Away From the Sun - Part 10
“You can’t be serious,” Brian repeated as he followed Lindsay back to her office. “You can’t possibly think…”
“Here,” she handed him a folder.
Pausing mid-sentence, Brian quickly opened the folder, his breath catching in his throat the moment his eyes landed on the photograph inside – Justin, followed by two other men walking into the building.
“This was taken three minutes before the explosion. There is another one taken thirty seconds before the explosion, showing them leaving.”
Brian closed the folder and tossed it on her desk. With a loud sigh, he collapsed into the chair.
“Look, Brian, I know it’s hard to believe, but at some point you will have to come to the same conclusion that I did.”
“How many people died?” He asked, cutting her off.
Lindsay walked around her desk and settled in her chair. “One.”
This didn’t make sense. A large building explodes in the middle of the day and only one person dies? “One?”
“A fire alarm went off about two minutes before the explosion. Everybody except one security guard were able to get out.”
“Well, there’s your answer. Justin activated the fire alarm to give people a chance to get to safety. He’s not doing this because he turned. He’s doing it because he doesn’t think he has a choice.”
“How can you be sure?” Lindsay argued.
“Because I know Justin.”
“Maybe you only think you know him.”
Brian ran his hand through his hair, letting out an exasperated breath. “He saved my life,” he said quietly. “He saved my life when the CIA wouldn’t do a goddamn thing to help me.” He raised his voice. “He risked his life when the United States government wouldn’t lift a fucking finger! Don’t you tell me I don’t know him.”
Brian rose from the chair, unable to contain the anger inside any longer. “We should be focusing on trying to find the mole inside the Agency instead of going after somebody who has done nothing but good.”
“He blew up a building, Brian! He blew up a fucking building,” Lindsay exclaimed. “Whether one person died or a hundred, the fact remains the same - he broke the law.”
Brian held her gaze for what seemed like forever. “If you put him on the most wanted list, you’ll be signing his death warrant,” he said finally, his voice shaking.
Lindsay’s arms fell to her sides, shoulders slumped. “I don’t have any other choice.”
Unable to even look at her any further, Brian rushed out of her office.
~~~***~~***~~~
Justin turned the faucet on, watching as the water began to cascade down the sink before disappearing in the drain. Dipping his hands under the stream, he splashed the cold water on his face, hoping it would shock him back to reality. But as he looked in the mirror, the same expression met him in his reflection. This was the reality. His reality.
He turned off the water and wiped his face with the towel. Hanging the towel back on the hanger, Justin opened the door and walked into the hall. He ignored the guards as he passed them on his way to his bedroom, choosing to disregard their looks to which he had become accustomed to in the past few weeks. There were also occasional pieces of conversations that he’d overhear about him. They didn’t want him there almost as much as he didn’t want to be there. And that made Justin’s situation all the more dangerous.
Justin walked into his bedroom, a tiny room equipped only with an old bed and a worn out dresser. Closing the door behind him, Justin walked over to the window and settled down on the windowsill. He leaned his head against the cold glass and closed his eyes.
He tried hard to forget the events of the past two days, but the sound of the building exploding haunted him, whether he was awake or dreaming. He tried to shake it off, but every time he closed his eyes, faces of people he had never even met appeared before him.
He heard the footsteps on the other side of the door before the knob turned and the door opened. Still, Justin remained motionless, his eyes closed.
“We need to talk,” his father said, closing the door once again.
Justin sighed as he finally opened his eyes and met Craig’s. “We’re moving again?”
“Not yet,” the other man responded. “This is about Madrid.”
“What about it?”
“Anton told me a fire alarm went off right before the explosion,” Craig Taylor said.
Justin did his best keeping his face emotionless, but he knew what was coming next. “So?”
Craig exhaled sharply. “I thought we talked about this.”
“About what?”
“You were supposed to follow the plan,” Justin’s father said.
“I did,” the younger man countered, standing up straight to face his father. “I got you the information you wanted and the building is in ruins. What else do you want from me?”
“You could have ruined everything by setting off that alarm. Risked everybody’s lives.”
“Since when do you care about people’s lives?”
Craig scowled, taking a step closer to him. “You do things my way, you understand?”
Justin grit his teeth. “I did everything I was supposed to do. If I managed to save somebody’s life, why do you care? You got what you wanted!”
“Who do you think you work for?” his father hissed. “The Red fucking Cross?”
Justin took a step back, leaning against the wall. “I…I can’t do this, dad. I can’t do this anymore.”
“You should have thought of that before you came to me.” Craig Taylor turned around to leave. He paused as he opened the door and looked back at Justin. “This isn’t like Little League. You can’t just quit when you don’t like something. This is it, Justin.”
Justin swallowed hard and closed his eyes.
“Get ready. You’re leaving tomorrow morning.” With that, Justin’s father left the room.
~~~***~~~***~~~
“Another one,” Brian ordered, pushing away the now empty glass.
As the bartender placed his third order of Jim Beam in front of him, Brian pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Taking a drag out if, he looked around the room. It was more of a habit than anything else. Finding a new piece of ass to fuck was the last thing on his mind at the moment. All he could think about was that Justin was now on the CIA’s and Interpol’s most wanted list along with his father. And Brian had absolutely no way of protecting him.
