Authors Notes:
Thank you so much to all of the people who read the first chapter. I guess threatening you with an armed Kelsey really does work!
This time, she says that if you don't read, she will bite you, and she has rabies... hee hee. (She really did say that! xDDD)
Enjoy, and Happy New Year!!! May your 2007 be filled with all things Queer As Folk =].
June 2nd
Pittsburgh – Taylor Residence
10:50pm
Brian sped down the street, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly and his foot pressed firmly on the accelerator. He had ignored at least three traffic lights, but it was a risk he was willing to take. Every second that passed, he knew that his boss could potentially be in more danger. He slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt outside Jennifer’s house.
Brian wasted no time in pocketing his FBI I.D badge and grabbing his gun from the glove compartment. He quickly checked the weapon, racking the slide mechanism and making sure that he had enough ammunition. Adrenaline raced through his body, and he took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. He exited the jeep and cautiously ran toward Jennifer’s front door. Brian stood to one side, gun at the ready, and twisted the handle slowly.
“Shit.” Brian hissed, realizing that the door was locked. He prayed that the back door would be open as he promptly made his way down the side of the house. He effortlessly scaled the gate and jumped down into the Taylor’s backyard. He kept to the wall, gun directed at the ground, hazel eyes searching vigilantly for any sign of the intruder.
Brian apprehensively pushed the handle down on the back door. A wave of anticipation raced through him, when he realised that it wasn’t locked. He stood back, aimed his weapon and swiftly pulled the door open.
Holding his gun steady with both hands, Brian stepped through the doorway and in to the kitchen. Brian scanned the room, expertly looking for anything that was out of place. He noted that some of the drawers and cupboards were ajar, but there was nothing else to indicate that someone was intruding in the Taylor family home.
Brian walked softly through the kitchen, trying not to alert anyone to his presence. He needed the element of surprise on his side if this volatile situation was to work to his advantage. He reached the main hallway and carefully checked behind each of the doors on the ground floor. Still there was no sign of the supposedly armed intruder, or Jennifer for that matter.
All of the rooms were immaculately tidy and undisturbed, exactly how Jennifer would have wanted them. Brian pulled open the final door; about to step through and check the room, when he stopped abruptly, completely shocked by what he saw.
Furniture was haphazardly turned over and papers were strewn throughout the room. Brian would have assumed that it was a burglary had he not noticed that some of the family photographs had been taken out of their frames. No thief, that he had ever known of, would take the time to steal family photographs. He was about to investigate further, when he heard a muffled noise. It seemed to come from upstairs, so he dashed back in to the hall and started climbing the staircase.
On the landing, faced with at least five different doors, Brian simply stopped and listened. He needed to figure out which door Jennifer was behind, before making his dramatic entrance. A tiny noise, almost like a whimper, caught Brian’s attention and he turned in the direction of the sound. He swiftly ran toward the slightly open door at the end of the hall.
Brian kicked the door open, his gun poised to shoot.
“Brian!” Jennifer gasped, a tear running down her cheek. Her eyes were filled with pure terror as the man restraining her added more pressure to the gun at her temple.
“Shut the fuck up you stupid bitch!” he snarled, fingers gripping her arm tightly. Brian glared at the man as he assessed the situation. He had been trained to deal with incidents like this, but now that these set of circumstances had actually arisen, all of the training conveniently disappeared from his memory. Brian tried to compose himself and remember what he had been taught, although it was rather difficult when the man in front of him was pointing a gun at his boss’s head.
“Put down your weapon.” Brian commanded, taking a step forward, his gun trained on the man at all times.
“Come any closer and I’ll shoot her.” The man sneered.
“Put down your weapon.” Brian repeated, his voice firmer and more authoritative, all of the training suddenly rushing back to him.
“Who the fuck are you?” The guy spat out, looking Brian up and down.
“Special Agent Brian Kinney, FBI.” Brian replied confidently, “Now that we’re done with the meet and greet, I’d put that gun down if I were you.” Realising that he was opposing an FBI agent, the guy began to hesitate. Brian immediately noticed the man’s weakness and decided to take advantage of it.
