"What do we live for; if it is not to make life less difficult to each other?"

~George Eliot

"Theodore!" Brian yelled into the intercom on his desk.

"I'm right here, you don't have to yell," Ted said from Brian's office door.

Brian smiled up at him. He put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair.

Ted looked behind him. Brian NEVER smiled at him like that, especially on a Monday morning. He was usually hung over. But not today. Today he was very energetic and looking at Ted like he actually liked him! Ok, something was definitely wrong here.

"Um, you feeling ok boss?"

"I feel fine, you idiot!" Brian snapped and sat back up in his chair.

Ah, that was better. That was more the Brian Kinney Ted was use to.

"I was just going over these boards. Did you have something to do with them?"

Ted looked over at the boards Brian was talking about. They were the ones for the Sparkle account. The account Ted landed.

Ted had gone down to the Art Department and took over the project. Claude was NOT happy about it, but Ted felt a certain ownership with this account. It was the first big account Ted landed on his own. He knew Claude would run complaining to Brian, but he really felt strongly about the way the ad should look.

"Yes, I did Brian. I oversaw the graphics and made some suggestions. I know I pissed Claude off. If you don't like them, you can take the time it will take to redo them out of my salary."

Brian put his tongue in his cheek and looked at Ted intensely. "You bet your ass it would come out of your salary. You took a big chance here, Theodore. You're my accountant. I let you pitch that account because I had no choice. I had an emergency. You have no experience. Still, you did land the account. Good job. But don't assume because you landed one account, that you're an ad man. In the future, leave the creative process to the experts," Brian reprimanded Ted.

"I know, you're right. Sorry. Won't happen again."

"Having said that. Your idea's work better than the original concept. We're going with them."

"Really?" Ted said smilingly broadly.

"Yes, really. Good work, Theodore," Brian said then went back to looking at the boards.

Ted stood there waiting.

Brian looked up. "You can go now."

"Oh, of course, yes. Thanks, Brian. Anything else you need?" He was jumping up and down inside. He liked when he could step out of his "accountant" role and try something else. He enjoyed being part of the creative team on the Sparkle project. Though Claude fought him tooth and nail, everyone knew Ted out ranked Claude. Ted was more than just Brian's accountant. Though that was what Brian always called him. His actual title was Cheif Executive Office, which meant, next to Cynthia, who was Brian's second in command, he was top gun at the agency.

"No," Brian said dismissing Ted.

Ted turned to leave just as Cynthia walked in.

Cynthia was training his new secretary. It was the third one this month. Brian was very particular when it came to hiring a personal secretary. It was proving to be a very difficult task. They had to find someone with a spine who had the right amount of charm, mixed in with a bit of perspicacity. They needed to know how to vet; who to let through to Brian, who to channel through to Cynthia, who got special attention, who got blown off. These things couldn't exactly be "taught", they had be "felt." Brian had to have a connection with his personal secretary. God he missed Cynthia!

Cynthia was now Vice President of Kinnetik. She had many other important duties; still Brian didn't trust any of his personal dealings with anyone else. She still handled all his private affairs. The trick was getting the new secretary to know the nuances of his office's dynamics.

"Emmett Honeycutt is here to see you. Are you in?"

Brian looked up surprised. Last time Emmett came to see him it was to ask his help with Ted. Emmett was not comfortable in the "Madison Avenue" atmosphere of his company. "Too many suits," as Emmett put it.

"Yeah, show him in."

Emmett pranced into the office with his usual flutter and aplomb. Today he was wearing tight white low riding jeans, a stripped green and purple shirt and a God-awful waist length fur coat of some undistinguishable origins. The thing looked like it was shedding.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Honeycutt. Get a stylist will you? I'll pay for it," Brian said.

Emmett huffed indignantly. "Brian Kinney, you are just jealous. That is all. You can wear all the designer clothes you want. But they will ALWAYS be someone else's design. Everything I wear is an Emmett Honeycutt original!" Emmett announced proudly. "Just like me." He smiled brightly at Brian and hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of Brian's desk. He crossed his legs and put his hands behind him to lean back on the massive mahogany desk.

Brian sighed. "I'm busy, Em. What the fuck do you want?"

Emmett lifted his booted foot and pointed his toe. Imitation snakeskin Brian noticed and cringed.

"Well…" Emmett drawled. "I thought you might want to know how it went the other night with James," he said, totally distracted with his inspection of his boot.

