Lindsay heard her father come in through the back door. Making her way to the back dining room, she watched as he stretched his calves against the wall.

"Good run?" She asked, trying her best to sound casual. Although even to her, she sounded a bit shrill.

Her father grinned. "Excellent. It's a beautiful day out." He straightened and twisted his torso several times to work out the kinks.

"Daddy..." She began, not really knowing what direction to go in.

The man stopped what he was doing as he heard her voice catch and he stared at her curiously. "What's the matter sweetheart?"

"I...was just wondering how long...we've had this house?"

"This house? Let's see." His eyes traced patterns on the ceiling as he calculated the years in his head. "You were ten or eleven when we moved so around twenty years or so. Why do you ask?"

Lindsay did her own calculations and bit her lip, wondering how much to confront him with. If she were to simply show him the picture, would he confess? Would he confirm or deny what she only hoped was a memory that she had dreamed up. "Daddy-"

At that moment, the doorbell chimed loudly, interrupting anything that she might have been about to ask.

Lindsay held up her hand, signaling that she would get the door and walked calmly to the front foyer. She was so dazed that she hadn't thought to check and see who was there. It took everything she had to keep her eyes from bugging out of her head at the person that stood before her.

"Jennifer!"

Jennifer Taylor smiled brightly at seeing the woman. "Oh, Lindsay! How are you?"

"F-Fine. I...This is just such a shock. I hadn't expected to see you here." Instead of opening the door further to let her in, Lindsay stepped out and closed the door behind her. "What...did you need something?"

"I'm actually here on business." Jennifer held up her briefcase as proof. "I'm selling this house. Are you...? Wow! I hadn't made the connection but, is Ron your father?"

Lindsay closed her eyes, fighting off a small wave of nausea. She had to force her eyes open as she swallowed with great difficulty. "Yes, actually he is."

"Amazing. All this time, I never..." Jennifer's smile faltered a bit but she shook her head and recovered quickly. "Small world."

Lindsay's smile was tight. "Too small."

"Lindsay, who was - oh Jennifer! Come on in." Her father smiled charmingly down at the woman and pushed the door open further so that she might come in. "You'll have to excuse my appearance. I've just been for a jog. I wasn't expecting you until noon." He ushered the woman in as Lindsay stood rooted to her spot on the front step.

This could not be happening. It was all too...Jerry Springer. With a tired sigh, Lindsay walked back into the house to retrieve her keys. She left without a word to the other two, unable to yet digest the possibility that Jennifer Taylor was her father's mistress.

***

Justin pried one eye open to check the clock. It was now a little after five in the afternoon and Brian had been gone for hours. He wasn't worried though. Brian had told him not to wait up which meant he probably wouldn't even bother coming home. And if he did it would be after an all nighter at Babylon. That's where he would flee to whenever the non-relationship stuff became too much.

In his mind, he was quite aware that he had no right to expect something more from Brian. He had been the one to call it quits in the first place. He hadn't harbored any illusions that he could come back into Brian's life and make things exactly as they had been before he left. But he always held out hope that one day they would naturally fall back into place.

Stretching out on the bed, he looked up at the rafters in the ceiling of the loft and put his hands behind his head. There had to be an answer there somewhere. Something that would give him a clue as to why Brian was so upset.

So Justin wanted to be with him. Was that so horrible? It wasn't as if things would be any different. Well...Brian would still trick, only he wouldn't bring them back to the loft. Justin would actually have clothes there when he needed them. No more midnight trips to the dorms for things that he had forgotten. No more paying that extra tuition for his minuscule dorm room. No more sleepless nights on account of an all night horror movie marathon in the common room down the hall. But other than that, they would still be seeing each other the same amount of time.

Perhaps that was it. Maybe Brian was afraid of the implications of moving in together. When Brian had first allowed Justin to live at the loft, it had been disastrous. Ending with Justin forgetting to set the alarm and Brian's things getting stolen. The second time had been after he had gotten out of the hospital. It had began with guilt-driven motives, then it had blossomed into more. The want and need to be together had overcome them both. Brian had finally been struck dumb by the possibility that Justin meant as much to him as he meant to Justin.

Then...after a year at PIFA, Justin had given in to the Brian Kinney ‘live life while you're young' lecture and had moved into the dorms. He had so many school friends there. Had heard about so many spur of the moment parties. So many all night study sessions turned club hopping adventures that he could no longer resist the lure of campus life. His move to the dorms wasn't supposed to change anything. Yet he and Brian had slowly drawn apart from one another as the amount of time they had spent together became smaller and smaller.

