One Hour Later...Pittsburgh

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself," Brian responded, his voice sounding a little strained; he was trying his best to appear nonchalant, but it was hard after what he had just heard.  "You still with Tony?"

"Yeah; we just walked around for a while after we stopped and got some coffee; you heading back with Fin?"

Brian glanced over at his father, who was still on the phone talking to one of his campaign staff.  The two locked eyes as Brian replied, "Yeah, we should be back at the hotel in a few minutes; why don't the two of you head back over there and meet us?"

Brian could hear the enthusiasm and hopefulness in his husband's voice as Justin replied, "Actually... Tony and I found this really cool-looking Italian restaurant about a block from the hotel, and we thought that..."

"No, Justin," Brian said just a bit more sharply than he had intended.  "We'll order some room service at the hotel, okay?  Fin and I are bushed.  Just come on back - and take a cab while you're at it, too."

Justin walked over to a brick storefront along the busy, downtown street and leaned up against it as he frowned.  He glanced over at Tony as he quietly demanded, "Brian, what's going on?  Has something happened?"

There was a brief hesitation on the other end, just enough to cause Justin to worry even more as Brian finally replied, "No, everything's fine.  Just do as I say and we'll talk when you get back."

"Brian..."

"Justin, please.  Just do as I say this one time."

Justin glanced over at Tony again as his friend walked up to him with a questioning eyebrow; Justin shrugged his shoulders in response, a little irritated by the 'this one time' part, but sensing the worry in Brian's voice.  He hadn't missed the 'please' in Brian's statement, either; something was wrong.  "Okay," he replied as he thought he heard a sigh of relief on the other end.  "We'll be there in a few minutes.  See you shortly."  Justin was about to disconnect when Brian spoke up one more time.

"Justin..."

"Yeah?"

"...I love you."

Justin frowned; now he was really getting worried.  It wasn't that Brian didn't say that to him occasionally, but he couldn't recall the last time he had ever said it in the presence of others.  "I love you, too," he replied softly, concern etched across his brow.  "Brian..."  But his husband had disconnected the call.

"Problems?" Tony inquired as he placed a congenial hand on Justin's shoulder as Justin replaced the phone into his pocket.

Justin sighed as he stepped to the curb and looked for a cab to hail.  "I don't know," he admitted as Tony walked over to join him.  "Brian said to get back to the hotel - and to call a cab."

Tony frowned now.  "For a couple of blocks?  Why?"

Justin shook his head as he raised his hand to signal for an approaching cab; as the vehicle slowed down and pulled over to the nearby curb, Justin reached to open the door as Tony slid in beside him.  Giving the cab driver their destination, he finally had a chance to answer Tony's question.  "I have no idea," he answered tersely.  "Brian didn't come out and say it, but I think there's some kind of trouble."

Tony pursed his lips firmly together.  "Again?"

Justin eyed him wearily and nodded as they drove back toward the hotel.

A few minutes later, they entered the building, riding up to Fin's room in the elevator.  As soon as they emerged and walked down the hallway, they immediately knew something had changed:  there were two, casually-dressed, bulky men standing on either side of the door to the suite.  They were conversing quietly to each other as the two men walked up to the room.  If Justin hadn't already figured out who they were, most guests in the hotel would have thought they were just standing around waiting for someone, but he knew better.

"ID?" One of the men intoned quietly as the two men reached the door; Justin found it somewhat disconcerting to be the subject of such an intense stare as he nonetheless reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved his wallet.  As he slipped his driver's license out and handed it wordlessly to the man who had addressed him, Tony pulled out his keycard.

The man looked closely at the laminated card, and then back to Justin to compare the two before he nodded and stepped back several inches in acceptance, having been told by Fin earlier that both men were expected shortly.  Tony pushed his key card into the slot, and, barely waiting for it to turn green, he pushed down on the door to enter as Justin followed him inside.

"What the fuck, Fin?" Tony grumbled as he shut the door and they walked into the large living area where his lover and Brian were sitting side by side on the couch.  "What is going on now?"  He didn't stop to think how ironic it was that, now that their relationship was out in the open, he was grousing about having TOO much attention rather than being confined to obscurity like he had been before.

Tony sat down on a chair next to Fin as his partner handed him a glass of scotch almost in apology and reminded him, "You knew Don was arranging for security."

Justin walked over to sit next to Brian on the rolled up arm of the leather couch; Brian took his hand and gripped it firmly in his lap.  He pulled Justin down toward him; just enough to kiss him briefly on the lips as his husband eyed him silently, waiting for an explanation regarding his somewhat cryptic phone call earlier.

"Okay, Brian," he finally said after a few moments, unable to stand it any longer.  "We're both back here safe and sound.  Now tell us what the hell is going on before I imagine all sorts of things," he urged him, leaving no question that he wanted nothing held back.

Brian and his father exchanged a glance as Fin nodded.  "I got a call from Regina about thirty minutes ago," Brian's father began.  "She told me that her son cut off his monitoring ankle bracelet a couple of hours ago and has disappeared.  No one seems to know where he is at the moment."

"Oh, shit," Tony replied as his mouth fell open in dread.  "Surely he couldn't have gotten far, though.  Those things are monitored 24/7, and the cops have to be out looking for him already."

Brian felt Justin's grasp tighten in his as he muttered, "Well, he's gotten far enough apparently.  I called Don and he found out the cops have already been to the father's house; he's not there and the father claims, at least, that he hasn't seen him."

"I can't believe they even let that fucker out!" Justin protested, his stomach churning with both anger and anxiety.  "I knew this was going to happen; now he's going to come after you again!"

"Justin, calm down," Brian soothed him.  "We don't know that."

Justin pulled his hand away from his as he stood up; twirling around to face him, he asked, "No?  You think he's running off to Bermuda instead?  He HATES you and Fin, Brian!  He's not rational; I think that's already been established."

Brian brushed a hand through his hair in aggravation, knowing Justin was right.  "I'm well aware of that, Justin!  Why do you think I asked you to take a cab back here?"

Tony's eyes widened as he looked at Fin.  "Do you have reason to believe that he's somewhere nearby?"  At that moment, it was hard to tell whether he or Justin was the most concerned.  He was trying to stay calm and keep his voice quiet, but his pounding heart was threatening to betray his emotions.

"No, Tony, neither one of us has heard anything of the kind," he reassured his partner firmly, knowing how worried he was.  Truthfully, he wasn't so sure that both Tony and Justin weren't justified in their concern; at the moment, they had no idea where the man was, and apparently neither did anyone else.  "It's just precautionary, that's all."

Tony shook his head before blowing out a tense breath.  "I don't know, Fin."

"Don't know what?"

"If it's all worth it; worth all this constant looking behind your back.  Worth all the hate that's been generated and all the acrimony.  Whether it's worth your fucking life - just to be given the opportunity to lead a state that seems so divisive you'll have constant difficulty even getting anyone to work together to accomplish your goals."

"Tony, we've been through all this before; I'm in too deep to retreat now.  And you wouldn't expect me to back down just because the road isn't a smooth one.  You know what I always say - nothing worth doing is worth doing it without a fight."

Tony squeezed his forehead with his fingers, feeling a tension headache threatening to emerge.  "Normally, no; but somehow when your life is on the line, that tends to color my opinion somewhat."  He sighed, knowing he - and Fin - were in it for the long haul; Fin was right - he never did anything half-assed, and he seemed to relish a challenge; without one, he felt like it was all too easy and not nearly as fulfilling.  That didn't mean he had to like it, though.  "Are you sure Regina's telling the truth, Fin?"

