Brian stepped back around the corner he had just turned, trying to appear casual as the familiar blond woman made her way down the hallway. He frowned when he noticed that she was crying, and clamped down on a flicker of anxiety. He waited until she had entered an elevator before he rounded the corner and made his way to the room she had just left. It had been three and a half weeks since Justin Taylor had come out of his coma. Brian knew that he'd been doing quite well in physiotherapy, but still suffered violent outbursts and bad headaches, and bad dreams. He knew this because he dropped in occasionally to watch the blond as he slept, and the night nurses, thinking he was a friend or a relative - with only a little coaxing on Brian's part - shared information with him. He wasn't sure what it was about the kid, but Brian felt oddly connected to the twink, and protective of him as well. He stopped when he reached the window of the familiar room, and looked in, eyes immediately spotting the lean figure that lay on the bed. As was usual, Justin Taylor's sleep was not peaceful. Brian frowned as the twink's body jerked and twitched. “He was tossing the ball today,” the night nurse offered, nodding her head towards Justin's room when Brian looked at her. “He's making remarkable improvement.” She smiled broadly and continued on her rounds. Brian turned back to the window and watched as Justin seemed to calm in his sleep, laying peacefully beneath the thin hospital sheets. He stayed there at the window, like a useless sentinel, warding off bad dreams and monsters, until his eyes flickered to the clock in Justin's room, and a glimpse of the time reminded him that he was supposed to meet Michael. Brian flicked his eyes back towards the blonde's face, and froze on the spot when blue eyes opened suddenly and met his gaze directly. Brian felt his world closing in, felt his entire self being lost in those eyes and, most disturbingly, felt absolutely no struggle within himself to stop getting lost there. Every part of him was awakening under that intense gaze, and every part of him felt a bizarre certainty that this was right. And that frightened him more than anything. He stepped back and then managed to turn away from the gaze, though walking away more difficult than anything he'd done before. ……………… Brian waited three days before he returned to the hospital. It was enough time to clear his head of disturbing memories of the blond and those blue eyes, and dismiss the connection they seemed to have made. He walks through the hallway, feet moving on automatic, knowing the path because he's walked it before. He ends-up at the window to the familiar room, only the person lying on the bed isn't who he expected to see. Instead of the lean, blonde figure, fast asleep and dreaming fitfully, there is a short, rotund man propped up on the bed and picking at his teeth rather unattractively. Brian turns away from the window and frowns. “He's been discharged,” a passing night nurse says with a pitying smile. “Hadn't you been told?” Brian looked back at her blankly and she paused in her rounds. “Just yesterday. He was making such progress with his physiotherapy that he was released. Of course, he still needs to continue the exercises, and he's still on meds, and he's supposed to be going to regular appointments with a physiotherapist about that hand, but from the sounds of it, he won't be doing that with us.” Brian looked up sharply at that. “What do you mean?” The nurse shrugged. “Jennifer Taylor, that's his mother, made a request for recommendations for physiotherapists situated over in England. Apparently, he's going to be staying over there, with a friend of the family.” When Brian didn't ask anything more, the nurse returned to her rounds. He watched her shuffle from door to door, peering into the windows, checking charts, and making notes. Then he turned on his heel and left the hospital. …………………. Justin sat in a plush leather chair in the middle of an elaborate office: wood paneling, shelves of books, large ornately carved desk. Oddly, Justin felt quite comfortable in the place. He shifted in his chair, tilting his head back so he could admire the mural on the ceiling: birds in flight with a backdrop of sunny skies. The artwork was detailed and brightly colored, but didn't seem to fit with the black and white photographs that were artistically framed and hung along the walls. The door opened abruptly but it didn't startle Justin, who continued to analyze the mural. He listened as papers rustled and the sound of cloth ghosting against leather, followed by a patient silence. Justin let the silence reign for a moment before he took his eyes from the ceiling and looked directly at the man now situated behind the desk. He'd grown fond of Gardner Vance; the man was more like a father to Justin than his real father ever was. Ever since Justin made his decision to go with the man, Vance had visited him regularly in hospital teaching him techniques on coping. It had become increasingly difficult for Justin to focus, Vance had explained that this was to be expected, that his new gift was establishing itself and he just needed to be patient. Justin had needed to be a lot more than patient. The pain of his 'gift' establishing itself had been quite intense; even with Vance's techniques, and it had been a complete relief to get on the private jet that had taken him over seas, and even more lovely to reach the large country manor where he would be staying. “The results echo my suspicions,” Vance began. “Your abilities are quite extensive.” This was surprisingly shocking to Justin. He had no idea what to expect when it came to the changes in his life since the bashing, but Vance had always seemed