’t get his mouth to work and then darkness took over until he woke up in his uncle’s basement, collar clipped into place.




It was days later before Carl spoke to Brian, sitting on Debbie’s back porch for a smoke. “He does have a sister.”

“Is he with her?”

“Oh yeah, but she’s not the one who’s sick. He is. Looks like he was beaten pretty badly.”

“Why hide that? Why not exploit it and get more people on his side?” Brian took a drag of his cigarette.

“Maybe he wants to hide his weakened state from the rest of us.”

Hunter stepped from around the corner, half a smoked cigarette in his hand, which he had the sense to look guilty for. “You’re talking about Stockwell aren’t you? I know how it happened.” He gave them a smug look.

“Fuck, Hunter, don’t you know you never hear good things when you eavesdrop?”

“You should have made sure you were alone before speaking then. Don’t you want to know what I know?”

Brian sighed. “Go on then, what do you know?”

“Some of the hustlers ran him off the road, you know, for what he did to that kid Debbie found.”

Now he had their attention. “What did he do?”

Hunter snorted and leaned back against the wall. “He’s been trying to run the hustlers out for ages, Jason Kemp was a lesson to us.”

“Jason Kemp,” Carl repeated, “that was his name?” He remembered how he’d met Debbie and how bad she still felt for the boy who was buried with no identity.

“Why, the fuck, didn’t you tell us this before?”

“Don’t shout at me, man, you never asked.” He pushed himself away from the wall and glared at Brian. “You know, they say Stockwell had some kind of enforcer, some ninja or something, real deadly like.”

“And how do you know this?”

“People talk around hustlers, ‘cos, well, everybody knows hustlers are nothing, no mind, just a nice piece of ass to fuck, and if they can string two sentences together, who they gonna tell?” He waltzed back inside, leaving the two men stunned.

“Fuck,” Brian said as he exhaled.

“Yeah.”

“Hey you two, are you coming inside? Dinner is ready.” Justin poked his head around the door and grinned, unaware of their previous conversation.

Brian stood stiffly and walked inside, his hand brushing Justin’s as he went. Everyone else was seated and Brian took the chair next to Justin’s, happy for once that everyone had to squeeze in tight around the table.

Casually he let his hand rest on Justin’s thigh, and covered a smirk as the boy jumped and shifted in his chair. He moved his hand further to Justin’s groin and smiled as he felt the telltale bulge.

His own cock filled with desire and he wished he was on his own with Justin, wished he could fuck him into the mattress, instead he forced Deb’s macaroni down his throat.

“Can I sketch you again, Brian?” Justin asked between mouthfuls of food.

Brian bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiles, “Sure,” he said with his usual calm, “You can come to mine after dinner.”

“Jeez, you’re fucking him, aren’t you?” Hunter said, pointing his fork towards them. He glared at Justin. “Why didn’t you tell me the other night?”

Justin’s cheeks turned pink with embarrassment and he looked at Brian for direction, hoping he would be able to get them out of this awkward situation.

“Because, it’s none of your business.”

Debbie’s eyes widened and Lindsey gave a small cry of outrage. “How could you, Brian? He’s just a kid.”

Debbie leaned over the table and almost thwacked Brian over the head, but Justin’s hand shot out and knocked her arm gently out of the way. “Don’t. Don’t hit him. I’m not a kid, I’m seventeen years old.”

“We know you’re not a kid, sweetie,” Lindsey started, “We just worry about you, we think you should find a nice boy of your own age.”

“I don’t see what it’s got to do with you.” Justin stood up and looked down at Brian. “You ready to go?”

He stood up and smirked, taking Justin’s hand and steering him out of the door and into his car.

Justin was nervous on their ride over, he wasn’t quite sure what he was letting himself in for and there was only his previous experience with Brian and Hunter’s cryptic words to guide him

He stood in the doorway to Brian’s loft, hesitating. Brian turned around and raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you coming or going?” Brian stopped the sarcastic quip that threatened to spill out of his mouth, knowing how nervous the blond was.

“Are you sure you want this?”

Justin nodded. “I just, I’m not quite sure what to do.”

