Title: "A Moment Of Eternity"
Author: dash_x_marshall
Rating: Taste In Men
Pairing: Brian/Other
Summary: My first 'new' material in a long while...  I was suddenly inspired.  I'm not sure how it will ultimately turn out....
Part 1 | Part 2**Canceled**
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A Moment Of Eternity

    Brian stumbled across the darkened room, and would have landed on his face, if not for a conveniently placed chair.  Gathering strength and what wits were available to him, he lurched towards the bright doorway ahead.

    *Gotta be some...* Brian thought, hazily.  *Someplace...*

    Moving through the doorway, his eyes were assaulted by the harsh florescent lighting.  He blinked numerous times, but accomplished nothing, and remained blinded.  Shielding his eyes with one hand, he surveyed the kitchen in which he found himself.

    Unfortunately, no part of his mind was registering the fact that he was in the kitchen.  There were obvious clues, of course.  The sink.  The refrigerator.  The cabinets.  The wooden table and cutting board in the center of the room.  The knives and other utensils.  None of these objects caught his attention, however.

    *Jackpot!* his mind shouted, as his eyes locked onto the one thing of interest in the entire room.

    Brian rushed unsteadily towards the counter near the sink, slipping slightly on the tile floor in the process.  A slightly coherent part of his mind realized that one of his heels had broken.  He kicked the small black shoes off, not caring what became of them.

    He leaned down towards the tiny pile of white powder which lay on the counter top.  With as much care as he was still capable of, he pressed his nose to the pile and inhaled deeply.  He stood up again, and immediately sneezed forcefully, sending traces of the powder all over his pin-stripe suit jacket and matching skirt.

    The sneeze was followed by another and a slight coughing fit, all of which added to his already considerable frustration.  He threw an angry look around the counter top before him, and spotted something.  Focusing his eyes on a small ceramic container which sat innocently near the remaining bits of powder, he managed with difficulty to read the single word painted on its front.  Flour.

    “Fuck!!” Brian bellowed in rage.  He swiped at the offending jar with all the strength he could muster.  The container was sent flying into the side of the refrigerator, where it shattered into countless pieces and produced a cloud of white particulate which drifted slowly to the floor.

    Brian made to storm out the doorway, but his stocking-clad right foot unexpectedly found something wet on the floor.  Brian found himself falling, with no way of stopping.  He watched as the sharp corner of the wooden table rushed up to meet his face.

    At the last second, however, a red blur swept in front of him, halting his descent.  With assistance from the red shape, he righted himself.  When his head had slowed its spin sufficiently, Brian examined the red object.  At first, he failed to recognize the shape, then the logic of the situation imposed itself on his scattered brain.  It was an arm.  An arm clad in a red leather glove, and the sleeve of an equally red leather jacket.

    Brian's eyes traveled up the arm, and focused on a youngish man's pale features.  Brian tried to remember where he had seen the man before.  He was fucking gorgeous, and definitely worth remembering.  The man had relatively short, slightly spiky, red hair.  Not orange hair, like many 'redheads'.  It was dark and rich, and made Brian think of red wine.  The man's eyes made a nice contrast.  They were a hypnotic shade of blue.  A darker and deeper blue than most.

    *Fuck me...* Brian thought.  *Who are you?*

    “You really should be a bit more careful,” the man said.

    His voice was pleasant as well.  It was deep, but not too deep.  It was the sort of voice that would do well on audio books.  Brian had a fleeting thought that this man was likely a better singer than he himself.  Or, at least, could be.

    “Come into the living room,” the man said, “you need to rest.”

    It wasn't just the man's voice, either.  He spoke well.  His words were slow and precise...  Exacting.  Brian also made note of the man's American accent.

    Brian made no response, but also offered no resistance when the man led him out of the kitchen.  He allowed himself to be placed on the sofa, and then admired the man's firm and very well shaped buttocks as he left to search for something.  Finally seeing the man's entire outfit, something clicked in Brian's mind.  The red leather gloves.  The red leather jacket.  The red leather trousers.  The red leather boots.  And the one missing part of the outfit...  The red helmet with its black visor.

    *Oh, yeah.* Brian thought.  *Him.*

    A dim memory suddenly came back to him.  A memory of being in a car with... someone.  Of being stopped in traffic.  Of looking out the passenger window, and seeing him... dressed all in red, on a matching red motorcycle.

    But no other memories surfaced.  There was nothing to explain how he got here, or why.  Or where here was.  The man came back into the room, carrying something in his hands.  He set the objects on the coffee table, and Brian's still foggy mind registered that they seemed to be of a medicinal nature.

    The man opened a plastic bottle, and carefully placed some of its contents onto a cotton ball.  He then picked up a small towel with his right hand.  The man reached out with his left hand, and took hold of Brian's skirt.

    Brian jumped slightly, startled by this action.  While the idea of being touched by this man was a pleasing one, his lack of knowledge as to where he was and how he got there made him nervous.

    “I won't hurt you,” the man said, giving Brian the tiniest of smiles.  “But, I need to take care of that...” he said, gesturing toward Brian's left thigh.

    Brian wasn't sure what the man was talking about.  He looked down at his legs, and saw that something dark had soaked into his stocking.  Brian pulled his skirt up slightly, and revealed the long bleeding cut on the inside of his left leg.  He sat for a moment in stunned silence, not believing what his eyes were reporting to his brain.  Then, all at once, as if his nervous system had rebooted itself, he became aware of other injuries...  Cuts...  Bruises...  A sudden memory...  Of a moment of all-consuming terror...  Brian's eyes widened, then rolled back into his head...
THE END.