"He's what?" Brian cried. "No, no, I can't go. I can't. I don't want him to see me like this. I'm sick. I'm so fucking sick."

"Brian! Do you still love Curt?"

Brian buried his face in his sweat-stained pillow and inhaled. It still smelled faintly of Curt. "You know I do," he said, his voice muffled.

"Then get that pretty little ass out of bed. We've got some work to do."

*****

Curt was having the dream again. The one where he found out that Brian Slade was still alive. The one where Jack gleefully told him the news, emphasizing the fact that Brian hadn't once tried to contact him since then. The one where he flatly wrote off Brian Slade and his otherworldly counterpart, Maxwell Demon, as so much delusional rubbish coming from a narcissist who didn't know when to quit.

He woke up with a start, the unfamiliar surroundings of his London hotel room vaguely disquieting. Sunlight was streaming through the windows. It was past noon, and Curt was due for a dress rehearsal at the theater in a couple of hours.

"I see you're up at last," Jack said, tossing a newspaper onto the bed. "You might want to read it. You're in it. As usual. Former lover of Brian Slade, blah blah blah."

"I don't want to read it," Curt said, setting his mouth in a mutinous pout.

"Then don't. Suit yourself," Jack said with a shrug. "You sure you don't want to play guitar at the concert?"

"I can't, Jack. My hands don't work the way they used to. I can't feel the strings when I play. Remember?"

Jack sighed. "Oh, yes, I remember. Pity that. Giving up your music like that. All because of Bri-"

"I told you, Jack. I don't want you saying his name," Curt ground out, his teeth clenched so tightly together, they hurt.

"Very well. Good thing you can still sing, eh? Otherwise, you'd be a complete wash-out."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jack," Curt said acidly. "There's something else you need to remember."

"What's that?"

"After the concert, we're done."

"Don't be so sure of that."

"What are you going to threaten me with this time, Jack? Brian's career is over, and I'm so fucked-up, I might as well be dead. What have you got that's better than that, Jack, huh?" Curt challenged the older man recklessly. He wanted so badly to feel something, anything, and sometimes, sometimes, emotional pain came bleeding through like a shard of glass slicing open an artery, and it felt good.

At least it was feeling.

Ever since he'd learned that Brian wasn't dead, Curt had wrestled with the intermittent control of his frayed emotions. He was glad that Brian lived. He was glad in a way that literally defied expression. But he wasn't healed by the mere knowledge of Brian's survival.

Somehow he knew that could only come with something else. Something beyond him. Something he hadn't a hope in hell of ever seeing again.

*****

"Brian. Brian! Briannnn!" Mandy's voice could be excruciatingly irritating when she chose to make it so.

"What?" Brian peeked out from behind his pillow.

"We've got to meet Dr. Holtz."

"You go."

"I did. That was yesterday. Today I want you to hear what he has to say." Mandy's tone was strangely commanding, and it was that, more than anything else, that got Brian's attention.

"I haven't used since then," Brian offered, hinting that he would be in much better shape to listen if he snorted a little coke.

"Do you want to see Curt again, Brian?"

"Yeah," Brian whispered.

"Then you can't ever use drugs again. Curt gave it up. So can you."

"You've never been his biggest fan, Mandy," Brian grumbled. "Why the turnaround?"

Mandy's eyes grew bleak. "Wait till you hear what Curt did for you, Brian." Pause. "Please don't make his sacrifice useless."

"Mandy!" Brian exclaimed. "What did he do?" The connection between him and Curt still held. After all this time. After everything they'd both been through. In fact, it throbbed to life with almost painful intensity.

"You'll find out," Mandy responded enigmatically. There was only one way to get Brian out of bed and up on his feet. Curt was the answer to Brian's question. He always had been.

*****

"Curt doesn't know I'm here," Dr. Holtz explained. "It's not so much that I'm keeping our meeting from him as from-"

"Jack," Brian supplied, suddenly keenly interested in what the doctor had to say.

Holtz nodded. "When you left Berlin, you thought Curt rejected you?" he queried.

Brian glanced quickly at his ex-wife before agreeing. "Yes. That's why I left. He pushed m-me out of his l-life and-"

"Do you know why?"

Brian shook his head mutely.

Holtz sighed. "Neither do I. But I do know one thing. Jack punished Curt after you were gone."

Brian gasped. "For what? What did he do to him?"

"The only thing I can tell you with any degree of certainty is this. Jack...forced Curt."