Fin reached over to take Tony's hand and grasp it reassuringly.  "Tony, you know Regina; she's been with me for years!  Yes, I believe her.  She was horrified by what Adam did.  No, I think she would be the last person to harbor him, despite being his mother.  If she knew where he was, she would tell me, I'm sure of it."

Justin shook his head in disbelief over this latest turn of events as he turned around to walk over to the large picture window of the hotel room that overlooked the busy, downtown street below; they were high enough in the building for him not to be concerned that Stewart would somehow reach them from the outside, but it still didn't quell his fears for both his husband and his father-in-law.  If anyone would have told him months ago that he would have had to worry about them in this manner, he would have never suggested that Brian take the job of Fin's campaign manager.  He had expected a certain degree of hate and prejudice directed toward Fin due to his sexual orientation - after all, he had found out all too well how prejudice and bigotry could manifest itself - but he would have never expected this degree of animosity and downright hatred.

He felt Brian's arms slide around him from the back as he leaned into his strong embrace and closed his eyes briefly, wishing somehow that he could open them up again and everything would be fine.  But he knew that was just a pipe dream, not reality.

Brian rubbed his face lovingly against Justin's cheek as Justin continued to stare down at the busy scene below.  "Talk to me," he whispered, his voice warm on Justin's skin.

He turned around in Brian's arms to wrap his own around his husband's neck.  "I don't have to tell you what I'm thinking," he whispered painfully as he played with Brian's hair, his concern clearly written all over his face.  He could see Fin and Tony speaking softly behind them on the couch, no doubt discussing the same thing.

"Are you sorry I took the job of campaign manager for my father?" Brian asked as he gazed into the luminous, blue eyes.

Justin bit his upper lip in contemplation, trying to weigh the benefits against the hazards.  Finally, he shook his head.  "No, not really," he admitted.  "Not if it's brought the two of you closer together, and I can tell that it has."  He swallowed the lump in his throat.  "But I admit sometimes I question the wisdom of suggesting it in the first place, after what's happened.  Brian, no one can watch you and Fin 24/7, not matter how good they are."

Brian raised his hands to grasp Justin's upper arms and pulled him a little closer.  "Well, that's good, because I happen to be stingy when it comes to having you in my bed, and I think they might become just a little too titillated by your ass," Brian teased, trying to lighten his lover's mood just a bit and make his burden just a little less.  "The days of my being a voyeur are long gone, Sunshine; I don't like to share you anymore."  He knew that it had never really been Justin's idea in the first place to have threesomes or foursomes; he used to find it hot to watch Justin fuck someone else a long time ago, but he suspected that even with his husband's strong appetite for sex Justin had participated in their 'extra-curricular activities' mainly to please him.  Now, however, he found the idea tedious and unnecessary.  He would never come out and admit it - telling Justin from time to time that he loved him was hard enough - but Justin had been right so long ago; he had eventually found something deeper and more meaningful than anonymous sex - a life with his soulmate.   He wouldn't have it any other way now.

He managed to produce a slight smile on Justin's face as his husband answered, "I'm glad to hear it; I feel the same way."  He sobered, though, as he added, "That doesn't make my worry over you and Fin any less, though.  Or Tony's.  I was worried enough before Stewart escaped; now it's doubled."

Brian nodded in understanding.  "Well, if it helps at all, we don't have much longer to go now with the campaign, and as much as both Fin and I despise the idea, there will be metal detectors stationed at all the entrances for the next debate."  The next one would be a more public forum where questions would be generated from the audience in attendance; they wouldn't know what sort of question they would get until a random person was selected and stood up.  That made it a little more precarious when it came to having the right answer to give - and the type of question that would be given - and it also made the venue more prone to wackos showing up.   "Don't worry, Sunshine; they may hit Fin with a rubber band or a spitball or two, but other than that we'll be just fine."

"You'd better be, Mr. Kinney," Justin warned him.  "I'm going to hold you to that."

The two turned slightly as they noticed Fin and Tony both rising from the couch.

"I'm going to take a shower," Fin told them.  "You want to go ahead and order a delivery for dinner?"  He grinned over at Tony.  "Tony needs a shower, too; he's really dirty."

"Hey!" Tony protested good-naturedly as his lover grinned.

"I wasn't talking about that kind of dirty," Fin explained with a smirk as he smacked Tony on the ass.  "Come on," he urged him as he pulled him along by the wrist.  A couple of minutes later, they were both inside the large bathroom with the door closed behind them as the water started up.

Brian took Justin's hand and led him back over to the couch.  "Does that Italian restaurant deliver?" he asked casually as he retrieved his glass of scotch and took a sip.

Justin leaned back into the couch cushion as their shoulders touched; still holding hands like the newlyweds they virtually were, he found himself touched by his husband's thoughtfulness, knowing he was trying to take his mind off his troubles.  "Yeah, they do," he admitted sheepishly with a grin as he reached inside his pocket and pulled out a folded-up carryout menu.  "How did you guess?"

Brian smiled as he caressed Justin's hand with his thumb.  "Just lucky," he murmured, as he thought of just how many ways that applied to his and Justin's relationship.  He watched as Justin dialed the number and ordered a large container of lasagna, a family-sized tossed salad, and pieces of garlic bread in record time, along with a bottle of red wine.

"About 45 minutes," Justin reported as he hung up and Brian nodded, but he was seemingly lost in thought.  "What is it?" he pressed.

Brian stared into Justin's eyes for a moment before he told him, "There's something else I need to tell you.  Do you remember that kid back in Harrisburg? The one that I put up in a hotel room for a few days because I felt sorry for him?"

Justin nodded.

"Well, I got a call from the hotel manager earlier this afternoon; seems the little ingrate trashed the room and took off - after breakfast, of course."  

Justin sat up straighter in the couch and twisted around slightly to stare at Brian in surprise.  "No shit!  Why would he do that when you went to all that trouble to help him?"

Brian snorted.  "Good question!  The manager said he even took some of the bedding with him when he left, and get this:  he had on a completely new outfit, courtesy, no doubt, of my generosity."  He scarfed back one more shot of the liquor before he placed it none too gently down on the square table next to him.  "I'm going to find that little asshole if it's the last thing I do."  He gazed into the eyes of the man he loved deeply as he recalled a moment not so long ago and half-smiled.  "At least when YOU used my credit card, you just pigged out on all the gourmet food; you were a slob back then but you had better manners than to trash the hotel suite like he did."

"Plus, you were reimbursed in other ways besides monetarily," Justin added helpfully with a smirk.  "I personally think you got the better deal out of it."

Brian grinned.  "Yeah, maybe I did," he admitted, thinking back to that episode of mind-blowing sex that had occurred afterward; that had to be one of their most passionate couplings, even after all this time.  Perhaps it had been the thought in the back of his mind that he might never see Justin again, and his profound worry over what might have happened to him, but when he was presented with that beautiful, robe-clad body like a gift from the heavens, and Justin had looked at him with that evil gleam in his eye and asked if he 'needed help,' that had been one of the biggest turn-ons he had ever received.  Even now, just the memory of it made his cock stir in appreciation.  He waggled his eyebrows.  "That was hot," he said simply as Justin flushed in response over the boldness he had displayed back then.  Inside, his heart had been pounding, and he had been scared as hell over his audacity, but boy, what had followed had definitely confirmed that he had made the right move; he could feel Brian inside him for the entire next day as a result and he had never felt so marked, so taken, in all his life.

