Pairing: Justin and Chris
Words: chains; straight; generic; bamboozle


They don't notice for almost a week that Chris is gone, but it
doesn't much matter, because in the end, it's more than a year
before they hear anything of Chris other than the vaguest of rumors
and fuzzy pictures of someone who could be almost anyone.

The FBI's long since given up.

The fan boards claim to know where he is, but none of their stories
match.  No leads ever check out.

Chris has disappeared into the ether, and when a John Doe drifter
gets taken in by the police for vagrancy and fingerprinted, no one
expects to find a multimillionaire pop star.

Least of all Chris.

Justin's the one who goes to get Chris.  He walks into the police
station and gets directed to Chris with a minimum of hassle.  "Hi,
Chris," he says gently.

Chris looks up.  At least this face looks a little familiar.  "Hi."

Justin kneels next to Chris.  "I'm Justin.  You remember me at
all?"

Chris shrugs.  "You look kinda like someone I know.  Or knew.  Or
whatever."

"Oh.  Well, um.  You were-- I was--"  Justin breaks off.  "We were
best friends, and I've come to take you home."

"Okay."

Justin nods and stands up again, offering Chris his hand.

Chris takes it and stands.  "I guess I'm Chris."

"Yeah.  You are," Justin murmurs.

He nods.  He didn't think he wasn't Chris, not exactly.  It's a
generic name; it could fit anybody.  But the name he remembers
being called, remembers responding to when he was chained up and
groveling doesn't fit here.  Here's different.  He knows that, too. 
But the rest of his memories -- everything before being chained and
punished and starved and disciplined -- is all muzzy.  He thinks
maybe he locked it away from himself.

Justin knows, from the doctors, that Chris has been 'badly
treated'.  Basically, once Justin got done threatening them, they
said Chris has been tortured and 'trained', and he's not there
anymore.  The person Justin knew isn't the person on the outside. 
It's terrifying.  Maybe even scarier than Chris being gone.

"Where are we?" Chris asks.  He knows this isn't the life he was
leading, but even there, they'd found him talking to be, well,
amusing sometimes.

"We're in Washington.  The state," Justin says.  He directs Chris
to his car.  "We, or I and you used to, live in Orlando, Florida." 
Justin unlocks the car and stops beside Chris's door.  "I want you
to know that I love you.  You really are my best friend.  And you
won't ever, ever be alone like that again.  We're gonna keep you
safe."

Chris nods, seeming to completely disregard the words as
irrelevant.  "Where are we going?"

"Orlando," Justin repeats.  "But with stops on the way.  We're
driving."

"That's a long trip," Chris says.  He used to take long trips.  Not
the kind from recent memory, lying in a kennel and muzzled.  But
trips where he saw the road passing by.

"Yeah, it is.  Nicer in a car than a bus, though."

"I used to travel in a bus," he says, recognizing that particular
memory now.  The sideways motion of the land slipping by combined
with the space to sprawl out.

"Yeah.  We shared a bus.  You and me and JC.  Before that all of
us.  You, me, JC, Lance and Joey."  Justin starts driving.

Chris nods.  There were other people, he's sure.  But they're not
there yet in his mind.

After a while, Chris offers, "I think I forgot on purpose.  What
isn't there can't be taken and all that."

Justin nods.  "I hate that that happened to you," he says.  "But
I'm so glad to have you back."

"I don't know if I'm glad to be back.  But I'm glad to not be
there."  He obviously managed to forget his good memories.  Maybe
he can do the same thing with the bad ones that are so fresh right
now.

"Do you want to -- no.  Uh, here.  What should I know?  What things
would scare you, if I did them?  What do you want?"

"I don't think anything would scare me," Chris says after a pause
to consider the question.  "Well, it would.  But it wouldn't." 
Fear's a useless emotion.  He could only be scared so long before
burning out on fear.  At some point -- probably around the same
time he'd lost his memories -- he'd come to the conclusion that
was, was, and there was no use hoping or struggling or fearing.

The other questions are equally difficult.  He turns them back on
the other man.  "What should I want?  What kinds of things should
you know?"

"Do you want new clothes?  Chocolate?  Your own room at the hotel?"
Justin asks patiently.  Chris has been gone a year.  Justin, after
a while, started searching for him in strange places.  He knew
Chris wasn't dead, and knew Chris wouldn't just leave them unless
something bad happened.  Justin looked for Chris in trauma centers
and ended up taking a lot of classes.  Hence him being the one to
fetch Chris.  That and the fact that he burst into tears and
threatened to kill them all if they didn't let him go.

"New clothes would be good.  And chocolate.  I don't care where I
stay."  Chocolate is an easy thing to remember.  It's still a good
thing.

Justin grins and reaches back, grabbing a bookbag.  "Here." 
There's chocolate and Mt. Dew, chips and Dramamine in the bag. 
"Presents from JC."

"Who's JC?" Chris asks, and starts looking through the bag.  Maybe
if Justin tells him enough, he'll remember more.  He's thirsty, and
he opens the soda first.  It tastes better than good and he looks
at the bottle again.  "This is my favorite, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is.  JC's another of our friends.  There are five of us,
and we were really big singing sensations.  But mostly, it's
important that we're all really good friends.  JC's tall and..."
Justin spends nearly two hours filling the silence with
descriptions of everyone.  Chris chimes in occasionally, and always
correctly.

"I know.  About the singing."  Chris winces.  "They called me
'Boyband'.  They wanted me to sing, sometimes."

Justin breathes slowly in through his nose and out through his
mouth.  "We were good.  You were better."

Chris shakes his head.  "No," he says definitely.  "I was...
backup.  Harmony."

"You were.  But you were still a better singer than any of us."

Chris raises his eyebrows, but doesn't comment on that.  He
realizes he does have something he doesn't want Justin to do.  "You
asked what not to do.  Don't call me that."

"Not a problem," Justin assures him.  He's not sure, if Chris means
'better' or 'singer' or 'harmony' or 'boyband'.  "Uh.  What I
called you, or what they called you?"

"What they called me."

"Really not a problem, then."

"Thank you, s..."  The last bit almost slips out.  It's routines
he's wary of, and that he wants to avoid.  Hearing Boyband is
usually a cue to drop to his knees, however aching, and serve.

Justin reaches out and gently rubs the back of Chris's hand. 
"You're welcome, Chris."

Chris doesn't flinch, mostly due to training, rather than any
conscious inclination.  He knows Justin is touching him.  He's
pretty sure he remembers them touching a lot.  "I used to...
wrestle with you?  And you lost a lot."

"Yeah, I did.  You may be littler than me, but you're tougher,
too."

"And," Chris's face is screwed tightly in concentration.  "Lance is
a prick if he's tackled, but he's okay with being tickled, but only
by," large guy, beard, eyebrow ring, "Joey?"

"That's right," Justin says.  "He's mellowed a little, though."

"And JC can't be wrestled with, because he just gives up and goes
all girl, and Joey just picks me up over his shoulder and carries
me around if I try anything."  The memories are getting clearer. 
"Did I do that a lot or something?"

"Yep, to both.  JC's a girl, Joey's the strong guy, and you *did*
wrestle with us a lot.  You were always playing with someone."

"Playing."  Chris muses on that concept.  Fun.  "Playing's what
someone did *to* me," he says.  "They had fun with me."

Justin says bluntly, "That sucks.  Those utter bastards."

"Yeah," Chris agrees.

Justin reaches out again, slowly, and rubs the back of Chris's
hand.

"Does doing that make you feel better?" Chris asks curiously.

"Yeah," Justin murmurs.  "But I hoped it would make you feel
better, too."

Chris thinks about it, then shrugs.  "I'm not sure what I'm
supposed to feel.  It's a little creepy.  I keep wondering what you
want."

"I want you to be free to be yourself.  To *feel* free, I mean."

"I did, kinda," Chris says.  "Until the police got me.  I knew no
one would ever look at a homeless man.  I felt free then."

Justin swallows hard.  "Do you want to go back to that?"

"Would anyone let me?" Chris asks.  It's not bitter or even asked
in a way that indicates any real interest.

Justin nods.  "We would let you go.  If that's what you want.  But
-- I know the guys want to see you first.  I'll bring you back to
Washington.  Will you come with me?"  Justin pulls off the highway
into the parking lot of a busy truck stop.

"I'll come," he says.  "I think Chris, I mean, me, would have
wanted me to."

Justin sniffles.  "Sorry."  He sniffles again and puts the car back
in gear, blinking back tears.

"What?"

"Thank you for agreeing, and I'm sorry I'm getting all weepy." 
Justin's smile trembles just a little as he says, "I don't want you
to think you're making me unhappy."

Chris's mouth twists in an almost-smile.  "You aren't hitting me. 
Things are fine."

Justin sniffles and says, "No hitting.  Hitting *on*, maybe, but no
hitting."

"Hitting on?" Chris asks, and this time it's guarded, not casual.

"Like... like thinking you're attractive?"

"What does thinking that mean you're going to do?"  Chris is
watching Justin very carefully out of the corner of his eye.

"Maybe, uh.  Say, 'Looking good, Chris.'  Or, like, 'Damn, you look
fine today.'  Not, like... just saying.  Complimenting, like that."

"And what would you want?"

"For you to know you look good?"

"I don't want to know that."

"Oh.  Um.  Okay, I won't, then.  If that's what you want."

"No," Chris says.  "Tell me.  Then I can do something about it." 
He'll make himself as unattractive as he has to until no one wants
him or even wants to look at him.

Justin promises, "Chris, I won't ever let anyone hurt you like that
again.  As long as you let me, I'm gonna protect you the best I
can."

