Debbie Novotny grunted as she kicked the back door of the diner open and shuffled the bags of garbage towards the bin. It was relatively early in the afternoon, just after a change of shifts and Kiki was late, which meant Debbie was on her own, hauling the trash out and managing the tables of the few people who'd come for a late lunch. She shuffled down the short alley maneuvering the bags as she went, and then dropped them by the tall green garbage bin. She had to stand on tiptoe to throw back the damn lid, and then she stooped to pick up the first bag, hefting it up and then tossing it over the rim of the bin. The movement directed her gaze inside the bin and she thought she caught sight of denim jeans. Back on tiptoe, she gripped the edge of the garbage bin and peered over the edge. “Holy shit!” she cried, stumbling back from the bin, her hands rising to her mouth and her eyes beginning to water. She tried to get a grip on herself, to remember what it was she was supposed to do in a situation like this. Then she turned on her heel and bolted back into the diner. ………………… The file landed with a smack onto Justin's worktable. He huffed in irritation and turned to face Daphne, who was looking at him expectantly. “Do you mind?” he asked. He was in the middle of designing the ad for Eyeconics, a campaign he was working on with Brian and he really didn't want to mess it up because, for whatever reason, he wanted to impress the man. “That's another one,” Daphne said, her tone serious. “He was found in the dumpster by the Liberty Diner by a waitress there.” “Christ, Daphne. At least shut the fucking door!” he hissed, and she rolled her eyes, turning and closing it before she walked back and placed her hands on her hips. “What?” he asked. “What are you going to do about it?” she demanded to know. “I don't know,” he huffed. “I'm working.” “Well, the police are doing jack-squat!” she said. “They're going around calling this kid 'Dumpster Boy' because they can't expend the effort to find out his name!” “How do you know that?” he asked. “I hacked into their system,” she said, affronted that he would expect any less. “What do you take me for?” “Look. Work is kind of crazy right now. Vance has me handling a lot of the campaigns while he gets used to the art department, and Kinney is demanding as hell. I'm looking into it, though. You know I'm looking into it.” Which she did, of course, because they shared a small apartment, and she'd seen Justin trying to find something, anything, that could give him a lead in the case. She nodded her head and moved to take the file but Justin caught her wrist. “Leave it,” he asked. “Okay,” she said, and smiled before she turned and left his office. ……………….. Brian looked up when the door open, already knowing who it would be because Cynthia had told him. He had become used to seeing Justin Taylor, had grown to enjoy the blonde's company. For all the time he'd spent outside the twink's hospital room watching him sleep, or sitting in his office wondering what the kid had been doing down on Liberty when it was clear he wasn't clubbing - drawn to the blond by some force Brian refused to name - he'd never really got around to imagining the blonde's personality, or anything about him beside the facts of his life that had led up to him stumbling into Brian's life. Now that Justin had returned to the Pitts and into Brian's own office, they saw each other regularly, and whatever had been drawing Brian back to the comatose blonde's side those nights in the hospital seemed to be magnified. Now Brian knew Justin. Knew how he'd smile that way that lit up the entire office when something pleased him, had grown to enjoy the kid's wit and attitude, had gotten used to seeing him around - alive and well. “Hey,” Justin greeted as he poked his head into Brian's office. “I have the ad for Eyeconics. Is this a good time?” Instead of answering, Brian stood up and reached his hand out for the ad. One thing he could say with absolute sincerity was that he wholeheartedly approved of Vance's reappointments within the art department. Even Brisko, who'd Brian had felt ambivalent about seeing leave because he was the only person within the department who ever actually met the deadlines and did work that was passable. Vance had gone to town on the art department, though, and Brian had absolutely no complaints. It was so much easier, now. He was partner in the firm; he handled some of the biggest accounts and he'd begun to take it for granted that the art department would actually understand what he meant when he expressed his idea, that they'd actually be on time and not fuck up. “I wanted to talk to you about the overall look of it,” Justin said as he propped the board up on Brian's desk. He'd done exactly what Brian had requested, and it always amazed Brian that the kid could so easily catch on to the image in his head, interpret it and put it out on paper without even the slightest difference between the ad and the image that had appeared in Brian's head - with the exception of improvements which Justin sometimes took the liberty of making, but only when he'd run it by Brian and defended his reasons for the change. So far, Brian had never had to disagree with one of Justin's ideas. “You said blue, and that's what I did for the font, but I thought we might spice the whole thing up a bit more. Make it more daring, more eye-catching.” Without any more comment, Justin held up a second board. It displayed the same basic idea that Brian had expressed, except the writing was orange, which made the text pop-out nicely as it complimented with the blue of the ocean behind the model. The model himself was in almost the same position as in the first ad, except