QAF FanFictions
By Jane2005
Crisis
“Don’t get too comfortable there, Gus, we gotta leave pretty soon to go pick Justin up at the airport.” Brian glanced down at his son who was sitting in front of the television, staring too intently at the day-glo spidey-sponge-puff-whateverthefuck characters that were prancing across the screen. “Gus,” he repeated, knowing that his son’s intent focus would only create problems when he was forced to tear the kid away from the screen in less than 20 minutes. He had learned it was best to pull Gus away during commercial breaks.
Gus finally glanced back at the man reading the paper on the couch behind him. “Huh?”
“Don’t get too comfortable there, kiddo.”
“Huh.” Gus turned back to the television.
Brian shook his head and turned back to the paper. They had about twenty minutes before they had to go, and what was this? A half hour cartoon? Brian decided to let Gus watch the whole thing. What was five minutes off of his schedule?
He grimaced, fighting the desire to stick to his original plans, to adhere to his normal instinct for being on time in all circumstances, or to leave the little shit to his own devices on arrival at the airport. He wondered whether Justin would be in as pissy a mood as he’d been in when he’d left Brian’s office two days ago, or whether, even worse, he’d have that cocksure attitude that had started the whole argument in the first place.
It certainly hadn’t been Brian’s fault, that argument. Yeah, he’d been in a bad mood, ever since John or Bob or Dick or whatever the fuck his name was in the art department who had missed a deadline and forced Brian to push back a meeting with the client at the last minute, knowing damn well this would force him to make extra nice, even concede more than he wanted in later negotiations. If the client didn’t find someone else in the interim. He hated being off schedule once he’d had an organizational structure set up in his head. Thus, his native unwillingness to risk being late in picking Justin up from his trip back from L.A.
The whole trip had been last-minute, something about the designs on the set of Rage, the movie. Or was it a costume thread out of place? Brian had been looking forward to just going out with Justin and relaxing that night, or not relaxing as the case may be, at Babylon and wherever they wanted to go after. Instead, Justin had dropped by mid-afternoon to announce he was desperately needed across the country.
“Can’t they just email you?”
“Nope,” Justin replied, that tone of flippant self-confidence setting Brian’s teeth on edge. “They need the go ahead for the set. Besides, Brett said he didn’t think it was quite right, and wanted me to come out and get a feel for it.”
“A feel for it, huh?” Brian picked up the latest design Cynthia had handed him from the Art Department, wrong again. Fuck! “So I suppose you need me to fix up travel arrangements?”
“Already got them,” Justin answered. “I was just wondering if you had time to drop me at the airport?”
“Oh, yeah,” Brian snapped. “Like I have time to drop everything, because you get called away. Take a fucking cab!”
Silence. Brian looked up, expecting to see anger, or incredulity spread across that beautiful face. Instead, Justin was smirking at him.
“What?”
“I’m sorry we can’t go out tonight. I was looking forward to that too, you know. It’s just, well, business.”
He really hated it when Justin did that, thought he knew him well enough to not let Brian chase him off. When Brian was in these moods, he hated having Justin around. It wasn’t that Justin tried to appease him, something that only made Brian’s mood more brutal; those days were long gone. Now, Justin just smiled and shunted Brian’s sarcasm aside, more often than not leading him out of his angry mood through misdirection.
But Brian liked being angry. It was effective. For instance, when Dick/Bob/whoever was summoned to readdress this latest design imperfection, Brian wanted him cowed, wanted him ready to put in the extra time and effort that fear inspired, so he wouldn’t waste any more of Brian’s precious time.
“Like I can’t go without you. And I know all about taking care of business…” Brian gestured to the fuck up on the desk in front of him, “…like I have time to drop everything because you what, need me?”
But Justin was never cowed anymore. Instead, he answered Brian’s glare with a shrug. “Fine, I’ll grab a cab. Just thought you might want to a good-bye blow job on the way over, fine, your loss.” He picked up his bag. “And Brian. I don’t need you. And I sure as hell don’t need your shit mood.” Letting his own annoyance show, Justin had stomped out on his way to Los Angeles.