"They protected me," Chris says.  He's looking out the window now,
like the subject doesn't mean anything to him.  "Against losing
value.  Against being stolen.  Against disease."

"I want to protect you from hate," Justin says softly.  "I don't
want hate to ever touch you again."

Chris shrugs.  "They liked me sometimes.  They liked that I can
hold my breath a long time.  And I made a good trophy.  For a
while."

Justin shakes his head.  "That's not the same.  It's hateful, what
they did to you."

"Probably."

Justin stays silent, but Chris doesn't say any more.

~~~~

At the hotel, Justin checks them in to a suite.  He leads Chris up
to the rooms and opens the door.  Once they're inside and seated,
Justin says, "Okay, um.  I need to tell you about the security."

Chris's breathing deepens and he drops his eyes, although he never
takes his attention away from Justin.  Security means guards. 
Guards mean not being able to get away.

Justin sits across from Chris and feels like a terrible person. 
"They're people you knew before.  Lonnie and Tiny.  If you want to
leave, and you want one of them to go with you, just tell them.  If
you just want to go, and not have anybody with you, please leave a
note.  Just tell the guys, and they'll let you go."  Justin looks
up, but Chris is still looking cowed.  "Do you want me to send them
away?  It was a bad idea.  I'll just send them away."

Chris would be nearly paralyzed if he wasn't used to this.  Asking
him what he wanted and then doing whatever they pleased was an
occasional game for the people who had him.  He hasn't found an
acceptable term to use to refer to them yet.  He won't refer to
them as he had to when he was with them, but nothing seems right. 
Neither do any answers he can think of to Justin's question.  "I
don't know."

Justin takes a deep breath.  "Okay.  Okay.  I'm still famous, so
it's a good idea to have the security here for that.  But if you
want them to go away at any time, tell me, and they'll go.  And
like I said, if you want to go, you can go.  They won't stop you."

"No.  If you send them away, why bother having them at all?  If I'm
not safe now with them here, then I'm never safe.  I must've been
alone to be taken, after all.  So they're probably a good idea. 
How're they going to travel with us?"  Chris has learned calm.  At
great cost, but he's learned it.

"I have them in case you want to *be* safe.  To keep us safe,
because you were alone.  They're in three shifts.  Tiny and Lonnie
here, and then two other guys where we'll stop tomorrow, and two
more for the next night.  Tomorrow, Tiny and Lonnie will fly ahead
of us."

"No one in the truck?"

"I wasn't planning on it."

Chris nods.  "I'm tired."

"Okay.  Which bedroom do you want?"

"One with a window."

Justin gets up and checks.  "They've both got windows.  This one's
got two and that one's got three."

"Okay."  Chris continues sitting there.  He wonders about the other
guys in the band.  He knows them and he doesn't.  They're vague in
his mind, while Justin is vivid.  And he doesn't really understand
Justin or remember him fully yet.

Justin reaches out and offers Chris a hand up.

Chris looks at him quizzically.  "What?"

"Hand up?"

"Oh."  Chris takes it and stands.

Justin smiles and lets go of Chris's hand.  "I brought you
something."  He grabs his bag and pulls out a photo album.  "Here. 
This is NSYNC.  Us, being friends.  I thought you might want to
see."

Chris takes it and looks.  The pictures match his memories in a
way.  The people in his head are vaguer and older.  These people in
the pictures are entirely too solid.  He knows them, though.  He
keeps looking through the album, until he happens across a picture
of himself.  He's alone in the picture, in the process of taking
off his outer shirt, with a headset mike by his mouth and a
confident, even challenging look on his face.  Like he's daring the
world to come and get him.

Chris closes the album firmly.

Justin nods.  "Yeah.  I'm gonna grab a quick shower, if that's
okay?"

Chris nods.  After Justin leaves the room, he remains standing. 
He's tired.  He'd like to go to bed.  He opens the photo album
again, since he's still got it, careful to avoid looking at
himself.  He tries to focus on each one of the men in the picture
and bring up any memories he can of them.

Justin showers and comes back out to find Chris still standing in
the middle of the room.  "C'mon.  Let's get you to bed, huh?"

Chris nods.  "I'm tired."

Justin leads Chris to the room with three windows.  "How 'bout you
sleep in here?  Do you want anything to change into to sleep?"

Chris looks blankly at him.  "I don't care."

Justin nods.  "Uh.  Okay.  We'll get you some new clothes tomorrow. 
Sleep as late as you want.  Rest, and whatnot."

"I won't... I'll try," Chris changes his answer mid-sentence.  It's
more the answer Justin wants, he thinks.

"What were you going to say?" Justin asks.  "If you don't mind
telling me."

Justin won't hurt him for the answer.  But he might be
disappointed, which is almost as bad.  Justin's his one lifeline in
his present situation.  "I won't sleep much.  Not late,
definitely."

"Oh.  Well, that's okay, too.  If you get bored, you can wake me
up, or watch cable, or call for food.  Walk the halls, if you
want."

Chris nods.  He doesn't see how walking the halls is a safe
activity.  Or waking up Justin.  He definitely remembers that
Justin doesn't like being woken up.  "All right."

"I know that I used to be a bitch when you woke me up," Justin
says.  "But I've missed you so much.  And I've kinda mellowed.  If
you want me, wake me up."

Chris shakes his head, because this is Justin and he doesn't have
to be obedient.  It's not that the people who took it wanted
obedience so much as that the consequences of disobeying were a lot
more entertaining to them than to him.  "Thanks."

Justin smiles at Chris, a little sad, a lot happy.  "I missed you. 
G'night, man."

"Good night," Chris says.

Justin retreats to his own room.

Chris is alone for the first time in days.  Ever since the police
picked him up.  He was alone a lot as a... prisoner?  Slave?  He's
not sure what to call what he was.  He knows the 'right' answer is
playtoy or sucktoy or something along those lines, but he doesn't
want to use their words for him.

He's tired, but he wasn't told to go to sleep, so he goes to sit by
the window instead and watches the outside world until he's no
longer tired and is instead truly exhausted before going to the bed
and falling asleep on top of the covers.

~~~~

Justin wakes up at 5:00 in the morning, and walks out into the main
part of the suite.  He orders breakfast, and goes to check on
Chris.

Chris wakes up when the door opens.  He's a very light sleeper.  It
helped him in his captivity.

He sees it's Justin and relaxes just a little.  He can't relax
fully.  He doesn't remember ever doing that.  But his memories
still aren't all there, and the emotional understanding of them is
lagging even further behind.

Chris sits up and looks at Justin.

Justin looks at Chris for a moment, smiling at his thoughts. 
"Hey," he says in that early morning voice.  "Are you tired?  I
didn't mean to wake you up."

"Yeah.  I'm tired.  But I'm awake now."  Chris swings his legs off
the bed and stands up.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?  No rush here.  We've got time."

"I'm fine.  Like I said, I'm awake now."

Justin has a feeling he's not asking the right questions, but he
just shrugs.  "Okay.  Breakfast?"

"Sure."  Chris is hungry and he doesn't like that.  Hunger's a
means of control.  If he'd had a chance to get something to drink,
then at least his stomach would be full.  A full stomach's a
comforting feeling.

Justin leads the way back out to the main area.  He hands Chris the
room service menu, "I know what I'm gonna want.  Why don't you take
a look at that, use the bathroom, whatever.  Lemme know when you're
ready?"

Chris looks at the menu as directed.  Reading it doesn't really
tell him anything.  He doesn't know what Justin's driving at.  He
retreats to the bathroom and drinks tap water until he feels a
little better.

When Chris comes back out, Justin says, "Do you see anything you
want to eat?"

Chris shrugs.  "All of it looks fine."

"No preference?"

He shakes his head.

Justin shrugs and orders his cereal and juice, coffee, milk, more
cereal and some sausage.  Chris always loved sausage.

Justin sits down when the food arrives and Chris follows suit.  He
eats what Justin sets in front of him, slowly so it won't make his
stomach cramp later.

Justin mindlessly shovels cereal into his mouth, staring at a
nonexistent spot on the tabletop.

This part seems familiar enough.  Justin being a zombie before he's
had breakfast.  Chris is almost comfortable with it.

Justin finishes his cereal and gazes morosely at his empty bowl.

There's a kind of expectant silence when Justin finishes eating. 
Chris pushes his plate back.  Justin won't hurt him.  Nobody here
in this previous life of his will hurt him.  But newly acquired
lessons tell him it's rude to keep eating.

Justin's aware of Chris's silence only after a couple minutes. 
"Hmm?  Oh, keep eating, unless you're full," he says.  He pours
himself more cereal to be companionable.

"I'm not full," Chris acknowledges.  "But I'm ready to go when you
are."  He pulls the plate back and resumes eating methodically.

Justin smiles a little.  "I'll make you a deal.  I'll do my best to
ask you what you're used to and need in any given situation, if you
try to eat until you're full or done, and sleep when you're tired."

Chris's eyebrows scrunch together.  "I don't get it."

"I know I did something wrong last night.  You look really tired,
so you probably didn't sleep.  And it's most likely because you
needed something that you didn't get.  That's my fault for not
asking.  But I don't ever want you hungry or tired because of my
mistakes.  So if you'll agree to eat when you're hungry and sleep
when you're tired, I'll agree to try harder to figure out what I
need to do to make this work for you."

Chris's pulse flutters.  Change is bad.  "Everything's fine.  You
don't need to do anything."

Justin drops his eyes in defeat.  "All right."  He'll still try to
do better.

"What... what's going to happen when we get wherever we're going?" 
Justin'd told him where they're going, but Chris wants to see if
the answer's changed or if there are any interim stops planned.

