"I'm going with you."

Brian shook his head vehemently. "No, Mandy. This is between Curt and me."

"I know, but-" Mandy bent her head and composed herself. "It's just that you need someone, Brian, someone on your side."

"He loves me, Mandy. I know that as sure as I'm standing here."

"He gave you up with no more thought than...than..." Mandy grew flustered when she couldn't come up with a suitable comparison.

Brian almost laughed out loud. They had come so far that Mandy was defending him against perceived ill treatment from Curt. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but...I belong with Curt."

Mandy sighed heavily. "I know, but I just don't think he's the one who can make you happy."

"But he does," Brian protested. When he left, I was like a flower without sunlight, losing its petals. One by one.

"If he did, he'd be here, Brian," Mandy pointed out.

He had no answer for that. Sorrow closed his throat and made it impossible to talk.

*****

In the end, Mandy packed. For both of them. Once they were on the plane, Brian fell asleep, exhausted by weeks of struggling to finish a record he had begun to hate. He snuggled closer in his sleep, and Mandy guided his head into her lap. For almost an hour, she stroked his hair, hope welling up in her. Reconciliation. It was possible. Wasn't it?

Then Brian rubbed his cheek against her hand and murmured, "Curt..."

It seemed that while Mandy had been anticipating a reunion, Brian had been dreaming of a divorce.

*****

Curt walked the streets of Kreuzberg in a fog. He barely noticed the character of the industrial neighborhood he'd wandered into, but it rapidly became clear that someone was noticing him. He walked faster and lit another cigarette.

Someone had more than noticed him. He was following him.

Curt shivered and prayed that he was wrong, darting out into the intersection without looking back. As he passed a group of young people, they laughed. He felt just paranoid enough to think they were laughing at him.

That hurt. It also terrified him.

What was he doing here? He was in a foreign country. He didn't speak the language. He didn't know anyone. Except for him.

And he didn't want to know him.

Everyone thought he was so mysterious. Everyone imagined that he was serious and thoughtful. Well, they were partially right. He was mysterious. In a creepy, almost otherworldly way. He was serious, too. Serious about stalking Curt, hounding him till the younger man gave in. And he was thoughtful. He constantly gave Curt gifts. Tokens of his affection.

Pieces of his broken love.

"God, Brian," Curt muttered under his breath. "I hope you're doing better than I am...or it was all for nothing."

His head jerked up at the sound of a car nearby. Suddenly there it was, pulling to the curb in front of him, cutting off his only possible retreat. Him.

He rolled down the window on the driver's side and beamed at him. It was a ghoulish grin, one that seemed inordinately glad to see Curt. Curt started to back up, but he was out of the car before Curt could get away.

It didn't matter. There wasn't anywhere that Curt could go. Not now. Not without Brian.

Curt stood uneasily at attention, the little hairs on his arms prickling as the dark figure approached. "I wasn't going to run," Curt began.

"Of course you weren't, my dear. Where on earth would you go?" the silky voice poured over him like so much oil, unctuous and ominous at the same time.

The street lamp caught the burnished copper glow of the man's hair and illuminated him. He looked as if he'd come straight from hell. Just for Curt.

Perhaps he had.

A hand gripped him by the hair, pulling tightly enough to hurt, but Curt made no noise. He knew that was what his tormentor wanted, and he refused to give him that satisfaction.

"I should punish you for not being there when I came home," the voice said in a whisper that was somehow far more awful than a shout.

Curt closed his eyes. He would do it this time. Take him by force. Make him relive the abuse he'd suffered at the hands of his older brother. Make it worse by driving it into his conscious mind where he had no defenses against it.

Curt drew a shaky breath and braced himself against the impending assault. It would be bad. Not just because of who it was, but because of who it wasn't. It wouldn't be Brian. And no matter what he said, it wouldn't be making love.

No, it would never be that again.

To Curt's utter amazement, however, he was released as suddenly as he'd been captured. "Get in the car. We're having company."

"Wh-who?"

"Your boyfriend's coming. Maybe we should invite him to dinner. So he can see how well you're getting along without him," the other man said sarcastically.

Curt's heart sank. Noooo, he wouldn't do that. He promised. He fucking promised.

But what good were promises when they came from the fucking devil?

*****

"I'm not sure you're up to this, Curt. You look...drawn."

His antagonist moved closer, pulling Curt's long blond hair off the back of his neck. He pressed a kiss to his nape, then sank his teeth into the tender flesh there. Curt gasped, out of outrage as well as pain, and tried to move, but his captor clamped a well-manicured yet powerful hand down on Curt's shoulder. "Did I mention how much fun this test is going to be?"

Curt shook his head mutely.

"You see, Curt, if you pass, Brian will fade away like an unpleasant memory. But if you fail...I'll have to resort to stronger measures."

"You said you wouldn't hurt him-"

"Hmm...maybe I'll hurt you instead."

You are, Curt screamed noiselessly , trapped in a nightmare from which there seemed to be no escape.

"I want you willing, Curt. I know you're capable of it. Just look at how much time you wasted bedding that little upstart. Things would go so much better for you...if you would simply give in..."

You might have to kill me.

"I'm not a patient man. If you make me wait too long..." When the voice trailed off meaningfully, Curt swallowed hard and looked directly into the face of the fiend who kept him here.

"Jack..."

Jack Fairy. The glam rocker who started it all. The beautiful ghost who glided through his painted world with the lan of the true performance artist. The man who struck fear into Curt's heart.

Because he wanted Curt Wild.

He would settle for nothing less.

And if he had to go through Brian Slade to get to him...he was perfectly capable of destroying both of them with one vile act.

*****

Curt was afraid as well as excited. He wanted Brian to stay far, far away from Jack. That was a given. Jack was too unpredictable to be controlled, and Curt didn't know if he could keep Jack from making good his threat.

On the other hand, it had been weeks since Curt had seen Brian, and he was starved for even a glimpse of his former lover.

But he had to hide those feelings from Jack. He couldn't imagine the way Jack's mind worked, but the older man was clearly obsessed with Curt. Up till now, Jack hadn't acted on that obsession, but it was only a matter of time. His caresses lingered with the familiarity of a man who was accustomed to getting what he wanted.

And he definitely wanted Curt.

Jack was a possessive man, and he evidently saw Curt as his property now. Wrested away from Brian, Curt had even more allure than he might have on his own. While it might be common knowledge that everyone stole from Jack, Jack didn't tolerate all thievery equally.

Jack had something personal against Brian Slade.

Jack wouldn't say what it was. But Curt already knew. Brian had told him. Brian kissed Jack one New Year's Eve at a party at the Sombrero Club. But more to the point, he used that kiss to steal Jack's talisman, a faux emerald pin rumored to belong to Oscar Wilde once.

Jack never sought retribution, though he must have realized who had taken the stone. But apparently he'd never forgotten the incident. Now he wanted to steal something that belonged to Brian.

And that something was Curt.

*****

tbc