“Brian? I’ve been in the car for the past twenty minutes, what the fuck is taking so long? I’m starving,” Carl complains in a huff as he closes the motel room’s door behind him. Brian stares at the phone in his hand. “They called.” Carl is silent for a moment, waiting for something, anything… when Brian doesn’t say anything else, he finally speaks, “What did they say?” Looking up, Brian’s face is anything but relieved when he answers, “They want to strike up a deal.” Frowning, Carl leans against the wall, “Why do I have a feeling this deal isn’t something I want to hear?” *************** BACK IN LONDON ************************ “I don’t think we can fit everything in these bags anymore,” Molly exclaims in frustration. Justin shrugs, “We’ll have to leave some stuff here then.” “No fuckin’ way!” She shrieks, hugging her new pink coat against her chest. Rolling his eyes, he gestures to his clothing, “Fine, we’re leave my shit here and just take yours. I can buy more stuff in Amsterdam.” She frowns, not satisfied, “You’re being difficult, Justin.” “Am I?” Justin asks, arching his brows. He wanted to fight. He wanted to scream… he wanted to sleep. Sighing, he looks back at the window, “He isn’t coming back,” he whispers. Molly starts emptying one of the bags, “We knew that already, Justin. He was going to call first.” Justin shakes his head, “No, I mean, something happened to him. They killed him.” “Back to the morbid-talk,” she complains as she begins to refold the clothing into a tighter design. Closing his eyes, he wonders if Gus will one day forgive him. ************ Birmingham ********************** “What the fuck?” Carl asks, sitting down in the closest chair. Brian rubs his tongue against the inside of his cheek. He didn’t really know what else to say. “You aren’t going to go through with it are you?” Carl asks. When Brian doesn’t answer, he continues in alarm, “They’ll probably just kill you too, you know: to get rid of the evidence and witness… shit, Brian, what have you gotten yourself into?” Looking up finally, Brian smirks, “That’s where you come in.” “Pardon?” “Well,” Brian continues, leaning back against the bed, “You and those British cops you’ve befriended here.” “I’ll say this again,” Carl repeats, “What the hell have you gotten yourself into? This isn’t the fuckin’ Sopranos, Kinney!” “Good to know, thanks,” Brian answers with a smirk. He shakes his head, “You can’t go through with this.” “Why not?” Brian asks, already feeling empowered as he stands up and goes over to the tape recorder, “If the shit hits the fans, we’ll at least have this.” “Not much good if you’re dead,” Carl counters. “Well let’s try to prevent that, shall we?” He asks, tongue in cheek. Shrugging, he continues, “And if it happens, at least this tape can get into the right hands, and Justin and Molly can stop running.” Carl exhales slowly, “There’s no changing your mind, is there?” Brian smiles, “There never was.” ********************** LONDON ************************** “Okay, so now we have a problem,” Molly states matter-of-factly as she stares at the overstuffed bags on Justin’s bed. Justin looks at them, “How the hell are we going to carry these?” She nods, “Shit.” Nodding, he smiles, “I guess we didn’t think this through.” “And you’re smiling because…?” He shrugs, “It’s so pathetic that it’s actually funny.” Rolling her eyes, she mutters, “I liked you better when you were sleeping.” “Whatever. If you want to leave tonight, then we need to leave some shit here.” Sighing, she sits down on the bed, “Fine. But let’s order room service first because I’m hungry.” Justin nods, reaching for the phone. It suddenly rings and they both jump in surprise. Picking it up, Justin cautiously answers, “Hello?” “I don’t bite, Sunshine… at least not on the phone,” Brian adds with a smirk that Justin can only imagine through the phone lone. “Brian!” Justin exclaims, relief flooding him. “You’re alive!” “Of course I’m alive. I’m like Teflon, remember?” “You’re more like a cat.” Brian frowns, “Don’t ever use me in the same sentence as pussy.” Justin laughs, and it’s like music in Brian’s ears. “I’m glad you’re okay, Brian.” “You guys okay there?” Brian asks. Looking over at the packed bags, Justin curls his finger around the phone’s cord, “Yeah.” “Good,” Brian replies, “Look, we’ve struck a deal and everything is going to work out.” “What? How? You don’t have anything that they can’t already just take,” Justin responds in confusion. “It doesn’t matter, Justin. Just know that you and Molly don’t have to run anymore.” “What the fuck are you taking about? Brian, it does matter, what kind of deal did they make with you?” Justin asks, his temper starting to flare. “Jesus Christ, Justin. Enough with the drama queen shit.” “Asshole, just tell me.” Brian is silent for a moment. “Brian?” “I’m here.” “They’ll kill you, you know.” “Justin,” Brian begins. “No,” Justin shakes his head. “If you aren’t telling me, then I know it’s something bad. And if it’s something that bad, then you probably aren’t going to make it out alive.” “Justin, stop being so---” “We’re leaving.” “What?” Brian hopes he misheard. “Molly and I are already packed. I want you and Carl to leave England and go back home.” “The fuck we will,” Brian argues angrily. “We’re leaving, and I’m not telling you where we’re going.” “Fuck you, Justin. Your ass better still be in that hotel room---” “Or what?” Justin asks, his voice wavering, “Not much you can do or take away from me that hasn’t already been taken away… I love you, Brian. Which is why I’m letting you go.” “Justin, you’ve lost your damn mind.” Justin smiles softly, “Probably. But it won’t change anything.” “Justin, we can do this.” “They’ll kill you, Brian. I can’t live knowing that you died for me. It isn’t fair. I want you to live the life you deserve… one that isn’t life-threatening.” The line is silent. “Brian, go home.” “You’re my home,” Brian says quietly. “What?” Justin asks, not sure if he heard right. “You heard me,” Brian answers, his voice soft. Justin swallows hard, “I can’t live knowing that you’re dead.” “I’m not dead.” “You will be.” “Maybe not, Justin. Do you really want to risk us over fear?” “You make it sound so awful, Brian. I’m doing this for you!” Justin cries. “No, you’re doing it for you in the guise of me. And I’m fuckin’ sick and tired of people telling me what I want and don’t want. I can make up my own fuckin’ mind, Justin, and what I fuckin’ want is you!” Brian takes in a breath of air before continuing, “And when I get back to the hotel, your ass better be there, or else I am going to go on a fuckin’ witch hunt looking for you, and when I do: your crazy ass won’t be able to sit for a goddamn week, do you fuckin’ understand?!” It’s Justin’s turn to be silent. Brian smirks, “I’m taking that as a ‘yes.’” Justin nods, knowing full well that Brian can’t see him. “Good. Now go get some dinner. I’ll call you in the morning.” Hanging up, Brian leans back on the bed for a moment, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Standing up, he grabs his coat and goes outside to get some dinner with Carl, who was waiting in the car for him. ************** LONDON ************************* “What happened?” Molly asks, looking through the room service menu. Justin slowly hangs up the phone before looking up at his sister. Forcing a smile, he replies, “We’re going to stay here a little while longer… at least until Brian calls us in the morning.” Molly huffs, knowing full well what that meant; standing up, she starts to unpack her pajamas. “You’re pissed,” Justin acknowledges. “Surprisingly, no.” Molly answers honestly. Turning to face him, she asks, “Why, did you really want to go?” Justin’s smile widens softly. “Not really.” She smiles back, “Maybe it will work out.” He nods in hopeful agreement, “Yeah, maybe it will.”