"Forced? You mean he raped him?" Brian very nearly leaped out of his chair, but a gentle press of Mandy's hand to his wrist kept him seated.

The doctor nodded again, his expression grim. "Beat him, too, from the look of him. I tried to intervene, but my message to you...went astray."

"You mean Jack managed to intercept it," Brian corrected.

"Yes. I'm almost sure of it."

"Jesus. All this time I've been concerned with what happened to me, and Curt..." Brian swallowed over the lump in his throat, his eyes suddenly filled with unshed tears. But not for himself. This time, he was sadly conscious of who had suffered more.

An image of Curt, badly beaten and compelled to be submissive, flashed into Brian's brain, searing it there savagely. "I'll kill him," Brian said softly yet distinctly. That he meant Jack Fairy was equally clear.

"Brian, no," Mandy interjected. "Chances are, Jack won this much by threatening you. I think Curt's been trying to protect you all along. All of it's terribly suspicious. The fight in the recording studio, the way he rejected you in Berlin, and then there's..." She broke off, waiting expectantly for the doctor to fill in the rest of the blanks.

Holtz smiled sympathetically before continuing. "Curt suffered a very real trauma when your...death...was announced. He's recovered," he added quickly when he saw how stricken Brian looked.

"But?" Brian prompted.

"But he still has something I'd call...hysterical anesthesia."

"Doc, please," Brian protested. "In English."

"Curt's anxiety level was so high, his body literally went numb."

"What?"

"He can't play the guitar anymore because his fingers can't feel the strings. He can move them...he just can't feel anything."

"Oh, God."

Brian reacted as Mandy predicted. Emotionally. He wanted to strike Jack down and avenge Curt. That would be as good a motivator as any.

Holtz smiled kindly. "Brian, taking revenge against Jack wouldn't help Curt nearly as much as you think. Curt is buried in anger right now, and he needs to let that go before he can heal."

"You mean there's a chance he could get better?"

"Yes. You're that chance."

*****

"Curt, you're not singing that fucking song."

"Fuck off, Jack. It's my song."

"It's our record. I say it's out."

"Stop trying to push me around, Jack. It won't work anymore." Brian's alive, Curt thought, and I'm going to see that he stays that way. I'm going to make him hear me. Somehow.

Curt brushed past Jack on his way to the wings, and Jack couldn't follow him. He had to begin the introduction to the concert. "...the Death of Glitter!"

The crowd roared as The Flaming Creatures broke into Twentieth Century Boy. Jack's eyes scanned the people backstage. No one who didn't need to be there. Wait, wasn't that Mandy Slade? What the hell was she doing here?

Brian watched anxiously as Mandy made her way through the literally rocking throng. He stood in the doorway, his face and body hidden by an oversized hat and coat. He looked like a little boy lost under the blue light. His hands shook slightly as they adjusted the collar of his coat, and for a moment, his well-known face was clearly silhouetted before it vanished into the deepening shadows again.

Mandy darted into the wings before Jack could reach her, pressing a piece of paper into Curt's hand before moving into the audience once more. Curt frowned and opened the note. Jesus, it was Brian's handwriting.

"I'm here."

That was all it said. Curt clutched the note to his bare chest like a blind man who craved sight. "Brian," he said out loud, the sound disappearing into the surrounding din.

He was here. It didn't matter where. Curt could close his eyes and wrap his arms around himself and be back there. In the time when he and Brian made love. And Brian would hear him sing.

That song.

The one that Jack hated because it represented everything pure and good in Curt's wretched life. It wasn't a pretty song. Love wasn't always pretty. To Curt, more often than not, it was messy and complicated, but it was real when he was in Brian's arms.

"Oh, God, I want that again. If you're listening...and please be listening...I need to feel that way again," Curt muttered under his breath, lips barely moving.

He felt Jack coming before he saw him, but he eluded him, grabbing a mike on his way out. The Flaming Creatures had finished and joined the crowd of enthusiastic fans anticipating the return of Curt Wild to the stage. They flashed Curt the high sign, and he gave them a thumb's up.

The throb of the bass line energized the audience who continued to bob in time to the music. Curt strode to the center of the stage and looked out. Somewhere in that sea of faces was the man he loved. He stared into the blue spotlight, his eyes momentarily unfocused, and felt the familiar build-up of sexual tension in his body. It had been so long. It seemed like forever since someone touched him with love.

"Gimme danger..."

Little stranger. That was Brian. Curt gripped the mike tightly in both hands and groaned the lyrics that were so close to his heart. "Kiss me like the ocean breeze..."