his head was tilted just the slightest bit more, and there was a hint of a naughty smile playing on his lips. It was hot, and brilliant, and Brian could see that Justin was damn pleased with it. “We've done surveys,” Brian said. “Of thousands of people, from varying age groups, and the overwhelming conclusion was that blue was the way to go.” He kept his face serious and his eyes hard. It never ceased to amuse him how Justin would defend his ideas, half disappointed that they were never accepted with full-out accolades, and partly affronted that no one could see what he could in his work. “Well, those polls were hardly accurate. It's the overwhelming consensus among college students that orange is the new blue,” Justin said, his voice filled with stubborn certainty. “Your peer group,” Brian said, in a mock sneering tone. “Which means that I'm in an ideal position to know,” Justin shot back. This was a tradition; already well established in the short time they had been working together. Justin knew that Brian wasn't going to shower him with praise or gush over his ideas; and Brian knew Justin could give as good as he got, and had never produced an ad that hadn't been spectacularly effective. “Since the ad is targeting my age group,” Justin continued, emphasizing the last portion of his sentence. “I thought I might suggest something that would be more appealing.” ”Orange,” Brian said thoughtfully after a moment of silence, pretending to think this all over. “I know colour, Mr. Kinney,” Justin said, trying to keep the smirk from his face, already knowing he'd won - again. “It's not bad,” Brian said, sounding grudging. “Alright, the changes stay. Have that mounted on black foam core -“ “I know,” Justin said, cutting Brian off with a smile. “Your usual requirements.” When Justin turned on his heel, there was a bounce in his step and he swished his hips a bit more than usual, grinning as he left the office. For his part, Brian pretended not to notice. Not that he was really fooling anyone. ………………… It was nearing the end of his first month back in Pittsburgh and Justin had become restless. Daphne said it was because he was back in the place where it all began for him, and since he'd never dealt with the attack, he was having a harder time adjusting than he might have. Justin dismissed this, however. It seemed far more likely that it was due to the stress and activity. Ever since he'd landed back in Pittsburgh Justin had been busy, at first with moving into his and Daphne's place and with work, and then with his other occupation as the darkly clad superhero who Daphne had dubbed 'JT. Already the queers of Liberty were whispering fondly about their new 'Secret Avenger'. And then there was Justin's own project having to do with Liberty's other mysterious superhero who had saved him. More important than anything now, was the series of murders happening: bodies of young boys turning up in trashcans and dumpsters, all of them under twenty, all of them twinks, all of them strangled. And that was why Justin was restless, because no matter how much time he spent investigating into the murders, Justin had no idea where to begin. Or he did, but Vance and Daphne both had shot his suggestion down and had been watching him like a hawk ever since he proposed it. He figured he'd give it another week, and if he still had nothing, then their worry didn't matter, he had to do what he had to do. As it was, Justin was at Vanguard working late. He'd finished the ad an hour ago and now sat with the files Daphne had collected for him regarding the five twinks who had turned up dead in dumpsters. As far as Justin could determine, there was absolutely no link between the murdered twinks except that they were all young and blond and gay. One of them, Jason Kemp, had been a hustler, while another, Matthew Richmond, had been a rich pretty boy. They didn't share a particular hangout place beyond the fact that they frequented Liberty. With a sigh, Justin looked up at the clock and cursed under his breath. It was nearly midnight. He hadn't meant to work so late. Quickly, Justin got together his files and work things and put them into his messenger bag, putting on his coat and wrapping his blue scarf around his neck before he headed out of his office and to the elevators. It was a cool night and Justin spared a moment to mourn the fact that he hadn't worn gloves to work. Resigning himself, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed towards the bus stop. It was dark, the moon only a small sliver in the black sky, and that streetlamps were a faded orange glow that left shadows between them. Due to the hour, the street was void of pedestrians and cars were not passing so frequently. What was usually a bustling hub during daylight hours was practically void of life in the evening. And Justin knew with absolute certainty that this night had trouble written all over it. He kept his pace steady as he walked down the street, knowing without having to see, that three men were following him. He wasn't sure of their intentions, though it was clear that they were not well-meaning; to Justin, what they wanted didn't matter, either way, he didn't intend to comply. At that point between streetlamps when the darkness was thicker, the men pushed forward and forcibly spun Justin around. “Give me your wallet, your bag and your watch,” one man demanded. “And maybe we'll leave you the use of your limbs.” Justin quirked an eyebrow, unfazed by the threat. He watched as two of the men withdrew their switchblades, and he could see the gun that the man who had spoken, apparently the leader, had barely concealed in his coat. Justin was about to open his mouth and let the games begin when one of the