quite certain about what was normal and what to expect. It was amazingly comforting for Justin, who felt like his entire world was spinning out of his control, to have Vance there calmly telling him that everything was absolutely normal, given the situation. To hear, now, that Justin's capabilities were startlingly to the man who, up to this point, had been completely blaze about the entire thing, was unsettling to say the least. “There is some concern about the medications you're taking?” “I stopped the hospital's prescriptions,” Justin admitted. “Ronald mentioned that there were side-effects?” Vance asked. “Nausea,” Justin admitted. “Dizziness, they made me feel even more tense and nervous and increased the headaches. He recommended stopping them altogether.” Upon his arrival at the manor, Justin had not only been given a tour of the elaborate grounds and shown to his chambers, but he'd also met a team of people dedicated to helping him. There were several other 'superheroes in training' that Vance was looking after, but each of them had their own team. Because of his situation, Justin's team was slightly larger than the others. Along with a personal trainer and fighting instructor, Justin had a doctor and physiotherapist, and he seemed to have captured Vance's interest, because over the few weeks he had been with the man, Vance had always taken the time to speak with him and check into how things were. They'd developed, in such a short time, the sort of relationship Justin had always wanted with his father, and Vance seemed happy to accept the role of father figure for his latest charge. “The medication that Ron designed specifically?” Vance asked with some concern. “Is becoming less effective,” Justin admitted. “We'll step-up your training,” Vance suggested. “I'll see if something stronger can be made.” Justin nodded and sighed. Everything was so interesting about this place, and everything he'd learned was incredible, but it was hard work, and exhausting. Everything was made doubly hard because Justin was still not accustomed to being around too many people. He had no memory of what had happened to him, but that didn't stop him from reacting badly to certain things. He was learning, with Vance's help, to separate himself from things. One of his latest discussions with Vance had been about the difference between the secret identity and the superhero. Justin had taken his lesson a step further. He'd begun to concentrate very hard before each of his lessons, to screen-out certain things, certain memories, and focus strongly on the task he was doing. As a result, when he slipped into what he had lately started to think of as 'superhero mode', he was a stronger, more focused version of himself. Stronger, because he shut away any thoughts of his bashing, and focused, because it took a lot of work to forget about what had happened. “What did you come-up with for the campaign?” Vance asked, changing the topic. Part of the deal had been that Vance would train him and teach him everything he needed to know, and Justin would work in Vance's company. Vance had seen his work at one of the small showings at his school, and as Justin steadily regained the use of his hand, Vance gave him more and more work within the company to get him used to it. They sat in the large office discussing the various ads Vance had given Justin to work on. It was easy conversation as they exchanged ideas. Justin wasn't able to actually begin the artwork on any of the ads because his hand tired easily, but it was improving, and Vance had learned that Justin was quick-witted and quite good at coming up with new ideas. They talked about a wide variety of things before Justin had to excuse himself because he was due for a lesson. The days were comfortable to Justin in their order. He knew everyone who was in the manor and they all knew to take it easy with him. Unless Justin was in one of his classes, he tended to keep to himself entirely, socializing only with Vance, and that was fine with Justin. There were, of course, his regular phone calls to his mother, who had been very reluctant to let Justin go, and in face, had only agreed because Vance had done a good job at convincing her. She had no idea what he was doing. He'd told her only that Vance had offered him an internship with his company and that, if things went well, he'd have a job. All of that wasn't a lie because Vance had promised him a job in the art department of the company as soon as Justin was ready. The pay was amazing, and Vance had agreed to work the hours around Justin's course schedule, since Justin intended to go to art school. That had been one of the reasons for the argument between himself and his parents - one of the last things that Justin remembered before waking up in the hospital. “Justin!” a voice cried, and Justin turned around to see Daphne Chanders, the only other occupant of the manor that was his age. Except, unlike him, she wasn't there because of special powers; she was there because she was amazingly talented when it came to computers. It had been she who had tracked Justin down when Vance had used the machine to find him. Justin had since learned that the machine was used to locate other people, like him, who were coming into their powers. Vance didn't use it often, and it was quite taxing on the man's system, but Justin was grateful that it had located him, because he wasn't sure if he could possibly have coped without Vance and the others. “What do you think you're doing?” Daphne demanded once she'd caught-up to him. Rebecca has been waiting for you down in the training room for almost twenty minutes, and you know how she gets when she's kept waiting.” Rebecca was one of Justin's fighting instructors. “Anyway, I