One party. One night. Worse than even what had happened with the guy at Daphne's party the year before. Justin had gotten drunk and allowed some frat boy from Penn State to fuck the living daylights out of him to the point of bruising him. Somehow, it had proven something to he and Brian. To Brian, who had discovered the marks quickly enough, it had been a wake up call. Justin had let someone else top him. He had allowed someone to hurt him even. The possessiveness in Brian grew to massive proportions. But for Justin, each blueish brown bruise had represented some form of freedom. A life that he had yet to discover since coming under Brian's wing. The freedom to fuck and get fucked by whomever was available and not by someone that was there just because Brian wasn't. The freedom to come and go with no rules. No doubts. No excuses. The freedom to BE a Brian Kinney instead of being chained heart and soul to one.

It had been a heartless move on his part and looking back, he couldn't for the life of him rationalize why he had done it. But after a year of his new life, he had tired of the party life. He had missed Brian desperately. Though they still had sex on occasion, should they run into each other at Babylon, when they had been together it was detached, cold even. It had been the most insightful and by far the worst time in Justin's young life.

Justin rolled over on his stomach and stretched to get a picture frame from the night stand. In the simple black wooden frame was a picture of him and Brian on the night that they had finally put the past behind them. He had been at Babylon in search of someone. Anyone that would supply a hit of E or a willing ass. Preferably both. And then his eyes had settled on a man in the middle of a throng of dancers. His heartbeat had tripled. His palms had gotten clammy. His mouth felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton. All without the help of narcotics. And finally, he saw everything that his life had become with perfect clarity.

If it had been a movie or television show, the music would have swelled around him as he descended the staircase from the upper level and made his way through the crowd towards the only man that could ever make him complete.

He traced his fingers over the image of his lover in the picture. Brian had been so open. So...forgiving. It had surprised even Brian himself. Justin had approached him and stood there unmoving as Brian stopped dancing and returned his stare. Suddenly Emmett had staggered by with a gorgeous young twink on his arm and snapped a picture of them before giggling about going to a photo shoot with his companion.

They ignored the man and continued to stare at one another unwaveringly. "Hey," Justin had begun lamely.

With a touch of deja vou, Brian had smirked. "Hey...yourself." Playfully he had leaned in and nipped at Justin's lips lightly.

"Can we...I mean..." Justin huffed. He knew that lightning never struck in the same place twice. How would Brian Kinney ever allow him back into his life? Prepared for the worst, Justin chewed his thumbnail nervously. "Can we talk?"

Brian stared into his eyes for a moment, his smile long gone, before shrugging stoically.

The back room had hardly been an appropriate place for the conversation, but other than the occasional loud moaner, it was the quietest area of Babylon, and Babylon was neutral territory. Besides that, If the talk went bad, they both had the feeling that they would need a stiff drink and a quick trick.

"I miss you!" Justin had said over the resonance of the thumping music.

Brian sat back on the couch, the air leaving him like a deflating balloon. He hadn't actually expected him to be so direct and he definitely didn't have a witty retort for it. So for once in his life, Brian had decided to be completely honest and see where it led him. "I've missed you too."

"I don't think I've ever...ya know - apologized for the way I left things. I shouldn't have walked away like that."

Brian shook his head. "No. You did what you had to do. You needed to see what it was like on the other side."

Justin hesitated, "And I have. Seen, I mean." Brian nodded. "But now I know what I want. Where I want to be."

Brian smiled bitterly. "Ah. So now I'm enough. And the frat boy?"

"What frat boy?" It took him a moment for his memory to kick in and his brow furrowed with disbelief. "Brian, I never even knew that guy's name! Don't tell me you can't understand that!" Justin shouted in his own defense.

"I can. I just never expected it from you."

"No. But how many times have you told me to do just that?"

Brian looked away, knowing that he was right. He looked at Justin out of the corner of his eye and a slow smile spread across his face. Small but sincere. "So...how was life in the fast lane anyway? Fuck anyone that I haven't gotten around to yet?"

Justin barked a laugh and shook his head. Brian hadn't changed a bit. Ignoring the last question, he decided to answer the first. "It was fun. But...it could never compare to what I had with you."

"Liar."

Justin shook his head. "Can we try again?"

