Author's Notes:
My muse has been a real bitch to me lately, (mostly telling me I'm the worst writer on the face of the planet and so forth), so it took me forever to knock this chapter out. Although, there are 8000+ words as compensation, so it's not all bad!
This chapter is dedicated to Smina and Fish who are the voice of my Chris Hobbs! (Whenever I need something homophobic to say, I shout out and ask them... they always come up with something really inventive... kinda worrying actually!)
Enjoy!
June 5th
Pittsburgh – FBI Field Office
2:10pm
Swiftly pulling open one of the heavy, glass doors, that bore a translucent version of the FBI’s ‘Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity’ emblem, and led back to the main area of the Field Office, Brian couldn’t help but smile mischievously to himself as he imagined, a less-than-composed Ted weaving his way between wall partitions and desks as he fought to keep up with the speedy running pace of Gus.
Poor schmuck.
“What?” Cynthia asked, when she noticed that her boss had a somewhat evil grin on his face.
“Nothing,” Brian replied quickly, immediately altering his expression so that instead of smirking, his features exuded a distinct air of nonchalance. Cynthia simply rolled her eyes, longsuffering of Special Agent Kinney’s asshole façade, and walked away from her seemingly imperturbable boss, in search of the solitude of her desk.
“I want that report finished in thirty minutes,” Brian called after his hastily retreating colleague. Cynthia simply gestured in the air with her large case file, not looking back as she continued to walk to her desk, glad to get away from the brunet who had been in an absolutely horrendous mood since being forced to leave his son’s safety in the hands of a Decryption Specialist.
“Thirty minutes,” Brian shouted, just to make sure that Cynthia was in no doubt as to when the report would be due, as he made his own way through the wall partitions towards, what he thought would be, the certain havoc of Ted’s desk.
As Brian drew closer to the Decryption Specialist, however, he was surprised to find that the older man was typing something calmly, but enthusiastically, into his computer, and that his son was nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Gus?” the FBI agent asked succinctly, standing behind Ted and gazing inquiringly at the computer monitor, as if hoping to find the reason behind his son’s disappearance within the many encoded words and symbols.
“Isn’t he with you?” Ted remarked, stilling his quickly typing fingers and turning back in his black leather chair to face the taller man.
“Why the fuck would I be asking you where Gus is, if he was with me?” Brian snapped.
“Point taken.”
“So, where is he?” Brian asked agitatedly, subconsciously scanning his eyes across the Main Area of the Field Office to look for his son.
“With Ethan,” Ted shrugged, wondering why his boss was getting so pissy with him, when he hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Or at least he didn’t think he had.
“Ethan?” Brian repeated the name back to Ted like it was the most disgusting word that had ever dared to pass his lips.
“He said that you’d given him permission to take Gus on a tour of the Field Office,” Ted explained, shifting uneasily in his seat.
“The fuck I did. I never told Ethan he could do that,” Brian frowned, shaking his head with suspicion.
“Well, I thought it was kind of strange that you’d let Ethan look after Gus, considering that Justin was kidnapped right under his nose, and the fact that you dislike him greatly…” Ted trailed off, swallowing his words when he realised that Brian’s blazing, hazel eyes were boring in to him and trying to reduce his body to a pile of dust.
“Disliking him greatly wouldn’t even come close,” the FBI agent growled. “But then if you know that I wouldn’t even let him within twenty feet of my son, why the fuck would you let Gus go with him?”
“I… He… I…” Ted stammered, completely bewildered now that he was on the receiving end of the Brian’s wrath.
“Well?”
“What was I supposed to do?! Ignore a direct order from one of my superiors? He said that you told him it was okay!” Ted blurted out, holding his arms up in defeat, and leaning back in his chair so that he could edge a little bit further away from the irate Special Agent Kinney.
“But I didn’t!” Brian insisted, unable to control the volume of his voice as complete exasperation rose up inside him.
“Okay, okay, I get that,” Ted offered, hoping that he could defuse the situation somehow. “Look, they’re probably around here somewhere. Maybe Gus needed the bathroom or something?”
“Come on,” Brian stated, nodding his head towards one of the adjoining hallways.
“What?” Ted asked, trying to avoid Brian’s inexorable gaze.
“You’re helping me look for them.”
“But I’ve got three e-mails to decode, at least thirty minutes of surveillance footage from the hospital to analyse and… and…” Ted rambled hopelessly, gesticulating at his computer monitor.
“Get up, off your ass,” Brian ordered, grabbing the Decryption Specialist by the shoulders, practically heaving him out of the chair, “And come help me look for my son.”
“Alright, you don’t have to be so pushy,” Ted muttered, removing himself from the FBI agent’s grasp and getting to his feet.
“Let’s check the interrogation rooms first,” Brian told the older man decisively. The pair set off down the nearest corridor, Ted trailing behind when his legs, that were significantly shorter than Brian’s, couldn’t keep up with his boss’ swift walking pace.
“Would you hurry the fuck up?” Brian hissed, turning back to look angrily at the Decryption Specialist.
“I’m going as fast as I can,” Ted grumbled, tone hushed so that Brian wouldn’t be able to hear his complaint.
“Look, you know what,” Ted began, jogging to catch up with the FBI agent. “Why don’t you just go on ahead. We’ll be able to cover more of this storey if we split up.”
“Fine, whatever,” Brian replied, tearing ahead and disappearing out of sight around a corner.
Ted continued down the corridor at a steady pace, trying distractedly to ignore the uneasy feeling that crept over him as he wondered where on earth Ethan and Gus had disappeared to.
