This is the twenty-seventh story in the Rewriting History series, and it follows I'm Afraid of Americans. There *is* angst here, but there is also a splendid light at the end of the tunnel. :)

Warnings: m/m, angst, AU, occasional bad language. Minor spoilers. This is more of a missing scene that should have been in the movie. (Well, if *I* was writing it, it would've been. ;) )

~Silk

*****

My Tears Are Yours

By Silk

Brian shivered. "I'm so bloody cold," he said, his voice pitched so low as to be almost inaudible.

"That's a normal reaction, Brian."

"It doesn't feel fucking normal, Jack!" Brian whispered agitatedly. He wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to stay the growing vibration that was shaking him apart.

But it didn't help.

His hair was freshly-washed and still wet. Droplets of water beaded on his too-pale skin. Jack had forced him into the shower, and when Brian was too unsteady to stand, it was Jack who supported him. Brian didn't want to admit it, but he must have been pretty far down to rate this kind of attention from Jack Fairy.

Christ, the man had even washed his hair for him.

Now Jack was trying valiantly to dress him. But Brian couldn't stand still for more than a moment at a time. "I'm sorry, Jack."

"Don't be sorry, Brian. Just stop moving. You'll feel better once you get some clothes on."

Brian tried to nod, but his head jerked spasmodically instead. "Sorry."

"Stop saying that."

Brian squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his grip. For two cents, he felt like falling down and staying there. But that would disappoint Jack. The older man seemed convinced that Brian could get through this.

Eventually Brian settled enough that Jack was able to pull a faded sweatshirt and an equally old pair of jeans over Brian's trembling limbs. "There. Doesn't that feel better?"

The goosebumps on Brian's smooth flesh stood out in bas-relief where the soft material didn't cover. "Still...cold," he said, teeth chattering.

"I'll get you a blanket."

"From where? Shannon...won't touch...doing laundry. I...don't even know...where you got...these clothes."

Jack trailed a hand down Brian's sweatshirt-clad arm. "They're Curt's," he said finally.

The closed expression Brian usually wore was evidently a thing of the past. This face, this new openness, was both heartbreaking and dangerously attractive. "They're his?" Brian whispered.

Jack nodded mutely. He felt an inexplicable urge to stroke Brian's hair. He told himself it was merely an affectionate extension of what he felt for Curt, but he couldn't be sure. Still he couldn't act on that strange compulsion. It would complicate things unbearably. But more than that, it would hurt Curt.

That wasn't something he was willing to do.

He pictured Switzerland in all its winter glory. All that snow. All that chill air. There, that was better. All he needed was a mug of hot chocolate now.

Brian clutched a fistful of sweatshirt and brought it to his nose. He closed his eyes and imagined that he could still smell Curt. His breath caught on a sob. There were some things he never wanted to forget, even though they were too painful to remember.

"Does...does he know?" Brian's eyelashes were spiky with tears, but Jack pretended not to notice.

"No. Curt has no idea I'm here."

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing yet. I didn't want to lie to him about this. But I wasn't sure how it would turn out and-"

"You didn't want to hurt him," Brian finished for him.

Jack nodded.

Brian withdrew again, somewhere deep inside himself, and Jack felt the loss of contact like a physical pang. "Brian."

Brian raised his head, his eyes dark and wet and totally blind, and Jack thought, Oh, Curt, you lucky bastard, he still belongs to you.

"If I didn't think you were *worth* it, I wouldn't be here."

"You're doing this for *him*." It was a statement, not a question, though there was something in Brian's voice that tugged at Jack's heart.

"Yeah, that's why I came," Jack said softly, studying the tremulous young man before him. "But it's not why I *stayed*."

Brian bit his bottom lip. "Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"I have to tell you something."

"Anything."

"I dunno if you remember when we first met...in 1969." Brian sounded tentative, and Jack didn't want to make the journey any harder for him than it had to be.

"It was New Year's Eve."

"Yes. I had just met Mandy," Brian said, stumbling over her name. Oh, God, Mandy. The things he'd done to her in the name of love. In the name of whatever the hell he'd fallen into later.

"You looked high."

Brian's eyes flashed with a little of their old spark. "I was. But not on drugs."

"You kissed me."

Brian sighed. "I *used* you."

"I know."

"You know?"

"I've always known, Brian. That kiss stopped my heart for a moment, you know. But it came out of fucking *nowhere*. And then, you were gone." Jack waved his hand eloquently.

"And so was the pin," Jack declared, not an ounce of regret in his dark eyes.

"I...I took it. *Stole* it. I fucking stole it. I'm sorry, Jack."

"Don't be. At least I know who ended up with it. When I saw Curt wearing it, I thought, Bloody hell, what a cheek that Brian Slade has!" Jack paused. "But that all changed when I actually *met* Curt."

Brian stared at Jack, his light blue eyes mournful. "You love him."

"Yes." The imp in Jack didn't mind letting Brian mull that over for a few choice seconds. But the compassionate heart of Jack Fairy held more sway. "I do love Curt, Brian, but I'm not *in love* with him."

Brian wasn't even aware of the tears of relief that welled up in his eyes. "I thought you two were-"

"Lovers? No. We make much better friends. I don't think Curt's ever had a *real* friend before."

"You must hate me," Brian murmured, lowering his head.

"No. I could never hate someone that Curt loved."

Jack ignored Brian's gasp of shock and continued. "I asked Curt about the pin. That's when he told me what happened between the two of you. I *wanted* to hate you so badly, Brian. Curt broke down and *cried* over you." Jack could feel his initial anger creeping back into his voice and stepped back. Switzerland, Jack. Feel the icy-cold snowflakes on your tongue. Ah, that's better.

Brian couldn't speak for the sheer wretchedness that cloaked him. He knew he'd hurt Curt. So much. But he didn't have the buffer of the drugs protecting him from feeling the enormity of what he'd done anymore.

"That's when Curt told me...that someone who loved him very much...gave him the pin."

Jack refused to let Brian look away from his intent gaze. He grasped his chin in his long, elegantly shaped hand and said, "That was *you*, Brian. If you had it in you to *love* him that much, how could *I* hate you?"

Brian lay his head on Jack's shoulder and sobbed.

Jack slowly wrapped his arms around Brian and held him. Just as Curt's tears became Jack's...now Brian's would lead him back to Curt.

When he was ready.

End