other men turned to the leader, pressing the switchblade to the side of his throat. “Give me your wallet,” he said. “Fuck you,” said the man with the gun. “Give me yours!” Justin watched as they argued, and then began to brawl. He took several steps back and, hands on hips, turned to face the man he knew would be standing casually behind him. Justin was a little peeved that he came face to face with the man's chin, but he was fired-up anyway and wouldn't let his smaller stature stop him. “I could have taken care of it,” he huffed. “I'm not some weak-ass little faggot,” he huffed. Rage seemed to eye him with amusement. “You pulled that trick before, anyway. Is that how you always deal with shit-disturbers?” “You're welcome,” Rage replied, and his tone seemed both amused and exasperated. ”I didn't say 'thank-you',” Justin pointed out. “I'm not going to say 'thank-you'. I had it under control.” “You had three thugs twice your size, armed thugs, one of which had a gun aimed at your pretty blond head,” Rage replied, his tone sounding bored now. “You think my head is pretty?” Justin said, teasing the superhero. The man actually appeared flustered. “I can brag to the boys of Liberty that Rage was checking me out while he was saving my ass,” Justin continued to tease. ”Next time, I'll let you handle it,” Rage replied, turning and moving away. “I've been looking for you,” Justin called after the man, and watched as Rage stopped walking. “This isn't the first time you've stepped between me and a gang.” “Were you going to tell me you had it under control then, too?” Rage asked. “No,” Justin admitted. “Then I could have used the help.” “So what the fuck were you looking for me for?” Rage asked, finally turning around. “Well, shit,” Justin said, just to be difficult. “If you're going to be a prick about it, forget I said anything!” Rage actually huffed, and walked back to stand by Justin. “What?” he asked, but his tone was softer. Somehow Justin knew not to expect an apology. “I just wanted to say that it was appreciated, is all,” Justin said. “What you did, I mean.” Rage quirked his lips in a half-smirk, half-smile. Justin, feeling bold, took a step towards the man. “You know,” he hedged. “in 'Spiderman', when he saves the girl the second time, she gets a kiss,” Justin said, smirking back at Rage. Justin's body was practically thrumming as he stood there, looking at the masked man. Rage radiated such strong sexual energy mixed with confidence, added to the fact that Justin was, for the first time, standing near someone who's emotions and thoughts were not being broadcast into his head, and also Justin thought that memories were flickering through his mind, of the last time they had met. He was feeling just the slightest bit overwhelmed, and unsteady, and simply vulnerable, and it seemed, maybe, that Rage could keep him safe as easily as he could sweep Justin off his feet. Justin had always loved flirting with danger. “I seem to recall,” Rage said, his voice husky and low. “That she was the one who kissed him.” He quirked an eyebrow in challenge, a move which was accentuated by the fact that the black mask ended just beneath the brow. Justin was aware that their breath had picked up, and that they had moved closer together. He was also keenly aware of what he wanted and also, that he fully intended to take it. It wasn't like the mysterious superhero was fighting him. “A technicality,” Justin said, and then their lips brushed against each other lightly, fleeting. As Justin tried to gasp in oxygen, recovering from the shocks that had raced through his body at that mere contact, he felt Rage's arms come around him, one wrapping around his waist and the other tangling in the hairs at the back of his head, pressing Justin's smaller form harshly against the larger body, and Justin felt Rage's tongue pushing into his mouth. It felt like he was being devoured, and that he was devouring. He lost track of everything until it seemed as if they'd been kissing for eternity and for seconds. Everything melted together until nothing existed except them, entwined on the cool damp street. A calmness washed over Justin's mind and for the first time since the bashing, everything quieted. He was vaguely aware that his fingertips had slipped through the tear in Rage's attire and were rubbing against the firm chest, and his other hand was clutching almost desperately around the back of the taller man's neck. It was complete surrender, and for once, Justin was not afraid of it, felt as though he could trust the taller man. They parted when their need for breath could no longer be ignored. Justin felt as if the entire earth had shifted beneath his feet. He stood there, breathing raggedly with his eyes closed, only vaguely aware that Rage had not moved away, had in fact stayed quite close. Justin could feel the superhero's breath ghosting against his cheek, and he finally managed to open his eyes and regain control of himself. He could hear the sound of the bus, breaks squeaking as it headed towards the stop. “So,” Justin said, his voice gaining a husky timbre as a result of their kiss. “What I wanted to say was,” another breath, his eyes finally focussing. “Thank-you,” Justin said, and made himself step back from the taller man. As he turned on his heel and jogged over to the stop, Justin was smiling to himself. The kiss might have been earth shattering to him, but he'd certainly managed to rock the superhero's world. A part of him felt free, having faced the man who had saved him two years ago. Knowing for certain that such a man existed, it almost validated everything Justin himself had gone through, both with his own gifts, and the fleeting memories that sometimes plagued him