Lost in his thoughts, the Decryption Specialist failed to notice that Special Agent Harper was striding authoritatively towards him.
“Hey,” Jack announced, blocking Ted’s path so that he caught the shorter man’s attention. “Is Brian alright? I just saw him practically running down the hall yelling ‘Gus’ at the top of his voice.”
“No one has any idea where he is,” Ted explained.
“Who? Gus?” Jack replied, slightly confused by the man’s reply.
“Yeah,” Ted answered, glancing around nervously. “And Ethan.”
“Ethan’s missing too?”
“Well, he took Gus for a tour of the Field Office, but he erm…” Ted cleared his throat. “Never came back.”
Jack studied the Decryption Specialist’s apprehensive face for a moment, before taking out his cellphone and dialling the number for the Field Office’s security control room.
“What are you-” Ted cut himself off when the FBI agent held his hand up, signalling that he wanted silence.
“Yeah, hi, it’s Special Agent Harper,” Jack announced in to his cellphone. “Could you do me a favor? I need to know the names of all the agents that have left the premises in the last thirty minutes. Okay.”
Jack waited for the person on the other end of the line to retrieve the information as he maintained anxious eye contact with Ted. It was evident, by the concerned look reciprocated in their eyes, that both were praying Special Agent Gold wouldn’t be on the list of people that had left the building.
“Okay, and that’s it?” Jack questioned, expression unreadable. “Alright, thank you.” He promptly ended the call and stuffed the cellphone back in to his pocket.
“Well?” Ted asked urgently.
“I think we’ve got a problem.”
Pittsburgh - Freeway
2:50pm
Sirens blared and car tyres screeched all around Brian, bombarding his heightened senses, as he drove precariously fast through the busy afternoon traffic.
“God, Brian!” Cynthia exclaimed, when the jeep narrowly missed a collision with an SUV. “Be careful!”
“You try being fucking careful when it’s your son in that car,” Brian yelled back, gripping the steering wheel tightly and swerving in to the breakdown lane.
They had joined the Pittsburgh P.D’s pursuit of Ethan’s car, along with several other tactical vehicles from the Bureau, at least ten miles back, and still the stubborn bastard refused to pull over.
In routine circumstances, Brian would have swiftly ended a chase, such as this, by simply shooting out the fugitives tyres, but with Gus in the car, the FBI agent couldn’t bear to take the risk.
“We’ll get him, Brian,” Cynthia assured, sensing that her boss was almost at breaking point.
“I just…” Brian muttered softly, keeping his fear-saturated eyes on the road ahead. “If anything happens to Gus…”
“We’ll get him,” Cynthia repeated determinedly, pulling her handgun from the holster at her belt and racking the slide mechanism. Brian was about to make a less than optimistic reply when Special Agent Harper’s somewhat distorted voice rang out from the car’s FBI frequency radio.
“Responding units be advised, subject may be armed and dangerous.”
“May be?” Brian’s eyes flashed in disbelief. “It’s obvious he’s gonna have his ten millimetre on him! And fuck knows what else he stole from the armoury!”
“Also, be advised, there is a potential passenger. You are to proceed on my command.”
Brian was on the verge of grabbing the radio and telling all of the various law enforcement units, in a less than polite manner, that his son was not just a ‘passenger’, when he noticed that Ethan’s car had begun to swerve erratically across the road.
“Damn it! The son of a bitch is trying to stop the squad cars from overtaking him,” Cynthia observed, closely watching Ethan’s dangerous and marginally unskilled car manoeuvres, up ahead.
Cynthia’s words and the thunderous noise of FBI helicopter blades soon blurred in to unimportance, however, as the deathly sound of crunching metal echoed through the warm Pittsburgh summer air, cruelly imprinting itself on Brian’s memory and all of his future nightmares.
The FBI agent couldn’t help but stare unblinkingly as Ethan’s car spun out of control, in what seemed to be slow motion, then collided powerfully with the median strip’s concrete barrier, partially imploding the right side of the vehicle.
Instincts completely taking over, Brian slammed on the brakes and brought the jeep to a screeching halt beside Ethan’s battered car. The other tactical vehicles followed suit, forming an inescapable wall of open-doored squad cars and special agents that were poised to shoot anything that hindered their mission within the vicinity of Ethan’s heavily damaged vehicle.
“Open the door, throw your keys on the ground, and get out of the car with your hands on your head!” Jack cogently instructed, his voice amplified by a P.A system. Adrenaline pulsed through Brian’s veins, and it was a miracle that he could even hold his gun, let alone keep it steady enough to shoot anything as he watched Ethan’s leisurely movement within the smashed vehicle.
“Get out of the car, Gold,” Jack ordered, trying to speed the belligerent man up. “We’ve got you surrounded.” A unanimous click of weapons reverberated among the law enforcers as they uneasily prepared for Ethan’s exit.
As soon as the former FBI agent put one foot outside the vehicle, several agents, including Jack, ran at him, tackling him to the floor as they searched his body for weapons and restrained his arms with handcuffs.
Running on autopilot, and almost entirely unaware of what he was doing, Brian also sprinted up to the pinned down Ethan, but with the sole intent of beating the absolute living shit out of him.
All thought of brutal revenge was abruptly forgotten, however, when Brian gazed in to fearful hazel eyes, that perfectly mirrored his own, through one of the wrecked car’s cracked windows.
“Oh, God. Gus,” he said softly, quickly stuffing his handgun back in to its holster and yanking the dented car door open. “Don’t move, sonny boy,” Brian urgently told the four year old, worried that his son’s tiny body may have sustained some injuries from the violent collision.