“Do you know what we’re about to do?”

“Have sex.” He looked hopeful, which made Brian feel better.

“Do you know what’s involved with that?”

Justin looked uncomfortable, but Brian had to know, he had to let Justin know what he was getting himself in to.

“More of what we did before?”

He laughed softly and took a step closer to Justin. “Yeah, lots more. I’ll talk you through it, alright?” He was worried if he told Justin the bare facts he would be repulsed and be scared off. “OK, take off your clothes.”

Brian waited for Justin to start undressing before pulling off his own clothes, letting Justin see him completely naked for the first time.

They both stepped closer to each other, until they were standing less than an inch apart. Brian leaned down and pressed their lips together, deepening the kiss quickly, plunging his tongue into Justin’s mouth, tasting the dinner he’d eaten at Debbie’s.

Justin wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands, he placed them on Brian’s lean waist, loving the feel of his smooth skin, but it wasn’t enough, so he moved his fingers, until they found his hipbones, feeling the sharp planes brush his palms and fit snugly in the natural dip of his hand.

While he was busy touching the older man’s hips, involved deeply in their kiss, Brian let his own hands roam Justin’s body, following his spine down to his ass and letting one finger trail between the cheeks, getting him used to feeling something there.

They broke the kiss when lack of oxygen became a problem and Brian pulled the smaller man to the bedroom and lay him out on his bed, like he’d pictured, surrounded by silk, golden hair spread around him like a fallen halo, and legs wide open, inviting him in. He knelt between them and laved at Justin’s nipples, smiling smugly as Justin cried out and clutched his hair

Finally leaving his nipples, he moved his way down the creamy white chest, taking time to kiss each faded scar, then circling his navel, feeling the slight swell of his belly quiver beneath his tongue.

Justin’s cock brushed the underneath of his chin, and he thrust up into the sensation, unable to help himself. He thought he’d never felt anything like it until Brian took him into his mouth and he saw stars.

He would have thought this act would be totally repulsive to perform, but Brian seemed to revel in tasting him, wrapping his warm lips around him, taking him into his throat and hollowing his cheeks. Any thoughts of repulsion soon disappeared into a lust filled haze.

He felt a tingling sensation in his balls, and Brian pulled away, not wanting it to be over before they had begun. Justin opened eyes he hadn’t realised he’d closed, and looked at him, questioning.

“Don’t worry, I’ve not finished yet. Turn over.”

Justin rolled over, trusting him completely. Brian kissed his shoulder blades and rubbed his cheek in the mass of blond hair surrounding them. “Do you know what rimming is?”

He shook his head, like Brian knew he would do, and then he licked a long strip down Justin’s back to the crease of his ass. “Of course you don’t, you don’t even know what fucking is, do you?” Brian wanted to ask where he had been all of his life, but didn’t want to break the mood, with what he knew would be a serious conversation.

Justin looked over his shoulder, trying to get a good view of the older man. “Hunter mentioned something,” he panted.

“I bet he didn’t mention this.” Brian parted Justin’s cheeks and tensed his tongue, following the indentation, making the smaller man jump, then melt into the mattress as he repeated the process, only this time circling his hole.

“Don’t.”

Brian paused. “What’s wrong, don’t you like it?”

Justin hid his head in a pillow. “Yes, but–do you, don’t you find it disgusting?” It seemed wrong that this could be so pleasurable.

Relaxing when he knew he wasn’t doing anything wrong Brian leant his chin against Justin’s ass. “Not repulsive at all, I love tasting you.” He circled Justin’s hole again, each time pushing in slightly, then nibbling at the skin around it until he could hear Justin hiss in pleasure and pushed his tongue in as deeply as he could manage.

“I didn’t realise,” Justin moaned, and bit his lip, unable to finish his sentence. Even in his wildest dreams he wouldn’t have thought this up, wouldn’t have thought this, of all things, would be so pleasurable.

Brian removed his tongue and turned Justin around, leaning his chin on the boy’s hip bone, rubbing his cheek slightly against Justin’s straining cock. “Now you know what rimming is. We’re coming to the fucking part in a moment.”