have that information you wanted me to get,” she grinned broadly and waved a thick envelope in front of his face, but snatched it back when he moved to take it. “Nuh uh! Not until you be a good little superhero and do your training. Then you can read about the mysterious hunk in purple.” “You're a freak,” Justin said, smiling and shaking his head. Besides Vance, Daphne was the only other person Justin could tolerate. Conversation was easy between them, and she never pushed him about anything. “Takes one to know one,” she replied maturely, and then stuck her tongue out. “Ew, so not interested,” Justin said, cringing at the sight of her tongue, and they laughed. It felt as if he hadn't laughed like than in ages, and maybe that was true. Either way, Justin fully intended to make the best out of this crazy situation, and Daphne and Vance and everyone else were all making that a lot easier than he'd imagined. “You don't know what you're missing,” Daphne teased. She liked flirting with Justin, mostly because the blond always blushed and reacted sweetly. She knew he was gay, and mourned the loss of another hotty. She was steadily becoming firmly convinced that all hot men were gay. Still, that didn't get in the way of their friendship, and she'd taken Justin under her wing, feeling oddly protective of him. Justin didn't have to be at the manor very long before he and Daphne were inseparable. “I'll race you to the Devil's dungeon!” Justin said and started sprinting, Daphne laughing and running to catch up. Rebecca was a taskmaster, and usually quite irritable, genes the name Devil, as well as several others that were less polite. Still, she was quite skilled and an effective teacher. “Bastard!” Daphne shouted as Justin disappeared around the corner far ahead of her. “I need to start working out more,” she huffed to herself. ---------------------------- Two years later … ---------------------------- Brian stepped into the boardroom to find Marty Ryder firmly shaking the hand of a short, bald, British man. Both men seemed happy, and Brian took a breath, trying to brace himself to hear whatever news had previously been withheld from him. “Brian!” Ryder said, smiling happily. “This is Gardner Vance.” “Brian Kinney,” Gardner said, shaking Brian's offered hand. “Marty tells me you're the engine that drives the company.” ”That would be me,” Brian answered honestly. He had already heard from Ryder about the sale. He'd been angry about it, because he'd been about to make partner and instead wound-up fighting for his job under a new boss. Still, Brian refused to rollover and give-up. “I'm the thrust behind this company,” he said, tongue in cheek. Vance quirked an eyebrow and looked at Brian appraisingly while Marty shuffled the papers on the desk. “Mr. Vance has just signed the last of the papers, Brian. Which means, I'm off to the friendly Caribbean to work on my tan.” Marty shook Vance's hand and exchanged a few words, and then repeated the process with Brian. “He's short, but mighty,” Ryder whispered quietly to Brian, causing Brian to have to bite-back a snort. “Good luck, gentlemen.” And just that easily Marty Ryder left the firm he'd built up from nothing. “I understand you were about to make partner in this firm before the deal,” Vance said, sitting down at one of the boardroom chairs. “That was the original plan,” Brian admitted. He took a seat at the table. Vance continued to look at him for a moment, dark eyes surveying Brian and seeming to see through him. “I like to be direct with my employees,” Vance said after a moment. “While I'm very impressed with the client list here, I am not impressed with some of the employees. You must be aware that I've already let some people go.” Brain was, in fact, very aware. He'd heard that some of the people in the art department were packing up and, to be honest, Brian's respect for his new boss had risen because those employees had been complete idiots. “I've seen your work and I agree with Marty, you have skills, so I'll make a deal with you.” Vance paused long enough to make sure he had Brian's full attention. “Make me believe that you're worth keeping on in this company, and I won't fire you like I did with the others.” …………… Brian left the boardroom and he was seething. On the one hand, he probably would have done exactly the same thing if he had been in Gardner Vance's position. On the other, Brian had been about to make partner and suddenly this jackass comes in and threatens to throw him out of his job. He was the fucking heart of this company! With a huff, Brian returned to his office and buzzed for Cynthia. Cynthia was his assistant, and was pretty much the only person who could tolerate Brian's attitude and manage it appropriately. At work, Brian had no tolerance for idiots and fuck-ups. In that way, he supposed he was quite similar to Vance, except Brian didn't want to think about that bastard because he was still fuming about the ultimatum he'd been given. “You called, boss?” Cynthia asked as she popped her head into his office. “Find anything and everything you can on Gardner Vance.” Cynthia nodded her head and headed out. …………….. It didn't take Brian long to find a way to prove his worth to Gardner Vance. The man had been lusting after the Brown Athletics campaign for fucking ever and Brian fully intended to bag it. Most days he was in his office brainstorming ideas for the ad and how best to get a meeting with the head of the Brown Athletics company when they were not looking for new representation. Around him, Brian was only vaguely aware of the thinning numbers of employees, slowly being replaced by new faces. He was focused solely on this campaign that would make or break his career at this company. He had been