“Daddy?” Gus whispered, bottom lip quivering and tears threatening to spill.
“Gus, you have to tell Daddy where it hurts, okay?” Brian explained, leaning in to the car so that he was knelt on the backseat beside his son.
“I’m scared,” Gus whimpered, allowing his father to remove the seatbelt that still held him tightly in place.
“I know. I know,” Brian comforted, cupping the four year old’s face and stroking his cheek soothingly. “But I need you to tell me if you got hurt in the accident.”
Thankfully, the FBI agent’s worst fears were refuted, when Gus threw his small arms around the man’s neck, and pulled his father close. The small boy buried his face in the expensive, black fabric of Brian’s matching Armani suit jacket and shirt, letting his father’s familiar and unique scent of cologne, coffee beans and luxury coconut soap, soothe him.
“I didn’t get hurted, Daddy,” Gus murmured reassuringly in to the FBI agent’s shoulder, realising, with an intuition far beyond his years, that his father was probably just as afraid as he was.
“Are you sure?” Brian asked, drawing back from the embrace to gently run his hands and eyes over Gus’ body, vigilantly checking for injuries.
“That horrible man said he was going to shoot me, ‘cause I was yelling too loud, but he didn’t get to, ‘cause we had a car crash,” the small boy eventually disclosed, haphazardly wiping a stray tear away from where it trailed down his reddened cheek. “Daddy, it made me so scared.”
“I know, it’s okay, sonny boy,” Brian encouraged comfortingly, pulling Gus back in to the protection of his arms and lifting him slowly out of the smashed carcass of Ethan’s car.
Blue and red lights persistently flashed, raised voices barked out orders, and squad car sirens still echoed loudly all around them, but the brunet somehow managed to disregard it all, on the steady journey back to the jeep, focusing resolutely on only one person. His son.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now. I’ve got you,” he whispered hoarsely in Gus’ ear, shielding the small boy from the fierce helicopter blade induced wind, that unrelentingly tousled their clothes and hair. “You’re safe, sonny boy.”
Pittsburgh - Unknown Location
3:30pm
Eyes closed tightly and knees hugged to his bare and bruised chest for comfort, Justin slept almost peacefully, as his body tried to recover from the dreadful events that it had been subjected to over the past few days.
Lost in wonderfully graphic and drug-enhanced dreams of Brian, that mostly consisted of licking, sucking, rimming and fucking the gorgeous FBI agent, Justin finally got a rest from the terrifying thoughts that usually frequented his mind whilst he was awake in this terrible place.
Breathing deeply, and softly snoring in slumber, the blond didn’t even notice another presence quietly entering the room.
Chris, who had been festering ever since his altercation with Cody, menacingly loomed over the contentedly sleeping younger man, and leered at him with a look of pure hatred in his cold, unforgiving eyes.
“Fucking faggot,” the kidnapper hissed through clenched teeth, contemplating the obscene acts that Justin and Cody had committed together in this very room. If Chris was absolutely honest with himself, the thought of Cody and Justin fucking didn’t disgust him quite as much as he would have liked.
Quite the opposite, in fact. In a twist of beautifully cruel irony, Chris, the fag-hater, the gay-basher, actually wanted to experience the said ‘obscene’ acts with Justin for himself and just the idea of it was driving him crazy.
Shaking his head to try and clear the conflicted notions of self-hatred and incomprehensible lust from his mind, Chris leaned forward so that his mouth was directly over Justin’s ear.
“Wake up, faggot,” he whispered obnoxiously, hot breath rustling the blond’s still partially damp hair.
The harsh sound of Chris’ voice penetrated Justin’s subconscious, not waking him, but inciting the vulnerable blond to roll over and hug his legs ever closer to his body as if he knew, even in sleep, that danger was near by.
“I said wake up!” Chris suddenly yelled, fingers gripping Justin’s skin tightly as he roughly shook the blond.
A small cry of distress escaped Justin’s throat as he abruptly regained consciousness, eyes shooting open in alarm and surprise.
Even though it was blatantly obvious to Chris that the blond was awake, he still continued to viciously shake the younger man. It was almost as if the kidnapper hoped that, by moving the blond back and forth so violently, he’d be able to make all of the sordid homosexual fragments, of Justin’s broken body, simply fall out.
“Fucking queer,” Chris spat out, halting his actions so that he could hiss his cruel words right in the blond’s face. Justin closed his eyes and tried to look away, wondering fearfully if the homophobic kidnapper was going to use this opportunity to kill him.
“I know what you did,” Chris growled, frowning angrily when the blond refused to look at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Justin managed to hoarsely gasp out, struggling for purchase, with his feet, on the threadbare mattress.
“Don’t fucking act all innocent with me. I heard you!” Chris fumed, tightening his grip on the blond’s forearms. “Harder, Cody! Faster, Cody! Does that ring any bells?”
“Oh, shit,” Justin whispered inaudibly, finally realising what the hell Chris was going on about.
“You wait ‘til my boss hears about this,” Chris continued smugly. “Cody’ll have a bullet in his head before he even knows what’s happened to him.”
“No,” Justin whimpered, unable to stop the word before it passed his lips.
“Oh, yes,” Chris retorted, pleased that his mind-games were getting to the blond. “You’ll probably have the pleasure of digging a grave for Cody’s cold, dead body.”
“No! Shut up!” Justin cried desperately, beating fisted hands against Chris’ chest, trying with all of his strength to push the kidnapper away.