He pulled himself up and over Justin’s small frame, kissing him intently and wiggling his hips so Justin gave him more room. He pulled back, saliva connecting their lips together. “There’s one thing you have to remember about fucking.” He leant over and fished around in a glass bowl, bringing out a condom and lube. “Always be safe, always use a condom.” He showed it to Justin, then ripped it open with his teeth. “Watch.”

Justin watched as Brian rolled the condom over his dick, which seemed much larger than when he’d had first seen it. He had a niggling thought in his head, the comment Hunter had made and his uncle and the many women he’d had sex with.

It couldn’t possibly go in–there.

A tongue was one thing, one small pleasurable thing.

Brian squirted something onto his fingers and coated his covered cock, Justin’s thoughts trailed off as he watched Brian’s hand disappear between his legs, and he felt a slick finger trail where his tongue had been earlier.

A fingertip circled his asshole and slightly pushed in. “Fuck!” Justin said at the intrusion, not sure if he liked the weird, full feeling as Brian pressed a finger further inside him.

“Are you–going to put that in–there?” He said between fevered breaths.

“If you want me to.”

“That’s what sex is?” He had to be sure.

“Between two men, yes.”

It was shocking to think about Brian’s cock inside him, in a place no one but he had ever touched before, and even then, not in a sexual way at all, he still wasn’t sure pleasure could be felt from the act, but he ached to be as close to Brian as he could be.

“OK, I want to feel it.” He wanted to experience this first with Brian, trusted the man to make the fullness feel good.

Another finger joined his first and Justin winced at the pinch. Brian added more lube and began to pump Justin’s cock with his other hand. He pushed his fingers deeper inside Justin, curling them upwards and hitting that spot inside of him.

Justin cried out and grabbed for Brian, gripping his shoulder and trying to ride out the pleasure, a pleasure so astute he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He hadn’t expected that at all.

“Ah, the joys of the prostate,” Brian grinned as he put Justin’s legs over his shoulders and pulled the boy closer to him, pulling out his fingers and holding his cock at his entrance, pushing inside.

The earlier pleasure was wiped off Justin’s face as Brian pushed further inside him, shock and pain in its place. Justin grabbed Brian’s hip, stilling him. “Does it always hurt this much?” He couldn’t believe the pain pulsing through his ass, he felt like he was going to be spilt in two if Brian moved any further.

“At first, but it becomes part of the pleasure.”

Justin wasn’t sure he believed him, but was shocked at the pleasure he felt when Brian started to pump his rapidly deflating cock, until it hardened again, then he rotated his hips, slipping inside further.

Justin hissed but didn’t try to stop it. He closed his eyes tightly, riding out the pain, Brian placed his lips on his, kissing him gently until he opened his eyes and let himself fall into the kiss, concentrating on the pleasure of Brian’s tongue in his mouth as he thrust completely inside of him, brushing his prostate as he did so.

Justin gasped into Brian’s mouth and couldn’t stop the movement in his hips. He felt too full, almost as if he needed to use the bathroom, but he road it out and the pleasure hit him full force as Brian pulled out slightly and pushed back in.

Each thrust hurt his overly stretched skin, but the weird feeling soon disappeared, leaving only pure sensation in its wake. Brian’s cock brushed that place in side of him each time he thrust forward and Justin’s head rolled backwards as he felt fingers around his cock, pumping in time with each thrust.

His toes curled and he gasped as a tingling pressure filled his stomach, made his balls tighten and left his cock spurting between them.




Brian realised Justin was still there when the morning sun fell over their sated skin, creating a rainbow of light over the blond’s shoulder blades. This should feel wrong, he should push Justin out the door and back to Deb’s, but he did neither.

He watched as Justin stirred, stretching out like a cat, and opening one eye when his limbs found his. “Morning.” He mumbled and Brian found himself smiling and dipping his head down for a kiss.

They lay happily in each others arms, content to just lie there and touch. Justin traced his fingers around Brian’s nipple, watching as the nub hardened under his touch. “I’ve never felt anything like that before,” he said truthfully.