"I assume it went just fine."

"Uhummm…" Emmett made the low satisfied sound.

"You know, Brian, you owe me."

Brian leaned back in his chair. "Oh?" he asked dangerously.

"You do know that man was holding back 30 years, maybe more, of repressed sexual gay emotions. I couldn't go out for two days!" He gave Brian a scanting look. "Top from the bottom my ass! Which by the way, he took many liberties with!" Emmett huffed.

Brian laughed. "So he didn't need any guidance, huh?"

"Hell, no! Man's been thinking about it his whole life! And I believe he tried out every fucking gay fantasy he ever had on me!" Emmett pouted for effect.

"Oh, poor baby. Do you need your tushy rubbed? I know a guy who gives great ass massages." Emmett's eyes widened. "James did that as well!" Brian burst out laughing.

"Lucky for you, Kinney I'm a great bottom, and a fantastic lay. I kept up with that man, ALL, NIGHT long." Emmett smiled liked a Cheshire cat.

"And I owe you how?" Brian asked, still smiling.

"You owe me cause that man would have tore up any other bottom! NO one could have kept up with him," Emmett proclaimed.

"That's why I wanted you to handle it personally Honeycutt. Consider it a compliment."

Emmett smiled. "I will. Thanks." He jumped off of Brian's desk. "As long as you admit I'm the best fucking bottom in all of Pittsburgh, I'll call us even."

Brian smiled sardonically at Emmett. "Can't do that Honeycutt. You're not."

Emmett gasped and put his hand to his chest. "Brian Kinney, you are a mean hearted son of a bitch! You know very well no one could have handled that man better than me!" He whined dramatically.

"Not true, Honeycutt. Sorry. Justin could have done a better job. The only reason I didn't ask him first was because I didn't want James to be discouraged when Justin wore him out. His pride was at stake after all." Brian smiled widely.

"Harrumph!" Emmett sputtered and crossed his arms over his chest. "You are so full of shit, Kinney. You didn't ask Justin cause you don't want anyone but you touching him." Emmett countered.

Brian wasn't about to tell Emmett how wrong he was. He didn't mind the trick they had the other night touching Justin. He just didn't want any trick touching him when he wasn't around. - Wait. Where the HELL did that thought come from? He mentally shook himself.

"At least admit I'm the second best bottom in Pittsburgh!" Emmett demanded.

Brian laughed. Sometimes Emmett was such a fucking queen. But Brian liked him that way. "If I do will you leave me the fuck alone?"

"If you say it nicely." Emmett smiled cheekily at Brian.

Brian sighed. "Fine. Emmett Honeycutt is the second best piece of bottom ass in all of Pittsburgh. Happy now?" Brian's declaration dripped with sarcasm.

Emmett pursed his lips. "Well, I guess that's as good as I'm going to get."

"Yes, it is. Now go." Brian said and turned his attention back to his work.

Emmett made a strange noise and turned to leave the office.

"Wait," Brian called out, suddenly remembering something.

Emmett turned back. "What? Your majesty requests another favor?" Emmett crooned.

"You do all that catering shit. Justin is having a small dinner party tonight. I thought you could send something over for his table." Brian couldn't believe he was actually asking Emmett to do this. He was getting way too lesbianic these days.

Emmett clapped his hands together gleefully. "Oh goodie! I know just the thing! A nice centerpiece for the table. Oh, and maybe some scented candles! What's his theme?" Emmett asked excitedly.

"What the fuck do I know about fucking themes or hetero fucking rituals? I leave that up to pansy fags like you. All I know is he's making fucking rack of lamb." Brian retorted angrily.

It was bad enough he thought to ask Emmett to do this in the first place, now he had to fucking think about themes? Arrrghhh! His mind rebelled.

Emmett gave Brian a disapproving look. "Don't ruin this for him, Brian," he said seriously. It was amazing how quickly Emmett dropped his queenly persona when he wanted to make a point with Brian. He was smart enough to know Brian listened better when Emmett wasn't being a prima donna.

"Fuck you, Honeycutt. Stay out of my business." Brian said angrily.

Emmett took a different approach. "Lamb. Mint. Hmmm," he thought out loud. "I'm on it."

Emmett knew enough not to push Brian. He was happy Brian was thinking how he could make Justin's party nicer. That was a big step for Brian. Arguing with him would only make him do something stupid, like not show up to his own boyfriend's dinner party. Emmett knew all too well how possible that was.