“Put down your weapon!” He yelled, taking a few more steps forward.
“I told you not to fucking move!” The guy shouted as he stepped backwards, moving behind Jennifer.
Sirens suddenly filled the air, and it was obvious to everyone that the police had finally arrived. The guy’s hand visibly trembled and the gun shook precariously against the side of Jennifer’s head.
“It’s not worth it.” Brian warned, trying to play on the man’s insecurities, “If you kill her you’re looking at a life sentence in jail. If you let her go I can help you.”
“That’s bullshit. You can’t fucking help me!” The man’s voice wavered, his eyes darting erratically around the room.
“Yes I can.” Brian knew that he didn’t have long to persuade the guy before the Pittsburgh P.D burst in. The police always had a tendency to let these kind of situations get out of hand, and he just couldn’t let that happen with Jennifer’s life at stake. “Just put the gun down.” Brian pleaded, softening the tone of his voice. The man appeared to be considering the offer and he unconsciously lowered his weapon.
Feeling the gun slip from her temple, Jennifer decided it was now or never to try and save herself. She kicked her leg out behind her, striking the man on the shin with every last ounce of her strength. The guy released his grip on Jennifer and she pushed herself forward, out of his grasp.
A split second later, and three gunshots echoed through the silence of Jennifer’s home.
The first fired by the frantic intruder.
The second and third fired as an immediate response from Brian.
He wasted no time in disarming the intruder, who now lay motionless on the ground. It was clear, as Brian checked the lifeless body for weapons, that the guy was either unconscious or dead from the wounds to his shoulder and abdomen.
“Jen,” he called to his boss, who leant against a closet behind him, “Jen are you okay?”
“Brian I… I…” Jennifer mumbled, staring in disbelief at the blood that covered her hand as she clutched at her side. Brian quickly glanced over his shoulder as he felt for a pulse on the guy that he had just shot. Jennifer’s glazed and terrified eyes stared back at him before they flickered shut, and she collapsed.
“Jen?!” Brian dashed forward, catching the unconscious woman just before she hit the ground. He lowered the two of them to the floor, holding Jennifer in his arms. A deep red stain began to seep through her blouse as the blood flowed from the gunshot wound in her chest.
“Shit, shit, shit.” Brian cursed as he stood up and ran in to the bathroom for some towels. He returned, having only found a small hand-towel, and quickly pressed against Jen’s wound, hoping to staunch the bleeding. “Hang in there, Jen.” He whispered as the police began to flood the house.
New York – Justin’s Apartment
11:10pm
Justin walked around his apartment one last time, looking for anything that he had forgotten to pack. His suitcase was already bulging, mostly with things that he wouldn’t even need on his trip to Pittsburgh, but it never hurt to be prepared. He took a quick glance around the bathroom, only to find that he hadn’t packed his toothbrush.
“Fucking toothbrush.” Justin complained as he stuffed it into the suitcase. Only he could remember to pack the first aid kit and little box of screwdrivers ‘just in case’, and then almost forget his toothbrush. Pleased that he hadn’t forgotten anything else, Justin turned to leave the room when a small box in the bathroom cabinet caught his eye. He was sure that it was not entirely appropriate, or necessary, to take a box of condoms on a trip to visit his mother, but it really never hurt to be prepared.
Finally satisfied that he hadn’t left anything else behind, Justin pulled on his jacket and picked up his suitcase, shoulder bag and keys. He turned off the lights, walking unsteadily, his luggage being much heavier than he had anticipated.
He stepped out in to the hall and locked the door. He yawned as he pulled the handle twice to check that it was definitely locked. His mother had instilled in him, from a very early age, that he needed to be extremely security-conscious. Justin had always thought that his mom was somewhat paranoid when it came to things like that, but considering her profession it was no wonder.
After making his way precariously down the stairs and out of the building, Justin eventually managed to haul the suitcase into the trunk of his car. He walked around the car and checked for anything that was out of the ordinary, another one of his mother’s safety measures. Assured that no one had tampered with his car, Justin settled in to the driver’s-seat and pulled on his seatbelt. He slotted his favourite mix CD in to the player, and pulled out of his parking space and on to the main road.