"Orlando.  My house, I think.  Well, all the guys are gonna come
and see you and talk to you a little.  They'll probably hug you,
unless you'd rather they didn't.  We'll make an evening of it,
probably.  Just as long as it feels comfortable.  Then, I'll drive
you to your house.  Your family will be there.  Your mom and
sisters."

Chris winces.  He really doesn't want to think about his family. 
Just the words 'your mom and sisters' lash his mind like a whip. 
They're memories buried as deep as he can get them and even
thinking about the possibility of those memories hurts.  He's not
sure he wants to talk to his bandmates either.  Inevitably
someone's going to ask what happened to him since he's been gone.

Justin shakes his head, correctly interpreting that.  "They won't
ask, not right away."  Justin's smile quirks.  "We went to trauma
training together.  We know better than to push you."

"Trauma training?" Chris asks.  "You didn't think I was dead?"

"I knew you weren't dead," Justin replies.

"How'd you know that?  I wasn't sure, sometimes."

Justin give a self-deprecating laugh.  "You've been my best friend
since I was about 14.  Sometimes I think that, without you, I
wouldn't still be me.  So, yeah.  You're a part of me, and I always
knew you were alive, if not well."

Chris nods.  He has to accept it or call Justin a liar, and that
isn't something he can do.

Justin nods back.  "I am aware that I'm a complete loony, and it
was probably just my own wishful thinking that was keeping me warm
at night, and now it's been justified by you being here now."

"S'okay.  I am here.  So you were right."

Justin smiles again.  "Thanks."

Chris just shrugs.  It wasn't a compliment.  He doesn't feel close
enough to this not-quite-a-stranger to do that.

Justin finishes his cereal and Chris cleans his plate.  "You want
a shower or more sleep before we go?"  He looks out the window at
the dark, rainy morning.  "No rush."

"I'm ready."

"You sure?" Justin asks.

Chris nods.  He has no use for luxuries.  He's unused to them, and
it seems more important to get where they're going.  He wants this
to be over.  Not the part with Justin, but the part where he
doesn't know who he is.

"Okay.  I thought we'd shop before we leave town.  Is that okay
with you?"

He shrugs.  "Whatever you want."

Justin nods, and they're off.

~~~~

Somewhere in the Midwest, they get a motel room.  They're too much
in the middle of nowhere to rate a good hotel, but it's a
respectable enough place.  Chris waits in the room while Justin
runs an errand.  One of the 'bodyguards' stands outside the door
the whole time.  Chris thinks he's supposed to feel secure, not
trapped.  He watches TV while Justin's gone, but turns it off as
soon as he hears movement outside the door.

When Justin comes in, he's got several tall, narrow brown paper
sacks.

Chris gives him a look.

"What?" Justin asks innocently.

"What's with the booze?" Chris asks.  He still isn't comfortable
with Justin.  It has nothing to do with how Justin's acted. 
Justin's been kind and considerate.  If anything, too kind and
considerate to match Chris's memories of him.  It's just that the
trip itself feels like some sort of metaphor for his life, with
everything in flux and him not anywhere or anyone.

"I thought we could use an excuse to relax a little.  Plus, there's
a marathon of stupid movies on USA tonight.  Much more fun drunk."

So it's come to this.  Chris sighs.  "Okay."

Justin collapses on his bed -- they've got a double occupancy room
this time, instead of a suite or something nicer.  "What's wrong?"

"You want something from me," Chris says baldly.  "That's what the
booze is for."

"No, it's not.  Not in this case.  Well, wait.  I want you to have
fun making fun of the movies with me.  But you don't have to drink
to do that, and you don't have to do it at all, if you don't want
to."

Chris snorts and gets one of the bottles.  He takes the vodka and
the quart of orange juice and goes to sit down.

Justin giggles, honest to God girly giggles.  He grabs his own set
of liquids and sits on his bed, flipping the TV on.

The giggling pisses Chris off, but he starts pouring and drinking. 
He knows how to use intoxication to his best advantage.

Justin drinks until he's lying on his stomach with his head at the
foot of the bed, mocking the characters on the TV from a few feet
away.

Chris finishes about half the bottle.  When he's to the point that
chewing on Justin's arm seems like a good idea, he takes a swallow
out of the bottle and moves to sit down next to Justin on Justin's
bed.

Justin makes space for Chris, curving his body around the other man
without thinking about it.  "Yes, that's right, run upstairs.  I'm
sure he'll never find you.  Yeah, scream again.  Maybe he'll think
you're throwing your voice."

Chris rubs his hand over the small of Justin's back.  Slow and
sensuous.

Justin purrs and arches into Chris's hand, still offering the
big-titted redhead advice.

He'd been a quick learner, by the standards of the people who'd
enslaved him.  He'd adapted quickly to the situation and even to
the acts they'd had him perform.  Some of the people who'd used him
had called him a slut because of it or said things about his lack
of manliness.  Chris knew then and still knows now that it's none
of those things.  It's a knack for survival.

Chris pulls the bottom of Justin's shirt up, just a little, and
resumes the rubbing on bare skin.

Justin sighs and curls closer against Chris.  "Look at her!  She's
so dumb.  I bet you a guy wouldn't do that, huh, Chris?"

"Some guys would.  JC would, before kicking the guy in the balls."

Justin laughs.  "Yeah, that's true."

Chris is a little startled that he can casually refer to what
someone who he doesn't remember meeting would do, but he has met
JC.  Just in a different lifetime.  He slides Justin's shirt
upward, both hands on his back now.

Justin finally notices what Chris is doing.  "Huh?" he asks
eloquently.

"What?"

"You... what're you doing?" Justin asks without any accusation. 
Only simple curiosity in his voice, and he gazes at Chris
trustingly while he waits for the answer.

"I'm making you feel good."

"Yeah.  'Cause why?"

Chris doesn't like the questions.  It makes him feel like he's got
something wrong.  "The booze."

"Oh."  Justin blinks at Chris.  "Okay, if you want."  He smiles at
Chris.  "I'll give you a backrub later, if you want!"

"Um."  He hates it when people try to make him feel good.  That was
some of the worst of what they did.  "Sure."

Justin stops Chris.  "What'd I just do to make you feel bad?" he
asks.

"Nothing."

Justin pouts.

Chris leans in and kisses him.

Justin kisses Chris back, but then lays passively, looking up at
Chris.  "Why do you want me?" he asks.

"You want me.  You bought alcohol."

"Not so that you'd sleep with me," Justin says.  "So that we could
both relax.  You don't owe me anything, and I don't expect you to
please me.  I don't want you to do this unless you actually want
to.  For yourself.  And I don't wanna do it drunk."  He blinks
solemnly up at Chris.  "You taught me not to take advantage of
people."

Chris blinks drunkenly.  "You bought booze.  You want me."

Justin understands then, that this is part of how Chris was hurt. 
He sets the liquor aside and turns onto his back.  "C'mere," he
requests.  Chris leans forward, and Justin gently holds Chris
against his side.  They're lying together now.  Justin kisses
Chris's forehead.  "There."

Chris closes his eyes.  He's confused, but this at least feels
right.  "They gave everyone drugs.  Especially the stubborn ones. 
Said anyone'd take it up the ass or wherever if they were high
enough.  Didn't much to me though.  Said I was used to it. 
'Boyband's used to sucking off everyone.  That's how he got where
he is.'  Prob'bly true.  Never needed as much of the junk as
everyone else."

Justin kisses Chris's hair.  "You've always, *always* been a
survivor.  I'm so glad you are."  He strokes Chris's side.  "And it
was never, ever your fault, what they did to you."

Chris moves away from Justin's hand.  Not the kiss, which is purely
comforting and unlike anything he's experienced lately.  "They
didn't even want me.  Didn't like me.  Wanted you, 'cept you're too
high profile.  Or Lance.  They really wanted Lance."

Justin hates that a lot.  "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."  He kisses
Chris's face again.

"Why?" Chris asks.  Everything makes sense, in a simple, drunken
way where his emotions don't matter and he can only barely feel
physical sensations and the past is just a series of events.  "Glad
it wasn't you."

"Because I love you," Justin replies.

"Thank you, master," Chris mumbles, eyes closed.  He's half-asleep
already.

"No, Chris.  It's *Justin*.  And I love you, Chris."

"Thank you, m'ster Justin."  If Justin woke him up and made him
repeat it, Chris wouldn't be able to tell him what he just said. 
The words are an automatic response.

Justin kisses Chris softly.  "Just Justin's fine, Chris."

Chris mumbles again, but this time it doesn't make any sense at
all.

Justin turns off the TV and ignores the light.  He tugs the
comforter from one side over Chris and tucks it between them.  He
pulls from the other side and tucks it over himself.  Thus covered,
and with the barrier of blankets between them, Justin falls asleep,
too.

~~~~

Chris wakes up pressed against a warm body.  His head aches and he
needs to take a piss, but that's irrelevant.  He slides down, opens
the guy's pants and starts giving him a blow job.

Justin moans and then wakes, suddenly alert.  "No, Chris," he says,
carefully pulling Chris away.  "No, Chris," he repeats.  "It's
Justin.  Are you awake?"

Chris nods.  "Yes, m... oh.  Fuck."  He curls up on himself for a
minute, then gets up and stumbles from the bed, heading for the
bathroom.

He looks at himself in the mirror for a second.  "You really are a
slut who can't get enough cock, aren't you?" and then turns to the
toilet.

Justin waits until Chris flushes, plus a couple minutes for Chris
to get decent, then knocks lightly.  "Chris?"

"Yeah.  Coming."  Chris downs the glass of water, then opens the
door.  "Sorry.  Your turn."  He brushes past Justin, assuming that
Justin wants the bathroom.