"Make sure it gets to the loft before six," Brian said then dismissed Emmett by going back to work.

Emmett smiled and turned to leave. He would make sure Justin had all the right fixings needed to throw a fabulous dinner party.

Two hours later his phone rang. It was either Justin, Rena, Mikey or John. Cynthia made it clear to the new secretary not to let any calls through unless it was from one of them. All other calls went through Cynthia first for the time being.

"Yeah." He answered the phone.

"Hey. Can you do me a favor?" Rena asked.

"What's up?"

"James is out running some errands and Shane is downtown by you. James can't pick her up for another hour. Can she hang at your office until he can come get her?"

"Jesus, Rena, make her wait in a coffee shop or something!" Brian bitched.

"Come on, Bean, let her wait there. She thinks you don't like her. It will be good to spend some time with her."

Brian snorted. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Rena laughed. "No. I'm not. Trust me. Though you may not believe it, she needs your approval, Brian." Rena said, using his given name, telling him she was serious about this.

"Fuck."

"She is still nervous about not fitting in. She believes that any day you're going to tell me to get rid of her. She thinks you are still furious with her for calling John your trick at my welcome home party."

Brian didn't remember Shane calling John his trick, but he wouldn't put it past her.

"Fine. She can wait here. But I will throw her confused little ass out on the streets if she fucking makes trouble, understand me, Re?" Brian was irritated at this turn of events.

"FINE. Jesus, I ask one fucking little favor and you queen out. If you can't handle her…"

"Fuck you, Rena. I said she could wait here. That will be the day I can't handle some fucked up little twat," he huffed.

Rena smiled to herself. She knew exactly how to get to her brother.

"Great. Oh, by the way. I made an appointment with Doctor Weston."

Brian perked up. "Who is he, and how do I know if he's any good?"

"Ask John. He heads up John's research department. He's one of the best Medical Scientist in the world. He'll do the preliminary work up on me. Once that is done, if I need a specialist, he'll recommend one to me."

"Call Cynthia and tell her the date of your appointment so she can clear my calendar." This was one of those personal affairs only Cynthia was allowed to handle.

Rena wasn't even going to argue. She knew there was no way she was going to talk him out of going with her to the doctor. He had a million questions he wanted to ask.

"I thought you'd be happy."

"Do I sound unhappy?"

"You sound irritated."

"My talents are very diversified, Re. I'm great at multi-tasking. I can be irritated and happy at the same time. It's a skill I've acquired over the years."

Rena laughed. "Yeah, that and many other skills," she coughed into the phone.

Brian smiled. "Brat. Don't be late for Justin's dinner."

"I won't. Will you be there?" she asked bluntly.

"I haven't decided yet," he said honestly.

He and Rena were always like that. There was never any bullshit between them. If someone else would have asked him that he would have came back with a cutting remark, or told them to fuck off. But he couldn't get away with that with Rena. She knew him too fucking long and too well. Even Justin wouldn't ask him if he was coming to the dinner or not. Justin, on the other hand, would know. He had this uncanny ability to know exactly what Brian was going to do before Brian even knew. He still hadn't gotten used to that.

"Well if I don't see you, call me."

"Why should I call you? You never answer a fucking phone. You always have someone else answer for you. Which I find very strange Rena, what the fuck is that about?"

There was a long silence on the other end.

"Re?" Brian asked, concerned.

"Long story. No time to tell it now. I'll talk to you later. Be nice to Shane. Bye." Click.

Fuck, what was that about! He made a mental note to talk to her about it the very next time he saw her.

Fifteen minute later a very cocky Shane walked into Brian's office and plopped herself down into one of the two Herman Miller chairs in his office.

She was wearing worn, torn jeans with a metal chain wrapped around her waist in place of a belt. A white, men's tee shirt and black leather jacket covered the top half of her boyish body. Her hair was dyed very black and was cut uneven. Though that was the intended style. Her eyes were framed with black kohl liner. All in all, it was very gothic. Brian never could stand the gothic look.

Brian did however, admire her boots. They were black Yvette men's boots, made in Amsterdam. Brian owned a pair himself. The contrast of the gothic clothing and the designer boots were not lost on him. It said, "I'm more than you think I am."

"Nice boots." He said looking up from his desk to acknowledge her presence.

He had told Cynthia she was coming and that she should just let her in when she got here. He'd rather she sit with him in his office then roam around the building causing trouble.