“I would stand in line for this. There's always room in life for this.” Justin sang as he tapped his fingers along the edge of the steering wheel in time with the music. “Oh baby! Oh baby! Then it fell apart. Fell apart!” Justin didn’t care that he sang, or rather shouted, the last part of the chorus off-key. It was his favourite Moby song and it was his car, so he was allowed to sing tunelessly at the top of his lungs.
June 3rd
Pittsburgh – Taylor Residence
12:05am
“Stupid fuck,” Brian mumbled to the retreating back of a police officer as he got in to his jeep and slammed the door loudly behind him. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, completely bewildered by the bizarre events of the evening. Not only was his blowjob at Babylon interrupted, a horrific occurrence on an ordinary day, but he also had to save the life of his boss from an armed lunatic that had broken in to her house.
If that wasn’t bad enough, he had just wasted fifteen minutes trying to explain to the police that he was, in fact, an FBI agent and not a criminal. At least ten of those minutes were spent facedown on the floor, pinned and handcuffed by two of Pittsburgh’s finest. Brian would have considered it to be one of the better experiences of the day, had the police officers not been overweight, slightly bald and in their fifties.
Despite his cries of protest and attempts to show the police his FBI I.D badge, Brian was ignored and held roughly to the floor, the side of his face grazed by the carpet. He had watched helplessly as paramedics loaded Jennifer on to a gurney and pronounced her attacker dead.
Eventually, a detective arrived who had the sense to question Brian instead of sit on him. He was asked monotonous question after monotonous question before the good detective determined that Brian was on the right side of the law and let him get to his feet. After a few more questions, answers and disdainful looks at his attire, Brian was handed his belongings and permitted to leave.
As Brian exited the house, he couldn’t help but overhear the snide comment, “I didn’t know that FBI stood for Faggot Bureau of Investigation” as he passed a particularly tactless police officer. He would have retaliated, but getting to the hospital to check on Jennifer was more important to him than putting a bigoted cop back in his place.
Brian wearily rubbed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair before starting the engine and driving off in the direction on Allegheny General. As he manoeuvred the jeep through the many police cars that lined the street, Brian prayed that he wouldn’t have to explain to the new Regional Director, and his colleagues, why he hadn’t prevented the murder of Jennifer Taylor.
New York – Airport
1:05am
Justin sipped at his frappe-mocha-chino-something from the airport’s Starbucks and turned the page of his magazine. In between reading the latest gossip on Brad and Angelina or what Britney had unwittingly done now, Justin frequently checked the display monitor to make sure that it wasn’t time for him to make his way over to the gate.
Having arrived at the airport a recommended hour and a half before his flight, Justin had found that he had a considerable amount of time on his hands. He wasn’t quite sure how he had drawn out reading a magazine and drinking two cups of coffee for forty minutes, but it had killed a lot of time and boredom, so he didn’t really mind.
His flight, according to the flashing blue screen and his ticket, was due to leave at exactly 1:47am. As Justin began to wonder whether he could stand reading about Lindsay Lohan’s weight problem for a second time, an announcement for his gate echoed out from the loudspeakers.
Breathing a sigh of relief, the blond quickly stuffed the overly read magazine into his shoulder bag, tossed his cardboard coffee cup in to the nearest trashcan and followed the many signs that directed him to “Gate 55”. After making only one wrong turn through the many corridors of the airport, he found the illusive gate and joined a lengthy queue for the metal detector.
A long wait and a conveyor belt ride for his shoulder bag later, and the unexpectedly cheery blond was making his way to the lounge. As Justin settled himself in to a remotely comfortable chair, he pulled out the creased magazine and smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to be home.
Pittsburgh – Allegheny General Hospital
1:25am
Brian repositioned his uncharacteristically sore ass in the plastic hospital chair. He had been sitting in this particularly uncomfortable chair for the best part of an hour, waiting for news on Jennifer. The only times he had left his seat were to obtain the mediocre cup of coffee he currently held in his blood stained hands and to make several difficult phone calls to the Pittsburgh Field Office.