Justin reaches out and lightly stops Chris.  "Can I hug you?" he
asks quietly.

Chris's arms immediately and unconsciously circle himself.  "You
shouldn't."

"Why?"

"I might try something again."

"Why?  Do you want me?"

Chris shakes his head.

Justin gently hugs Chris.  "I love you.  You're not a slut, you're
not a whore.  You're just conditioned, like how I always, always
smile when there are lights on me, even if I feel like crying."

Chris doesn't say anything.  He doesn't trust himself.  Because he
does want Justin in a way, and he thinks maybe it's because he is
those things.

Justin presses his face lightly to Chris's.  "And, well.  I mean. 
It's not like we've *never* had sex before."

"We have?" Chris squeaks, surprised.

"Just once.  Just that once, when we were both totally silly on
life."

Chris doesn't remember, but then, he's having a hard enough time
remembering good things, much less good *sex* things.  He hasn't
had an erection since he ended up on his own.  And he's fuzzy on
how that happened, too.

"It's not important, except that we *were* sexually attracted to
each other.  I don't want you to feel bad about this.  It's not
like I *dis*liked it," Justin offers.  "It's just that I'd feel
like I was using you."

"I'm sorry," Chris says.  "I screwed up.  I get it."

"You didn't," Justin replies, lifting Chris's chin to see his eyes. 
"You didn't screw up.  Nothing bad happened this morning.  Nothing
wrong."

Chris shakes his head stubbornly.

Justin actually smiles at that.  "Stubborn mule."  He kisses Chris
chastely.  "Okay, bladder about to explode."  He releases Chris and
goes into the bathroom.

Chris scrubs his lips free of the feeling of the kiss and puts
their stuff away.  He wants to get somewhere.  He just isn't sure
where.

Justin pisses, then flicks the head of his dick to get it over the
feeling of Chris's mouth.  Yes, it hurts.  But he gets soft.  He
brushes his teeth, shaves and leaves the bathroom.  "You wanna
shower today?  Or shave or whatever?" Justin asks.  He notes that
Chris has packed for them.  "You're a god, man," he swears.

"I'm fine," Chris says.  He showers sometimes, but he hasn't shaved
at all.  He's looking less and less like either Chris Kirkpatrick
or Boyband every day.

Justin reaches out, touching Chris's beard.  "Makes you look
older," he offers.  He thinks Chris will like that.

"Less attractive?" Chris asks.

"In the way you mean, I think yes.  Less fresh and pretty.  More
masculine and tough."

He isn't sure that's an improvement, but it'll have to do.  It may
really be an improvement; his captors didn't want Joey, after all,
and Joey's very masculine.  Lance, who they did want, is pretty. 
Chris turns away and picks up his bag, ready to go.

Justin picks up his own bag, and they head to the car.  Justin eats
dry cereal right out of the box as they drive, leaving Chris to
browse through the rest of the 'food' for something.  "If you want,
we'n stop at McDonald's.  I could use a juice."

"Sure."  Chris clears his throat.  He knows what he wants to ask,
but it doesn't make any sense, even to him.  "How do you know I'm
gonna be okay, that I'm not gonna freak out on everyone, and
what're you gonna do with me?  Just dump me back where this started
so I can think about Lance getting taken next?  And..."  He shakes
his head and stares fixedly out the passenger's side window. 
"Sorry."

"And what?" Justin asks.

"Nothing.  Stuff."

"Tell me?  Okay, here, I'll answer the first two.  I don't *know*
that you're gonna be okay and not gonna freak.  But I hope you'll
be okay.  I'm going to help as much as I can, so you *can* be okay. 
And if you freak out, it will be far from the end of the world, or
the end of my wanting to be involved in your life.  I've been party
to some spectacular freak outs.  We'll live.  And I'm not going to
dump you anywhere.  When this is over, or closed to your
satisfaction, if you want to go back, I will take you back.  What
I'd like is for you to stay.  I want to know that you're safe, and
where you are.  I don't want you to live on the street, but that's
your choice.  I can't promise not to try to convince you to stay. 
But we'll try to honor your wishes."

Chris blinks rapidly, and steals a quick glance at Justin.  "You're
not gonna drop me at my house and leave me there?"

"No.  I was planning to stay during the family thing, unless you
wanted me to leave.  And then I was gonna come back that night.  To
say goodnight, if nothing else.  And, um.  Ask to stay the night,
because I'm a little paranoid about losing you, now that I've found
you."

Chris has decided that the scariest possible thing he can think of
is being back there with his captors, with the second scariest
being not knowing when that's going to happen and the third
scariest being wondering who it's going to happen to next.  "I
don't know what I want.  Except I don't want to go back."

Justin pulls off the road.  "You mean go back to Them, right?  Not,
you don't want to go to Orlando."

"Them," Chris says.

"Okay."  Justin carefully pulls back onto the road and starts
driving again.  "So.  We're going to Orlando, where you'll meet the
guys.  Then you'll go reune with your family, and I'll be there,
unless you don't want me.  That night, I'll be there again, and
we'll figure out where you want to spend the night, and if you want
me to stay.  The next day, you'll probably want to talk to your
family or the guys some more.  We'll do that in your house or mine,
wherever feels more safe to you.  I was sort of expecting about a
week of just reacquainting with the surroundings of our houses. 
I've still got the one a block away from yours.  After that, I
didn't wanna make any definite plans, in case you're getting tired
of me by then."

Chris shakes his head.  "You're the only one I really know so far."

"In a week, it might be different," Justin offers.

Chris shrugs.  "You said I liked you before."

"You did.  You liked us all, before."  Justin smiles.  "I like to
think you liked me best, though."

"I did."

Justin, because he's apparently 12, blushes and stammers, "O-oh. 
Um.  Yay!"

Chris gives him a curious look.  "You have a crush on me?"

"Well, yes.  But I also like that you liked me best.  'Cause I like
you best."

"You have a crush on me," Chris repeats, only this time it's a
statement.  He thinks maybe he's pleased by that.

Justin nods.  "Uh huh."

"I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I don't want anybody.  I don't feel like wanting anybody ever." 
Chris doesn't know how long that's gonna apply, but even the
thought of jerking off leaves him cold.  The idea of having sex
with someone -- *making love*, which what he's sure Justin would
call it -- makes him actively nauseated.

"Oh, that's not a problem at all."

Chris's eyebrows bunch together.  "Why not?"

"Because you mostly didn't want sex with me before, either.  I'm
used to it."

"Oh."  Chris's expression turns into a frown.  "So I didn't crush
you back?"

"I don't think you ever crushed me, no," Justin says.  "You did,
eventually, find me attractive.  Once we got over that 'big
brother' thing.  But, for the most part, you were functionally
straight.  You told C that you were probably attracted to guys only
about half as much as to women, but women were just a lot more
sensible and a lot more fun."

"Oh.  I don't remember that."  He doesn't remember being straight. 
He just remembers the recent past when it comes to sex.  Cocks and
getting fucked and eating women out and he doesn't see any
difference between one kind of it or the other.  Straight and gay
were irrelevant to his life in captivity.

Justin shrugs.  "Knowing C, it was supposed to be a secret.  He's
horrible at the secret thing."

"I meant, I don't remember being attracted to men *or* women."

"Oh.  Well, that's okay, too."

"I'm pretty sure it isn't."  It's definitely not normal to have no
feelings of attraction whatsoever.

"It isn't okay for you not to remember something, when you don't
remember a whole bunch of things due to the immense trauma you've
experienced in the past year?"

Chris shrugs.  "I don't feel anything sexual at all."

"Ah.  Yeah, that might be something to deal with."

"You should know.  Since you're crushing on me."  Chris doesn't
look at Justin.

Justin nods.  "If you don't mind, you should probably see your
shrink some more."

"No."  Chris shakes his head.  It's an automatic response.  He
doesn't even think about it.

"No to using the same one, or no to seeing any professional of that
kind?"

"Using the same one," Chris says, puzzling it out as he goes. 
"If... whatever they were helping me with before, it won't be like
this.  They won't say or know the right things."

"That's fine.  It'd probably be good to find someone specializing
more in the new situation."

Chris nods.

Justin nods, too.

"When we get there.  What are you going to tell them?"

"They know where you were, and how you were picked up.  I'm going
to tell them, with you standing there, that you've been through a
very traumatic year, but you've agreed to come back and see us all. 
I'm going to tell them that you're slowly remembering life before
you were taken, and that they shouldn't expect you to remember
everything or to react the same way to everything.  Plus anything
else you'd like me to tell them."

Chris nods.  "That's all good.  I don't know what I'm going to say
when people start asking what happened."

"I'll tell them not to ask.  I was planning to tell them, anyway."

"What are you going to tell them?"

"That you may never want to talk about it, and we should accept
that."

"Oh."  Chris thinks about it for a minute.  The police'd asked more
questions, especially after he'd come up in their database as a
missing person.  He knows that they lead public lives, and that
police records can get out.  "What about... what I told the cops?"

"Well, it might leak out.  But we're not as big name as we once
were.  We can always ride out the waves in our communities.  And,
if you don't want to tell the guys, you can write out what you told
the police, and just give us all a copy.  Then we'll know, but
you'll never have to talk to us about it directly, unless you want
to."

Chris nods.  "Maybe.  You know and that's okay.  The cops told you
something and then there's how I keep acting.  I... don't think I
can handle telling everybody, but there's things people should
know."

"That's fine," Justin assures Chris.  "Completely.  To be honest,
it's not our business, until you decide we should know.  But, uh. 
Because I do know... you know you should see a doctor, too, huh?"

Chris shakes his head.  "I'm fine."

"Chris, this is one you really need.  Just once, maybe."