Shane looked down at her boot. "Made for walking," she replied with attitude.

Shane was all attitude. Brian knew that people with that much attitude were hiding a lot of insecurities. She couldn't be more than twenty-five. Rena had told him she had taken her in when she was just a teen. That was seven years ago.

Brian turned his attention back to his work, ignoring her presence. Shane was perceptively quiet.

A good half hour passed when he heard a ruckus outside his door. He looked up.

"No, no! Please, you can't go in there! I have to run it by Cynthia first!" Brian heard his new secretary's pleas. What the fuck was her name anyway?

Claude burst into Brian's office.

"Get out of my way, woman! I've important matters to discuss with "YOUR" boss!" Claude said condescendingly.

Shane rose from her chair and approached Claude.

"The lady said no. What part of that didn't you understand?" She asked the man standing in the doorway of Brian's office.

Brian sat back, curious to see how Shane would handle this. Claude was increasingly becoming a problem. He was very talented, Brian would hate to lose him, but temperamental artists were not conducive to his company's growth. Brian could not let this go on any longer.

Claude raised a contemptuous eyebrow at Shane, and gave her a once over. Disapproval and a bit of disgust washed over his face.

"And you are?" he asked boorishly.

Shane cocked her head at him. "I'm the one sitting in Mr. Kinney's office at his invitation, you are the one trying to barge your way in," Shane countered. Brian was impressed.

"Why you insolent little runt!" Claude stammered. "Do you know who I am!" he asked incredulously. "I am the Art Director here! I run the Art Department!" he announced.

"From where I'm standing, you're an employee in serious danger of being the "ex" Art Director. Mr. Kinney doesn't tolerate insubordination. Do you honestly think your talents are so special that Mr. Kinney would subject himself and his staff to an ill mannered, conceited, self proclaimed "Art" expert? In case you haven't noticed, or perhaps just don't care, there are brilliant art students graduating every day, who are much younger, innovative, up to date on all the new trends, and hungry, that would give their right arm to work here, and for half your pay." Shane paused and walked towards the office door and held it open wider, Claude was still standing in the entry.

"I strongly suggest that at this juncture, you turn around, make an appointment to see Mr. Kinney with Jane here, preferably later in the day, much later when he's cooled down a bit over your little dramatics here, and think about how you can be an asset, instead of a liability to his firm." Shane physically turned a stuttering Claude around and pushed him out the door.

"And don't be such a pussy. "You Insolent little cunt" would have been more effective. Who the fuck uses the word runt?" Shane added the insult then slammed the door shut.

She turned around and walked to the chair she was sitting in before Claude invaded the office and slumped back down into it.

Brian just stared at her. He was impressed. Beyond impressed.

"Shane."

Shane looked up, undisturbed. She acted like the whole incident never occurred.

"Yeah?"

Brian leaned back in his chair. "Tell me what you do for Rena."

Shane shrugged her shoulders. "Mainly I answer the phone for her. When she needs something, like travel arrangements, or hotel accommodations, car rentals, house rentals, etc, I take care of it."

Brian bit his bottom lip. "Does this take up a lot of your time?"

"What the fuck do you care how I spend my time?" She answered lowering her eyes, nervous about where this conversation was going.

She didn't like Brian asking her what her duties where for Rena. Was he planning on replacing her? Fuck, she knew Rena could do without her. James could do everything she does. In truth, she had way too much time on her hands. Brian could get rid of her anytime he wished. And what does she do? She butts into his business. Great, that will endear him to her. Fuck it. She didn't care. Fuck it all.

"Shane, look at me," Brian commanded.

Shane looked up reluctantly.

"Why are you so afraid?"

Shane gave him a menacing look. "Fuck you," was her answer.

Brian folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward. He sighed deeply.

"I'm very disappointed in Rena. She's obviously a terrible therapist."

Shane sat up in her chair and glared at Brian. "What the fuck do you know? You haven't seen or talked to her in six fucking years! All of a sudden you come back in her life and you think you know everything? YOU KNOW NOTHING!" Shane shouted at him, tears threatening to spill over from her eyes.

"Rena saved my fucking life!" Shane shot up from her chair and ripped her jacket off. Then she pulled her tee shirt over her head.

Brian was a little stunned by her intense response, but not unprepared. He knew the insult to Rena would cause a reaction from her.