"Does the hotel supply robes for their guests here?" he asked innocently as one side of his mouth quirked up playfully.

Brian's grin widened.  "As a matter of fact, they do," he told him as he stood up and pulled Justin up beside him.  "And I think I really stink right now," he decided as he leaned down to kiss Justin briefly on the lips.  "I could use some help getting undressed for my shower, too," he informed him, his voice low and sexy.

Thank God for two bathrooms, Justin decided as Brian began to pull him toward their bedroom suite, the situation with Alex temporarily forgotten.

Emerging from their combination fuck/shower session thirty minutes later and both dressed in casual outfits of jeans and long-sleeved sweaters - Justin in a cherry-red one that was Brian's favorite, and Brian in his traditional black color - the two men opened the door to their bedroom to find Tony and Fin sitting quietly again at the couch, their attention fixed intently on something playing on the television.

"What's...?"

"Shh," Fin cautioned his son as he urgently motioned with his hand for the two to approach.  "Come and see this; you're not going to believe it."

Justin felt Brian's hand on his shoulder as they walked over to the couch to gaze at what was being broadcast on one of the national news channels; his breath caught in his throat as he read the information listed in the banner at the bottom:  Former gubernatorial candidate found dead.  There was a large photo of Turner displayed on the screen, also, leaving no doubt as to whom the female news anchor was referring to as she described how the man had apparently died of a gunshot wound.

".... Initial reports indicate that Turner was killed due to a self-inflicted gunshot wound; there are unconfirmed indications that a weapon was found near the body.  We are awaiting a police press conference scheduled for later today, however, to verify that; we will be covering that live at 5:00 p.m., Eastern Standard Time."

The male counterpart on the screen, a man that Brian recognized as Bruce Collins, a long-time reporter with the station, answered the question he was silently longing to ask. "There have been questions raised regarding a possible connection between Turner's death and the disappearance of Adam Stewart, the man who formerly worked for Senator O'Connor that was recently charged with his assault and is currently on the run from his home confinement.  However, my sources tell me that there is no evidence that the scene has been staged, and that it is simply a sad end to the life of a businessman who was once regarded with respect and admiration."

"Holy shit," Brian murmured in shock as he sank down into one of the overstuffed leather chairs next to the couch, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. Just when he thought nothing else could faze him, he was proven wrong.  He looked up as he felt Justin's arm slide around his waist as he leaned into him, not sure if he was trying to provide comfort or obtain it.  He wound his own arm around his husband and pulled him close as Justin sat down on the arm of the chair.

"That's a fucking shame," Fin uttered to everyone else's surprise.  "The man was an idiot for being sucked up into this campaign in the first place, but before all this happened I heard he was a decent, hardworking man."  He shook his head; he had always known that becoming involved with political wheeling and dealing manipulations could change a power-hungry person, but this was the first time he had actually heard of someone killing themselves as a result of it.

The room was quiet for several seconds as Fin flipped the television off using the remote, no longer wanting to hear any more.   A rapping on the door caused all four of them to start slightly in response before Brian rose from his place in his chair and walked over to the door, looking through the peephole to observe a man wearing a red-and-white striped shirt and holding a large, white, paper bag in his hands.  Seeing one of the security men at the door as well, he slid the security chain back and opened the door to admit the delivery man, accepting the food and paying him with short dispatch as he sent him on his way.

A few minutes later, the four were sitting at the dining nook, a half-full wine glass cradled in their hands.  Fin quietly raised his glass as he stated, "I'd like to make a toast before we eat."  As the three men lifted their glasses in kind, wondering if it was a good time for such a gesture, he gazed at Tony first and then at his son and son-in-law as he quietly said, "To love, truth, and integrity, three things that are in abundance here right now, but were sadly lacking in Turner's campaign.  I'm a very lucky man."  He thought he saw just the beginning glimmers of unshed tears in his son's eyes just before Brian nodded and they all silently took a sip.

Same time

Adam Stewart wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve as he tried to catch his breath; as soon as he had found Turner dead in his desk chair, he had rushed out of the man's headquarters in a run and hadn't stopped until he had been at least two miles away, deep in the heavy trees that surrounded the property.  He had made it out to the main road and had luckily been picked up by an unsuspecting, middle-aged man a few minutes later who had taken him into a small town a few miles outside of Wilkes-Barre; there he had holed himself up in some weathered dive nursing a couple of beers while he watched the news of Turner's suicide unfolding out of the corner of his eye.

He knew he had nothing to do with Turner's death; and while he couldn't say he was sorry the man had apparently decided to kill himself and spare him the trouble, he wasn't about to be blamed for the fucker's death.  If he hadn't been forced to run out of there in his haste to separate himself from what had happened, he would have stopped to think about how lucky it had been for him that Turner had taken care of his retribution personally.

"Another one?"

He looked up, momentarily startled, as the burly, portly bartender with more hairs in his eyebrows than on his head eyed him curiously.  He swallowed nervously as he shook his head no, lifting his gaze to peer up at the television perched on top of a filing cabinet in the corner; some sort of interference would make the reception break up from time to time with wavy lines of static, but there was enough there to clearly make out that Turner was the hot topic at the moment.  Thankfully, his own escape had been pushed down to a secondary story as they droned on and on about the demise of a heretofore, 'upstanding' citizen.  That description had almost caused him to puke in his beer, but he had somehow held it down, avoiding drawing any undue attention to himself as he tried his best to remain as nondescript as possible.

"Fucking shame what happened to that man," the bartender remarked as he followed Stewart's attention over to the special report being broadcast.  "Got himself in with the wrong crowd, that one did.  And now it looks like we're going to wind up with a queer for a governor, and we'll wind up being the laughing stock of the entire country."

Stewart frowned, blinking as he readjusted his attention back to the other man.  "What about Whittle?  He seems like a decent enough guy."  Actually, Stewart didn't know all that much about him; he knew the man was straight - well, apparently, anyway, because he had a wife and kids - but apart from that he hadn't learned much else yet; he'd been too busy lately trying to stay out of jail.

The bartender shrugged as he proceeded to wipe off the bar counter with a damp, somewhat dirty white rag.  "He seems okay enough, I guess, especially compared to all the crooks that surrounded Turner; but he's gotten into the game so late, I think it's too damn past the point to change things even if O'Connor IS a fag."  He spat out some tobacco juice from his mouth into a nearby trashcan as Stewart wrinkled his nose in distaste at the action; he quickly hid his displeasure as the man turned back to face him.

"So you think he's definitely going to lose?" Stewart asked as a photo of the new contender suddenly appeared on the screen as if right on cue.

"Yep, unless he can redeem himself at the last debate coming up," the other man said as he eyed the new candidate intently.

Stewart's eyes widened.  "Last debate?"

The bartender eyed him in disbelief.  "Where have you been, boy?  Under a rock?"  He huffed.  "The damn thing's been all over the news and my mailbox at home's been stuffed with notices about it.  Yeah, there's one more debate in Harrisburg at the old town hall.  This one's in front of an audience, though, and they get to ask the questions for a change.  Let's hope someone nails that fucker and makes Whittle look like a saint, because it's his last shot in my opinion."

Stewart digested that information thoughtfully as he nodded and the bartender turned to wait on another customer down at the end of the fairly deserted bar; one last, desperate dream coalesced in his mind as he looked around and spied a trucker-type guy scooting back from his chair as it scraped against the wooden, planked floor.  Belting down the rest of his drink, he slapped some money down on the bar and hurried to catch up with him.

