SUNDAY, MARCH 4, 2018

Alejandro woke up bright and early. The muscular arm of Carlos held him close and his cousin's cock rested against his bare ass. Carlos' wasn't hard, but it was enough to make Alejandro horny. But anything and everything would have to wait until after his morning piss. He lay there and enjoyed the feeling of Carlos' body against his. He waited until he feared he wouldn't make it to the bathroom before slipping from Carlos' embrace and quietly tip-toeing into the hallway.

Elena was already up and walking down the hallway when she spied Alejandro exiting Carlos' room. 'Our Diaz boys,' she thought. 'They are all the same.'

"Buenos días, mi corazón," she called to her youngest grandchild. ("Good morning, my heart.")

Despite being naked, Alejandro ran to her. "Good morning, grandmother." He hugged her tightly.

Her heart leapt with this gesture of affection. She'd missed over a decade of this boy's life and he'd missed out on what his life could have been. What it should have been. But Elena knew at this moment, everything would be just fine.

Her ultra-plush dressing gown felt wonderful on his naked bits and her loving embrace reminded him that he was home. "I've made a decision grandmother. My close friends can still call me Trey, but I want to go by Alejandro." He enjoyed how the name rolled off his tongue, especially rolling the "r".

"That's wonderful news, Alejandro."

"And I've also decided I'm ready."

"Ready for what, mi hijo?"

"I'm ready to know what happened."

She held the boy while she thought about it. She expected he would wait a while, but he seemed eager and confident in his decision. "Okay. Shower and be down for breakfast in 30 minutes. I'll tell you of your parents while we eat."

"Okay," agreed Alejandro. He reached up and gave his grandmother a kiss on the cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too, Alejandro. I always have."

He turned his naked body and hurried to the bathroom. He'd momentarily forgotten about why he was in a rush to get there in the first place. Now his bladder reminded him.

Showered and dressed, Alejandro checked in on a sleeping Carolos before heading down to breakfast.

He approached the table and gave his grandmother a kiss on the cheek. "Hey, grandmother. What's for breakfast?"

"Whatever you like, mi querido (my dear). Emanuel will take your order and the chef will make whatever you want."

Emanuel entered the dining room and Alejandro asked if he could have pancakes, sausage and orange juice. Before he could ask his grandmother to tell him the story about his parents, the chef entered with a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice and a plate of cinnamon rolls with orange flavored icing.

"Welcome home, Master Alejandro. Here is your orange juice and I made my special cinnamon rolls just for you. I hope you like, yes? Now for your pancakes. I have blueberries, strawberries, banana, or I can even make cinnamon pancakes. Would you like?"

"They all sound good."

"Then you shall of some of each. Coming right up." And the man was gone. Alejandro turned his attention back to his grandmother who was smiling as she read the newspaper and sipped her coffee. He took a bite of one of the cinnamon rolls and moaned his approval. The orange icing burst with flavor, complementing the copious amounts of cinnamon inside the treat.

"You've made Chef Juan extremely happy," Elena noted to the boy.

"He's made my stomach extremely happy!" replied Alejandro.

"Juan has been with the family for a long time. He cooked for your father when he was your age. Juan was heart-broken when you went missing and he's thrilled that you've returned to us."

"About my dad..."

"Yes, about your father," stated Elena. She set the newspaper aside and gulped down the final dregs of her first cup of coffee. She poured herself a second cup from the carafe on the table. "You look like and have some of the same mannerisms as your father."

Alejandro could tell she missed her younger son, even after 12 years. When she was lively and energetic, Elena revealed her tomboyish personality. Though beautiful, even elegant, she presented herself as a laid-back, worldly individual. She fit in as just one of the guys in the business world. In her family life, as long as you didn't disgrace the family name, use drugs or alcohol, hurt anyone or create an unwanted pregnancy, she was pretty much fine with everything else. But when she remembered her dead son, she looked forlorn, almost frail.

"We'll discuss how wonderful your father was another time. We can watch some home movies, too. But this morning, you need to know why the last 12 years happened. You deserve to know."

Over the next hour, Elena told of how his father, Alejandro the second, attended Columbia University in New York and fell in love with a girl who went by the name of Karen Jones. Before long, Karen was pregnant, and Alejandro married her behind Elena's back. He brought his new wife home to meet the family and announce they were expecting a child. The family was thrilled, but Elena was suspicious. Never one to be amazed by the lengths people would go to weasel their way into a wealthy family, Elena had Karen investigated.