“Where did you come from Justin?” Brian brushed a lock of long hair out of Justin’s eyes. “What happened to you to make you so far removed from the world?”

His eyes took a distant look. “I did something bad.”

“What?”

He shook his head and closed his eyes. “I don’t remember. Only that I was sent to live with my uncle and he locked me away, made me do things.”

Brian frowned, he didn’t understand properly, but he didn’t like the sound of it at all. “What did he make you do?”

Blue eyes opened and looked deeply into his own hazel ones. “He used me, but then he got hurt and I met Lindsey and you, so it doesn’t matter any more.” He moved closer to Brian and tightened his grip on the older man. “I think I must have done something really bad, Bri,” he said softly, his heart aching.

“I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad.” He leaned over and kissed the sorrow away, didn’t want to see the sadness haze over those perfect blue eyes.

“We have to get up,” Brian said before they got carried away. “You have a shift at the diner and I have work to do.”

They showered together and Brian dropped Justin off at work before phoning Carl and trying to get everyone together for an emergency meeting. They still had to discuss everything Hunter had revealed the night before.

He dialled the private line to Babylon and waited impatiently for an answer. “Hey, Sap, it’s Brian. Think you can get everyone together for an emergency meeting? We’ve got some new information. Ring me back when you know. Later.” He sighed impatiently, hating how long everything took, and headed off to work.

The collar chafed against his neck and the air in the basement was stagnant. Justin wrapped his arms around his knees and wished he’d never met Brian, that he’d never left this basement.

It wouldn’t hurt so much then, he wouldn’t know what it was like out there, wouldn’t crave to be part of it. He knew it was useless to crave, he would never be part of them again, even if he did get out of here, they wouldn’t want him, and who could blame them?

He wasn’t only a killer, he was a baby killer. He had blood on his hands and it wouldn’t wash away. It didn’t matter that he didn’t choose this life, he’d done as his uncle had trained him.

And he’d done it without feeling, without guilt and without a care in the world for them or their family. He couldn’t forgive himself, he couldn’t expect Brian to, or Lindsey, who would probably hate him more than any one else.

She’d trusted him around her son, it must have been pure fluke that he’d done nothing to the baby. It was in him, he knew it, it’s why his uncle had chosen him for this life.

The hatch opened and he flinched as his uncle walked down the steps. His arm was in a cast and he walked with a slight limp, but he still looked as deadly as ever. “It’s good to have you back, boy.”

He smiled and it made Justin feel sick. “You’ve had your fun on the outside world, but you must realise that it’s not for you, you’re a killing machine, and it’s all you know how to do, even as a child that’s what you did. We have a job tonight, I hope you haven’t let yourself go.”

Justin didn’t reply, he wasn’t supposed to. His uncle walked back up the steps and locked the door.

Justin lay on the small camp bed and trailed his hand in the dirt, tears forming in his eyes as he traced the outline to Brian’s face.

When he heard the people upstairs move about Justin slipped into some of his old clothes, mourning the loss of the clothes he’d bought with his very own money. Just as he’d changed the hatch was unlocked and he was told to come upstairs.

It looked like they were putting on a bit of a show that night. Jim was dressed impeccably in a suit, as was Chris and four others of his enforcers. Only Justin was dressed in simple, flowing cotton, it added to the image. Delicate but deadly.

He got into the back of the car, slipping into his old life like he’d never left, on the outside anyway.

Justin recognised the streets as they drove past, his heart thumping wildly as they pulled up outside of Babylon. He didn’t want to go in there, didn’t want to be reminded. Didn’t want to walk past the spot where Brian had turned his back on him.

The nightclub looked empty, no people waiting outside and no whispers of music whenever the door was open. Stockwell let himself in through the back entrance and Justin followed behind, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Justin spotted Brian right away, he was sat within a circle of other men, all talking intently. The club was different without the thumping music and sweating dancers.

Their talk trailed off when Babylon’s manager stood up and walked towards them, a slight bounce in his steps.

“Jim, so glad you could make it.” Sap said, a large smile on his face.

Justin watched through a curtain of hair as Brian’s face dropped when Sap shook Stockwell’s hand and motioned him further into the building. “What have you done, Sap?”