Two Days Later...Day of the Debate - Harrisburg

Brian slowly opened his eyes, blinking as he stared up at the trey ceiling of his father's guest room first, and then lowered his gaze to linger on the smooth, unblemished skin of his husband who was currently half-draped on top of him.  Justin's left leg was nestled in between the 'V' of his own legs with his upper body lying across his chest.  The blond tendrils of hair that hid the beautiful face he loved so well tickled his chest as Justin breathed in and out through slightly-parted lips, but he didn't have the heart to move or get up yet; he was too busy admiring the spectacle sprawled out on top of him.  He took his left hand and placed it lightly on top of the soft crown of hair, cradling Justin's head as he slowly caressed his husband's upper arm with his right.

After a few moments, he could feel a slight stirring beneath his touch, signaling that Justin was slowly awakening; it wasn't long before he saw his husband's head shift ever so slightly on his chest as Justin snuggled more deeply into his embrace.

Brian smiled, chuckling a little.  "Nice try, Sunshine," he murmured as Justin groaned ever so imperceptibly.  "But as much as I would prefer to stay here in bed with you, I have to get up and start getting ready for the debate."

"... Time is it?" Justin mumbled against him sleepily, his lips creating a delicious sort of vibration against Brian's skin as he spoke.

Brian moved his hand to stroke the light stubble of Justin's cheek as he replied softly, "About 7.  You can stay in bed for a while.  But I need to go take a shower."

Justin stretched out on top of him as he finally lifted his head up to peer into Brian's face.  He brushed his cock against Brian's thigh, deliberately in Brian's opinion, as a knowing smirk broke out on Justin's face.  "Not without me," Justin told him, his voice low and sultry.

Brian grinned.  "I was hoping you'd see it that way," he responded as he raised himself up in bed and pulled Justin into his arms.  They shared a passionate kiss before Brian pulled him off the bed, lifting him up as he grasped him by the ass and Justin wrapped his legs around his waist as they headed to the adjoining shower.

"You look quite dapper, Counselor, " Fin said admiringly as his partner straightened his tie in front of their dresser mirror.  After quite a bit of gentle coercing, Tony had finally been convinced to return to his office, but not before Fin had reassured him that both he and Brian would be perfectly safe with all the security around.

He reached his arms around Tony's neck to help him straighten out his tie as Tony snorted.  "Why can't you ever do that with your own tie, Senator?" he teased him with a grin before his face transformed into something more serious.  "Promise me that you'll be careful.  I have that trial for most of the day, but I'll head down to the town hall as soon as I can.  I should be able to hopefully get there before the debate starts."

Fin turned around in his lover's arms.  "Brian and I have more security than Ft. Knox, thanks to Don," he reassured him as he raised his hands to cup Tony's cheeks.  "We'll both be just fine.  I know you won't shortchange your client just to make sure you get there before it starts.  There's no way that anyone - I don't care WHO they are - will get through there with a knife or a gun, okay?"

Tony nodded as Fin leaned down to bestow a soft kiss on the willing mouth.  "Okay," he agreed as they broke apart and he reached over to retrieve his car keys from the dresser.  "I'm holding you to that," he reminded him as, reaching to tenderly tuck an errant strand of hair behind his lover's ear, he nodded silently before turning to go, knowing his mind would be on anything but his case today.

Later that Evening - Harrisburg Town Hall

"Holy shit," Fin murmured to Justin as they arrived at the center together; the entire front of the building was awash with media trucks, gawkers, even street vendors selling all sorts of wares.  Fin shook his head in amazement; just when he thought he had seen it all, something would happen to change that.  It seemed that Turner's suicide and Stewart's disappearance had worked wonders for generating publicity; whether it was good, however, was yet to be determined.

Justin gaped at the circus-like spectacle, wondering when the word dignity had left campaign vernacular.  There must have been at least 500 people camped out on the front lawn of the brick-clad building, he decided.  He blew out a pregnant breath between his lips as their vehicle - a nondescript, four-door, silver sedan with tinted windows that allowed them to enter the gated driveway with relative obscurity - headed toward the entrance to the back of the structure.  He flinched slightly as faces pressed up against the side window nearest him like guppies in a fishbowl as the reporters tried to determine if Fin was in the vehicle, but thankfully no one could tell from the outside.  He felt Fin's hand squeezing his shoulder from beside him as the driver handed an I.D. to the security guard, who looked it over carefully before motioning them inside; another guard prevented any unwelcome - or disallowed - participants from following along behind them as Justin let out a breath of relief when the gate closed behind them.

"How far back are Brian and Don?" Fin asked as the driver pulled up at the rear of the building's entrance, knowing that Justin had just gotten off the phone with his son.

"He said they were about fifteen minutes behind us," he informed his father-in-law as the driver slowed to a stop.   The two of them had decided to ride together when Brian had elected to remain at Fin's campaign headquarters a little longer, fielding a multitude of calls that were coming in  fast and furious regarding Turner's death and Stewart's disappearance.  Justin had tried to insist on remaining with him, but Brian had finally persuaded him to go ahead with Fin, reassuring him that he would be well-protected with Fin's head of security as his escort.

Fortunately, too, unlike the other location, this area was covered by an overhang which kept them away from the prying eyes of the media, who were no doubt trying to peer around the corner of the building to determine who had just been granted access.  Justin felt a little less nervous as a result of the added camouflage, knowing that Brian and Don would be entering from the same location.

"How about Tony?" Justin queried as they got out of the car and entered through the back; this time Justin recognized the two men holding station on either side of the double doors as members of Fin's staff; apparently his father-in-law had made good on his promise to only employ security people that he knew personally after the last fiasco with the two bigots.

Fin held the door open for Justin as he followed him in.  "He said his trial's wrapping up right now; he said it might be another 45 minutes or so before he can get here, so he thinks he'll be just a little late."

Justin nodded as they walked inside and met up with another staff member from Fin's campaign who led them down the polished, wooden hallway toward another set of double doors leading to the stage area, which was currently curtained off from the crowds beginning to stream in.  The part where the last debate would be held was actually in a newer annex that provided for curved stadium seating, providing a smaller, more intimate venue for the proceedings, unlike the previous one that had wound up being so contentious.

As they followed Fin's staff member through the stage doors, it didn't take long to spot his opponent getting ready; a female makeup person was touching up his face as he turned to observe the trio making their way toward him.  "Hey, there, Fella!" Dean Whittle greeted his old friend with a genuine smile as he walked up and stretched out his hand.  He seemed to scrutinize him briefly as he asked, "How's the shoulder?"

"Much better, thanks," Fin told him with a smile of his own as they shook hands.  "Ready for a little wrestling, minus the drama hopefully?"  Fin looked over at Justin.  "Oh, I don't think you've met my son-in-law yet.  This is Justin Taylor-Kinney, my son Brian's husband."

To his relief, Justin didn't discern any expression of disdain or ridicule on the other man's face as Whittle reached for his hand.  Fin had told him that this man was vastly different from Turner, but still, he was from the opposing, conservative party, so he hadn't been sure what to expect.

"Nice to meet you, Justin," Whittle greeted him with a smile as he firmly shook his head before letting go of it.  He grimaced.  "I hate having this pancake shit put on my face," he told his friend as he peered at Fin.  He grinned.  "But at least I'm not the only one who's being subjected to it, and it will hide that fake tan you have all over your body and not make me look so pasty-looking."