Brian felt better and worse after that. Worse, because he hated actually feeling, okay, kind of bad that he had ruined Justin’s initial good mood. And that he had missed out on a blow job. But you’d think the kid would know better than to harass him when he was working and obviously pissed off. Unless Justin had learned to ignore his moods altogether. That would really suck. For the longest time he had wanted nothing less than for Justin to get the clue that he was fine all on his lonesome. But now… he wasn’t so sure what
that deep uneasiness was, that tightening in his stomach that would grip him when he had started actually hearing the words from his lover’s mouth, I don’t need you. Wasn’t that what he wanted to hear, all along? I want you, great. I need you? No. So why did the negative statement bother him so much?
“Fuck,” Brian muttered. This was bullshit. That conversation was over two days ago. In the past. He’d find out whether Justin was pissed at him when he met him at the airport, with Gus. He had a good idea Justin wasn’t too pleased, since he had emailed Brian his itinerary without any note, and nary a phone call. Just the facts, ma’am. No usual, I miss you. No phone sex. Shit. Justin must be pissed, he must be. Surely he wasn’t just ignoring him.
In any case, Brian figured that showing up at the gate to greet Liberty Air 512 with Gus in tow and a big, sarcastic “Welcome home honey!” would clear up any lingering bad blood. Justin would roll his eyes, and then break out in that smile of his, and understand that underneath his lover’s sarcastic, over-the-top gesture, would be a grain of truth. Plus, having Gus along didn’t hurt. Justin would never give Brian shit in front of the kid. Lucky for Brian, Melanie had gone into labor the night before and Lindsay had dropped Gus off to stay with him. The perfect foil to Justin’s pissy attitude. Justin loved the kid, and Brian’s showing up at the gate would be as good as an apology, without him once having to say anything. The perfect plan. As long as they were on time at the airport.
He conceded to himself that that meant he and Gus would have to motor before the cartoon was over. Just because Justin’s plane had a stop-over at O’Hare, there was no guarantee that it wouldn’t be in the 10% statistic that did not immediately equate a stop-over with a late arrival at the destination airport. With the way things had been left, it was better not to take the risk, even if the odds were in his favor.
He looked up at the cartoon, dreading the drama that would ensue when he pulled the kid away mid-stream. But even as he glanced at the screen, the cartoon was interrupted by NBC Breaking News, with that damn music that accompanied every major national announcement. Brian stood up, relieved that he wouldn’t be the bad guy for once. “Wonder who we’re bombing now?” he thought, turning to pick up Gus. He lifted the child in his arms and turned to find the remote to switch off the tv.
Before he could, the anchor came on and began, “Breaking news this hour, there has been a plane crash in Illinois, a flight apparently en route to Chicago’s O’Hare airport. Details are sketchy. We take you to our reporter in Chicago at O’Hare.”
Brian turned slowly back to the television set. On screen, a stern woman with a perfect blond bob appeared in front of a terminal with Liberty Air’s logo prominently displayed behind her. “Thanks, David. I’m standing here at Liberty Air terminal, where we have been informed that one of Liberty’s planes has crashed on approach to Chicago, going down approximately 20 miles outside the city. We have no solid details at this hour, but we are being told that air traffic controllers were in touch with the airplane for some amount of time before they lost contact.”
“Diane, is there any indication that this is an act of terrorism?”
“Where the fuck was it coming from?” Brian’s voice came from behind clenched teeth.
“Daddy!” Gus reprimanded, placing his hand on Brian’s mouth. Brian absently picked the little hand off his face, held it tightly in his own.
“We don’t know for sure, little information is being released.”
“Diane, I have to interrupt you, we’re getting video from our local news affiliate at the site.” On screen, a field came into view, smoke pouring up into the sky at a distance. Emergency lights were everywhere, including immediately in front of the camera taking the shot. The press was being kept far at bay from the scene of the crash itself; all that could be seen was black smoke billowing from behind a slight rise. Off screen, a voice called to the police man at the barricade, “Were there any survivors?” The grim woman standing next to the police officer in the forefront of the screen replied, “No details. You’ll be informed when we have more information. Please stay behind the lines, we need to maintain access.”