"Why?"  He doesn't want to be naked and exposed and poked at.  He
has bad memories about that.

"In case there's something wrong, so that it can get dealt with
before it hurts you more.  You don't have to go alone, though.  Not
if you don't want to."

Chris shudders.  "Not alone."

"I'll go, if you want.  Or I'm sure your mom would go."

Chris shakes his head quickly.  "No.  I don't want her to see."

Justin offers Chris his hand, just as a touchstone.  "I'll go,
then, Chris.  I sort of want to go anyway.  I don't want you to be
alone."

Chris takes it.  "Thanks.  Just... watch the doc, okay?  Make sure
they don't... do anything."

"I won't let anyone do anything funny to you."

"They," he says, meaning his captors.  "They did medical exams. 
And.  Some of them were... the people doing them were..."  Chris
looks away.

Justin squeezes Chris's hand.  "Not now.  I won't let them."

Chris nods stiffly.  "I figured."

Justin says, "I always knew I kept working out for a reason.  Now
I can stop anyone who wants to hurt you."

Chris gives Justin a sideways glance, then shakes his head.  "If
they really wanted to, they wouldn't... use force.  They'd...
drugs.  And stuff.  Sneak up on you."  Saying it that way makes him
picture them having Justin, and Chris bites his lip firmly before
saying, "Talk about something.  Anything."

"So, I saw this chick at the mall..." Justin launches into a
teenyboppers fight with growed-up-woman heels.

Chris doesn't make it all the way up to a smile, but he manages to
stop thinking about bad things, and that helps.

~~~~

It's somewhere around Alabama, when they're uncomfortably close to
being done with the journey, that Chris clears his throat and asks,
"Justin?  Can I, uh, tell you stuff about... it.  And you can
decide what of it to tell everybody else.  Whatever they should
know.  I don't think I can write it down, and.  I think I trust
you."

He doesn't have his memories of Justin completely back yet,
although they're the most clear, because being around the younger
man makes him remember things.  And of the memories he has, quite
a few of them don't match the Justin he's getting to know.  But he
likes this version of Justin even better than the one he remembers.

"Yes.  Do you want to do that now?" he asks as they park at the
motel.

"I think maybe I have enough to tell you that it could take a
couple of days."

Justin says. "We don't have a set time to be home.  We can stay
here.  Or we can get to Orlando and then talk, and not meet with
anybody for a few days."

"I wanna keep on moving.  I need to get there.  And I don't want to
put anything off."

"So, talk during the drive and at nights, starting now?"

"Yeah.  That's what I was thinking."

"Okay.  Wanna come with me to check in?"

Chris shakes his head.  He doesn't want anyone to see him.

"Okay."  Justin locks the doors and hands Chris the panic chain and
goes to check in.  It's quick work, as always, for them to get up
to the room.  Justin buys an armload of bottled water from the
machine in the hall, and sits on his bed.  "Ready?"

"Yeah."  Chris sits on his bed.  They've never shared again, even
to watch TV, and he's good with that.  He grabs a pillow and fists
his hands in it.  "You, uh.  You just wanna listen, or do you wanna
start somewhere or ask me anything?  This is a good time for that."

"You wanna come over here and sit with me?" Justin asks.  "At any
time, if you do, you just come.  Or tell me to come to you." 
Justin takes a deep breath.  "Okay.  Do you know how they got you?"

Chris shakes his head, kneading the pillow with his hands.  "Don't
remember.  From other things they said when other people were
brought in, they probably either broke in to my house and used
something to knock me out or something similar.  No marking the
product, y'know?"

"Yeah.  But we know they didn't get you in your house.  We think it
was the RV, but we're not sure."

"Yeah, probably.  Doesn't matter much now.  I... the first thing I
remember was being strapped to a doctor's table and getting an
exam."

Justin nods.  "God, that must have been scary."

Chris nods.  "Oh, yeah.  Fucking scared me out of my mind.  They
did it with me naked and they didn't give a damn how I felt as long
as my body checked out okay."  He gives Justin a tight smile. 
"Kinda like a real doctor that way.  Anyway, after that, it got
worse.  They... some of them had a thing for the whole medical
setup.  So."  He licks his lips and reaches for one of the bottles
of water.  "You can probably imagine that part."

"Yeah.  I probably can," Justin says softly.

"It was... I wasn't quite out of my mind when it was over.  They
didn't bother explaining anything then, just got me up and into
a..."  Chris swallows some water.  "A kennel.  I told you about
that before, I think.  I slept in a kennel a lot.  They... when I
was unconscious, they'd put wrist and ankle cuffs on me and a
collar.  Clasps on all of them so they could link them together or
attach things to them.  They didn't let people loose much."

Justin nods faintly.  "Yes, you mentioned...  And do you know when
you hid your mind?"

Chris shakes his head.  "Not... not exactly.  I had a long way to
go before I believed it.  Before I gave up thinking anybody'd find
me."

"Tell me?"

"What part?  When I gave up, or what?"

"What was next, after the kennel the first time," Justin decides.

"The rules.  Them explaining what was going on and what the rules
were and.  Getting handed over to one of them.  They -- it was like
there was a collective of them.  The really rich and perverted. 
They'd pool resources together to get certain people or certain
kinds of people.  They had a list.  Y'know, people who'd wanted a
boybander.  And they got me."

"What were the rules?"

"Some of the rules were mandatory and some were... not vague, but
they meant different things at different times and some of the
ma... some of the people who ran things liked it better when you
broke the rules.  Obedience, for instance.  They enjoyed punishing
disobedience.  And respect was another rule; although they liked it
when I said stuff.  Thought it was funny sometimes.  And there were
other rules.  About how to behave.  Stuff like that."

"Oh."

Chris meets Justin's eyes.  "I should probably tell you all of
those sometime.  The rules.  It'd probably explain a lot."

"Yes, it probably would." Justin can't stop looking at Chris.  It's
like trying to hold Chris with his gaze, since he knows Chris would
be uncomfortable with actual holding.

"It wasn't all about sex.  There was a lot of that.  But there was
other stuff, too.  Waiting on people, getting them things, doing
what they wanted, and, toward the end,"  he looks away again,
"helping them use the new ones."

"Like training," Justin says.  "They had you help train the new
victims."

"And keep them quiet.  Lead them around.  Put them in their
kennels.  Feed them.  Muck out the kennels.  The stuff that they
didn't want to do."

"Oh, Chris.  That sucks so bad."

Chris shrugs.  "The dirty work wasn't so bad.  At least it was
honest work and it needed to be done.  Gagging someone and dropping
a shade over him -- that was hard."  He realizes after a second
that Justin isn't going to know what that means.  "They didn't like
it if someone upset all the others.  And it did if they were crying
or screaming or whatever.  Most of that type got drugs, but
sometimes they'd only do it when they were back in the kennel.  And
I'd have to gag them -- a really ugly ball gag they could've
suffocated on -- and cover their cage with a black drape.  They
couldn't see anything, and nobody could see or hear them.  It's
pretty terrifying when it happens to you.  Breaks you quicker,
because you know no one gives a good goddamn about you."

Justin nods.  "That's hard.  That you had to do that."

Chris nods.  "It was bad.  Not the worst.  The worst wasn't that or
being degraded and the things they'd say about me and how much I
liked cock and stuff like that, but when I'd started enjoying it
when they said things, because they were talking about me.  Or
being grateful that I was allowed to share a bed with one of them,
and being anxious that I do a good job of waking them up the right
way.  When they had me, body and soul."

Justin slides off his bed to kneel in front of Chris.  "I love you,
Chris.  If you want to sleep next to someone, you can sleep with
me.  Any time."  He lays his head on Chris's knee for a moment. 
"You're wonderful.  They were fucking idiots."

Chris reaches out and touches Justin's hair.  "Thanks."

Justin asks, "Does it bother you?  When I touch you?"

"Sometimes, yeah.  Even more when I react to it the way I would if
they had done it and then act the way they would have wanted me
to."

"Does this bother you?" Justin asks, putting his cheek back on
Chris's knee.

"No.  They never did that, and none of the others -- the ones like
me -- this wasn't allowed for us."

Justin rubs his cheek on Chris.  "I'm glad.  I want to touch you,
but not make you feel odd about it."

"I kinda like it.  When you touch me.  I'm... I got used to being
alone.  Alone was safe.  With someone, that was dangerous."

Justin nods.  "What else should you tell me?"

"They.  They could do it again.  To someone else.  Nobody's sacred
to them.  They have pictures.  Like other people's 'love me' walls,
where they have autographed pictures of them photographed with
celebrities.  They had photographs of them with... y'know.  Tied
up, naked, leashed, whatever.  And.  I didn't get away.  Didn't
escape.  They."  Chris laughs bitterly.  "I wasn't entertaining
anymore.  I was used.  I wasn't scared.  I'd given in.  I was
boring for them.  So they dumped me.  I could probably identify at
least half of them, and they just didn't care.  That scares the
shit out of me."

"You want to ID them?" Justin asks.

Chris shrugs.  "No point."

"To stop them?"

"Like I said.  No point.  They let me go.  They're so powerful that
they didn't care that I could ID them.  It didn't matter to them. 
Obviously, they know they're not gonna get caught.  Plus even if it
did any good, obviously it'd be easy for them to get rid of me.  I
figure I should just count my blessings that it's over."

"Okay."

"Thanks.  For letting it go.  I mean that."

"You're more than welcome to anything I have to offer.  And I mean
that."

"I want to be safe."  Chris takes a breath, aware that isn't
adequate, isn't even half of what he needs.  "I want the world to
go back to being a safe place."

"I'll do my very, very best," Justin promises.

Chris shakes his head.  "You can't."  He takes a deep breath. 
"That's enough for tonight?"

"Yeah, it is."  Justin stretches up to kiss Chris lightly, as is
becoming a ritual with them.

Chris holds still during the kiss.  He feels more raw tonight than
usual and the kiss's disturbing for him, even if it is Justin.

Justin eases away.  "Get some sleep, Chris."

"Yeah.  Night, Justin."

"Good night, Chris."

Chris dreams of Lance getting taken.  The nightmares keep him from
sleeping -- or, more accurately -- from wanting to sleep, and he
ends up lying on the bed, watching the numbers on the alarm clock
tick over.

Justin opens his eyes at four, knowing Chris is awake.  "You want
to tell me about it?"

"Can't sleep."

"You wanna tell me why?"

"I keep dreaming about the stuff we talked about earlier.  About
Lance being next."

Justin nods.  "That's reasonable.  Lance is safe, though.  He's got
a full security setup on his house.  Bars on the windows and doors
and everything.  Gated community, and he employs his own security
staff.  JC lives with Lance when he's in the area, so he's fine,
too.  Joey's in my house right now, and I've got bars, too."

"Still.  He has to leave the house sometime.  And he can't go
everywhere surrounded by guards."

"He does, actually.  Lance is paranoid, but safe."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Chris closes his eyes, relieved.  He takes a long, deep breath and
releases it.  "Okay.  That helps."

Justin nods.  "I'm glad."

"Go back to sleep."

"Are you going?"

"Dunno."

"You want me to lay with you?"

"Why?"

"I don't know.  To make you feel better?"

"It wouldn't," Chris says hopelessly.  He wants to feel comforted. 
He wants it to mean something that Justin cares about him, but he
thinks he'd spend most of the night wondering what Justin wanted or
worse, waking up and trying to give it to him.

Justin nods.  He considers for a moment.  "Want me to talk to you? 
Until you fall asleep?"

"Would you?"  He sounds pathetically needy.

"Love to."  And Justin does.

Chris sleeps better afterward, and this time his dreams include a
vivid impression of Justin petting his hair.