giving one week to prove his merit, and he'd already used four of those seven days. He had finalized the idea for the campaign and was busy thinking over his presentation of it when Cynthia knocked on his office door. “Did you hear?” she asked as he told her to come in. “Vance just fired Brisko!” For a moment, Brian was shocked. Daniel Brisko was the head of the art department at Ryder; but the company wasn't Ryder anymore, it was Vance. As much as Brian had been driven insane by the art department, Brisko had been one of the few with some talent. “What the fuck happened?” he asked. It was becoming clear to him that talent and dependability wasn't the only recommendation needed to stay in the company, otherwise it seemed certain Brisko would have stayed. “Vance is bringing over the head of his art department from his company in England. He said that he'd be happy to keep on Brisko but not as head. So Brisko quit.” That was reasonable, that Brisko wouldn't accept being demoted. It made him wonder who the hell Vance's art director was that it warranted firing such a composed and attentive man. “Anyway, I set up your flight and everything's ready.” She handed over the tickets and he accepted them, setting them on his desk and returning to his computer. “You'll nail it, you know,” Cynthia said as she paused in the doorway. “I always do,” Brian said with a smirk. Cynthia rolled her eyes and shut the door behind her. ……………….. True to form, when Brian returned to Pittsburgh he brought back with him signed forms from Brown Athletics. They had signed for quite s pretty penny, with a few stipulations, one of them being that Brian was made partner in the firm. He celebrated in true Kinney style, dancing and tricking the night away at Babylon. It was another advantage of his regenerative bed - that it even cured hangovers. He strutted through the office the next day and knocked on Vance's door, which opened a moment later and a young blond man stepped out. “Excuse me,” the blond said in a quiet voice, and Brian stepped aside, trying to catch a glimpsed of the other man's face because his head was down as he flipped through some files. “Brian,” a surprisingly good-humored Vance called from inside the office. Brian watched the blond walk down the hallway, head still in the files he held, and caught a view of a rather unbelievable ass before he turned and headed into the office. For a moment, inside, Brian's head was spinning because he was certain there was something about the man that was familiar, but he couldn't exactly place it and he wondered if it was just that the man had been one of his tricks. “Our latest account,” Brian said placing the file down on Vance's desk. Vance didn't even look down at it, simply gave as much of a smile as he ever seemed to give and nodded his head. “Congratulations,” he said, and offered his hand. “I'll look it over.” Brian shook the offered hand, his mind already elsewhere. Brian wasn't seated in his office three minutes when Cynthia said there was someone to see him. He hadn't yet gotten in to any of his work so, reluctantly, he told her to send them in. Brian didn't really socialize at work, and when someone came to his office it was usually to inform him they'd screwed-up one of his ads. Today, however, was an exception, because as soon as the door opened the blond from Vance's office stepped through looking only the slightest bit uncertain until his eyes landed on Brian, and then he flashed the biggest smile, and Brian was certain the whole fucking room lit up. “Hi,” the blond said, shutting the door before crossing to Brian's desk and offering a hand, which Brian accepted. The handshake was firm, the hand was soft, and Brian was fairly disturbed to feel a jolt of electricity rush through his system. “I just wanted to come over and introduce myself,” the blond went on, but suddenly Brian's vision was tunneling and all he could focus on was the face that was before him. A familiar face. And he knew that he didn't need to wait to hear the name to know who, by a strange turn of events, had ended-up at his office. “I'm the new head of the art department, Justin Taylor.” What the hell was the kid, nineteen? And he was the head of the art department? Wasn't he in school? How had he recovered? Clearly his hand had to be working well for him, but he'd heard the grim diagnosis that the kid wouldn't ever draw again. What had he been doing for the two years since he'd last seen him? Brian's mind was flooding with thoughts, and it took him a moment before he could remember to introduce himself. ……………… Justin's entire body was shaking as he closed the door to Brian Kinney's office and headed down the hall. He wasn't sure what had disturbed him, but something had because he could barely catch his breath. His thoughts were racing, his heartbeat was echoing through his ears and his entire body felt simultaneously incredibly hot and incredibly cold. But what the hell was wrong? Was it the handshake? Touching Brian Kinney had been like grasping into a bolt of lightning. He'd had to force his shields up around his mind and he'd become incredibly aware and aroused by the other man. Not that he hadn't been already, because the man was bloody attractive. But then there had been something, looking at the man as he stood before him, which had made Justin's breath congeal in his throat. “Hey, Justin,” Daphne said as he walked towards his office. “I've got the -“ but Justin walked by her in a daze and opened the door to his office. “Just leave it for a minute, alright?” he requested quietly before he shut his door. He was still shaking as he collapsed into the chair in his office. Who the fuck was Brian Kinney? And why the hell did Justin feel he'd seen him before?