He nearly fell to his knees when he sang that line. His hand twitched, and for a second, he thought he could feel something more than the numbness he'd become accustomed to.

He threw himself to the floor, flailing his body as though he was having a seizure. Christ, he felt like he was being electrocuted. Then the sensation passed through him and into him and jolted his body halfway into the air.

Throughout all of this, he continued to sing, reaching the chorus in a state that was almost trance-like. "I wanna feelllll it..."

Over and over he chanted the phrase like a favorite mantra. It was the key to reclaiming his feelings. It was the key that could unlock his heart again. It would be painful, he had no doubt about that, but it was necessary.

Suddenly he exploded in a fit of frustration and ill-concealed temper, his arms and legs working at odds with each other till the music faded into the background, a startling counterpoint to what he was feeling now.  "I wanna fucking feel it," he clipped out, pain forming each word like a bite in his mouth.

His fingers caressed his left nipple before raking their way across his chest. Then he slid his left hand down till it reached the belt buckle he wore above the top of his silver lame pants. He could feel it now, Brian's hands caressing him, loving him, pulling him closer to the edge.

He wanted so little. He needed so much. His body arched taut like the strings of his guitar. He whimpered piteously, low in his throat, and clung to the note that crumpled within his hands. He's here, he's here, he thought with a frisson of excitement dancing along the length of his spine. He could feel that!

He cried out involuntarily, his pleasure at being able to feel something again only slightly overshadowed by the pain that surged its way across nerve endings that had been put to sleep months ago.

He rolled over onto his stomach, his back already clenched uncomfortably tight as the muscles went into spasm. He lay there spent, trying in vain to summon the energy to get up. Panting. Then sobbing. For what he had lost. For what he could never get back. For what he had yet to recapture.

His health.

His music.

But above all else, his heart. It was somewhere out there in the restless throng.

With Brian.

*****

Someone helped him up, and he turned with a grateful smile, only to find Jack Fairy glaring at him. "Let go of me," Curt said. His face was wet with tears and sweat and ruined eye make-up, but he shone brilliantly, like the star he once was. Like the star he could be again.

"No," Jack said, his eyes gleaming ferociously even in the relative darkness.

Curt wrenched his wrist out of Jack's grasp with a power barely hinted at before, and for a moment, Jack seemed startled. "You could feel that," he declared.

"Yeah. No thanks to you," Curt said bitterly. "Now get the fuck away from me."

Curt was several feet away before Jack yelled after him, "He won't take you back, you know. Not now."

Curt spun around with an agility that he thought he'd lost. "That's what you think," he said.

"I can get rid of him...any time I want," Jack threatened.

Curt trudged wearily back to where Jack stood, his intentions clear as crystal. "This time you'll have to go through me." Once the two men were face to face, Curt growled, "If you so much as talk to him, Jack, I swear I'll kill you."

"Brave words, Curt. But this isn't over," Jack sneered.

"Yes, it is," a voice behind Jack announced.

Jack whirled to face his new adversary. "Brian! I thought you were-"

"Strung out on coke?" Brian laughed, but it wasn't a pretty noise at all. It reeked of despair and hostility, its sour notes ringing in Jack Fairy's ears.

"Brian-"

"I could kill you..." Brian said in a deceptively soft voice. "...for what you've done to him."

Curt frowned anxiously. "No!"

"But it wouldn't be enough," Brian continued as if he hadn't heard. "I could kill you over and over and it would never be enough, Jack."

Jack didn't care for the dangerous glint in Brian's eyes. He could call for help, but he had a feeling that no one would come. Even Jerry seemed to have deserted Jack in his hour of need. Meanwhile, the drama played out off-stage, out of view of the audience or security personnel, the only interested parties people who would very much like to see Curt avenged.

"You took something that belonged to me...and you refused to give it back."

"So did you," Jack blurted out, referring to the faux emerald pin reputed to have been Oscar Wilde's.

Brian began to nod slowly. "You think that's a fair trade, Jack? Curt's fucking life for a piece of green glass?"

Jack was stricken dumb.

Brian pulled the pin out of his coat pocket and offered it to Jack. Jack regarded the pin twinkling in the palm of Brian's hand with something like fear. "You're giving it back?"

