Lacy was taking an early morning shift at the diner. On the days when she had later classes at PIFA, she often took an early shift. The diner was fairly busy, but she wasn't run off her feet.

"Can I get pancakes and bacon?" a voice said as she was putting on a new pot of coffee.

"Sure," she said as she turned around. "Michael!"

"One and the same," he said as he slid onto a stool at the counter.

"You don't usually have breakfast here."

"I used to, a long time ago. I practically lived here."

"But then you got married and moved on with your life," Lacy said, writing down his order and going over to place it at the pass-through.

"Things change," Michael said as she walked back to the coffeepot.

"Yeah, they do, but some not fast enough."

"I want to apologize for the way I acted," Michael half mumbled. He hated doing this.

"Well, that's something I guess," Lacy conceded. "Coffee?" she asked taking the fresh pot off the burner.

"Yeah, thanks."

Lacy poured the coffee. As an afterthought she added. "No hard feelings, but I think it's good that we know what we'll put up with … and what we won't."

"I suppose it is," Michael said. "Could we start over?"

"You want to?" Lacy asked surprised.

"Yeah, Justin thinks you're the best one to draw Rage, and you probably are."

Lacy raised an eyebrow in her best Brian Kinney fashion. "Probably?"

"Well, you are," Michael said grudgingly. "Can we get together and talk some more."

"Sure, how about tomorrow afternoon. I could meet you at the comic store."

"That would be great," Michael said with a smile, and he sincerely hoped it would be great.

 

*****

 

"Daddy, can you come to my school?" Bree asked as she finished eating her cereal.

"To school? Why?" Justin asked.

"I told my class how you paint and I paint with you," Bree explained. "They want to see us paint."

"See us paint?" Justin chuckled. "Sweetheart, painting isn't a spectator sport."

"What's a spectacle sport?" Bree asked with a frown.

"That's what your Daddy and I used to do in the back room of Babylon," Brian smirked.

"What's Babylon?" Bree asked. She seemed to remember that word coming up before, but nobody had ever explained to her what exactly it was.

"Will you stop!" Justin ordered glaring at Brian.

"Just trying to distract her," Brian said with a shrug.

"So, will you come to school, Daddy?"

"No, sweetheart, I don't think I can. I'm very busy these days. So much for your distraction," Justin added using his hip to give Brian a nudge.

"I tried."

"Pweeze, Daddy," Bree whined.

"No whining," Justin said quickly. "And no I can't go to your school."

Bree looked ready to cry. "Hey, Squirt," Brian said, "what if we took your easel and paints into school later this week, and you could show them how you paint."

"But I want Daddy," she said.

"Daddy can't come," Brian said firmly. "How be I ask your teacher about bringing in your supplies. I'll be there with you."

"Okay," Bree replied, perking up at the idea that her Dada would be there if her Daddy couldn't.

"Thanks," Justin mouthed to Brian.

"You owe me one, and I'm sure I'll think of some way for you to repay the favor."

"I'm sure you will," Justin laughed as he picked up his coffee and headed for his painting area in the sun porch.

 

*****

 

"Good morning. How did you sleep?" A pleasant smile on his current hostess was Curtis' wake up call.

"Fine, ma'am. Should I get up now? I'll make my bed," Curtis said hurriedly, fearing that if he didn't act fast enough or respectfully enough, he'd be punished or thrown out. He hadn't felt this warm in months.

"No rush, Curtis. We don't have a full kitchen but we do have fresh fruit, cereal and milk. We have hot water if you'd like oatmeal," Karen added.

"I have a choice?"

"Yes, or if you're very hungry, you may have both."

"Both?!" He never had a choice before.

"Why don't you wash up? I was able to launder most of your clothes but I'm afraid your underwear has seen better days. Not to worry. We have many packages of brand new underwear and I'm sure we can find your size. I have several pairs of jeans and sweatshirts that will fit. You go brush your teeth and I'll leave everything here on your bed."

"Won't they get taken, ma'am?" Curtis whispered. Most of his good stuff was stolen at his last foster home.

"Honesty is a rule here, Curtis. You heard Hunter last night."

Curtis nodded. Honesty is a rule, he said over and over in his head. "Ma'am? May I take another shower? It felt really good last night," Curtis pleaded.

As if cradling an injured bird, Karen drew the frightened boy to her. She felt him stiffen for a moment then relax, just a little. "You may take as many showers as you wish. Hunter will be here with Doctor Nick in an hour, so you have plenty of time for your shower and breakfast."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Curtis went to the bathroom. Karen gathered up the clothes she knew would fit the small boy and laid them on his pillow. She then went into the main office to enter a few more notes in Curtis' file.

 

*****
 

"Sweetheart!" Debbie came into the diner to work the mid morning to afternoon shift. Lacy would leave after the lunch shift to get to class. "What are you doing here?"