at night. As if seeing Rage once more allowed him to finally process that everything he'd been told about his accident was real -- and that was unbelievably and quite surprisingly liberating. ……………….. Brian found himself glancing once more at the blond as he adjusted the boards. He was reading over the notes he made regarding the pitch he was about to make regarding the Eyeconics ad that he and Justin had been working on. The blond himself was setting up the boards, having shooed the fumbling intern out of the room. Brian was usually quite focussed before giving a pitch, but today, his eyes kept being drawn away from his notes and towards the lithe body of the blond. The memory of their kiss was burning through his thoughts. Justin had felt so unbelievably right, pressed close to his chest, mouth open and wanting. Brian had never before experienced a reaction such as the one he'd had to the blond art director when they had kissed. Kissed! What the hell would happen if they fucked? Oh, that was a thought. Now Brian couldn't get the image of Justin sprawled on Brian's regenerative bed in the loft. Or perhaps his desk in the office? Or hell, why not the boardroom table, right here, right now? He could imagine the blonde's short staccato gasps for air, like he'd taken last night after they had broken apart. That Justin would use his legs to hold Brian close, would sigh, as he'd done last night, when Brian ran his tongue from just behind Justin's ear, down his neck, and skimmed his teeth along a pale shoulder. That, when Brian dipped his hand beneath those charcoal grey slacks the blond was wearing, he'd moan and arch up and grab - “Are you all right?” Vance asked, concerned, as he leaned close to Brian trying to be subtle. “What?” Brian asked, jolted from his fantasy. “Yeah, fine. We ready to start?” Vance frowned at him curiously, then glanced at Justin, who merely quirked an eyebrow. The art director was already seated at the table, and Vance nodded his head. “Yes, we're just about ready.” And then Cynthia had been opening the door and introducing the woman representing Eyeconics, and Brian didn't have the luxury of daydreaming. Though it was very hard for him to remain completely focussed on business, especially with Justin sitting right there. Brian didn't have the luxury of not knowing who he'd kissed the other night - he envied the damn blond. …………………. It was a stupid thing for him to do, but he hadn't thought about it at the time. If he'd thought about it, Justin would have decided that it would be best if he stayed at work a bit later and got a ride home with Vance. Except that part of the problem was he was never thinking clearly at times like this, and that's what the problem always was. So he left Vanguard at four o'clock, happy to have a short day, and made it to the bus and as soon as he claimed his seat, he realized what a tremendously stupid thing he'd just done, but it was already too late. It was because of the attack. It had brought back memories of another gang that had cornered him. And it was because of the kiss, because that had been a mind-blowing experience in itself. And Justin knew he'd been feeling out-of-sorts all day, but he thought doubling his dose of pills would take care of it. Obviously it hadn't, because as soon as he'd claimed his seat on the bus, he knew he was fighting to maintain his mental shields. And he could feel that he was losing the battle. So, naturally, seated as he was, walled-in by people and trying with all his might to keep everyone and their thoughts and dirty secrets from spilling into his mind, he began to have a panic attack, and hyperventilating, and pretty soon, he was blacking out. He didn't even feel it as his body landed hard against the rubber floor of the bus. ……………….. Brian was sitting in a meeting with Vance. They were going over the company and discussing what was working and what wasn't, and what could be done about it. It was one of those things that went along with being partner that Brian wasn't fussy about. Still, Brian had grown to enjoy Vance and they'd established a sort of camaraderie so the meeting wasn't too painful. They were almost half-way through a general review of the staff when there was a hasty knock on the door, and before Vance could beckon the person in, the door was opening and a young woman with cocoa skin and hair knotted in a complicated and wacky style was stumbling into the office looking frantic. “Vance,” she said, and Brian could tell she'd run a distance. “Daphne, if you could wait until Brian and I -“ but he was cut off as she waved her hands in a rather childish gesture for silence. “It's Justin!” she said, gaining not only Vance's full attention, but Brian's as well. “One moment,” Vance said hastily and immediately rose from his chair at the table and walked over to Daphne, he motioned her toward the doorway and Brian, eager to hear more, shamelessly placed the subtle thought in Vance's mind that he really didn't have to leave the room at all. “What is it?” Vance asked in a quiet voice from where he stood near the doorway. Daphne cast a flustered look between Vance and Brian before answered. “I got a call from the hospital, they said something happened when he was on the bus. They wouldn't divulge anything over the phone, they wanted us to come down, but I don't know all of his allergies and I didn't want to-“ “Yes, of course,” Vance said. “Just a moment,” he told her. “Brian,” he said, turning around and speaking loudly. “If you'd be so good as to excuse me, something has come up that I must see to directly.” Brian nodded his head, wondering what had happened to Justin, and what the relationship between Gardner Vance, Justin Taylor, and this girl?