“And it’ll be all your fault,” Chris taunted, smiling vindictively when the blond’s futile attempts at escape had no effect whatsoever.
“Shut the fuck up!” Justin yelled distraughtly, rivulets of fresh tears running down his bruised, and somewhat swollen, face. Chris’ words swarmed around the blond’s mind, conjuring a traumatizing array of disturbing images.
The whole scenario, of Cody’s clearly described death, played itself out disturbingly graphically in Justin’s imagination.
Hearing the crack of a gun as Cody was shot… Watching as the blood poured from a circular hole in the center of the kidnapper’s forehead and his eyes permanently glazed with the icy tones of death and fear…
Dumping Cody’s cold and rigor-mortised body in to the ground… Shovelling dusty earth in to an unskilfully dug grave… Seeing the soil cascading down on to the kidnappers pale, lifeless face.
“Stop it! Just stop it!” Justin shouted, shaking his head from side to side, in an attempt to blur the terrifying thoughts that resided within it. Whether it was the drugs that still flowed curtly through his bloodstream, the horrendousness of the situation itself, or a combination of both, Justin simply couldn’t rid himself of horrifying scenes that kept playing out, over and over, in his mind.
As soon as the imagined task of burying Cody’s dead body was completed, the nightmare would begin again, except it’s horror and vividness would increase by ten fold.
“Please, stop,” Justin gasped out exhaustedly, tears flowing freely where he had no emotional control to prevent them.
“Then you’ll be next,” Chris smirked pitilessly, assuming that the blond was begging for him to stop. “I can’t wait to see the look on your mother’s face when we give your fucked up body back to her. She probably won’t even be able to recognise-”
“What the fuck’s going on in here?”
Both Chris and Justin swiftly turned towards the doorway to see Cody, arms folded across his chest, leaning against the doorframe.
“Nothing’s ‘going on’ in here,” Chris snapped, even though it was transparently obvious that he was lying.
“Doesn’t look like nothing, Chris,” Cody intoned, gesticulating at Justin and moving deeper in to the room. “Put him down, and get the fuck out of here.”
“Fuck you,” Chris growled, inadvertently shaking the blond’s body with each syllable that he spoke.
“Put him down, and get the fuck out of here,” Cody calmly repeated, withdrawing his handgun, from where it was hidden in the waistband at the back of his pants, and pointing it determinedly at Chris.
Once again, face to face with the barrel of Cody’s gun, and severely outmatched, the kidnapper had no choice but to comply with the other’s commands. He practically threw Justin’s weak frame back against the dirty mattress, unconcerned that the heavy impact might further injure the blond, and strode out of the room, deliberately bumping in to Cody’s outstretched arm when he passed.
When he was sure that Chris had retreated, Cody swiftly shut the door and returned the gun to it’s hiding place in the waistband of his pants. Making his way over to the softly sobbing blond, that had returned to his previous self-embrace of the foetal position, Cody reached out a hand and soothingly rubbed Justin’s back.
Mindful of the bruises, the kidnapper didn’t press too hard, but maintained a significantly comforting massage pattern on the blond’s trembling form as he tried to console him.
“It’s okay, Justin,” Cody whispered, brushing some stray hairs from the younger man’s forehead.
“It’s not okay,” Justin cried, turning his tear-streaked face away from the kidnapper and into the pillow.
“It will be,” Cody reassured, taking off his hooded sweatshirt and draping it across the blond’s torso, partly to hide the bruises that he felt so guilty for, and partly to stop the younger man from being cold.
“It won’t be okay!” Justin suddenly blurted out, sitting up and allowing the jacket to fall from his shoulders. “Chris said that he’s going to kill you for fucking me! He said that it’ll be all my fault!”
“Well, he won’t get the chance to ‘cause we’re getting out of here,” Cody replied expressionlessly, wrapping his jacket back around the blond’s shivering upper body.
“I… What?” Justin stuttered, gazing confusedly at his kidnapper.
“I don’t want to be a part of this any more, so I’m getting out of here,” Cody explained, making eye contact with the blond, in an effort to convince him that he was telling the truth. “And I’m taking you with me. I couldn’t live with myself if I left you with these homophobic fucks.”
“But why?” Justin asked, wondering why on earth the person that had kidnapped him, now wanted to help him escape.
“None of this was part of the deal,” Cody gestured at the freshly opened cut that marred Justin’s forehead. “I’ll be the first to admit that I’m more than willing to break the law, and I’ve done so, on more than one occasion, but this is going too far, even for me. I refuse to be part of this. I won’t beat, maim and torture fellow fags.”
“That’s what they were going to do to me?” Justin whispered, edging closer to Cody, comforted by the ostensible solidarity of the man.
“I don’t know for sure,” Cody admitted, draping his arm around the blond’s shoulders. “In this business we’re told what we need to know, nothing more, so I can only hazard a guess at the fucked up things they were planning to do to you.”
“Oh, God,” Justin bit back another sob, emotions on tenterhooks.
“Hey, don’t be a pussy about it,” Cody chastised, pulling the blond closer. “We’re getting out of here aren’t we?” Justin nodded doubtfully against the kidnapper’s chest, wrapping his arms around the man’s torso to form a mutual embrace.
The blond didn’t know whether it was possible or even fathomable to attempt escape, but right now Cody was offering the opportunity to him, and he simply wasn’t going to refuse.
Pittsburgh - FBI Field Office
4:15pm
Since arriving back at the Field Office almost twenty minutes ago, after the exhausting but amazingly successful car chase, Brian had spent all of his time in his office with Gus, vigilantly watching the small boy’s every breath and not allowing him out of his sight.