Brian hesitated. "Maybe." Justin grinned, thrilled that he hadn't been rejected straight away. "In a few years." His face fell again.

"A few years?!"

"I'll give you two years - until you finish school - to get all of those raging hormones on a leash. Get all of the running around out of your system. Then, and only then, will I let you bring up this topic again." Justin had nodded and smiled at him with relief and love. Brian's eyes raked over his body, shoes to shit eating grin, and he stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Now get your ass over here. We have a lot of time to make up for." And in the backroom of Babylon, they had begun what would become a week long marathon of make up sex.

So it had been understood that they would leave things open. They could see other people, fuck other people, live their own lives without worrying about hurting the other person. That is until Justin had opened his mouth the night before. Now it felt as though the scales were once again unbalanced.

Justin sighed. Okay, so Brian had said two years. But...Justin was more settled now. They both knew that his heart belonged to no one but Brian. There was no misconceptions about where he slept, when and with whom. There was no one else and hadn't been since that night. So...why was Brian bringing up a time that had been put behind them long ago. Unless...maybe he had never really forgiven him.

If that was true, then Justin might as well leave now. Because if Brian couldn't forgive him and let them move on together, then it had been over long before it had even begun.

***

"Lindsay. Melanie."

"Mr. Peterson," Melanie smiled and greeted him in return, allowing the man to pull out her chair for her. He did the same for Lindsay and she pecked him on the cheek quickly. More out of habit than anything, since she could barely stand to be in the same room with him. Her insides were probably charred with the thoughts that she had been entertaining all day long. Which was the reason for this dinner. She would get everything out in the open.

"Now," Ron took a seat across from them, "would you care to explain why it was so urgent that we have dinner together tonight?"

Lindsay pulled her top lip through her teeth and tried not to scream. Her father was being far too cheerful. It was the type of chipper that usually only occurred in the recipients of sexual favors and anyone that worked at Disneyland. She didn't even want to let her mind venture into that realm. Not now. Not ever. "Well dad...We...or I rather, wanted to talk to you about something."

"Okay. Shoot." The man sipped his sherry and watched the women before him over the rim of the goblet.

Melanie squeezed her hand under the table, urging her to say what she needed to say. Lindsay was grateful that Mel had agreed to come with her. She wasn't sure that she could have faced her father alone. "I found a picture this morning. In that box of mom's?" Her father nodded, waiting for her to continue. "It was of you and mom and another couple."

"George and Margaret?" Lindsay thought of the prudish older couple and wanted to laugh and cry at the thought of her father with the old country club hag that Margaret was.

"No daddy. Not George and Margaret." She felt Melanie squeeze her hand once more. He had no idea what was coming. She had to remember that. Be gentle. There was still a very off chance that there was absolutely no validity to her suspicions. "Jennifer and Craig Taylor."

Though he tried not to show any outward appearance, Lindsay could immediately see his face go pale and his body tense up. "And..." he breathed out slowly.

"And it was from some neighborhood brunch. Nineteen eighty-two. The year we moved away from the Royal Estates."

"What are you getting at Lindsay?" She definitely had to give the man credit for regaining his composure so quickly. But she saw through it and her suspicions had already been proven true by the small vein that had appeared as blue as blazes in his forehead.

"I heard you and mommy fighting one night before we moved. You had an affair." Lindsay looked up from her water glass and stared her father down. "You slept with Jennifer Taylor didn't you." Her voice was controlled and quiet but damning nonetheless.

Ron didn't even try to cover the look of pain that washed over his face. His eyes dropped to the table and his index finger began tracing the edge of his silverware. "Lindsay, I love you sweetheart. But...it's over. You shouldn't concern yourself with worrying about it. Your mother and I straightened things out between us a long time ago and until today, I hadn't even set eyes on Jennifer since before we moved."

"That's all well and good. But there's a little more to the story isn't there." Lindsay began. Suddenly, Melanie's hand clamped onto her's like a vice. Her lover tensed beside her and she looked to see what was wrong. Following Melanie's gaze, she watched as Jennifer Taylor approached their table.

"Well isn't this a coincidence!" She grinned at the occupants of the table.

Melanie was the first to speak. "How are you Jennifer?"

"Wonderful. I sold another house yesterday so I decided to grab Justin for a nice celebration dinner. This is his favorite restaurant." As she said this, Justin approached the table and rolled his eyes at Melanie as she was the only one paying any attention.

