As the days went by, Curt dreaded the passage of time. It meant that his body would soon be well enough for Jack to try again. Well, as suicidal as it seemed, Curt wasn't giving Jack another chance to rape him.

So he hid behind a blank expression, the fire in his changeable blue-gray eyes carefully banked to conceal the anger that drove him now. Despite everything that had happened to him, Curt was a survivor.

He'd survived being abused by his older brother. He'd survived being subjected to shock therapy for eighteen months. He'd even survived being cast aside by the family that raised him.

And now it was time to survive Jack Fairy.

*****

Curt could have foreseen what would happen when Jack found out about the message. If he'd only known about it. Instead Jack was able to catch the younger man off-balance once more.

"Nice try, Curt."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Jack wrenched Curt's arm and painfully bent his wrist at an unnatural angle. "Don't fuck with me, Curt. Or I can ensure that you'll never play the guitar again."

Curt felt like screaming, but he had precious little energy left these days. As determined as he was to escape Jack someday, he refused to even make the attempt till he could be certain that Brian would be safe.

"If you break my wrist, Jack, we'll never finish the Berlin record," Curt said quietly, making sure that he didn't raise his eyes to Jack's face. If he did, he would have been sorely tempted to fight back no matter what the consequences. But as always, he thought of Brian.

Jack looked at him coolly and released him, leaving Curt to rub his wrist thoughtfully. Jack wasn't being nice. Jack was rarely nice. Except when he thought he'd found another way to break Curt.

"Don't try that again." Jack settled for an all-purpose threat. He knew how much Curt valued his music, and destruction of that would be nearly as satisfying as keeping him away from Brian.

I didn't try to get in touch with Brian, Curt thought, but someone did. Before he could wonder further, Curt was dismissed with an irritated wave of Jack's hand. "Get some sleep. You look terrible."

Curt crept away as unobtrusively as possible. Jack in an uncertain mood was never a good thing. There would be time for thinking later. Right now Curt needed to take advantage of Jack's implicit order.

*****

Brian painted his face with shaking hands and swore. He was never going to get his eyeliner on straight at this rate. He thought about not wearing it, for all of two seconds, and sighed. His eyes were red and swollen. For once in his young life, he needed make-up. Otherwise, everyone would know something was very wrong.

Mandy interrupted his solemn preoccupation with a knock on his dressing room door. "Brian? Are you sure you want to do this? It seems awfully permanent."

"Yeah, well, that's the thing about death, Mandy. It has a tendency to be fucking permanent," Brian snapped, blinking away unshed tears. He couldn't cry anymore. He would have to start all over, and there was simply no time.

"Brian?" Mandy approached Brian with some trepidation. Ever since they came back from Germany, Brian had been on an emotional roller coaster. She was starting to get used to the mood swings, but he was falling deeper and deeper into depression. At first, his idea about "killing" Maxwell Demon had seemed inspired. For one thing, it was a great publicity stunt. Even Jerry liked that part. But now Mandy wasn't so sure that they were talking about Maxwell Demon any longer.

She was beginning to worry about Brian himself.

"You're not thinking about hurting yourself, Brian, are you?" she asked softly.

Brian closed his eyes and shut out the wavering reflection of his mirror image. "Of course not. There's nothing left of me to hurt."

Mandy didn't like the sound of that. She reached out and gently stroked his hair, and he surprised her by yielding, unconsciously leaning against her. She was softness and warmth and light, all of the things that Brian had given up when he left Berlin. He sighed as he rubbed his cheek against her stomach. Brian was getting make-up all over her, but Mandy didn't mind. He needed her in a way he never had when they were together.

"Brian...you don't have to go through with it, you know."

"I know," he replied without opening his eyes. He liked the way she felt under his hands, and he wished with all his might that he still loved her. But his heart belonged to someone who no longer wanted it, and he was having trouble accepting that.

"Does it bother you? Killing Maxwell Demon, I mean?"

Brian looked up at her, his gaze surprisingly clear as well as calm. "It's the only thing that makes any sense to me, actually."

"You're not doing this because...you think you'll get Curt back, are you?"

Brian shook his head sadly. "I'm doing it cause it's time. The Demon took over my life. Y'know, for a while there, I thought I was Maxwell Demon." Brian snorted disparagingly at his own assumptions which, strangely enough, led nowhere.

"And Maxwell Demon...he thought he was God."

"Isn't that what you're doing now?"

Brian stared at her with darkness in his eyes and lightning in his heart. "Someone has to do it. He won't."

Mandy looked startled. "You don't think he's-"

"Real?" Brian laughed bitterly. "He was never real. He's just a part of me that I can't control anymore."

Brian drew back from his wife and resumed applying his make-up, his hands considerably steadier. "So you see why I have to play God one more time. No one should have that kind of power over anyone. Even himself."

*****

News of Brian Slade's apparent assassination spread through London like wildfire. Once the press succeeded in getting their teeth into it, the wire services picked it up. It hit Germany a few hours later.

Jack savored the news with his morning tea. "Oh, Curt? Have you read the paper yet?" he asked, knowing very well that Curt had done no such thing. If he had, Jack could only imagine the outcry.

He sat back and watched as Curt shuffled wearily into the kitchen. Curt rubbed his eyes with the backs of his hands before glancing curiously at the front page of the paper. "What's up? They declare war somewhere?"

"Something like that."

Jack felt the impact of Curt's shock all the way across the room. If Curt had been white before, now he was the color of parchment except for a bluish tinge around his lips. "Oh, dear, are you all right?" Now that Brian was dead, Jack thought he could afford to be gracious. But Curt barely seemed able to appreciate his attempt at solicitude.

Fuck. Maybe Curt was genuinely ill.

That was disappointing. Now Jack would be forced to endure another marathon session of waiting in that surly Doctor Holtz' office. Dammit, couldn't anything go his way?

Curt passed out before Jack could reach him. After all, Jack had to fold his paper carefully before rising slowly to his feet. "I sincerely hope you don't intend to die, too, Curt. That would be most inconvenient."

*****

The portly little doctor was anxious. "Jack, I think we need to send Curt to the hospital."

"No, no hospitals," Jack said firmly. "Can't you fix him up somehow?"

"Jack! The man is in shock. He has no blood pressure to speak of, and whatever I do, I would feel better doing in a hospital. Preferably surrounded by other doctors."

Jack seemed more annoyed than anything else. "I don't have time for this-"

"Then you'd better make time. Or Curt is going to die."

Jack shook his head. "You deal with it. I have an important meeting." Jack was gone before Holtz could yell, Good riddance, at his stylishly-clad back. He called for an ambulance, then he returned to Curt's side. "Curt, Curt, what did he do to you now?"

The ambulance was quick. They moved Curt rapidly to the emergency room where he was brought into a cubicle immediately. "Who's responsible for this patient?" the doctor on call asked brusquely.

"I am," said the only man who appeared to care what happened to Curt Wild.

"He's covered in old bruises. What's going on here?"

"It's a long story. Get Curt to stick around for a while, and I promise I'll tell you all about it."

*****


tbc