“I’ve told you, don’t call me that. And I’m looking after my own back, is what I’m doing. Thought Jim would be very interesting to know what you are all planning.”

“It’s a sad day to see the people I’m trying to protect work against me.” Jim managed to look saddened.

Brian heard a shuffle behind Stockwell and saw Justin, head bent low, eyes directed to the sticky floor. A sharp pain penetrated his heart. It seemed he was right; Justin was part of Stockwell’s twisted game.

“You won’t get away with it, Jim,” Carl said, speaking up for the first time.

Stockwell laughed. “What are they going to do, when they find your bodies do you think?”

“You’ll never kill us all.”

Brian stepped forward. “No, he won’t, will he, Justin?” Justin looked up, the silver collar glinting in the dull light. “Stockwell won’t be doing the dirty work, that’s what you’re for.”

“You know this kid?” Martin asked.

“Fuck, that’s the kid whose been staying with Deb,” Carl said, upon recognising him.

Stockwell moved behind Justin, caressing his hair before moving it to one side and removing the collar. “You know what to do, J.”

Justin looked up, his eyes full of anguish as he found Brian looking at him with such hatred.

“Hunter was fucking right…come on then, Justin, what are you waiting for?” Brian opened his arms and motioned for him.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he bit at his lip, he couldn’t do it, couldn’t hurt Brian.

“What?” Stockwell glared at Justin. “You don’t have a choice, get to it.”

“I don’t want to hurt people anymore.”

“The collar is off, J, get in there. Now.”

Martin laughed. “Well, if blondie doesn’t want to start it, I will.” He moved his large leather clad frame in front of Justin, clenched his fist and sent Justin’s head rolling backwards.

Brian bit back the protest.

“Fight back, J, or die.” Stockwell said, for once not looking as sure of himself.

“Looks like you’ll have to get your hands dirty, Jim,” Brian taunted.

“Oh, Brian, Brian, I very upset when Sap said you were the ring leader of this little party, you could have gone far with my help.”

“I’ll go far without it.”

“I’ll make sure you don’t, one way or the other. And J, if you don’t fight back soon you’ll end up dead.” Stockwell didn’t bother looking at his nephew.

Brian glanced at him though, he couldn’t help himself. The blood pouring from Justin’s nose was a bright contrast to his pale skin and blond hair. Martin kicked him in the groin, sending him to his knees.

“Why aren’t you fighting back? Isn’t fighting what you do best? Did you enjoy knocking the life out of Steven Fai and Jason Kemp?”

Justin looked crushed and it was nothing to do with the beating he was taking. “I don’t know who they are, Brian, I just do the things my uncle makes me. I wasn’t trained to think, I was trained to kill, I never had to worry about what happened to them afterwards, what their families did, because I didn’t understand, I never had that, I didn’t know what family was until–until,” he his voice trailed off and he gave a twisted smile, showing blood covered teeth. “It’s OK, Brian. I don’t hold you to your promise.”

“What promise?” He wished the boy would stop saying his name, he almost wished Martin would punch him hard in the mouth and shut him up.

Martin took hold of his shirt and pulled him to his feet, Justin didn’t seem to notice. “Of a new life.”

It took Brian a while to remember what he was talking about, the night he’d removed the collar, the night he’d touched Justin for the first time and was touched by him.

Stockwell laughed. “You can only trust your uncle, J, who was the one to save you when you killed Molly?”

Justin shuddered as he heard his sister’s name, he saw her crying in his minds eye, he saw her still, so silent, so silent he couldn’t stand it. “Shut up!” He covered his ears.

“I wish you’d fight back, kid.” Martin said as Justin seemed to fold in on himself, he pushed him away in disgust, letting Justin fall to the floor with a hard thud.

Chris walked over to him and kicked him in the ribs. “Stand up, puppy. Do what your uncle tells you. You worthless piece of shit.”

Justin didn’t seem to be listening to him, he curled up into a ball, taking himself into a far away place.