"Hey!" Fin declared in mock insult as one side of his mouth quirked up in amusement.  His expression changed, though, as he asked Dean, "I'm sure you heard about Turner.  That was quite a shock."

Dean nodded grimly.  "Shock doesn't begin to cover it," he replied.  "I was having brunch earlier at the hotel when I heard; my staff whisked me out of there so fast I still had my napkin balled up in my hand.  They knew the press would be hounding me about it, and they were right; the phones at my headquarters have been ringing off the hook with a request for comments ever since.  I'm sure it will be a hot topic tonight as well."

Fin nodded as Justin glanced back at the doors, silently wishing that Brian would show up.  It hadn't been fifteen minutes yet, and he knew that Don Meyer was with him, but it still made him a little anxious. 

"Justin?"

He turned as he realized Fin was trying to get his attention.

"Everything okay?" Fin asked.  "I need to start getting ready for the debate."

Justin blinked before he nodded yes.  "I just wish Brian would get here," he admitted, a little embarrassed.

Fin smiled at him in understanding.  "I'm sure he'll be here soon," he told him with a smile.  He placed his hand on Justin's shoulder.  "Come on; you can watch them give me the Tammy Fay Baker treatment." At the puzzled look on Justin's forehead, he laughed.  "I'll explain on the way - the makeup chair awaits."

Nodding, Justin followed his father-in-law over to the makeshift makeup studio - actually just a couple of wooden chairs perched in front of a tri-angled mirror on a matching table, surrounded by fat, round, fluorescent bulbs - and sat down next to his father-in-law as the young, red-headed girl got to work, occasionally sneaking glances back at the door in expectation of Brian appearing, but there was no sign of him.  Brian, where are you?

Ten Minutes Earlier...

Brian flipped his cellphone shut as he gazed out the car's front window.

"I hope this rain holds out until after the debate," Don Meyer said behind the driver's wheel as he looked at the angry, gray clouds roiling in from the west.  "A lot of the cars are going to have to be parked in the overflow grassy area of the town hall, and that can be a real mess if we get enough rain."

Brian nodded absently, his thoughts preoccupied with all the events that had occurred just in the past week:  first they had learned of Justin's asshole of a father's culpability in laundering illegal campaign funds, then Stewart had escaped from his home confinement, followed by Turner's shocking suicide.  Add to that his father's assault earlier at the other debate, and it had been one hell of a ride so far.

He was so preoccupied about what had transpired, in fact, that he almost missed the familiar-looking kid in a gray hoodie, jeans, and bright, stark-white sneakers casually strolling along on the nearby sidewalk, a dark green, plastic garbage bag slung over his shoulder.  As the car passed the kid, however, Brian quickly twisted around in his seat and his eyes narrowed in anger as he instantly recognized who it was.  "Pull over and stop the car!" he demanded suddenly.  "Stop it now!"

"What?" Don asked, perplexed.  "What is it?"

"It's that kid I was telling you about earlier!" Brian growled.  "The little shit that racked up all those charges on my credit card; stop the damn car!"

"But we're already late..."

Brian's eyes darkened in anger as he watched Alex saunter down the sidewalk like he owned it.  "I don't give a shit!  I'M not the featured attraction at the debate; Fin is!  Now stop the fucking car so I can go twist that kid's neck!"

Don questioned the wisdom of both stopping the car in the middle of a downtown street with little protection, along with Brian's current frame of mind, but he knew the man well enough by now to hope (at least) that he was exaggerating his intentions just a bit.  Besides, he was Fin's son and his campaign manager, so hopefully he had some common sense and was not actually considering committing bodily harm on a child.  Finally deciding that he would just have to trust him, he slowed down the car and pulled over to the curb as Brian quickly opened the door and, not bothering to close it, ran off in hot pursuit of his quarry.

Alex's head shrouded in the hood of newly-acquired clothing, Brian took advantage of the kid's apparent obliviousness to quickly catch up.  Alex couldn't hear the thundering sound of shoes fast approaching as Brian suddenly reached out and snatched the hood off the kid's head, exposing a wild mane of dirty blond hair as he yanked the smaller body roughly backward against his own.   He could feel the kid trembling slightly in fear as Alex whirled around to confront him and instantly recognized who he was.

"Hey!  Let me go!" The kid shouted, struggling to break free from Brian's grip and attracting the attention of several passersby who were leaving their office workplaces to return home.  A couple of men wearing dark suits and carrying briefcases slowed down to gawk at them as Brian growled, "Just go about your business!  My kid ran away from home, and I've come to fetch him!"  He grabbed Alex around the waist and proceeded to forcefully lead him back toward his car as he stated loudly to everyone within earshot, "Come on, now, Son, let's go home and we can talk this out."  He lowered his voice as he whispered in the kid's ear, "Before I tan your fucking hide..."

"Let me go, you asshole!" Alex snarled in reaction, continuing to struggle but helpless to escape from Brian's clutches.  "I'll call the police!"

Brian merely smiled at the miscreant in amusement.  "Go ahead!" he urged his captive.  "Then I can tell them what you did!"  He smirked as he noticed the blue eyes widen in alarm before the veil was promptly put back into place.

"You wouldn't dare!" Alex countered as Brian continued to half-drag, half-walk the kid back to the open door of his vehicle.

"Watch me."

Don Meyer observed Brian tugging the protesting child back toward his car as people nearby gave him a suspicious stare, wondering what in the hell he was going to do with him; they were already running late for Fin's debate.  Was Brian intending on stopping at the police station or the hotel?  "Brian..." he began as he watched Fin's son shove the kid into the back of the car and slide in him beside him.

The kid shrunk into the corner of the passenger seat as he eyed Brian warily; Don briefly wondered how long the kid would stay in the car when Brian apparently read his mind and warned him, "Try to get out of this car and so help me, I'll drag you kicking and screaming straight to the damn cops so fast it'll make your head spin!"

Alex glared over at him, still clutching the wrinkled, dark-green, plastic garbage bag as if it contained precious jewels.  "You can't hold me hostage, you fucker!  I'll tell them you abused me!"

Brian laughed as Don watched the drama unfolding in the back seat.  "Oh, you have quite an active imagination; I hate to disappoint you, but you're not my type."

"What do you want with me, then?" Alex asked suspiciously.

"What do you think?  I want to know why you tore up that hotel room I paid for you. What the hell were you thinking?  I gave you a decent place to sleep in who knows how long, all the fucking food you could eat, and a way to wash all the stink off you and you trash the place?  What is wrong with you?"

You mean besides not having any family, no home, and nowhere to go? Alex couldn't help thinking.  "I don't have to explain myself to you," was the impertinent reply instead.  "And you can't keep me as a hostage, either."

Brian smirked.  "Oh, really?  Okay.  You have two choices here, Mr. High and Mighty.  Either you work off the hotel charges you racked up on my credit card - which could take you well into puberty - or I drop your ass off at the nearest police station and file charges.  Maybe you'd prefer a comfy-cozy jail cell instead of a hotel suite."

Alex eyed Brian warily through narrowed eyes.  "What sort of work?   Are you a pimp?"

Don covered his mouth to keep from laughing as Brian looked at the kid aghast, highly insulted.

"Do you see me wearing mounds of chains around my neck or a fur coat?  Do I have a gold tooth in my mouth?"

Alex shrugged.  "So maybe you're a high-class pimp instead."