~~~~

Chris's leg is drumming nervously as they go in through the gate
and pull up to the house.  If his heart wasn't in his throat,
clogging it up so he can't talk, he'd probably ask Justin for the
fiftieth time who's going to be there and what they're going to say
and what the game plan is.  Fortunately for Justin's sanity, Chris
can't manage a word.

Justin parks in the garage and gets out.  He walks to Chris's door
and helps Chris out.  He hugs Chris carefully.  "I'll keep you
safe," he says.

Chris swallows so he can speak through his suddenly dry mouth. 
"Yeah, well, I get the impression that I'm not supposed to be
hiding behind you when I'm meeting our friends."

"Why not?  You can."

"And let everyone know I'm a complete coward?"

"Not a coward.  Scared is not the same as being cowardly.  If you
were a coward, you wouldn't be here."

Chris shakes his head, not believing him.  He still gets behind
Justin anyway.

Justin carefully leads the way to his living room.  It's a huge,
open room with multiple exits.  Justin points out the bathroom to
Chris on the way, saying, "If you need to, you can always go in
there.  The door locks."

Chris looks around.  "Where is everyone?"

"Probably in the kitchen.  Guys?" Justin calls.  Sure enough, Joey
and JC come in from the kitchen, with Lance a moment behind.

Chris reaches out to lightly touch Justin's hip, grounding himself
against sudden dizziness as fuzzy memories come to vibrant life.

For a while, everybody just stares.  Then Lance says, "Hi, Chris. 
I missed you," and smiles a wavery smile.

"I didn't," Chris says, still staring.  "I forgot you.  All of
you."

"That's okay," JC says.  "We kept your memories here for you."

Justin puts his hand over Chris's, silently supporting him.

Chris squeezes Justin's hand.  "Hi.  Um.  Thank you."

Joey moves forward.  "Can we hug you?"

Chris looks uneasy, but nods.  He lets go of Justin's hand and
gingerly puts his arms around Joey's waist.

Joey hugs Chris firmly.  "Glad you're here."

"Yeah, well, I'm scared out of my mind."  It's almost a joke. 
There's too much truth in it for it to be funny.  But Joey feels
solid and normal, and not even a little threatening.  No one's
going to try to steal Joey away.  Joey has always been a steady
presence in Chris's life, always a friendly bulwark against the
world, and Chris can still feel that even now.  It helps.

Joey squeezes gently.  "That's okay."

Chris rests his head against Joey's chest for a moment, soaking up
as much comfort as he can before the closeness can freak him out. 
He steps back reluctantly.  "Thanks."

"Welcome."

Chris turns to the other two.  "More hugging?"

Lance smiles and steps forward for his turn.

Chris hugs him tightly.  He wants Lance to stay safe.  He needs
Lance to be safe.  "You stay paranoid," he orders.  "I'd lose my
mind if they got you."

Lance kisses Chris's temple.  "Will do, baby."

Chris hugs him extra-tight, both for the kiss and because he's
afraid of losing Lance.

Lance smiles and steps back slowly.  JC steps forward into his
place.

Chris bites his lip and holds out his arms.

JC hugs Chris tightly.  So tightly, in fact, that he lifts Chris
off the floor.

Chris eeps.  He tries to look around, but JC's got him tight and he
doesn't know what to do.  He can't get away.  He can't even see
Justin.

JC puts Chris down after just a second.  "Okay.  Sorry."

Justin steps up behind Chris right away, nearly touching the other
man.

Chris turns, and there's Justin.  He shudders and tips his forehead
against Justin's shoulder.  He doesn't let the rest of his body
touch Justin's.  He doesn't want to touch anybody right now.

"Apologize for me or whatever," Chris says quietly, then makes a
break for the bathroom, locking the door behind him to
hyperventilate in peace.

JC looks helplessly at Justin.

"I think because he couldn't touch the floor," Justin offers.  JC
looks crushed, but Justin has to leave him to Joey and Lance's
care.  Justin's care is reserved for Chris.

Chris spends several minutes sitting on the toilet, breathing into
his hands.  It was too much, all at once like that.  Justin barely
touches him, and Chris is fine with that, with the little touches
that don't ask too much.  But all three of them, and then what JC
did...  He takes long, slow breaths until he feels like he can
cope, then gets up and splashes water on his face.  He's being so
stupid about this.  JC'd never hurt him, none of them would. 
They're perfectly safe.  He just needs to feel that in his bones as
well as believe it.

Justin's there when the bathroom door opens.  He reaches out for
Chris's hand.  "Okay?"

Chris holds very still.  "Mostly, yeah."

"Kiss?"

Chris's eyes go wide and frightened.  He backs away from Justin. 
"What?"

"No!  Oh, sorry, Chris.  I just... you seemed to like it when I
kissed your forehead."

"Oh."  Chris tries to calm himself down.  "Sorry.  I'm just being
stupid.  Scared of my own shadow."  He manages a wan smile.

"Not stupid at all."  Justin clasps his hands behind his back and
leans forward to kiss Chris's forehead.  "Very, very smart."

Seeing Justin move his hands out of the way makes Chris's shoulders
shake from a small, hidden laugh.  The feeling of relief is
profound.  "Oh, yeah.  Of course you'd think so.  Never got over
all that hero worship from when you were all wide-eyed and needed
to learn how to tie your shoelaces and I was applying for
Medicare."

"Well, yeah.  But you taught me how.  All in one afternoon.  Those
springy shoelaces do wonders," Justin says seriously.

This time, the laugh isn't hidden.  Justin's making him feel
comfortable again.  Chris smiles and cuffs Justin's shoulder.  "At
least we didn't have to resort to the Velcro."

"Makes too much noise," Justin recites solemnly.  "And our busses
aren't short."

Chris grins at him, then remembers the others.  "Um.  How's JC?"

"Don't know.  You're my worry."  Justin smiles.  "You wanna go
back?  He's probably fine."

"To be perfectly honest?  I'd rather hide in the bathroom."

"Cool.  Want a can of Mt. Dew?  I'll even deliver..."

Chris just looks at him for a moment.  "You're serious, aren't you? 
You'll let me go lock myself in and just let the others rot?"

"Sure.  We can get a pizza, and I've got that portable TV with the
really long cord.  It'll be like we're in the same room.  I'll
watch my TV, you watch yours, we'll yell suggestions at each other. 
You can have your own pizza, even."

Chris knows Justin's completely and utterly sincere.  That's what
makes him want to sob.  Instead he reaches out and takes Justin's
hand.  "Love you."

Justin gently pulls Chris in and hugs him.  "Love you, too."

It doesn't bother him when Justin hugs him.  He doesn't know why
there's such a difference, but it's real.  He's about to tell
Justin he's ready to try this all over again when they're
interrupted.

Joey tries to make noise as he heads toward them.  He clears his
throat a couple times, before he steps into the hall.  When he
rounds the corner, they're ready for him.  "So.  What kind and how
many pizzas should I be ordering?"  He grins at Chris.  "Or
making."

Chris bristles at the interruption, but doesn't say anything.  He
wants to get to know the guys all over again, not piss them off.

Justin laughs, feeling Chris's ire rise.  "Homemade or ordered,
Chris?" he asks.  "And then we'll say goodbye to the guys, huh?"

"No, I gotta get used to everyone," Chris says.  "And homemade,
please, Joey.  I miss your cooking."

Joey beams and heads to the kitchen, taking Lance with him.

Chris hasn't let go of Justin's hand, and they return to the living
room together.  JC's still standing.  Chris wets his lips.  "Could
you sit down, Jayce?  It'll be easier that way."

JC sits down immediately.  "I'm sorry," he says right up front.  "I
was thinking more about myself than you."