Stockwell smiled at Brian. “He was such a good boy until you got your claws into him. Did whatever I said, believed whatever I wanted him to believe. It’s so easy to convince a child he killed his own sister, the apple of his eye. It’s even easier to convince the child’s parents.”

White noise assaulted Brian’s ears at Stockwell’s revelation. He looked over at Justin, curled on the floor with Chris kicking him and he couldn’t stand and watch anymore, couldn’t believe how wrong he had been.

This was a type of child abuse he’d never even fathomed before, and not only was it child abuse it was child murder, only not by Justin, how could he ever have believed that?

He ran over to him, pushed Chris away and lifted the bleeding boy into his arms. “Justin, fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“What the hell are you doing, man? If what we heard here is right, he killed the dumpster kid, Steven Fai, Tabby Reid and god knows who else.”

Brian glared up at them, rocking Justin in his arms, willing him to come back to him. “Didn’t you hear what Stockwell said? It was all against his will, he tricked him.”

And then it happened, Stockwell’s men jumped in, taking them by surprise, although it shouldn’t have been much of a surprise. Most of the club owners put up a fight, but they were hardly butch men, apart from Martin, and they were losing fast.

Brian saw Chris, the Chris who put his hands down Justin’s pants, the Chris he’d left Justin with that fateful night, stalk back towards them, and couldn’t believe he’d ever left Justin alone with him . Chris grabbed Justin while someone else dragged Brian backwards, pulling them apart.

Chris shook Justin into a state of awareness, but Justin let the other man beat him without fighting back.

Brian struggled but couldn’t get away. “Fuck, fight back, Justin.”

Justin looked at him, tears mixing with blood and falling down his cheek. “Why do you care, I tricked you didn’t I? I killed that boy, the one Deb found, with my own bare hands, I strangled the life out of him while he pleaded with me and I didn’t care,” he sobbed, “Why the fuck do you care now? You found out my uncle made me, trained me to do it, it might not have been my choice, but I did it, and I did it without remorse.” Tears ran rapidly down his cheek and he doubled over in pain as Chris jabbed his elbowed him in the stomach. “I didn’t know any better.”

“You’re uncle tricked you, you didn’t kill your sister.”

“Shut up! I don’t want to talk about it.” Chris punched him again, sending him to the floor just as Brian managed to break free and punch the man holding him. He ran to Justin, pulling him away from Chris and shook him.

“Justin, none of this is your fault, fuck, I’m sorry OK? I’m sorry I left you with him, just, fight back until we can get out of here yeah? I’ll explain everything then.”

“You don’t want me to kill anyone do you?” He trembled in Brian’s arms and he wished he had to the time to comfort him, but he didn’t.

“No, just protect yourself until help comes. Please, don’t get yourself dead.”

“You don’t hate me?”

Brian shook his head, “No, I don’t hate you, I just let all this other shit get in the way. Fuck…defend yourself at least.” Brian said as he was dragged away, as he felt a fist in his stomach.

Hope glimmered in Justin’s heart as Brian looked over at him, his eyes filled with affection, and not disgust. “I can do that.” Chris threw a chair at him, trying to gain his attention, but Justin batted it away and turned on him. “The collars off now, Chris.”

Seeing his hold over him was shattered Chris picked up a bottle of vodka, holding it like a weapon, he hit Justin around the side and Brian wanted to go to his aid, wasn’t sure Justin could take him on, but he had other people to deal with.

He only hoped Carl’s plan had worked.

Justin caught Chris’s wrist, yanking hard until the bottle dropped and smashed at their feet. “You’ll always be a dog, J, whether it’s Stockwell’s or Kinney’s fucking lap dog.”

“You can’t hurt me anymore, Chris.” Justin didn’t know what would happen to him after this, but whatever it was it would be better than this, Brian had forgiven him, nothing else mattered.

He dodged Chris’s poorly aimed fists and ducked low, jabbing his hand into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He pulled the man to the floor by his shoulders, and looked up, wanting to make sure Brian was alright.

He looked up just in time for police to crash through the door, all armed. It was enough of a distraction to allow Chris to move to his knees, jagged bottle clutched in his hand, and with one giant swing he caught Justin on the side of the head.