The results were disturbing. This Karen Jones had no history. She didn't exist. The investigators couldn't find any legal name changes, connections to family, or any other trail going back before she arrived in New York a couple years earlier. What they did discover was even more disturbing. She had connections to organized crime, drug cartels, and other underground organizations. These connections were mottled and confusing, but real. What they could deduce was she must have come from a family connected to one of those organizations which helped her connect to the others. She used these connections to find ways of living well above her means and support her tragic drug habit. No one was certain how she made it from day-to-day. Did she have money stashed somewhere? Was she getting paid for a job here and there by one or more of the organizations? Was she doing other illegal jobs? No one could be certain.

"What became clear to the family," Elena continued, "was Alejandro was trying to rescue Karen from her previous life. We warned him. I did what I could to protect your father's assets. Things were going well until a year after you were born. Something was amiss but your father kept the rest of the family in the dark. Then we got a call that there had been a car accident. You were with your nanny when your parents decided to take a drive out into the country. It initially appeared that Alejandro was driving too fast and lost control of his car. They hit a tree, killing him. Your mother had a severe head injury. The investigation later revealed that they were being chased and were forced off the road. The car that hit them was later recovered. It had been stolen the morning of the accident. At that point, the investigation hit a dead end." Alejandro watched as waves of sorrow crashed through his grandmother's body causing her to tremble.

Though Alejandro's mother recovered physically, she never fully recovered from her brain injury. Headaches fueled her use pain medications. Between the use of drugs, both legal and illegal, and the trauma to her brain, Karen became very paranoid. She'd socked some of her husband's money away and used her underground connections to buy a new identity and disappear. She simply put you in a stroller and told the nanny she was taking you for a walk. The nanny saw her cross the street and enter Central Park, but she never returned.

"What we've learned since we found you is she took you to Hollywood under the pretense of becoming an actress. Maybe it was the truth, or maybe she eventually came to believe the lie. Though she had plenty of money, she blew through the cash as her paranoia and drug use worsened." Her grandson could fill in the rest of the Hollywood story for himself.

"Alejandro," continued Elena, "we used your DNA results in an attempt to find your mother's side of the family, but there were no matches. Not in the ancestry databases, nor in any criminal databases. I'm sorry, but we really don't know more about your mother."

Alejandro sat quietly thinking about the story his grandmother had just related to him. His behavior and drug use now made more sense. The events after they got to Hollywood fit nicely in the history of "Trey". However, the events leading up to his earliest memories were something straight out of Hollywood. Organized crime, unknown individuals, a dead-end murder investigation, mental health issues, drug use, and a lost little boy caught up in the middle of it all.

"You're taking this quite well," noted Elena.

"Thanks to Michael and his dad. They helped me become stronger and learn to face adversity. Michael's story is terrible, and he came out the other side as a good kid. If he can, I can too. And Dr. Meijer, he taught me things too. He taught me that some adults can be trusted. He taught me that it's okay to need adults and your friends to help you through things. I need Michael and my friends back in East Harbor. I need Dr. Meijer to be in my life. And you - I'm going to need you and Carlos to help me become a Diaz and live up to your expectations."

"Alejandro, you are already living up to your father's name. He would be so proud of you." She opened her arms and Alejandro was quick to jump into the arms of his grandmother.

----------------------     

Sam woke up in the middle of his dream. In the dream, he and Gregory were boyfriends and in the middle of a hot and heavy love-making session. His disappointment evaporated when he opened his eyes to find he was the large spoon wrapped around an equally naked Gregory.

Sam was boned up and rearing to go. A little shake of the hips and Sam almost shot his load. His cock was wedged between Gregory's butt cheeks and it felt like heaven. Slowly, gently, Sam tested the waters. He rubbed his dick up and down Gregory's valley. As the sweat and precum slicked up the path, Sam's cock traveled deeper and fluidly through the channel. It was heaven. He rocked himself closer and closer to his pent-up orgasm. He held his breath to stay quiet. He feared that if he verbalized his feelings, he would scream and wake the entire household. Slowly, agonizingly, he continued the steady motion that drove him wild with passion and closer to his destination. Then it was upon him. He pulled back a bit farther than before, causing his cock to slide straight in instead of at an angle. As a result, the head smashed into and caught on Gregory's hole. The change in angle and the feeling of Gregory's taut buns gripping the head of his cock sent Sam into orbit. He inadvertently squeezed Gregory's body as his balls unleashed a torrent of young boy's cream onto Gregory's little brown wrinkle.

Gregory's eyes shot open. He felt something poking his ass and a warm wetness running down his crack and ass. "Dude! What the fuck?"