"How could I argue? She bursts into the loft and practically forces me to take this new cashmere sweater and then tells me that I have to let her gorge me with Italian food. I figured it could be my good deed for the day."

Melanie laughed at Justin's playful remark and Lindsay kicked her wife's foot beneath the table. This was supposed to be an uncomfortable situation. Why was it that she and her father were the only two people that understood that?

"W-Why don't you two join us?" Melanie spoke up, knowing that it would earn her glares from the Peterson's. Sure enough, identical chocolate brown eyes stared her down from either side of the table.

"Well, if you're sure it's alright." Jennifer hesitated. "We wouldn't want to be any imposition if you were having a family dinner."

Lindsay scoffed loudly, folding her arms across her stomach. Her father gave her a warning glance before turning and smiling politely at Jennifer. "Don't be silly." He stood and pulled out a chair for Jennifer before securing an extra chair from another table for Justin.

"Thank you. I'm...Justin by the way. I don't think we've ever been formally introduced." Justin shook the man's hand over the table and Ron nodded in greeting.

"I'm Ron Peterson. Lindsay's father."

Justin scratched his chin absentmindedly, trying to find the appropriate words to express himself. "I am...very sorry about your loss."

Lindsay's father closed his eyes momentarily to collect himself. With his own curt response, he replied with a simple "thank you".

As they sat there, Lindsay began to feel trapped in the uncomfortable silence. Jennifer was the first to break as she clasped her hands together and grinned at her. "So where is that beautiful baby tonight? I bet he's grown a head taller since I saw him last."

Melanie saved her from having to answer. "We left him with Brian actually. He was going to take him to see a movie." She looked to Justin. "I'm surprised you didn't know." Lindsay noticed that he looked a bit upset by the comment and she wanted to ask him what Brian had done now but she couldn't pull herself from the pit that she had fallen into.

"Oh, Lindsay...my painting final is due next week," Justin perked up from his place beside her. "Would you mind taking a look at it tomorrow? Maybe I could bring it by your place?"

Lindsay nodded but sat quietly, returning to her previous activity of staring at her father. They were waiting to see who might break first. Her father was willing her to keep her mouth shut. Lindsay was willing him to take up for himself. Come clean in front of God and everyone. Neither would win.

"Look...I can see that we've interrupted something. I think Justin and I will just get another table." Mrs Taylor moved to stand up.

"Don't. This concerns you too." Melanie called to her. The woman sank back down into her chair slowly, looking as though she wanted to bolt if only her legs would work.

"Me? About the house perhaps?"

"Lindsay knows." Lindsay's head whipped around from where she had been about to yell at Melanie. Now she was back to gaping at her father.

Jennifer pushed her hair behind her ears and feigned ignorance. "I don't..." Her voice wavered and she fell silent as did the rest of the table. Justin, the only one now out of the loop, began to get worried with the drawn out silence.

"Mom?" Justin looked at his mother, confusion clouding his features. "What is it?" His eyes traveled around the table, and Lindsay felt his gaze settle on her. "Lindsay?"

"Why don't you ask your father," she tried so hard not to hiss as she spoke the words but there was no other way to produce the sound.

Justin, the poor boy, looked even more baffled. "But...he's in Seattle."

"No Justin...don't be so clueless. He's sitting there right in front of you. Ron Peterson himself!" She waved her hand towards her father. "Amazing really. All of these years. I knew it had happened. But god! How could you ignore your own son?"

Ron's eyes searched Jennifer's face, which was now streaked with guilty tears. But Lindsay was beyond feeling bad for either of the parents. So many years she had felt lost and alone. An outcast in her own family, especially after she had came out to them. She thought of the things that she had heard about Craig Taylor. What might she and Justin been spared had everyone simply been honest?

"What...?" Justin began, looking at them as though everyone had gone insane. "What are you talking about?" Lindsay remained quiet, looking back and forth between Jennifer and Ron. Justin looked at his mother and shook his head. "Mom?"

There was no sense lying about things now. Jennifer looked at him with wide, pleading eyes. "I'm sorry sweetheart...We thought that-"

"He's my...father?" Jennifer nodded mutely, the tears streaming down her cheeks, unchecked, once more. Justin stared at his mother and she looked away, no longer able to meet his eyes. "I don't believe you." Justin said evenly, but with no real conviction, before he stood and ran out of the restaurant without another word.

TO BE CONTINUED....