Chris feels less threatened with JC sitting down.  It's irrational,
he knows.  Joey's the most physical of them all, and Chris feels
comfortable with him.  Justin could break him in half and he
doesn't mind that.  But he's uncomfortable with JC, who'd probably
cry if he ran over a squirrel.  "Not your fault.  You didn't know
I'd freak out.  I didn't know I'd freak out either."

"Yeah, but I know better.  Justin told me before he left.  The
trauma training stuff, and I just -- just didn't think of it."

"It's okay.  Just... don't touch, okay?"  He knows that probably
sounds strange, what with Justin acting like a protective
boyfriend, and adds, "I'm not... I had lots of time to get used to
Justin.  I'm not used to you guys again yet."

"Sure.  I understand, really."  JC smiles tentatively.  "I missed
you."

"I don't... Justin said he told you guys, but I, um, don't really
remember enough to miss you.  I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

Chris nods.  He doesn't really have anything else to say.  He's
uncomfortable.  He looks at Justin for help.

"You wanna make those daiquiris for us?" Justin asks JC.

JC gratefully grins and follows Joey and Lance out to the kitchen.

"Virgin daiquiris," Justin informs Chris.  "His strawberry ones are
wonderful."

"Thanks."  He means for getting JC out of the way.

"No problem.  You wanna sit?"

"Yeah.  Just..."  Chris looks around the room.  There isn't
anywhere that'll only fit him and Justin.  "You mind sitting on the
floor?  I can take a chair, and then, well, if you sit in front of
me, then no one can get to me."  He's pleading and he knows it, and
he doesn't like it, but he's about to crawl out of his skin, he
feels so not-good.

Justin nods.  "Sure.  But if you want, you're welcome to sit *on*
me, in the future."

"Yeah, but then you wouldn't be able to do anything if anything
happened."  Chris lets go of Justin's hand and moves to sit.  He
feels so pathetic.

Justin settles Chris in the armchair, and then sits in front of
him, carefully blocking Chris from the room.

"Thanks," Chris whispers.

"Like it's a hardship to get to protect you without you thinking
I'm a great, big overprotective guy."

"You are being overprotective.  It's kinda what I like about you."

Justin grins.  "Well, good, cause I'm not changing."

Chris rests his hand on Justin's head, fingers sliding through
Justin's hair.  "I like it the way you are.  It'd be easy to overdo
it, but you don't.  You're good at it."

"I'm sure tryin'."

Lance appears with two tall glasses of frozen goodness with straws. 
"Here, guys."  Lance kneels in front of Justin.  "Here."  He hands
both glasses to Justin.  Justin tastes both and nods, and then
Lance retrieves one of the glasses and hands it to Chris.

Chris gives them a puzzled look.  "What's up?"

Lance sits in front of Justin.  "Justin thought you'd be happier if
he checked that there wasn't anything weird in the drink.  JC does
stuff sometimes, like use flour in place of powdered sugar by
accident."

Chris smiles.  Lance mentioning that brings the memory back.  "Oh,
yeah.  Good point."

Lance laughs.  Joey delivers Lance's peach version of the daiquiri,
and Lance chats with Justin and Chris.  "So, did the SUV get good
mileage?"

"Sure did," Justin says.  "Didn't have any car troubles at all."

"Apparently I'm afraid of heights, or we could have flown instead
of driven," Chris says, "which is a lucky thing, 'cause I think I
would have flipped out if I'd been dumped into this all right
away."

"Yeah," Lance says, "but Justin was planning to drive anyway. 
Didn't he tell you?"

"Yeah, but he kinda implied it was because I have a thing about
flying."

Lance smiles a little.  "Yeah, but he was worried about tossing you
right back into this life.  He wanted to drive, so you'd have time
to think."

Justin blushes.

Chris nods slowly.  "Yeah.  Justin's a really great guy.  Very
thoughtful."

Justin blushes harder, ducking his face.

Lance laughs quietly.  "And he's all cute about it, too."

"I think maybe he's in love with me," Chris says, and he knows it's
true as soon as the words leave his mouth.  Justin does love him. 
And Chris'd go nuts without him.

Lance's smile is all for Chris now.  "I think you're right."

Chris keeps stroking Justin.  "And it's unfair to him, 'cause I
need him so much and I can't love anybody right now."

Lance's look is considering.  "Oh, I don't think he minds."

"Hope not," Chris says.  He's aware Justin's right there,
listening, but it's a lot easier to say this to Lance than it would
be to say it to Justin.

"I'm sure he finds it very worthwhile, Chris.  He's always wanted
to be able to take care of someone.  He's always wanted to get to
love you."

Chris grimaces.  "Well, I sure as hell need a lot of taking care
of.  I'm giving every diva fit any of you ever threw a run for its
money."

"Not me," Justin insists.  "I completely threw a major one about
six months ago."

"Yeah?  Did it require everyone around you to wait on you hand and
foot and apologize for opening their mouths?"  He pulls Justin's
hair, just a little.

"Um.  Sort of, yeah."

Lance nods.  "Totally.  He managed to rebreak his foot doing it."

"I'm impressed."

"Yeah, well.  I learned from the best."

"Britney and Christina?  On the mouse club?" Chris guesses.

"Brit."

Lance gives a mean little snicker.

Chris gives Lance a look.  "Hey.  Don't mock my boy's pain."

"Oh, no, I'm laughing at Britney."

Chris is reflexively angry with Britney for upsetting Justin.  He
has a brief, vindictive flash of Britney being in the position he'd
been in with Them.  It isn't a satisfying thought.  He shudders,
hand stilling on Justin's hair.  "Change the subject, please?"

"Sure.  J, C was all weird.  He made special, bottled-water ice for
the drinks!"

Justin laughs.  "He's such a dork sometimes."

Chris inspects his drink doubtfully.  JC and bottled water... that
stirs something in his memory, too.  "Non-carbonated bottled water,
I hope."

"Of course."

Chris nods.  "I seem to remember that the tap water isn't all that
drinkable, so it's not that weird."

Justin tips his head back against Chris's knee.  "You're nice.  I
like you."

Lance rolls his eyes.

Chris strokes Justin's forehead.  "You're being nicer.  A lot nicer
than I remember you ever being."

Lance says, "He got nicer."

Chris looks up, at Lance.  "Seriously?  He said he stopped doing
the psycho before breakfast thing, but I've been figuring,
y'know... that it's one of those two weeks to live things.  Like
I'm dying or something so everybody's being extra-special nice. 
Not like they'd be to anyone else."

Lance shakes his head.  "He got nicer.  He totally blew up, and
then he did the trauma training shit, and he got a lot sweeter than
he used to let himself be."

"That's cool," Chris says, and means it.  He lets his fingers drift
down to Justin's cheek.  "You have no idea.  No idea at all how
much I need that."

Justin closes his eyes and lets Chris's fingers drift over his
face.

"I think he knows," Lance says.  "I also think the pizza's done,
and it's time for us to leave you two to dinner."

"What?" Chris asks.  "I thought you guys were staying."  He's been
storing up his energy, preparing to deal with the force of all of
them at once.

"Well, if you want us to, sure.  But we thought maybe you'd like to
have the shock of us, and then get over it before having to deal
with us again."

Chris shrugs.  "I gotta get used to it sometime.  And there's stuff
that Justin needs to tell you.  Stuff I told him that you guys
should know."

"Okay."

He's been psyching himself up to do this today.  It'd suck to waste
that by backing out now.  The time for waiting's over.  It's time
to do something.  "Eat out here or in the kitchen?"

"Here," Justin declares.  "And those sitting shall be served."

Lance cheers.

Chris laughs and teases Lance.  "You just want Joey waiting on you
hand and foot."

"Not the feet, that'd be icky.  Pizza is not good for feet."

Chris rolls his eyes.

Justin kicks Lance lightly.  "Dork."

"Major dork," Chris agrees.  They've had this conversation a
million times before.  It's etched in his memory.

"Sergeant dork.  I've been promoted," Lance declares airily.

Joey bops him on the head with a plate.  "Yes, you brat.  You're
definitely more than a major pain."

"A major pain in the..." Chris starts and then falters.  The
ass-fucking joke he'd been about to make doesn't seem as funny
anymore.

"Neck, that's right.  I mean, look!  He's all muscled, and he
*still* makes me carry him," Joey says, smoothly filling in the
space.

"Hey," Chris says.  "Respect the need for snuggling."  If they
weren't all there, he thinks he'd slip out of his chair and crawl
into Justin's lap.  But then, if they weren't there, he wouldn't
need to.  And besides.  He's not really ready for that yet.  He
thinks.

"Sure.  But only when Lance-man goes back to soft, the way Lances
should be."

Lance kicks Joey in the ankle and starts on his pizza.

Joey ignores him and hands a plate to Justin.  "Chris, you want the
meat lovers or the cheese lovers or some of each?"

"Cheese."

"Okay."

JC's the one who brings Chris's plate this time.  He sits on the
floor next to Lance and hands Chris the plate over Justin's head. 
"Here ya go."

"Thanks, Jayce.  You make a mean daiquiri, by the way."

"Thanks!  I've been working on the fruit to juice ratio," JC says
sincerely.

"Yeah, well, seeing as how Justin only appreciates caffeinated
substances, it's a nice change."

"Hey!  We had water and juice, too!"

"All lies, I tell you."

Justin makes the pouty face at Chris.

Lance laughs uproariously.  "He thinks he's still as cute as he was
at fourteen.  Silly Justin.  Now you just look like a pouting
adult."

"He's still cute," Chris says absently, rubbing his thumb over
Justin's pout.

Joey smirks.  Lance smirks back.