Justin felt the pain as glass connected with his forehead and in slow motion he saw Brian run towards him, yet he seemed to get further away, and then all he could see was darkness.

“No!” Brian screamed, and ran at Chris, knocking him away and trying to stop the blood pouring from Justin’s head. “Fuck, help me here!”

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Stockwell said to the police, smoothing his hair back into place. “These men attacked us.” He looked to Sap for confirmation who nodded a little too readily.

“Too late Jim, we caught you read handed.” Carl stumbled forward, his left wrist held tightly to his body, twisted unnaturally. “We’re not stupid. We figured out what you were up to, Sap.”

“I told you, don’t call me that,” he said hysterically.

“You think you have friends in high places Jim, but all you had were enemies.” Cuffs were placed around his wrists but Brian wasn’t paying attention as he went with Justin as the ambulance crew took him away.



Brian stood in his loft, a bag of bloody clothes clung in one hand, blood that was mostly Justin’s, as his so called family took turns in shouting. Shouting at him for disappearing and shouting even louder for being with Justin, the child killer.

Sickness rolled in his stomach. The whole ordeal had being a complete mess, but Justin’s life was a tragedy. He talked quietly, almost as if to himself. “He didn’t kill his sister.” They quietened down to listen to him.

“But he was involved in Stockwell’s dealings, probably killed all those others…the boy I found.” Debbie sniffed, as she remembered.

“Stockwell took his life away from him when he was seven years old, he trained him like you’d trained a dog, he did what they made him do. Did our Justin have any violent tendencies at all?”

She shook her head. “He still killed–.”

“Would you blame a violent dog for biting someone if you’d known he was beaten by his owner? This is the same thing. It wasn’t his fault, and fuck, I don’t know what the police will make of it, it’s such a mess, but it might not matter anyway, if he doesn’t wake up.”

“Now, I’m going to get a shower and go to the hospital, sit with his mother, who for the past ten years believed her son capable of killing his baby sister. You can support the Justin you all got to know, or the man Stockwell made him be, I don’t care, just get the fuck out of my loft.”


Jennifer Taylor sat in shock next to her son, in a small hospital room, she touched his hand, but didn’t think she deserved the contact. She’d believed her brother when he’d told her he’d found Justin smothering Molly with his blanket, she’d believed him over her son and Jim had taken her boy away from her, made her believe he was insane, locked away in hospital, and she hadn’t questioned him because the grief had over come her completely.

She’d lost not only one child that fateful day ten years ago, she’d lost two, and if Justin survived this he might never forgive her.

Brian entered the room quietly and sat next to her. “How could I believe he could do such a thing? He was always such a sweet boy, so sensitive, very into his art, even that young, and he’d been so excited about being a big brother. I so wanted them to have a good sibling relationship.” She glanced at Brian and bit back a sob. “I never had a good relationship with my brother, I think he was a bad egg, even as a child he was mean…and I believed him, how could a mother do such a thing?”

“It looks like we both have a lot of making up to do when he wakes up.”

“If he wakes up.”

Brian couldn’t let himself think about that, he would wake up, it was the only way he could cope. “When it came to the crunch, I didn’t believe him either. I walked away and left him with his abusers.”

“And I left him there for ten years. I missed out on seeing him grow up, missed out on his childhood, and what’s worse is, he missed out on it too.” She couldn’t help herself, she took hold of his hand again and kissed his knuckles. “I’m so sorry baby.”

Brian hesitated before putting his arms around her.

“They made him do terrible things didn’t they? Jim made him hurt people, but he’s only a boy, look how small his hands are. They’re painter’s hands, not the hands of a killer.”

“He’s a brilliant artist and he was happy, I think, when he lived with us.”

“I’m glad, he needed some happiness in his life.” Just then she felt a pressure on her fingers. She sat still and looked at their joined hands, seeing the movement again. “He just moved, did you see that?”

Brian nodded, unable to speak for a moment. “I’ll get a nurse.”







Child abuse, that’s what they called it, after test upon test, shrink upon shrink, cop upon cop, lawyer up on lawyer and Melanie raging about the mess of the whole fucking system.