It was hard enough to explain that Pittsburgh’s FBI Special Agent in Charge, Jennifer Taylor, had been shot whilst Brian was protecting her, but worse still, most of his calls had been answered by Special Agent Ethan Gold. Agent Gold was the newest and most annoying addition to the Pittsburgh FBI Field Office. He always challenged Brian’s authority and sauntered around the Field Office with an inflated sense of self, managing to irritate almost every member of staff.
He had been typically unhelpful when Brian rang and asked him for information. Ethan seemed more interested with whether he would get a promotion rather than whether Jennifer was going to be okay. Eventually, the self-important agent was put back in his place as Brian advised Ethan to keep him posted, or lose his job.
Feeling rather useless and exasperated, Brian decided that it was time to hassle someone for an update. He unsteadily heaved himself from the chair and set off in the direction of the main desk. After dodging around the many sick and injured people of Allegheny General’s E.R, he eventually made it to an unsympathetic-looking desk clerk.
“Excuse me,” Brian called over the sound of machines, sick people and medical staff. The desk clerk looked disdainfully up at him before replying, “Yes?” like it was too much of an effort to speak.
“Can you tell me anything about the condition of Jennifer Taylor?” Brian asked, desperately trying not to lose his temper with this frustrating woman.
“Are you family?” the woman sneered.
“No, but-”
“Well I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything then,” the desk clerk interrupted and turned back to her computer.
“Look Miss-” Brian quickly looked at the woman’s name tag, “Harris. It is vital that I find out-”
“I told you that you needed to be family.” The woman spat.
“And I’m telling you that if I don’t find out about her condition,” Brian scowled and held up his badge, “You’ll be obstructing a federal investigation.” The woman froze and looked cautiously up at the impatient FBI agent before her.
“What did you say her name was?” she huffed.
“Jennifer Taylor.” Brian replied leaning against the desk, partly from exhaustion, partly to make sure that the bitch in front of him was doing her job. The desk clerk turned back to her computer and tapped at the keyboard aggressively with her claw-like fake nails.
“She’s being transferred to the O.R,” she finally announced as she read from the screen.
“And where can I find the O.R?” Brian asked.
“You won’t be allowed to-” the woman paused when Brian shot her a look. “It’s on the third floor.” Brian turned his back on the vulgar ‘Miss Harris’ and set off toward the elevator.
Pittsburgh – Taylor Residence
3:20am
“What the fuck?” Justin thought to himself as he peered out of the car window. The taxi came to a halt in front of some police tape, unable to make it any further down the street. The dark night was illuminated by a red and blue glow emanating from the many police cars that lined the road.
“Whoa, somebody must have died,” the cab driver unthinkingly remarked. Justin strained to see what was going on ahead then froze. His mind was overwhelmed with dread when he realised that the police were gathered around his mother’s house.
“My house…” He whispered. “Mom?”
“Huh?” the cab driver asked and turned in his seat to face the blond. Justin trembled, not able to answer, or move, completely paralysed by fear. “Mom!” Justin suddenly cried out and shoved the door open, as a shock wave of adrenaline coursed through his panic-stricken body.
“Mom!” Justin ran from the cab and ducked under the police tape, followed by shouts from the disgruntled driver and concerned police officers. He almost made it to his mother’s front lawn when he was grabbed around the waist from behind.
“Hey!” a police officer yelled as he wrestled with a frantic Justin.
“Let me go!” Justin cried as he struggled to break free from the cop’s grasp. “Get the fuck away from me!” It took a further two policemen to manhandle Justin’s slender frame to the ground and handcuff him.
“Mom!” he choked out as tears trickled from his blue eyes and his body was held against the cold sidewalk. Unable to escape and feeling completely helpless, Justin could do nothing but scream “Mom!” over and over in a useless and frenzied attempt to discover if his mother was okay.
Want Jen to die..?
Want Ethan to get blown up..?
Want Brian to strip-search Justin..?
Then TELL ME! (in a review *winks*. They really are greatly appreciated =P)