Even the FBI agent’s intense desire to leave the office and make his way over to the interrogation rooms so that he could beat the shit out of Ethan had been put on a back burner. For now at least.
Gus’ safety was the most important thing right now, and nothing, Brian vowed, would ever come this close to harming his son ever again.
The FBI agent gazed down anxiously at his son, watching the almost hypnotic rise and fall of the small boy’s chest as he slept.
“What are we going to do, sonny boy?” Brian sighed quietly, tightening his gentle hold around Gus, and leaning forward so that his nose was buried in the boy’s downy hair.
“What the fuck are we going to do?” To exhausted to wake at his father’s concerned utterances, Gus simply turned in his sleep, rubbing his face imperceptibly against the man’s shirt and using it as a make-shift pillow.
Brian still couldn’t quite believe that Gus had managed to escape the whole ordeal without a single scratch to his perfectly fragile body. The emotional wounds were yet to be seen, but the FBI agent was cautiously optimistic that his son would bounce back from psychological trauma at the same efficient rate as he had at that age. Although, getting a slap and being told that you’re a ‘worthless piece of shit’, and a ’fucking fairy’, by a father in a drunken rage, was marginally different to being kidnapped by a maniac FBI agent.
Delicately stroking Gus’ wonderfully soft cheek, Brian wondered who was actually comforting who with the lengthy embrace that they currently shared. At least, in his opinion, this time spent ‘rescuing’ his son qualified him to be a remotely good father.
The FBI agent was just beginning to contemplate how astonishing it was that he could gather so much strength from such a tiny person, when he noticed Lindsay staring fearfully at him through the partially open-blinded office window.
“Look, sonny boy, your Mommy’s here,” Brian said, forcing his voice to be bright and enthusiastic in tone as he softly woke Gus.
“Huh?” the boy asked wearily, wiping his tired eyes with the palm of his hand and squirming sluggishly in his father’s lap.
“Oh, and your other Mommy’s here too,” Brian observed, eyebrow raised as he tried to maintain the same wholehearted tone when he noticed that Melanie was also standing outside his office, with a look of absolute disapproval and anger etched on her face.
“Mommy!” Gus exclaimed, clambering down from the white couch and eagerly running to meet Lindsay, where she waited nervously in the doorway.
“Hi, sweetie,” Lindsay smiled, picking her son up, and wrapping him protectively in her arms. Melanie joined the embrace, glaring angrily at Brian, over the boy’s shoulder, as she affectionately ruffled Gus’ hair.
“Gus, are you hurt, honey?” Melanie asked, taking a step back so that she could look over the boy’s body.
“No, he’s not hurt. He’s fine,” Brian interrupted, getting up from his comfortable position on the white couch so that he could draw himself up to full height. There was just something about being taller than Melanie that made him feel like he had the advantage.
“I didn’t ask you,” Melanie snapped, scowling at the FBI agent.
“Could we not fight about this,” Lindsay pleaded, always the peacemaker in this recurrently volatile situation.
“How can you not be angry about what happened?” Melanie hissed, exasperated by Lindsay’s inability to express her true feelings.
“I just don’t think this is the right time,” Lindsay replied steadily, WASP persona taking over as she moved to sit down on the couch with Gus.
“When is the right time?” Melanie asked, voice raised as she began to gesticulate furiously. “Why don’t we just tell this asshole, right now, that he endangered the life of our child?”
“Hey!” Brian exclaimed indignantly, moving forward to square off with the irate lesbian.
“Well, it’s true,” Melanie declared. “Gus could have been seriously injured!”
“No, he could not have been seriously injured,” Brian growled, defensively placing his hands on his hips. “I had a whole tact. team of special agents working that pursuit, not to mention the Pittsburgh P.D-”
“Oh, the Pittsburgh P.D? That fills me with great confidence,” Melanie interjected sarcastically.
“Shut the fuck up,” Brian retorted, finally losing his temper. “You have no fucking idea what happened.”
“Don’t tell me that, like you’re some fucking hero,” Melanie yelled, pointing threateningly at the FBI agent. “You’ve probably caused Gus permanent psychological damage.”
“You’re both going to cause Gus permanent psychological damage if you keep on yelling like that,” Lindsay suddenly exclaimed, bringing the argument to an abrupt halt.
Both Melanie and Brian stared irately at each other, neither finished with berating the other, but knowing that they had to put a stop to the argument because it was upsetting their son.
“I’m sorry, honey,” Melanie apologised through gritted teeth, sitting beside her wife on the couch and gazing ashamedly at Gus, who had his eyes closed and his right hand gripping his mother’s jacket so tightly that his knuckles were white.
“Sonny boy,” Brian said quietly, upon making the same guilt-generating observation as Melanie. “It’s okay. Daddy didn’t mean to yell. We’re just really worried about you, that’s all.”
“Brian, maybe you should give us a couple minutes alone?” Lindsay suggested, eager to get the FBI agent and Melanie away from each other, knowing that their anger was still bubbling furiously under the surface.
“Fine,” Brian huffed, making his way to the door, feeling doubly annoyed at being rejected by the mother of his child and at being told to get out of his own office. “I’ll go get you some coffee.”
Lindsay, sensing the FBI agent’s displeasure, gave him a sympathetic smile and a nod, knowing, through years of time spent with Brian, that this would probably appease her friend’s hot-blooded temperament.
“You want some coffee?” Brian tersely asked Melanie, contemplating whether he should spit in it.