Brian rolled his eyes and snorted.  "Well, you're half right.  We're definitely in two different classes here, and I don't mind riches.  You're the rudest snot-nosed kid I think I ever have the displeasure of meeting."  God knows Brian had met enough rude clients in his days, and enough bigots to fill the entire downtown of Pittsburgh, but at least he could say that his own kid was polite and considerate.  Of course, Gus had never really wanted for anything or been thrown out on the streets, either.  That still didn't excuse this kid's impertinence, though, or lack of appreciation for what it cost to replace things.  He sighed.  "Don't worry; your cute little ass is safe with me.  Although you WILL be working your ass off, though.  Just not peddling your ass."    He raised his right eyebrow.  "So what's it going to be?  The cops or me?"

"This is kidnapping, you know," Alex protested.

"Ten seconds," Brian retorted as he looked down at his Rolex.  "I'm a busy man, and I'm already running late.  Tick, tick..."  He wasn't even sure why he was even giving the little shit a choice, anyway.  Why didn't he just drop the kid off at the police station and let THEM deal with him?  He refused to think about the logic behind that question.

Alex sighed heavily.  Would working to pay off the debt owed be worse than living on the street?  There was something about this man, anyway; something intangible but bluntly sincere about him in an odd sort of way.  Besides, what was there to lose?  Anything might be better than trying to get by every day, not knowing what would happen or where to go.  "Where are you taking me?"

"Back to Pittsburgh; but first you're going to keep Don here company."

"What?!" Both Alex and Don said simultaneously.

"Chill!" Brian demanded in irritation as he held his hands up.  "What I mean is," he explained as he looked over at Don in the front seat, "Is that you'll have to babysit the charming lad while Fin's debating Whittle, and then I'll take him back with me and Justin to the Pitts afterward so he can get acquainted with Warden Debbie and her wayward boys' camp."

Don looked at him, perplexed.  Didn't Brian just say he wasn't taking the kid to the cops?  "Warden Debbie?"

Brian chuckled.  "I'll explain on the way; let's go.  We're already late."

Don nodded as Brian closed the passenger side door and he slowly pulled back out into traffic, wondering if it would be easier for him to guard Fin or the kid.  The silence was pronounced in the backseat as he began to pick up speed, finally deciding that it was at best a draw.

Harrisburg Town Hall - Thirty Minutes Later

Justin bit his lower lip in worry as he glanced over at the black, round clock over the backstage door, ticking away the minutes since he had last spoken with Brian.  He finally decided that visions of the concerned, little housewife be damned as he flipped his cellphone open and dialed his husband's number.  He waiting anxiously while it rung once, then two times before he finally heard it connect.

"I know, I know, I'm running late," Brian answered without any further preamble.

"Is everything okay?" Justin asked, tremendously relieved to hear Brian's voice as he stood offstage.  "Your father had to start without you, and he was getting worried, too, especially with everything going on right now."

"Yeah, I'm fine; Don and I were unexpectedly held up."  He glanced over at the reason WHY they had been detained and was rewarded with a scowl and a glare as he rolled his eyes.  "I'll explain everything when I get there; but I'm okay, don't worry.   We're almost at the Town Hall now.  How's the debate going so far?"

Justin cupped his hand over the receiver part of the phone, keeping his voice to a whisper as Fin began to respond to the first question from the audience.  "He's doing fine," he reported, a touch of pride in his voice over how his father-in-law was holding his own, despite the initial question being deftly fielded by his opponent in regards to the current, challenging, economic state.  Whittle had won the coin toss off-stage dictating which opponent would answer first.  He wasn't sure if that was a good thing that Fin had the advantage of rebutting what his friend would say initially, however, since Whittle had the opportunity to refute anything that Fin might counter with.

Hearing a loud round of applause from the audience at Fin's response to the question, Justin was forced to speak up a little.  "I'm glad everything's okay," he told Brian.  "I'm backstage right now; I'll see you in a little while, then."

"Okay," Brian replied, having to strain to hear what his husband was saying.  "Later."  He flipped the phone shut as he eyed his captive, who was still holding onto the green plastic garbage firmly.  "Can I borrow your suitcase the next time I go on a trip?" he asked with a smirk.

"Fuck you," was the instant reply as Alex continued to warily study the enigma known as Brian Kinney.  It was hard to understand the man; apparently self-confidence wasn't one of his weaknesses, nor did he lack for snappy comebacks.  It was hard, then, to figure out why the man cared.  What was in it for HIM?

"Someone needs to teach you manners, you little shit," Brian muttered as he shook his head.  He must be crazy to even be willing to help this snot-nosed kid.  He certainly wasn't very grateful for what he was doing.  Why in the hell didn't he just turn him in?  Was it possible he actually saw just a little bit of himself inside?  After all, he hadn't had the most joyous of childhoods, either, but at least he hadn't been thrown out on the streets; instead, he had had Debbie and Mikey as his sanctuary.  If this kid really HAD been living on the streets for the past year or so, he couldn't begin to comprehend how he had survived, or what he had been forced to do.  In a way, he reminded him a little of Hunter, but to look at him now no one would ever realize that he had been a former teen prostitute; the young man, now in his 20's was presently a graduate school candidate, pursuing a degree in child psychology.  Michael had said it was his son's way of paying him and Ben back for what they had done for him.  Was the same capability inside this child as well?  Perhaps, perhaps not.  But he knew that somehow, for some reason, he had to give him that chance.

"What goes around, comes around," Alex sing-songed as Brian watched him cross his arms across his chest defiantly and turn to stare out the window; as Don slowed down near the Town Hall, Alex's mouth hung open at the bright lights flashing across the front entrance.  There must have been hundreds, if not thousands, of people milling around the front of the building, with white camera boom trucks everywhere.  It was almost as bright as daylight due to all the lights temporarily set up.

"Holy shit," Alex murmured in awe as Don turned into the driveway and a throng of people came rushing up to the car to try and see if they were anyone important to note.  The kid shrunk back away from the window as Brian said with surprising understanding, "They can't see you; the windows are tinted.  There's no reason to be afraid."

Alex harrumphed in embarrassment.  "I'm not afraid," was the stiff reply.  Inside, though, Alex's heart was fluttering like a dozen butterflies were trying to escape.

Just like his boss before him, Don slowed down to present his I.D. at the security checkpoint before they proceeded onto the rear of the building.  As he stopped in front of the rear entrance, he turned around in his seat to peer over at Brian.  "I'm going to let you out here," he told him, "so you can go on in."  He glanced over at his newly-appointed, temporary charge.  "What do you want me to do with him in the meantime?"

Brian bit back what he wanted to do with the kid as he replied, "Just keep Dennis the Menace busy until the debate's over, and then I'll take care over."  He received a glare from Alex as he told him, "Do as the man says, Dear; remember, he plays with big guns and he knows how to use them."  He chuckled at the scowl on Alex's face as he opened the side door and quickly disembarked, making sure to lock the door before he closed it so Alex couldn't get out; he thanked their good fortune that Meyer's car was equipped with kid-safety locks so the brat couldn't open the door on his own as he watched the car slowly pull out and head toward the parking lot nearby.

At the same time, the current question posed to both candidates inside the town hall was being concluded, as Whittle took his time laying out in his rebuttal to Fin's answer as to the reasons why the state should curb their import/export trading with international companies in an attempt to win back some manufacturing jobs that had been lost.