Gregory squirmed from the bed and stood up. He reached behind himself to find cum running down his legs from his butt. He looked at his hand then to Sam. "What the fuck!?" The last thing Sam saw of Gregory was his hand clamped over his butt turning the corner on his way to the bathroom.

Mortified at what he'd done, Sam quickly got dressed. He heard the shower running so he knew he had a few minutes before Gregory would return. He packed the rest of his things in his backpack then went to Gregory's desk. Grabbing a pen, he opened the first notebook he could find and scribbled a message to Gregory. He threw his backpack over his shoulder and quietly snuck out of the house. His bike and helmet were on the Fielders' front porch. Taking the bike out to the street, he donned the helmet and took off. He pedaled as fast as he dared since tears blurred his vision.

Gregory returned from the shower awake and refreshed. He was surprised that Sam wasn't there waiting on him. At first, he thought Sam had gone down for breakfast, but he realized all of his gear was gone. Gregory started straightening up his room eventually making it over to the side of the room where his desk stood. He saw the open notebook and Sam's message.

"I'm sorry. I thought
You'll never have to see me again."

Immediately, Gregory grabbed his phone and called Sam. The call went straight to voicemail.

----------------------     

Michael dragged himself to the Majestic for band practice and what he assumed would be Zach's version of a song writing clinic. Saturday night would have been fantastic if it weren't for one thing -- having to get up early Sunday morning. Lewis had taken to fucking like a duck takes to water. Like any boy with a new toy, he just couldn't put it away and go to bed. After the fourth time, Michael thanked heaven the red-head had drifted off to sleep. The boy's rest was short lived when he woke an hour later with the older boy on his back gently humping his butt in hopes for a fifth round.

For the first time in his young life, Michael understood the meaning of "ridden hard and put away wet" in its most literal sense. Don't be mistaken, Michael's only regret was having to be at practice early, he didn't regret the sex at all. As a matter of fact, his bottom hummed with satisfaction and his little nuggets ached. Lewis improved with each round and with each successive orgasm, Lewis took longer to reach the next. That resulted in the little bottom having multiple orgasms before Lewis' last couple. Eight in one night was a new record for Michael and not one he cared to try to break anytime soon.

He pulled out his keys to open the front door when he noticed trash in the corner of the entrance. It pissed him off that people wouldn't take the time to pick up their trash when they missed the trash can. He took pride in owning this property and others should respect that. Michael stepped over to the trash can and picked up an empty Monster can, a carry out bag and trash from Pappy's Pizza. He picked up a napkin and underneath was the butt of a cigar.

"Ewww! Gross!"

With the napkin, Michael picked up the cigar butt and threw it in the trash. The smell of tobacco always turned his stomach. His groggy brain tried to process the sensory information his nose sent, but it just wasn't making connections fast enough. Michael turned back to the task at hand. He unlocked and opened the door to the theater while his brain moved on to other topics.

The rest of the band wasn't far behind. They locked their bikes in the new bicycle rack next to the entrance of the studio. Instead of school books and sports bags, the boys traveled with private notebooks, sketch pads, poems, recorded riffs, and other items of inspiration. Zach arrived close behind. Turning the rest of the stage lights on, they found Michael crashed out on the sofa.

"Whoa! What happened to you?" asked Lukas. Despite the boy blocking the lights by hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow, the smirk formed by the left corner of his mouth was quite visible.

Lukas knew what that meant. "No way!"

Michael pulled his arm away and the blonde saw the twinkle in Michael's blue eyes.

"How many?"

Michael held up five fingers.

"Did he?"

Michael nodded yes, Lewis had made five deposits.

"And you?

Michael held up eight fingers.

"Shit! Is he?"

"Almost as big as Simon and Matthew."

Lukas laughed. "Can you walk?"

"Shuddup..." They all laughed before getting down to work.

Simon reminded everyone of the shitty review the editor of the school newspaper wrote about the band. "If we're going to be more than a 'human jukebox', we have to do more than just put on a good show. We need more of our own material. No egos. Don't be shy. We're blood. If we can't be honest and be real with each other, who can we be that way with?"

The boys worked for a few hours and it was getting close to lunch time when Lukas' phone rang. He saw that it was Gregory and answered. "Hey! What's up Fielder?"

"I fucked up. I fucked up something bad." The boy was in tears.

Lukas tapped the phone to put Gregory on speaker. "You're on speaker Gregory. We're all here for you. What's wrong?"

They heard another sniffle. "Sam's missing. I can't find him. I need your help."

Matthew jumped in. "Gregory, this is Matthew. Tell us exactly what happened."

"I can't. I don't want to tell his business."