Justin smiles at him and Chris smiles back, then starts eating his
pizza.

After lunch and clean up, Justin calls the group back together. 
"Okay, guys.  There's some things you need to know about what
happened to Chris.  I'm going to tell you what you need to know. 
Are you staying, Chris?" he asks quietly.

Chris nods tightly.  "For a while, at least."

"Okay."  Justin talks about Chris being taken with drugs, and how
those who took him were angry over not getting Lance or Justin.  He
tells them about there being medical exams, and Chris being treated
like an animal and kept in a kennel.  He tells them that Chris was
sexually abused and conditioned.  He tells them that, according to
early medical findings, Chris was tortured.  He tells them that in
the end, Chris didn't escape, but was released.  He emphasizes only
the emotion, not the physical acts.  Those aren't really what the
guys need to know.  He emphasizes the need for continued and
increased caution, especially for Lance and Justin himself.

Chris is biting his lip savagely before Justin is even halfway
done.  He's trying to look at the reactions of the other three
while not meeting any of their eyes.  It's ridiculous and
impossible, but he's trying anyway.  He's glad he let Justin tell
it though.  He would never have made it all the way through.

Justin finishes and reaches out for Chris.  "Come here," he says
firmly.  Chris slides forward tentatively.  Justin settles Chris in
the circle of Justin's body, arms and legs surrounding Chris's own
hunched form.

It's the first time since the night they got drunk that Chris has
really let Justin hold him.  He buries his face in Justin's chest
and takes long, deep breaths until he's a little more calm.

Lance knows that he's going to spend the night with JC in his
house, and that he's taking Joey, too, if he can.  He needs them
around him.  "Chris, you're so strong," he says.

Chris shakes his head.  "I'm a fucking coward.  I'm alive.  That's
all you can say about me.  I'm alive."

"You're alive, and you're not destroyed.  That's way more than just
surviving," JC says.

Chris laughs hoarsely.  "Jayce, I am destroyed.  I barely remember
you, I think I'd fall into little tiny pieces if Justin got out of
sight for more than a few minutes, and I can't stand to be touched
even by my friends.  How much more destroyed can I get?"

"You could not remember us at all," Joey says.  "You could be a
screaming, raving mess all the time.  You could have killed
yourself."

"I thought about it."

"But you didn't," Justin says.

"You're here.  It helps."

"Good."

"So, uh," Chris says, looking up and around.  "You guys all right
with this?"

"Yes," Lance says.

"Yeah, we are," Joey says.

"We love you, Chris," JC says.

"Thanks," Chris says.  "So, um, yeah.  I'm back.  I might
eventually be okay with all of this.  I should be okay with it
soon.  At least, with not freaking out when one of you touches me."

Joey reaches out, putting his hand lightly on Chris's foot. 
Lance's hand soon settles beside it and then JC's.  Justin holds
Chris close.

"Thanks," Chris says again.  "I don't... you guys don't know how
much I appreciate this."  His breathing comes quicker, and he feels
tears threatening.

JC breaks first, sniffling quietly.  "Probably about as much as we
appreciate you coming back to us."

Chris has to smile at that, even as he's trying to talk without his
voice cracking.  "You always know how to make acting like a girl
look cool."

"It's the hair," JC offers, ignoring the tears he can feel starting
to slide down his cheeks.

Lance puts his arm around JC and pulls him close.  "It's because
you're beautiful."

"He is," Chris agrees, and then he chokes up, because if JC is
beautiful, then Lance is fucking gorgeous, and gorgeous is
dangerous.  Just look where being mildly presentable got him.  He
cries into Justin's shirt.  He cries silently, a skill he learned
a long time ago, when he didn't want to upset his sisters or his
mom by being unhappy, and has had too much practice with recently.

Lance holds onto Chris's ankle.  "Shh, oh Chris.  We're safe. 
We're safe, Chris."

Justin joins him.  "We really are, darling.  We've got all sorts of
guards and bars and security systems.  We've got everything to keep
us safe, Chris.  We're safe."

Chris turns and reaches out, grabbing Lance, and dragging him up. 
They've gotta be heavy for Justin, but Chris has to hold Lance, has
to *feel* that he's safe.  "You better be."

Lance holds onto JC and Chris holds onto Lance, and Justin holds
onto all of them.  "I am," Lance replies.  "I'm safe.  We're safe."

Chris shakes his head, because he doesn't believe it.  But it's
easier to believe it with Justin supporting him, and Lance solid in
his arms.

~~~~

It's very, very late at night before they go to bed.  After the
guys left, Justin and Chris went to Chris's house and talked to his
family.  That was probably the most emotional experience of
Justin's life.  But he thinks that it did Chris some good to see
his sisters and have his mother there with him.

Of course, after they got back to Justin's house for the night,
Chris completely collapsed in tears.  Not that Justin minds.  He
thinks it's good for Chris to cry.  And Chris has cried himself to
sleep now on the couch.  Justin gently rubs Chris's shoulder until
Chris's eyes open.  "Can I carry you up to bed?" Justin whispers.

Chris shakes his head.  "Walk.  Need to walk."  He stumbles to his
feet.  He leans on Justin.  "Don't wanna forget, y'know.  Or get
confused about who you are."

"Sure."  Justin puts his arm around Chris's waist and steers him up
the stairs.  The windows are already completely double locked, the
doors likewise secured, and the security system on.  "You wanna
sleep in my room?" Justin offers.

"Yeah."  Chris lets his breath out in a sigh.  "I think maybe I
should move out.  Not live with you.  I'm, like, completely
dependent on you."                                                
                                 

Justin swallows hard.  "Not just yet, please.  I'm not exactly
ready to let you go.  I mean, if you don't mind.  I don't care that
you're dependent on me.  That'll change with time.  But I -- there
are some changes that need to be made on your house, first."

Chris shakes his head.  "No.  I should.  I know I should go, but
I'm not going to."

"Good."

"Which is leading up to me telling you I wanna sleep with you.  I
don't know shit about what's good for either of us, and I sure as
hell shouldn't be doing it.  You already know about my mental
problems in the area.  But I wanna be close to you tonight."

"Good, also."  Justin stops in his bedroom, closing and locking the
door, and arming the separate alarm.  "Bathroom through there.  You
want pajama pants?" he asks.

Chris stops and looks at the door.  "You have a separate alarm on
the bedroom?"

"Yeah."

Chris impulsively hugs Justin.  "I love you."

Justin hugs Chris back.  "You have one, too.  At your house.  But
it's not active and the backup, battery system isn't installed
yet."  He kisses Chris's forehead.  "I told you things weren't
quite ready for you."

"Things are ready.  Everything's ready right here.  And, yeah. 
Pajama pants are fine.  Rather have shorts though if you've got any
of my clothes here."

"Um.  I do."  Justin opens the second dresser, which is mostly
Chris's clothes, and takes out soft shorts.  "These work?"

"Yeah, thanks."  Chris is kinda embarrassed to find that he's
hugging the shorts.  He feels a ridiculous amount of attachment to
having his own clothes again.

Justin smiles and turns his back to put on his own pajama shorts.

Chris recovers and heads to the bathroom.  It's been a long day.

Dressed, Justin gets bottle waters out of the mini fridge under the
bedside table.  He drinks a good portion of one, thinking that
Chris will need to rehydrate and he has to remember to stock up on
sports drinks.

Chris comes back out showered and dressed for bed.  He takes a
second to think the Chris he used to be would take a running start
and jump on the bed.  He shakes his head and instead, walks over
and waits for Justin.

Justin hands Chris a bottle.  "Thought you might be thirsty," he
says.  He turns back the bed as Chris contemplates the blue cap.

"Thanks."  It's the little things that make him feel free now. 
Using the bathroom when he wants.  Drinking when he's thirsty. 
Stuff like that.

Justin says, "Welcome," and slides between the nice, cool sheets. 
"Ah."

Chris recaps the bottle and gets in.  He turns on his side.  He's
lying very close to Justin, almost touching.  Closer than he's laid
to some of his former girlfriends.  "When I was... They didn't like
me to sleep with them much.  Just sometimes.  And I apologize in
advance for whatever I may end up doing."

Justin says, "It's not like I'll *dislike* it, if something
happens, Chris.  I understand that you've got a lot to deal with,
and it's harder when you're sleepy.  I'll still love you, no matter
what."

Chris reddens.  "I don't mind.  It's... I wouldn't mind, I mean. 
If it was something I wanted to do.  Instead of a reflex."

Justin smiles.  "Yeah?  Maybe we'll have to talk about that
someday."

Chris laughs a little, nervous as hell.  "Well, I can safely say
the not being gay thing is no longer an issue."

Justin reaches out, very slowly, and caresses the side of Chris's
face.  "No rush.  I've crushed you a while, and I'll keep right on
crushing you."

"Yeah, well.  Whatever shrink I end up with is probably going to
give me hell for it, but I'm more than crushing you."

"I'll do my best to make it a good thing for you."

He frowns.  "Why?  Why would you do that?  Or anything more than
you're already doing?"

"Because I'm in love with you, and you're worth it."

Chris sighs and then smiles a little.  "I guess I just gotta get
used to you being unbelievably sweet and romantic in addition to
protective and everything else, huh?"

"Um.  Yes, you do.  Sorry."

He edges over, carefully placing his head on Justin's chest and
waiting for Justin to put his arm around him.  "Don't apologize. 
I like it.  I even kinda need it.  I definitely don't want you to
stop."

Justin's arm curves around Chris's shoulders.  "Good.  I can handle
that."

Chris lets out a contented sigh.  It's gonna be a long time until
everything's all right.  Maybe never.  But with Justin there, it
feels like it could be.