He swore under his breath as his eyes fell on the group of friends walking through the front door – his friends.
Michael, Emmett and Ted stopped in the entrance, staring back at him. It wasn’t that they hadn’t seen each other for a while. They had. Very frequently over the last week as Brian looked for solace and escape at Babylon. He hadn’t spoken with them, though. Especially not with Michael. Not since that day outside the Diner. And as he watched his best friend followed by the others walk toward him, Brian knew what was coming next.
“Well, well, well,” Emmett exclaimed. “Brian Kinney getting drunk. Now there’s a surprise.”
“When we didn’t see you for two days, we thought you’d dropped off the face of the earth,” Ted chimed in.
“I would have if it meant I wouldn’t get to see your sorry face everywhere I go,” Brian responded caustically.
Ted grimaced, but walked away without saying another word. Emmett soon followed. Michael, however, hadn’t moved an inch. Brian inhaled slowly and turned his gaze to his best friend.
“Ben told me what happened,” Michael finally said.
Brian looked away and picked up the glass. Taking a sip, he placed it back down in front of him.
“Are you ok?” Michael asked, finding a seat next to Brian.
Brian stared down, his fingers drawing circles on the edge of the glass. “Just peachy.”
“I’m not mad anymore,” Michael tried again. “In case you were worried.”
“I wasn’t,” Brian replied without thinking. It was the truth. There was only one thought on his mind right now. But as he looked up at Michael, he knew that his response obviously hurt the other man. He didn’t want that either. His features softened with an apologetic smile. It was the best he could do at that point.
Michael seemed to understand. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Brian shrugged his shoulders. It would have been so easy to give Michael the well-rehearsed phrases. Use Ben’s logic. To say that he was just protecting him, that he didn’t want Michael to worry. And maybe, that was part of it. But there were so many other reasons - reasons that he could no longer remember or cared to think about. “I just…didn’t,” he said instead, preparing himself for the ‘we are best friends and supposed to tell each other everything’ speech.
It didn’t come.
“I wish you had,” Michael said. “I feel like I don’t know you at all now.”
Brian looked up at him, meeting Michael’s eyes, surprised. He studied his friend’s face for a brief moment. “I’m who I’ve always been. This other stuff – it’s just work.”
Michael nodded and looked away. Brian watched him for a few seconds. “I should have.”
The other man turned back to him, looking at him quizzically.
“Told you,” Brian added. “I’m not…I don’t know why I didn’t.” Now it was his turn to look away. He picked up his glass and took another sip.
“Ben said Justin’s in trouble,” Michael said.
Brian snickered as he placed his glass down. If that wasn’t an understatement of the century, he didn’t know what was. He brought the half-burnt cigarette to his lips and inhaled. “Yeah,” he breathed out in a puff of smoke.
“He’s gonna be ok,” Michael said, patting Brian’s shoulder.
Brian cocked his head to the side and stared at the other man. “How do you figure that?”
Michael smiled. “Because he’s got you. And you’ll make sure he’s ok. You always did with me. You always got me out of trouble.”
Brian chuckled. “Telling your mother that the porn magazines were mine did not constitute getting you out of trouble.” His expression turned serious again. “At least, not this kind of trouble.” He watched as his cigarette slowly stopped burning in the ashtray.
“That’s not the point. You helped me. And I know you’ll help him too.”
Brian wished it was that easy. “The problem is, I don’t have a fucking clue how,” he admitted as he buried his fingers in his hair, his elbows leaning on the bar counter. “I don’t know what to do.”
He felt Michael’s hand moving up and down his back. “You must really love him,” he said quietly.
Lowering his hands, Brian lifted his head to meet his best friend’s eyes. Suddenly he felt the all too familiar lump forming in his throat. He tried swallowing, but that didn’t do much good. He looked down at the now almost empty glass in front of him. “Justin’s…” his voice cracked. “He’s…the bravest person I’ve ever known,” he breathed out. “He’s saved my life so many times, I’ve lost count.”
The lump in his throat was now starting to suffocate him, his eyes began to sting, but now that he had finally said it out loud, he didn’t want to stop. “He’s risked…” Brian cleared his throat. “Gave up…everything…for me.” He bit his lower lip to stop it from quivering.
He picked up the glass and downed the remnants of his drink. Placing the empty glass down, Brian used his hand to wipe his face as he sniffed a few times.
“Brian…” Michael began, but just then Brian’s cell phone in the pocket of his jacket began to ring.
Swiping with the back of his hand across his eyes one more time, Brian stood up as he pulled the phone out. “Yeah,” he answered as he began to move toward the exit, away from the noise.
There was no answer, though.
“Hello,” he tried again, coming outside.
Again, no answer. His stomach began to twist into a rock. “Justin?” he asked, his voice shaking. Silence. Brian let out a loud sigh as he leaned his head against the wall. “Justin, please, just say something.” He closed his eyes.
“Paris,” he heard and then the line went dead.
Brian stood on the steps to Woody’s, staring at his phone for what seemed like forever. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he turned around.
“Is everything ok?” Michael asked.
Brian glanced down at the phone in his hand, then back up at his best friend. “I think I’m going to Paris.”
Go to Part 11