"Um, having breakfast and talking to my artist," Michael mumbled around his toast.

"Well, it's about fucking time! Rage needs a kick in the pants," Debbie said loudly.

"Ma! Not so loud. It's supposed to be a secret," Michael muttered with a pained expression.

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey. I didn't know."

"No harm done, I think," Michael said looking around. No one appeared to be paying attention. "We have to ease Lacy in gradually so no one figures it out."

"Oh, I get it," Debbie said quietly. "Mum's the word," she said with a zipper over her lips motion. "More coffee, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, but make it to go. I gotta go open the store."

"Whatever you say, honey." Debbie packed up Michael's coffee along with a lemon bar then kissed him goodbye.

Neither of them heard the whispers of rumor that were starting already.

 

*****
 

"Hunter, what do you have cooking up in that magnificent brain of yours? And what do you need Brian for?" Nick asked as they rushed through the center's door. The wind was blowing again outside, whipping around the alley. "Damn, it's cold," Nick commented as he hung up his coat on the set of pegs on the wall near the kitchen. "Mmm, coffee smells good. Thank you, Karen!" he shouted over his shoulder.

"Hey, how do you know she made it and I didn't set the timer last night?" Hunter said with mock indignation.

"Because Karen's coffee always smells great and your coffee smells like old socks!" Nick said as he and Karen burst out laughing. Hunter looked disgusted.

"Just because I never mastered the trick of making coffee doesn't mean I can't fire both of you. I'm still the brains of this outfit," Hunter said smugly, as he poured himself a large mug, savoring the robust aroma before he took a sip.

"Never happen, my man," Nick stated confidently as he took his coffee into the office.

"Why?"

"Because you can't fire a volunteer and..."

"You need us," Karen finished Nick's statement.

"Yeah, I do." Then Hunter addressed his latest lost boy. "Good morning! Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, sir, I mean, Mr. Hunter. I slept real good," Curtis informed him.

"Did you have breakfast?"

"Just finished; I was going to wash my dishes and make my bed."

"Then don't let me stop you. When you're finished, I'll be in the office. Karen and I need to chat before she goes home. Nick and I will be available to you for most of the day. We need to discuss your needs."

"My needs?"

"Yes, school, for example. And do you have a last name?"

"Samuels, sir, but I ain't got no parents for you to call!" Curtis was frightened, looking around as if to make a break for it.

"Well, Curtis Samuels, I am Hunter Montgomery and that man in the office is Nicholas Shaw. And there's no need for you to run. But for me to be your advocate, I need to know as much as I can about you. So relax, wash your dishes and make your bed. Then come and say goodbye to Karen."

Curtis visibly relaxed then went about his chores.

"So what do you think?" Hunter asked Karen.

"He's scared out of his mind but the cold and his stomach got him to take your offer. He had a nightmare last night but forced himself back to sleep. Now that you got his full name, I'll check the court records. See if he has family." Karen was still a court appointed family counselor. She had legitimate access to the records.

"I'd like to examine Curtis, if he'd let me," Nick commented. "He may have frostbite and not know it."

"Well, we know the rules. He has to ask for help. Just because he took me up on the offer for a meal and a bed doesn't mean we have carte blanche."

At that moment, Curtis came to the office door.

"Mr. Hunter, sir, can I talk to you, please?" Hunter smiled warmly at the scared little boy. Nick and Karen left the office as Hunter had Curtis take a seat.

 

*****
 

"Baby, you were in there for hours," Nick exclaimed when Hunter finally emerged from the office. "Where's Curtis?"

"Sleeping, he exhausted himself. He told me everything, showed me some of the old scars. He's a victim of the system. Too young to be on his own, too old to be adoptable. He said he was told he's learning disabled but I suspect he's dyslexic. He's very articulate even though he reverts to street talk. I think he uses it to make himself appear older. He just turned fourteen two months ago."

"His birthday is around Christmas?" Nick asked with concern.

"Yes, and he spent it and Christmas in a cardboard box."

"Jeez. You know, I've been volunteering here for some time now and it never gets any easier. He's got to be one of your youngest lost kids."

"Our, lost kids. You're an important part of this too, as well as Karen. By the way, did she go?"

"Yes. She'll call you later if she finds out anything about him. Come on, my turn to make coffee then I'll pick us up some lunch. Did you ever get the chance to speak with Brian?"

"No, but he said he'd drop by tomorrow. And is my coffee really that bad?"

"Nah, just like ragging on you." The lovers sneaked a kiss then went about the business at hand.

 

*****
 

"Hello?"

"Hi Mom!"

"Molly, honey, you've been home for weeks now. Why haven't you called me?"

"Mom, that's not true and I've been busy," Molly said into the phone, rolling her eyes.