He was a minor after all, the system did lose him, everyone, it seemed, had fucked up when it came to Justin Taylor; his mother, and the father that still wouldn’t speak to him because, he might not be a baby killer, but he was gay, and Brian, for not believing in him, for letting him go back to that.

Justin’s recovery was a slow one, both emotionally and physically. He started to remember his time before the collar, he remembered good times, seeing his sister for the first time and the love he felt for her, and he also remembered seeing his uncle smother her, using the blanket Justin would carry around with him everywhere..

He would wake bathed in sweat, his whole body shaking, when that happened Brian would pull him into his arms, stroke his back and murmur soothing words into his ear.

It had taken him a long time to trust the other man, to forgive him for harsh words and harsh actions made in anger. But Justin couldn’t stay mad for long, and if Brian could forgive the blood on his hands, then he could forgive Brian for not believing him.

Justin gasped and became aware of his surroundings, of the soothing hand on his back, the smooth chest pressed against his cheek and of the small light on the bedside table. He couldn’t bear to be completely in the dark.

“I dreamt I was back in the basement,” he whispered, pulling himself on top of Brian and resting his face next to his.

“You’re safe now, you never have to go into any basement again.” Brian smoothed his hand over Justin’s recently buzzed hair, loving the velvet feel of it against his skin. The scar on his forehead was now a healthy pink that would be unnoticeable if Justin ever decided to grow his hair a little. At the moment it was looking unlikely. He liked the freedom of never having to brush it.

A baby started to cry and Justin tensed, the same way he did every time Gus cried. Shadows fell over his eyes as he thought of his sister, and he quickly blinked them away. “I’ll go get him.”

“You sure?” Brian said up, cotton sheets riding low on his hip.

“Yeah, my hand is getting a lot better.” He wiggled his weakened fingers at Brian.

Justin disappeared for a moment, returning with Gus tucked safely into his chest. Brian smiled at the sight, knowing how hard it had been for Justin to trust himself with Gus, even after he started to believe he hadn’t been the cause of his sister’s death.

He climbed onto the bed and placed Gus between them, grinning when the little boy fell back to sleep. “Lindsey said I could use her studio tomorrow when I take Gus back.”

“That’s good, you’ll have loads of stuff to take with you to your interview with PIFA.” He paused for a second. “You do know you’re mom was visiting tomorrow?”

He shrugged softly, not wanting to wake the baby. “I know.”

“You can’t avoid her forever.”

“She thought I killed my sister, she didn’t care enough about me to see if I really was in that institute and because she ‘thought’ I’d killed Molly, I became a killer.” Brian squeezed the other man’s shoulder.

“I killed so many people, more than you know about, they haunt my dreams more than Chris ever could. I spent ten years feeling nothing and now I feel everything, all at once”

“You’re not a killer, Justin, you did what you did to survive, you did what an adult told you to do.”

“The blood is still on my hands though, he may have made me do it, but it’s these fingers that did the killing.”

Brian took one of his hands, holding it tenderly in his, kissing each finger. “These are beautiful hands, talented hands, a painter’s hands,” he paused for a moment, placing Justin’s palm on Gus’ stomach, “gentle hands.”

“Tell that to Debbie.” His eyes filled with pain when he thought about the only mother he ever knew. “Whenever she looks at me all she sees is Jason Kemp’s body.”

“Don’t say his name.”

“Don’t make it real? Whether I say his name or not, all Debbie sees are my talented, gentle fingers around his neck.”

Brian smoothed his fingers over Justin’s head, missing the feel of all that hair, wanting something to hold on to. “She doesn’t know what to feel or how to act around you because this isn’t black and white, she knows it’s not your fault, but her head can’t stop reminding her that you were the tool used. And that’s what you were, a tool for Stockwell to use, the blood is on his hands, not yours.”

Justin’s eyes filled with tears and Brian’s words and he reached over the baby and touched Brian’s nose with his, then gently pressed their lips together. “I do love you, you know.”

“I know,” Brian kissed him back, “I sort of like you too.”

End at Ch 7 (above)