“No,” Melanie stated, frown still in place. After a small nudge from Lindsay, however, the lawyer seemed to find it in her heart to add a ‘thank you’ to her rather abrupt statement.
“Unless otherwise instructed, you are to remain in this part of the Field Office,” Brian ordered, reverting back to the assertive FBI agent mindset that helped him deal with, and detach himself from, these awkward situations. “If there’s a problem, just shout, or press the panic button under my desk, and someone will come help you.”
Striding authoritatively from the room and setting off down the corridor Brian smiled inwardly at his small victory over Melanie. It was fun and strangely satisfying to order her around for a change. Considering the terrible circumstances, though, it wasn’t that much of a victory, the FBI agent concluded regretfully, as he poured out two cups of steaming hot coffee.
But, there was always time for retribution, and Brian had the perfect victim to take out his repressed frustration on.
Pittsburgh - FBI Field Office
4:50pm
“I’m warning you now, Brian, if anything gets out of hand in there, or you don’t do things by the book, I’ll pull you out so fast, that your feet won’t even touch the floor,” Jack threatened, arms folded determinedly across his chest.
“What do you think I’m going to do to Ethan?” Brian asked, defensively mirroring his boss’ stance, “Beat the shit out of him?”
“I’m not saying that,” Jack replied, although the thought had crossed his mind. “I just know that half the time you’re ruled by your head, and the other half you’re ruled by your heart.” Brian was about to interrupt, but Jack waved him off. “How can I be sure that you won’t let your personal involvement with this case get in the way of the interrogation?”
“You have my word,” Brian declared sincerely. Jack incredulously studied the younger man’s anxious face for a moment, trying to decide whether he could really trust Brian around the man that had tried to kidnap his son.
“Fine, go in there and see if you can get some sense out of the bastard,” he finally relented, gesturing at the interrogation room that Ethan currently resided in.
Brian didn’t need telling twice. In less than twenty seconds, he had removed his suit jacket, unfastened the top button of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves, ready for the most intense interrogation of his entire FBI career.
“Hello, Ethan,” Brian announced smugly as he entered the dimly lit interrogation room. Ethan immediately shifted his gaze, from where it was fixed on a blank part the wall, to the FBI agent, and stared disbelievingly.
“I want someone else,” he stated disrespectfully, leaning back in his chair as far as the handcuffs on his right wrist would allow him.
“Well, you’re stuck with me,” Brian replied smoothly, closing the door and swiftly making his way across the room. He neatly placed his suit jacket on the back of the only other chair within the confined space, and took up a seat opposite the loathsome, oleaginous man.
“I said, I want someone else,” Ethan repeated, tone laced with a combination of fear and malice.
“Sorry, not going to happen,” Brian frowned, placing a case file down heavily on the metal table that separated him from the former FBI agent. Ethan shifted uneasily in his seat at the harsh sound, clenching and unclenching his hands in an attempt to dispel the apprehension that flowed through his body.
“So, who are you working for?” Brian asked brusquely, getting straight to the point.
“Look, it’s not what you think,” Ethan insisted, bravado fading under Brian’s unwavering gaze.
“I don’t care if it’s not what I think,” Brian replied, clasping his hands together and leaning forward so that his forearms were resting on the table. “I just want to know who you’re working for.”
“I c-can’t tell you,” Ethan stammered, the severity of the situation finally beginning to sink in.
“Come on, Ethan!” Brian yelled, slamming his hands down powerfully against the metal table and standing up so that he loomed intimidatingly over the younger man.
“I don’t know anything!” Ethan shouted back, breaking under his own guilt and Brian’s forceful interrogation technique.
“Then who’d you call from your cellphone?” Brian asked, the timbre of his voice slightly calmer as he regained control over his anger.
“What?” Ethan swallowed, wondering how the fuck they had managed to find out about his cellphone call.
“We caught your conversation on the parking lot surveillance,” Brian revealed, flipping offhandedly through the pages of the case file. “Theodore’s working it up now. Did you know he could lip read?”
Ethan shook his head dejectedly, stealing glances at the numerous pictures displayed in the cardboard file. Each document showed a clear screen-captured image of him, manhandling Gus, in the Field Office’s parking lot, and then in his car.
“Oh, this one’s very interesting,” Brian mused sarcastically, turning one of the papers around and pushing it across the table towards Ethan. “A signal scrambler. Now why would you need one of those?”
“Look, I’ve had it with your smartass comments!” Ethan suddenly yelled, using his freehand to throw the piece of paper back at the older man.
“And I’ve had it with you!” Brian growled, advancing on Ethan. “You’re gonna start talking, right now! Give me some fucking useful information!”
“But he never told me anything!” Ethan blurted out.
“He? Who’s ‘he’? The person you’re working for?” Brian asked, leaning so that he was sat against the table in front of the former FBI agent. “If you know something-”
“I don’t know his name,” Ethan disclosed quietly, holding his head in his free hand, to avoid looking the taller man in the eye. “He just told me what to do, and I did it.”
“And what did he tell you to do?” Brian questioned, softening his voice to encourage the younger man to keep talking. “Ethan, what did he tell you to do?” The former FBI agent simply shook his head, trying to hide the tears that had suddenly welled up in his eyes.
“Oh, shit, you let Justin go with that bogus nurse on purpose, didn’t you,” Brian said quietly, as the realisation dawned on him. “You weren’t just being fucking negligent, you let him go. It was all planned, wasn’t it?”