Brian threw the stone at Jack, and when Jack ducked, Brian used the opportunity to pull Curt away from him. With Curt's body flush against his side, Brian could feel the damp heat radiating off his former lover. Heat that was both familiar and welcome. Brian pushed back a long wet strand of blond hair away from Curt's face, and Curt clamped a hand on Brian's wrist, his grip astonishingly strong.

"You're better," Brian whispered, his light blue eyes mesmerized by the look on Curt's face.

"Because of you," Curt whispered back.

Sensing that the two men wouldn't notice if he left, Jack started to back up. Right into the arms of Mandy Slade. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Anywhere I bloody well like."

"You think you can get away with rape?"

"You can't prove that. You know what a slut Curt Wild is. Everybody knows. He'll lie down for anyone," Jack spat angrily.

"Funny. That's not what he says."

"It's his word against mine. You'll never prove a thing," Jack added.

"Well..." Brian said. "We could always ask the fans what they think-"

Jack disappeared before they could put it to a vote.

*****

Hold Me Now-Thompson Twins

"So...we're finally alone," Brian said.

"Yeah," Curt said, a shy half-smile playing about his lips. They both started to talk at the same time, stopped, started again, then began to laugh helplessly.

Curt grabbed onto Brian's shoulders to keep himself from falling over, and Brian relaxed against him with a contented sigh. "You okay with this?" Curt asked.

"Yeah," Brian said, echoing Curt's earlier tone.

"Are we...um..." Curt fell silent, lost for words again. Being near Brian again was destroying his concentration.

"What?"

"Are we...you know...um...together again?" Curt's fingers instinctively twined themselves in Brian's hair, and Brian made another, even happier, noise.

"Curt...I don't think we ever really broke up. We were apart, but we...I mean...*I* still feel the same as I always did about you. Crazy in love," Brian finished huskily, peering at Curt from beneath sable eyelashes.

"Yeah?" Curt's smile was endearingly uncertain, and Brian's heart jumped in his chest.

Brian nodded.

"Must be contagious. Cause I feel that way, too. Only more, I think." Curt traced the line of Brian's jaw with his fingertips.

Brian glanced at the number of people milling around backstage. Between the stagehands, groupies, fans, and other bands, they were hardly alone. This wasn't quite how Brian had envisioned their reunion. "Maybe we should go somewhere...private," Brian said, biting his bottom lip nervously. Maybe Curt wasn't up to being alone with him yet.

"Bijoux?"

"Too many bad memories," Brian said with a shiver.

"There's always the roof. People crash up there all the time."

"We could look at the stars," Brian whispered.

"Or each other," Curt ventured.

*****

They climbed the stairs to the roof together, their arms wrapped around each other's waists. It made their ascent that much more difficult, but both of them were deeply reluctant to let go of one another.

When they stood on the roof of the old theatre at last, Curt said, "That coat is way too big for you, Bri," which was either a hint that Brian should take it off or a comment on his choice of disguise. "And that hat..." Curt made a face.

Brian shook his head. "I was trying not to be recognized, Curt."

"All you had to do was take off the wig. Sorry, babe, but I always hated the blue hair," Curt said by way of apology.

"I always loved yours," Brian whispered reverently, his hands framing Curt's face.

"I always loved you," Curt said quickly before he could change his mind. That they loved each other was undeniable. That they had never said the words out loud was inexplicable.

"Would it be all right if I kissed you?"

"If you don't...I think I'll die," Curt murmured.

Brian leaned forward and placed his hands on Curt's bare chest. When Curt shivered, Brian wondered if he was cold. Then Curt's tongue slipped into his mouth, and he forgot what he was going to say.

Brian's coat fell off his shoulders, with more than a little help from Curt, and Brian followed its descent, slowly sinking to his knees. Curt nipped playfully at Brian's mouth, chuckling at the rather desperate way Brian wriggled within his grasp as if he couldn't get close enough to Curt. Brian plucked his hat off and threw it down. Then he tipped his head back and tore off the offensive blue wig.

"Your hair's gotten as long as mine," Curt exclaimed. "And the color..." After Curt left, Brian let his hair grow out. It was as if he wanted to be a different person in every way possible. His natural color was an attractive shade of dark brown that Curt found infinitely more appealing than blue.

"You like it?" Brian asked tentatively. Curt's opinion meant everything to him, and his expressive face reflected as much.

"I'd love you even if you were bald," Curt declared. Brian buried his face against Curt's neck and breathed in his scent. He smelled of sweat and musk, and Brian inhaled deeply. This was Curt, his love, the man he thought he might never see again, and every time Curt said those words, the words that he hadn't dared to let himself dream, he was overcome.