Justin stood just slightly offstage as he watched his father-in-law continue to deftly handle each question that had been offered to him, inordinately proud of how Fin continued to stay on focus and respond with eloquent, succinct ideas to each question; his replies were clear-cut and well-thought-out.  It was obvious in his answers that he had given serious, careful thought to each scenario, and was well-prepared for any subject that might be raised.  While he wasn't an expert in politics - leaving that more up to Brian, who by now was well-versed in the political climate - he had the distinct impression that Fin was winning a lot of votes this evening.  He wasn't naïve, however; Whittle was holding his own as well, and the crowd, while polite, seemed to have more of a conservative slant based on the questions that were being broached.

The moderator - a well-known, local television news anchor - spoke as a bell sounded off-stage.  "Your time is up, Mr. Whittle."  He graciously allowed a few more seconds for Whittle to wrap up his response before he looked out into the audience toward his assistant holding up a microphone for the next member of the audience to speak; the person responsible that evening for the mobile lighting - to focus more attention on the person presenting each question - was lagging slightly behind the other stage employee, so it was a few seconds later before the next person to speak was cast out of the shadowy dimness of the seating area and could be seen clearly by not only the others in attendance, but the state-wide viewers who were observing the broadcast either on live television or through a live stream on their portable devices.  When the light pole was swung his way, the man was abruptly cast into a bright, garish spotlight and Justin's face drained of all color as he recognized his father standing there with the microphone held out in front of him.

"Next question, please?" the moderator intoned politely; unbeknownst to everyone in attendance, as the assistant held out the microphone in front of Craig and waited for him to begin, it would be the last polite statement that would be uttered for some time to come.

To everyone observing him at the moment, Craig Taylor was the epitome of class:  once he had his mission laid out, he had picked himself up from his alcohol stupor from the other day and had gone to great lengths to dress immaculately in a crisp, navy blue suit, with a light-blue, pin-striped dress shirt and a matching tie, wanting to stand out in the crowd of mainly working class attendees.  His freshly-shampooed hair was carefully groomed into a flattering style, and his polished shoes gleamed under the glare of the temporary spotlight.  As he stood there with the microphone thrust in front of him, he relished in the knowledge that his plan to get attention had worked.  He tried, but wasn't quite successful, in hiding the icy stare he fixed upon one of the men he blamed for his son's plunge into depravity and immorality as Fin looked at him politely and waited for his question.

"Your question, Sir?" the moderator asked again when Craig didn't respond immediately.

Justin held his breath in stunned disbelief; how did his father wind up here?  And what was he up to?  Whatever it was, he knew it couldn't be good.

"Yeah, I have a question, Senator," Craig began, his voice icy and hard as it slowly rose in volume.  "How can you stand there and even insinuate that you are suited to be governor of this state?  It's you and your fag son who have ruined my son's life and my marriage."  You could have heard a pin drop as a gasp erupted somewhere nearby over Craig's outrageous statements.

Fin squinted his eyes against the bright stage lights as he tried to decipher who the man was; out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Justin standing just off-stage, his face white with a look he couldn't quite decipher.  Suddenly, however, as the words sunk in it became apparent to him who this man must be, and his face hardened with disgust.  "You're Brian's father-in-law," Fin stated evenly, not backing down.

Craig bristled at the title.  "I'm no one's 'father-in-law,'" he spat out.

The audience, including Fin's opponent, listened breathlessly to their exchange, not quite sure what to make of what was being said or what to do to prevent it; the moderator's mouth fell partially open in shock as well.

Microphone held in his hand, Fin walked out from behind the podium where he had been standing, and approached the front of the stage, never taking his eyes off the man who was now staring daggers back at him.  "You are my son-in-law's father, are you not?" he countered evenly as all eyes were trained on him.

The vein on Craig's neck bulged as his face turned red.  "I do NOT recognize that so-called marriage as being legal!" he shouted now, not even needing the microphone to be heard.  "That is a farce and a slap in the face to every man and woman who truly ARE married!"

There was a smattering of applause from those in the audience who approved of Craig's interpretation of what a real marriage was, but the majority of the spectators in their seats remained deathly silent as the diatribe continued.

Brian slipped inside the back entrance doors after having his driver's license inspected by one of Meyer's security guys, briefly pausing to gain his bearings and decide which way to turn to head toward the stage.  He could hear what sounded like muffled yelling coming from the front of the building and frowned; he couldn't tell just yet what was being said, but it was obvious that whoever was speaking was quite angry.  Letting out a wary breath, he hurried toward the sound of the shouting, knowing that his father was no doubt the focus of it.

Justin stood there stiffly just offstage, his arms hugging his body tightly as he listened to Fin and his father's heated exchange.  While Fin was trying his hardest to remain civil, his father's voice was rising and rising with each hateful statement.  And while he had meant what he had said to Brian earlier about his father being dead to him now, it still didn't prevent the feelings of anguish and fury from building up inside him.   Wasn't it bad enough that his father had supported Turner's candidacy to the point of breaking the law?  Wasn't it bad enough that his father had lied not only to his mother, but also to his new wife?  Wasn't it bad enough that he had constantly derided his feelings and dismissed his love for Brian as sick and corrupt, and ridiculed their marriage?  Now he had the gall to come here and disrupt Fin's debate, also?  Was there no end to what this man would do?  Apparently not, he decided, as he slowly unfolded his arms and resolutely walked toward the curtain's edge.

Fin pursed his lips together firmly for a few seconds as the audience waited raptly for his reply; he forced himself to pause until he could compose himself before he responded clearly but quietly, "That is your opinion, Mr. Taylor, and you have every right to express it.  But it doesn't happen to be mine, nor do I think that most in this audience tonight - whether here in person or watching on television or online - would deny my son and YOUR son the right to express their love in the way that they see fit, which I SHOULD point out under the laws of West Virginia, where they live, is perfectly legal, just as your marriage is."

"Bullshit!" Craig yelled as the audience gasped and the censors cringed at the unexpected profanity, just barely having time to prevent it from being broadcast through their five-second delay.  "That's why this world is going to hell; that's where you're ALL going to be!"

"No, DAD, that's where YOU will be!" Justin shouted back before Fin had a chance to reply, unable to just stand there silently; walking boldly out onto the stage next to his father-in-law, he faced his father through the unrelenting glare of the hot spotlights without flinching.  "I don't believe there's any God that would approve of what you've done to me!  You never accepted me for who I am!  You tried to make me reject everything and everyone that I cared for and refused to acknowledge me as your son unless I lived the way that YOU wanted me to and lived a lie for the rest of my life!  You have spouted hatred and bigotry for years now and even helped Turner to pay those men to lie just to hurt me!  This isn't about Fin, is it?  It's about your queer son!  That's what it's always been about, though, hasn't it?  Is that what an upstanding, Christian, moral man does, Dad?  Huh?  Is your life better than Fin's because you happen to be straight and he's gay?  Have you made a difference in other people's lives because of the way you've lived?  Or have you been too busy hating anyone that's different from YOU?"

Craig brushed his hand through his hair in agitation, all of a sudden feeling the heated stares of hundreds of people peering over at him in a new light; an unpleasant light.  "I've been a successful businessman for YEARS, Justin, you know that!" he retorted as he grasped wildly at whatever defense he could.  "And I raised you and Molly the right way!"