“I didn’t know what to do! I needed the money,” Ethan trembled, still refusing to look at the older man.
“Needed money for what?!” Brian shouted, frustrated that Ethan wouldn’t give him a straight answer. “How much fucking money did they give you?!”
“Fifty thousand,” Ethan admitted hesitantly.
“Fifty thousand?!” Brian scoffed, as if addressing an imaginary audience within the interrogation room. “All it took was fifty thousand dollars for him to turn his back on his country and become a traitor!”
“You don’t know what it’s like!” Ethan cried hoarsely, throwing his unrestrained arm up in desperation.
“Oh, I know exactly what it’s like!” Brian shot back, loosing his patience. “I know that you’re a traitor to the Bureau, and you’re a traitor to this country! But most of all, and this is what really pisses me the fuck off, I know that you’re a traitor to me, and you tried to kidnap my son!”
“So, this is what it’s all about?!” Ethan yelled, eyes flashing with crazed anger. “Your son?! Hotshot Special Agent Brian fucking Kinney not being in control for once. Well, fuck you!”
“This isn’t about me, you stupid fuck, it’s about you!” Brian shouted, leaning right in Ethan’s face to intimidate him.
“Yeah? Well, if it’s about me, then I want immunity!” Ethan hissed maliciously. “I’m not saying another fucking word until I get immunity from any bullshit allegations you’re going to make!”
“You’re not in a position to make deals,” Brian spat, barely containing his temper.
“I just wish I’d gotten away with it so you could bring some real charges against me,” Ethan taunted, gaining confidence from the FBI agent’s obvious suffering. “You’re such an asshole. It would have been fun to see you cry over your dead son.”
Whatever was helping Brian to control his anger completely vanished in that moment. Before Ethan even knew what was happening, Brian had shoved him backwards, knocking the chair over, and had pressed a regulation FBI handgun to his temple. Ethan struggled fearfully under Brian’s ridiculously firm hold, unable to move more than a few inches at a time, because his arm was still handcuffed to the toppled chair.
“You fucking talk, right now!” Brian yelled, grabbing the younger man’s face and clicking the gun’s safety off as he dug the weapon deeper in to Ethan’s skin. “Tell me everything!”
“Brian! What the fuck are you doing?! Get off him!”
Jack voice suddenly penetrated the FBI agent’s subconscious, and even though Brian knew the rational thing to do was obey the command, he simply couldn’t bring himself to move away from Ethan.
“That’s an order! Brian, step away from him!” Jack shouted, grabbing Brian’s rigid shoulders and using all of his strength to pull the man off Ethan’s sprawled form. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Still engulfed by a seemingly impervious veil of anger and hatred, Brian couldn’t help but fight against Special Agent Harper’s grip, struggling forward and refusing to give up his weapon.
“Kinney!” Jack warned, scolding Brian in a way that was reminiscent of how a father might scold a child. The ironic notion that his actual father shared the same name with his boss unexpectedly crept its way in to Brian’s mind, forcing him to think lucidly for the first time since his uncontrollable rage had begun.
He immediately relinquished the handgun to Jack, and stepped back, breathing heavily, slightly disbelieving of what he had just done.
“Get outside, now!” Jack ordered firmly, pointing to the open door, where half of the Field Office’s staff had stopped what they were doing to stare at the spectacle. Casting one last hateful glance at the floor-bound Ethan, Brian strode from the room and headed straight for Special Agent Harper’s office, where assumed that he was expected to go.
Everything seemed to blur around him as he walked. The shocked faces of his colleagues and the multitude of high-tech computers paled in to nothingness. All Brian could focus on was the tirade of emotions that equivocally flowed through him.
He briefly heard Jack’s voice behind him say, “What do you think this is? A fucking spectator sport? Get back to work, people,” but it seemed distant and unimportant compared to the emotional turmoil that confined his thoughts.
“In here,” Jack instructed, tone slightly softer as he guided Brian in to his office. The door was closed, and the blinds were shut, completely secluding them from the prying eyes of the Field Office.
“Sit,” Jack ordered, gesturing to one of the desk chairs.
“I’d prefer to stand,” Brian intoned defiantly, still enraged.
“Stop fucking around and sit down,” Jack barked, folding his arms and leaving no room for argument. Reluctantly, Brian complied and slumped down in to the chair.
“What the hell do you think you were doing?” Jack hissed, placing the gun that he wrestled out of Brian’s grasp down heavily on the glass surface of his desk.
“Didn’t you hear what that fucker said?” Brian shot back, a pained expression distorting his features as he pointed in the direction of the door.
“You promised me, Brian,” Jack chastised. “You gave me your word.”
“Well, you of all of people should know what bullshit ‘my word’ is,” Brian spat, being purposefully uncooperative.
“I gave you a chance,” Jack continued, unperturbed by the younger man’s lack of guilt, “and you completely betrayed my trust. Not only that but you betrayed our friendship-”
“Fuck that,” Brian interrupted loudly. “Ethan betrayed the whole fucking country, but I don’t see you busting his balls.”
“You were out of line, Kinney,” Jack shouted, pointing aggressively at the FBI agent.
“What the fuck are you getting angry at me for?” Brian yelled back, leaping out of his chair.
“Sit down!” Jack practically roared, unintimidated.
“Make me!” Brian snarled, moving so close to Special Agent Harper that their bodies were almost touching.
“Brian,” Jack warned, his piercing blue eyes meeting unwavering and intense hazel. “Bri-” he began again, but was cut off when the younger man’s lips suddenly claimed his in a punishing kiss.