"You should never be too busy for your mother," Jennifer admonished her daughter.

"Mom, I called you the minute we got back and we came to dinner," Molly said with a sigh.

"I know, sweetheart, but the house seems so empty without you here."

"I thought Seth was 'occupying' your time."

"Seth, hasn't 'occupied' anything yet. We've come close, though. And I have to admit, he's one helluva kisser," Jennifer giggled.

"Mother! I'm glad he makes you happy," Molly said.

"He does make me happy, very happy. So how goes the wedded bliss these days?"

"It's going just fine although Owen has been hinting..."

"At starting a family?" Jennifer asked hopefully.

"Not yet. He wants me to consider working at Brenner Enterprises."

"Well, that's not what I expected."

"Apparently not but that's not why I called."

"What is it?"

"I stopped at the bistro. I was hoping to see Emmett but Sean said he was taking time off and staying at their cottage."

"Yes, I think I heard him mention it at Christmas."

"Well, I was standing at the counter ordering coffee when I overheard someone say that Rage is getting kicked off the comic and Zephyr will be the main hero. It can't be true, can it?"

"I don't know. I mean if Justin was going to stop drawing Rage, he'd certainly tell us. Don't you think?"

"Probably. Unless..."

"Unless, what?"

"Unless, Michael was going to cut Justin out of the comic and not tell him until it was too late for him to do anything."

"That little toad! I will kick his butt all over Liberty Avenue! Take advantage of my baby, and he'll have to deal with me!"

"Mom! MOM! We don't know anything of the sort. Just calm down!"

"Fine, I'll calm down, but if I find out that Michael has been trying to cheat Justin out of Rage, I'll...I'll sic Brian on him. Brian won't let that worm cheat Justin."

Molly sighed dramatically. All of her years surrounded by the biggest drama queens in all of Pittsburgh made Molly Taylor-Brenner an expert at surviving a mega queen-out moment. She sighed again and waited until her mother's moment was done.

"Maybe I should put the kettle on," Molly muttered to herself as her mother raged on. "This is going to take some time."

Molly sat on a kitchen stool, as Jennifer Taylor began her gruesome description of how she was going to disassemble Zephyr and hide the pieces where the sun don't shine.

 

*****
 

"Brian, it's Carl Horvath."

"What can I do for you, Carl? Nothing wrong at the club is there?"

"No," Carl laughed into the phone. "The club is doing great. I'm calling on police business."

"Police business? Have you developed oldtimers' disease?" Brian joked. "The last time I looked you had retired from the force."

Carl laughed louder. "I know I'm retired, but I occasionally get roped into things."

"What kind of things, and what does this have to do with me?"

"Remember your mugging?"

"How the fuck can I forget?" Brian demanded. He'd rather not discuss that sordid little event. He still wondered how he could let a little punk take his money. At least the kid had not got his wallet.

"You reported that the kid took a hundred and twenty-three dollars, right?"

Brian thought for a moment. "Yeah, as best I can remember." Brian had got some cash from an ATM, and had bought lunch for himself and Cynthia. He wasn't sure what else he might have spent a few bucks on, definitely nothing major. "It was probably a hundred and twenty-three. I can't be totally sure. Why? Does it matter?"

"The officers on the case and I were talking to Raph and Hector, the vet and his assistant that were at your place over Christmas."

"Yeah, what do they have to do with this?"

"It seems that hours after your mugging, someone left a packet of money at their door. It contained a hundred and twenty dollars."

"But, if you asked about the hundred and twenty-three, why is a hundred and twenty significant?" Brian was puzzled.

"They had a sickly, little cat left on their doorstep a few weeks ago. Since then they have received various packets of money which they think are intended to pay for the care of the cat. The packets have ranged from $9.00 to your hundred and twenty."

"How do you know it's my money?"

"It was a few hours after your mugging, later that night to be exact. It all adds up. This kid left the cat at the vet's and has been robbing people to pay for the vet to look after it."

"Jesus Christ!" Brian reacted running his hand through his hair. "I've never heard of such a thing. That must be why the kid was apologizing all the time. He really didn't want to rob me, but he felt he had to get the money for the cat. Have you found the kid?"

"Not yet, but I think we're a step closer. Hunter hasn't had any contact with a new kid, has he?"

"Not that I've heard, but why don't you call him yourself?"

"I intend to, but not just yet. If we catch this kid, would you consider not pressing charges? I know he scratched you with a knife," Carl explained.

"I don't want to punish the kid, Carl. It sounds like he needs a home and some help, not being thrown into juvvie."

"I agree. I was hoping you'd say that."

"I'm coming into Pittsburgh tomorrow to see Hunter. I'll find out if he's seen the kid around, and if there's anything I can do."

"Thanks, Brian, I knew I could count on you."

Brian shook his head as he set down the receiver. The world was a fucked up place.