Justin laughed as the moderator, Fin, and Dean all tried to figure out if they should let this personal sparring match continue.  "The right way?  What is that, dad?  YOUR way?  Preaching intolerance, bigotry, narrow-mindedness, and hatred?  Well, guess what?  This man next to me is a hundred times better than you will ever be!  And you know why?  Because he doesn't judge people based on who they love or what they look like or how much money they make, or what religion they are!  He bases his opinions on what kind of person they are inside and how they treat other human beings!  He embraces differences, not loathes them like you do!"

"Justin..." Fin murmured as he grasped his son-in-law's arm, not even sure what he was going to say, but finding himself unexpectedly embarrassed by all the compliments he was throwing out in his defense; his heart swelled with pride and joy, however, at the heartfelt words as he caught a motion out of the corner of his eye and observed his son standing at the top of the steps leading up to the stage.  He wondered how long Brian had been there; from the concerned look on his face, however, he had an idea he had been there long enough.  He watched as one of the two security men who had been stationed outside suddenly appeared by Brian's side and his son whispered something urgently into his ear as the man turned around and rushed down the steps.

Justin shrugged off his father-in-law's grasp, his face red with anger as his father stared back at him from the audience.  "I told you the other day that you weren't my father anymore; now I know I made the right decision."

"Well, you were dead to me on the day that you told me you were queer!" Craig raged, his face contorted in fury as Justin flinched slightly at the horrible realization.  "You hear me?  You and your fag father-in-law and husband are all DEAD!  You're all going to rot in hell!"

Justin shook his head sadly.  "I pity you, Craig Taylor.  You are a disgusting, contemptible and bitter man.  I may wind up rotting in hell, but you're already there!"

"Hey, let me go, you asshole!" Craig suddenly shouted as the security man Brian had spoken to a few minutes earlier surprised him from behind and latched onto him tightly by the arms.  "I have my rights!"

"Your rights are revoked!" the security man snarled as he began to drag him away in full view of everyone in attendance and on line or at home watching.

"You can't shut me up!" Craig shouted at the top of his lungs as he thrashed around wildly, trying to escape while the man dragged him to the nearby aisle and began to pull him toward the rear of the seating area.  "See? This is the kind of Nazi treatment you'll be getting if you elect a fag for governor!" Craig warned.  "This is police brutality!  I'll sue every one of you!  You can't get away with this!"  He continued to shout at the top of his lungs as the man proceeded to drag him away, until at last his voice slowly faded away as he was shoved out the rear, interior doors and down the hallway toward the exit.  Brian had already asked the man to take him to the police station; they were looking for him, anyway, in light of his money laundering activities, so he figured they might as well do the man - and the police - a favor.

A collective sigh of relief could be felt throughout the hall as Craig was dragged out of the room before, like a wave gaining momentum, a few people began to applaud, followed by a few more and a few more until it seemed the entire hall was clapping; Fin closed his eyes briefly before he pulled Justin to his side to give him a short embrace, his hand curled around his shoulders.  Noticing Brian beginning to walk toward them, he turned Justin slightly so he, too, could see.  He watched as Brian's eyes locked on Justin's before his son-in-law's face dissolved from anger into anguish over what had just happened.  Brian held out his arms toward his husband as Justin took one last look at the hundreds of people staring back at him and applauding before he dashed behind the curtain to rush into Brian's embrace.

"We're going to take a two-minute break," the moderator decided, letting out a breath of relief himself that the unexpected tirade was finally over.  As soon as the director controlling the debate called out "that's a break," he bent his head down in exhaustion and placed his head in his hands as the media rushed off to report through live-streaming tweets and live broadcasts what had just happened.

Dean walked over to his foe as he clamped his hand on his shoulder.  "Shit, Fin, I'm sorry about that."

Fin shook his head.  "It's not YOUR fault, Dean; you had nothing to do with it."

"I know, but I feel so bad for your son and for his husband, especially," he told him as he glanced over to the two men who were continuing to hold onto each other.  "What a prick his father is!  Did he really do what his son said he did?"

Fin nodded, his jaw set with disgust.  "Yeah... And More." He followed his friend's gaze over to his son and Justin, knowing this had to have been extremely difficult for Justin to face, but proud of how he had confronted his father.  "But they'll both be okay; they'll be more than okay, because they have each other, and my son-in-law is a very courageous, young man."

Dean nodded.  "Well, that certainly mixed things up," he commented dryly as Fin smiled back at him.  "And I think you may have just won yourself some votes in the process."  He let out a deep huff of breath.  "It's going to be a little hard now to go back to more mundane topics like the economy and coal mining."

Fin nodded.  "Yeah, but somehow I think that will be a welcome change."

Dean agreed as he squeezed Fin's shoulder before letting go.  "Yeah, me, too."

Brian held tightly onto the trembling body plastered against his chest, so fucking impressed by his husband's courage and fortitude.  He knew how much that had taken for Justin to get up in front of hundreds of people and defend him and his father.  Despite what he had believed before, he thought he never loved this man more than he did at that moment as he continued to wrap his husband into a firm, comforting cocoon as they just stood there as one, oblivious to everything else going on.

Brian heard Justin let out a mournful sort of sigh before he finally pulled back slightly to lift his gaze and stare up into his eyes.  Brian's heart broke at the sad, tearful look on his husband's face, knowing that Justin's previous vow that Craig meant nothing to him now was a lie. He may have tried to mean it at the time, but as he had pointed out, Justin was not the kind of person to sever family ties so readily, no matter how vindictive or unhealthy they were.  He raised his hands to cup the sides of Justin's neck as he murmured, "I'm so sorry, Sunshine."  He had long ago given up trying to fool this man that he really didn't do regrets; both of them knew better by now.  "I'm sorry that I wasn't here to prevent that."

Justin shook his head slightly as Brian slowly caressed the smooth skin under his touch.  "You couldn't have done anything, Brian; he obviously came in through the front entrance just like everyone else.  There was no way anyone could have envisioned him showing up here."  He let out another deep breath, almost as if he were trying to rid himself of the ugliness.  "Is there no end to his hatred?  Why can't he just leave us all alone?" he lamented.

Brian leaned in to rest his forehead against Justin's as he whispered, "I don't know, Justin.  People like that, though, don't give up easily."  He let out a breath through partly-opened lips as he leaned back to look into Justin's eyes and smiled.  "Luckily for me and my father, though, neither does his son.  I'm so fucking proud of how you stood up to him just now."

Justin swallowed the lump in his throat as he pulled Brian closer to him and laid his head against his shoulder.  "I couldn't let him get away with what he said," he whispered.  "I just hope I didn't ruin everything for your father," he added as he molded himself against his husband's chest.

Brian closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the contact with his lover as he cradled Justin to his body like a precious jewel.  "Are you kidding?  Didn't you hear everyone applauding what you did?  You didn't ruin anything, Justin.  And even if you had, Fin wouldn't have wanted you to act any other way than the way that you did.  I'm sure my father is as proud of you as I am."  Brian wasn't aware of the fact that he had just called Fin his father for the first time, but it didn't go unnoticed by Justin, who chose not to point it out.  It DID cement in his mind, however, how much closer the two men were becoming, and helped to assuage his sorrow just a bit.

They broke apart somewhat reluctantly as they heard the moderator coming back on line and announcing the continuation of the debate.  Taking Justin's hand, Brian led him closer to the stage, catching the eye of his father who gave them both a small, wistful smile before he turned his attention back to the question being offered by a member of the audience.  This time, however, the topic was much more relevant and pertinent than the previous one had been.  Little did they know, too, how important Craig's outburst, and Justin's subsequent response, would be.