The stern blonde came back on screen. “We’re being told that Liberty is setting up an 800 number for relatives once the tragic flight is confirmed. Until then, anyone concerned is encouraged to call the main number to check on specific flights.”
Tragic flight, what the fuck did that mean? Brian felt his arms begin to shake, and he turned to set Gus down on the couch. He picked up his cell phone, and hit the redial button for Liberty Air, a number he had called not two hours ago, to make sure Justin’s flight was on time.
“Welcome to Liberty Air.” Brian punched in the numbers to check for flight time and arrival information. Once he entered the necessary information, he waited for what seemed an eternity. Thank God they didn’t have canned hold music; instead, a voice patiently explained, over and over, that his call would be answered as soon as possible. Two minutes went by. It seemed much longer. Brian glanced at the clock. He’d have to leave soon if he wanted to meet Justin’s flight. Maybe it was delayed, and they were changing the information.
“This is Lilian with Liberty Air.”
A real human being. Brian, startled, recovered enough to say, “Yeah, um, I was calling to check on Liberty 512 out of LAX, connecting through O’Hare. It was due in Pittsburgh at 12:18."
“Oh… hold on, please.” Again, cut off. But this time there was ringing, and the call was immediately picked up. Brian told himself that this didn’t necessarily mean anything, even as he felt his heart begin to race, the sudden cold clamminess of his hands.
“Yes, sir? This is Jack, I’m a representative of the airline. You have a relative on flight 512?”
“Yes, Justin Taylor? Is…” He couldn’t continue, but he didn’t have to.
“I am very sorry, sir, but our reports indicate that flight 512 is the plane that went down just outside O’Hare. We have reports of survivors, but no details. According to my information, Mr. Taylor boarded the flight in LA.”
Brian closed his eyes.
The man continued, “Are you in the Pittsburgh area?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re arranging immediate transportation of all relatives to Chicago. Again, there are reports of survivors, but we just don’t know at the moment. The local hospitals will be handling the immediate information regarding survivors, if there are any.”
“What the fuck happened?” Brian demanded.
“We don’t know yet. Can you get to Pittsburgh International? We can send a cab to pick you up, wherever you are.”
“No… I can get to the airport.”
“Okay. Go to the first class check-in; arrangements are being handled from there. There’s generally no line; if there is, speak with an attendant who will be there. They’re aware of the situation. And sir… again, I’m very sorry.”
“So am I,” Brian muttered as he hit the “end” button on his phone. He looked down at Gus, who was staring up at him from the couch. He’d have to drop him off somewhere. But where? The hospital, with Lindsay. But Michael and Debbie were there, too, and he didn’t want to dump this on them in the middle of an already emotionally charged situation. And besides, he didn’t know anything, and just couldn’t handle any questions right now.
He brought the phone up, and dialed another number.
Ted had not offered any advice on the interminable drive to the airport, thank God. He hadn’t said he was sorry, and that Brian could appreciate, because “sorry” was more than bullshit in this case, sorry implied that Justin was… lost, and they just didn’t know anything yet. Gus was strapped in the back of Lindsay’s car, for delivery to his moms at the hospital after Brian was dropped off at the airport.
“Have you talked to Jennifer?” Ted asked as they pulled up at the Liberty Air terminal and stopped.
“Shit, no.” Brian shook his head as he got out of the car. “I’ll do that, good thinking.”
Ted leaned over. “I’ll take care of everything on this end. If you can, let us know.”
But Brian had already walked away, his long stride moving quickly through the doors and toward the Liberty Air desk. He approached the First Class counter, bypassing the longer waits for check-in. He vaguely noted a family laughing together as they joined the end of the regular line. How odd, they behaved so normally. He stared at them, as they poked through their bags, talked to each other as if the whole world weren’t shattering. He'd seen families just like this one in public a million times, but this one... surreal. He shuddered without realizing and turned back to his own line.