Brian watched as she stripped in front of him. Once the tee shirt was off, she proceeded to unbind her breast. She flattened her breast, adding to her boyish look, with wide ace bandages. Once freed, her breasts were surprisingly full. And then Brian saw them. All the marks. Shane was a cutter. He couldn't stop the small gasp that escaped his lips when he saw the massive amounts of scars she had on her arms and torso. He'd been on the streets, he'd seen cutters and their scars, but he never saw a case as severe as this.

"LOOK AT THIS!" Shane screamed spreading her arms so Brian could get a good look. Even her breasts and nipples were scarred.

Brian sat back in his chair and studied her.

"I haven't cut in over four years. Four fucking years! Do you know what Rena did the first time she saw me cutting?" Shane asked, not really wanting an answer from Brian, so he didn't give her one. He let her vent. She needed to get this out.

"I was in the bathroom of the studio. We were in LA. She had offered me a job not even knowing about my cutting. I was fucking sixteen and tricking since I was six. My mother was a crack whore. I was a very pretty little girl." Shane spat out in disgust, tears streaming down her face. "Fucking cunt sold me for a hit. I started cutting at the age of eight," Shane informed him bitterly.

"Rena walked in on me when I was cutting. She took one look, turned around and left. I thought, fucking great. My only shot at a decent job gone. Hey, I was used to disappointment, so I just continued to cut. It was one of my "deep" moments as I used to call them," Shane said, looking at Brian to see if he understood.

He nodded his head.

"Yeah, well Rena came back about fifteen minutes later with a first aide kit. She sat on the floor with me and watched me. She didn't try to stop me. She just watched and waited. When I was done, she helped me patch up. She was cleaning one of the wounds when she said something that I'll never forget. She said, "This is going to heal nicely. Part of the satisfaction is seeing the wounds heal. Knowing that no matter how bad you're hurt, you can always heal."

Shane paused and looked down at her scars. "She understood." Her voice was barely a whisper, more for herself than for Brian.

Brian got up from behind his desk and walked over to Shane. He retrieved her tee shirt from the floor and proceeded to pull it over her head. Shane let him do what he wanted. She was emotionally spent, her eyes lowered, her body shook a bit.

"Shane, listen to me," Brian said as he proceeded to dress her.

"Are you listening?"

Shane nodded her head.

"You are part of my family. Just as Justin and I are part of your family. That's not going to change. So do me a favor, ok? Stop this bullshit. I need you."

Shane snapped her head up, almost clocking Brian under his chin. He laughed and stepped back.

"What do you mean, you need me?" She asked stunned.

"Kinnetik is my baby. I put my whole heart and soul into this place. Cynthia used to be my personal secretary. She "knew" me. She understood how to read me. But she can't now, she has other duties. I liked the way you handled Claude. You were protecting me. I need someone who'll look out for my best interest. I need an assistant who understands me and who would pick up on my idiosyncrasies. Someone who'll know how to vet clients, and family when they come into Kinnetik." Brian put his finger under Shane's chin and looked into her eyes.

"Stop acting like a boy. You aren't one, and you really don't want to be one. Stop being afraid of men. Fucking gay men and women is avoidance. You are a straight woman. Just because your mother sold you to perverted straight men, doesn't mean all straight men are perverted. Trust yourself to at least try dating men." Brian searched her eyes to see if she was accepting what he was saying. He saw hope in her eyes. She was hanging on his every word.

"Stop dressing like this. I need you to look presentable when you're out there representing my business." "Can you do that?" he asked her.

Shane blinked a few times. "Rena wouldn't ask me to change," she said defiantly.

"Rena has taken you this far. She can't take you any farther. You have to go the rest of the way on your own. If you don't want to take the next step forward, I'll respect that. No matter what you decide, you are still family. That will never change. All I'm asking is that you do what I believe is what you really want to do anyway. You just need a reason. I'm giving you a reason. I need you."

Shane stepped back from Brian. "But who will answer Rena's phone?"

Brian frowned. Why was it so important that Shane answer Rena's calls? There was something very wrong here.

"Rena will have to learn how to answer her own phone again. It's a fear she has to overcome," he said confidently, giving Shane the impression he knew why Rena didn't answer her own phone.

"Jesus Brian, I don't know. It's been three years and she's still afraid that one day she's going to pick up that phone and hear Emilian's voice again." Shane dropped that bomb on Brian.

Brian's face froze. His whole body stiffened. The affect was not lost on Shane.

"FUCK!" she said.

Brian's stomach lurched.

Emilian was still alive.