A strong hand found it’s way to the back of Special Agent Harper’s head and fingers entangled themselves in his hair as the palm edged him forward. Brian literally ravished the older man’s mouth in an angry and poetically passionate kiss that exuded an almost primitive form of lust.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jack asked breathlessly, breaking away and gazing with confusion at the younger man.
“I’m rekindling some beautiful memories,” Brian shrugged dismissively, leaning back in to continue the kiss.
“Stop, Brian,” Jack swallowed, encouraging his voice to sound less ragged.
“I know you want this, Jack,” Brian persisted, pressing his hot and sweaty body up against the older man. “I know you want me to kiss you. To suck you. To fuck you. You want me inside you so badly that you’d do anything.”
“Do you know how fucking absurd this is?” Jack exclaimed, easily seeing through the younger man’s well-practised diversion tactic. He knew, in Brian’s mind, that sex was the undoubted answer to everything.
The magical solution to all of life’s problems.
Hell, Jack had even shared the same flawed opinion once, but things were different now. He was different. Older, wiser, more experienced, whatever the fuck you wanted to call it, Special Agent Harper had changed, and he absolutely wasn’t going to let Brian fuck him… No matter how much they both wanted it.
“Get out,” Jack stated quietly, gazing disappointedly into the taller man’s eyes.
“What?” Brian whispered, not wanting to believe that he had been rejected.
“I said, get out,” Jack repeated evenly.
“But Jack I-” Brian began, hastily drawing himself away from the older man and running an apprehensive hand through his tousled hair.
“Go to your office and catch up on your paperwork,” Jack said monotonously. “You are not to go near Ethan. You are not to work on this case. I’m suspending you from your position as Assistant Special Agent in Charge.”
“You can’t do that!” Brian blurted out, verging on hysterical.
“I can, and I have,” Jack said, hating that he had to punish the younger man, but knowing that, in these circumstances, he had to. “Until further notice, you will only have the clearance privileges of a Special Agent, and if I catch you doing anything, anything, related to the Taylor case, I’ll suspend you completely. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Brian breathed, too shocked to argue.
“Here,” Jack frowned, picking up the handgun from his desk and shoving it in Brian’s hand. “Take your weapon, and get the fuck out of my office.”
Brian stared at the heavy, metal object in his hand for a few seconds, dazed, before walking dejectedly from Special Agent Harper’s office and making his way down the hall. Shoulders hunched and pace slow, a complete contrast to how he usually carried himself, Brian stumbled towards his own office, desperately trying to get his head around what had just happened.
About to walk through the translucent, glass office door, he irritably remembered that Lindsay, Melanie and Gus were still inside. Shit. Unwilling to face the annoying questions and comments, that were likely to arise if he entered the room, the FBI agent set off, back down the corridor, anger building at the absolute unfairness of his entire situation.
It wasn’t his fault some deranged fuck wanted to kidnap his kid.
To kidnap Justin.
Justin…
How the hell could he get himself thrown off the case when Justin was probably stuck in some God awful place having fuck knows what done to him?
Brian’s anger steadily channelled its way into guilt with every step that he took, leaving him absolutely desperate and isolated.
This was Brian Kinney’s worst nightmare.
He wasn’t in control...
But he could be…
Swiftly changing direction, once again, Brian stalked his way back towards the Interrogation Rooms.
“Shit,” he whispered to himself when he noticed that a rather burly Special Agent had been placed in front of the door to guard Ethan’s room. Striding up with a false arrogance and confidence, Brian flashed his credential to enter the room, but the Special Agent blocked his path.
“I’m on strict orders not to let anyone in,” the agent explained, eyeing the ragged brunet warily.
“Oh, I have the authorisation,” Brian lied, repositioning his tie to appear nonchalant.
“Well, I can call and clear it with Special Agent Harper-” the Special Agent began.
“No!” Brian interrupted frantically, before he could stop himself. “I mean, it’s okay. I’ll talk to Jack myself.” The agent nodded, but still looked unconvinced, as Brian turned as though he were about to walk away.
Stopping, Special Agent Kinney shut his eyes briefly, unconvinced whether he could actually go through with what he had planned. Deciding that desperate times called for desperate measures, Brian suddenly doubled over, groaning in mock pain.
“Hey, are you alright?” the Special Agent asked worriedly, moving to the brunet’s side and placing his arm around Brian’s shoulders.
“Yeah, I just, I just,” Brian gasped out, holding his abdomen convincingly.
“You wha-?” the agent began, but stopped, unable to finish his sentence, because Brian had skilfully used his distactedness to punch him in the face. The man fell to the ground, knocked out cold.
Not wasting a second, the brunet quickly grabbed the man’s underarms and pulled him along the floor and in to Ethan’s Interrogation Room.
“What the f-” Ethan began, when Brian burst in to the room, but was quickly silenced when the older man pointed his gun at him.
“You say one word, one fucking word, and you’re dead,” Brian hissed, haphazardly pulling the unconscious agent in to a sitting position in the corner of the room. “You are to follow my every instruction, got it?” Ethan nodded, staring fearfully at the cataleptic man and wondering if he would share the same fate if he didn’t comply with Special Agent Kinney’s commands.
“Get up. Let’s go,” Brian stated tersely, unlocking Ethan’s handcuffs and grabbing him by the arm so that he could yank him out of the chair.
“W-where are we going?” Ethan asked nervously, his voice barely a whisper as the older man dragged him down the corridor, gun pressed to the small of his back.
“You’re going to take me where you were going to take my son,” came Brian’s blunt reply.