"God, I missed you," Brian whispered.

"Me, too," Curt said, part of him still stunned beyond belief that he was holding Brian in his arms.

"If you hadn't come back..." Brian couldn't finish that sentence. He pressed his lips to the pulse point on Curt's neck and nuzzled him, trying to convey how much Curt meant to him without words.

"I didn't want to live without you," Curt said, as if completing Brian's thought.

"Was it very bad?" Brian asked. He was terrified to hear the answer, but he had to know.

"I was in hell," Curt rasped, his mouth suddenly so dry that it was painful.

Brian's arms tightened around Curt's neck as he contemplated what Curt must have gone through. When Curt shifted, Brian held on and dug his fingers deep enough to leave crescent-shaped marks on Curt's smooth skin. "I'm so sorry," Brian sighed.

Curt kissed Brian's temple and exhaled, his breath ruffling his hair. "I don't think I've ever heard you say that before," he said softly.

"Well, I am," Brian muttered. He rubbed his cheek against Curt's. "When I think of what he did to you..."

"Don't. I'm trying to forget-"

"Can you?"

"If you mean do I still want to make love to you...the answer is yes. With every cell in my body." Curt pulled back to gaze intently into Brian's light blue eyes. "I don't think I realized how much I loved you till I had to give you up."

They kissed and it was like the very first moment their lips met. Curt felt warm and safe despite the cool night air, and Brian evidently felt the same for he snuggled closer. All at once Brian wanted to memorize every mark, every pore, no matter how inconsequential. "Curt?"

"Yeah?"

"You know I love you, too, right?"

"You never said it, but...I hoped that you did, yeah."

"You're so much braver than I am," Brian whispered. "I could never have done what you did."

"Yes, you could. If you knew it meant you were coming home to the only person who truly understood you."

Brian kissed him almost chastely, but Curt deepened the kiss as though he'd only just caught Brian's earlier desperation. "I thought...I would have trouble with this," Curt said, breaking away with a breathless sound.

"And?"

"Feel how much I love you," Curt whispered against Brian's mouth. He pulled Brian's hand down to his groin and across the prominent bulge between his legs.

Brian wound his hands through Curt's hair and slowly lowered both of them to the ground. There was a serviceable mattress nearby, but Brian shuddered to think how dirty it probably was. He decided that his coat, which was several sizes too big for him, would make a better than adequate substitute.

He pushed Curt's low slung leather pants even further down his hips and let Curt's cock spring free. Curt groaned and nudged Brian's legs apart with his knee. "Let me in," Curt pleaded.

Without anything more than a fervent caress, Brian grew hard. He longed to bury himself deep within Curt's body, but he knew that there wasn't enough trust in the world for Curt to submit right now.

Curt pulled Brian's pants down and savored the feel of soft skin even as he encountered his massive erection. His hands were so warm, so gentle...so frustrating. Brian struggled to move against Curt, but Curt held him by his wrists, taking unfair advantage by licking a path from Brian's ear to his shoulder.

Brian protested, albeit weakly. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to come."

"That's okay. We have all night," Curt reassured him.

Brian shook his head, then smiled as he swiped a finger through the drop of wetness that pearled at the tip of Curt's dick. Curt jumped at the sensation, but he settled down quickly to his earlier task of kissing Brian within an inch of his life.

"I love you, but I don't think I can hold on much longer."

At the sound of Brian's fervent declaration, Curt's cock pulsed to life and spilled its milky essence between their bodies. Brian jerked in Curt's embrace and came moments later. They lay together, sticky and sated and even a bit sleepy before Curt broke the silence with his smoky whisper. "What do you think'll happen to us, Bri?"

"Oh," Brian said quite saucily, "we'll get married and live happily ever after."

"This isn't a fairytale, babe."

"Are you sure about that?"

Brian kissed him, one hand still playing with Curt's long blond hair. "I don't think either one of us expected a happy ending, Curt, but since we're lucky enough to get one..."

"You're right. What was I thinking?" Curt asked rhetorically as he kissed Brian back.

"About me?" Brian gave Curt a wistful smile.

"Always," Curt responded huskily.

Brian sighed happily as he felt Curt burrow under his chin. He scanned the midnight sky, his eyes growing more and more drowsy as time went on. "I like the way things turned out."

"Yeah," came Curt's muffled voice. "It's like Oscar Wilde said, 'We are all of us in the gutter...but some of us are looking at the stars.'"

End