"Gregory, if Sam is missing, we need to know what's going on to know how to help. Why do you think Sam is missing?"

"While I was taking a shower, he left a note and took off."

"What did the note say?" asked Matthew.

"I'm sorry. You'll never have to see me again."

It felt like the temperature in the theater dropped 20 degrees. Zach saw the look of panic on the boys' faces and took over the conversation. "Gregory, this is Zach. Do you think Sam will hurt himself?"

That hadn't occurred to Gregory. Putting the note in that context, he felt sick. "You think he'll... Oh my god! What have I done?" They heard Gregory break down crying.

"Gregory! Gregory! Where are you right now?" Zach hoped he could get the boy's attention but in his emotional state, he wasn't sure if Gregory even had the phone to his ear anymore.

"I don't know. I think I'm close to school."

Zach knew if they were going to find Sam, they would have to have a base of operations to coordinate. "Can you find your way to Dr. Meijer's house?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay, meet us there. We're on our way."

The boys left their bikes and things in the theater and squeezed into Zach's blue Honda Insight. With any amount of forethought, they wouldn't have had to squeeze in, but somehow Michael ended up riding shotgun and Simon, Lukas and Matthew had piled into the backseat.

They were getting out of the car when Gregory wheeled in and skid to a halt in their walkway. "Hey! That's Sam's bike."

All eyes followed Gregory's finger to the silver and neon yellow Giant Talon parked on the Meijers' front porch. Gregory dropped his bike and headed to the front door.

"Gregory! Don't!" ordered Zach. The boy froze in his steps. "Wait here for a minute. He is obviously upset and seeing you right now might make him run again. Let the boys go in and we'll come get you when he's ready to see you. Okay?"

Gregory nodded.

Zach gave the boy a pat on the shoulder. "Be glad that we've found him safe and sound. And if anyone can help patch up a friendship, Dr. Meijer can." He looked up to get the boys into the house to check on Sam and he realized he and Gregory were alone in the front yard.

When the boys burst through the front door, Lars answered the unasked question. "He's waiting in Lukas' bedroom."

Lukas turned to Simon and Matthew. "You guys wait here." He grabbed Michael's hand and headed to the bedroom. Carefully opening the door, the boys found Sam curled up holding a pillow, peacefully napping. As they got closer the stains on his face told the story of how the boy had cried himself to sleep waiting for his friends to return home.

Michael lay down in front of Sam and Lukas crawled behind. Together, they gently woke their friend.

"Hey guys..." Sam stretched and yawned, momentarily forgetting way he was in Lukas' bed and how his day had gone.

Michael decided to jump right in. "So, what's going on, Sam?"

Sam took a deep breath and told his two closest gay friends everything. At the same time, the other boys and Lars had Gregory in the family room relating his side of things.

Sam told Michael and Lukas of his realization his love for Gregory was different from the way other boys love their friends. Seeing Simon and Lukas together at lacrosse, Sam realized that was what he wanted, but didn't know if Gregory felt the same way. After the sex play at the party Friday night, the boys arranged a sleep over at Gregory's for Saturday night. Sam told his friend what went on during the night and morning, filling in important details when asked.

"What did I do wrong to make him hate me?"

Lukas, being the oldest of the boys, took it upon himself to pass on his wisdom. "Sam, the only thing you did wrong is break some rules of sex etiquette."

"Which ones?" asked Sam. He was honestly interested in learning more about these rules of sex etiquette so he wouldn't do something wrong next time.

"Well, first don't hump someone or do sex stuff with someone while they sleep. If they are asleep, they can't consent. Though if they're your boyfriend, you can do it to wake him up." Lukas added that last part because he realized he too broke that rule often unless he qualified it.

"Second, you don't cum on someone when they are asleep." A moment later, Lukas added, "Unless they're your boyfriend."

Sam looked at Lukas. "You did that to Simon?"

"Yeah," he laughed, "this one night while he was a sleep and I was horny, I got on my knees up by his face and..."

"Lukas," scolded Michael, "this isn't the time." Lukas looked at Michael just in time to catch the end of his eye roll. "Look Sam," Michael continued, "did Gregory kiss you last night?" Sam shook his head 'no'.

"Did he touch your dick?" Sam shook his head again.

"Did he touch you at all?"

Sam thought for a bit the nodded. "Yeah, he grabbed my head right before he got off."

"Sam," sighed Michael, not wanting to be the one to tell Sam the bad news, "I don't think Gregory wanted to do sex stuff last night."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he didn't give back anything. I think that means one of two things. He either didn't want to do stuff last night, but didn't want to tell you, or..." Michael tailed off. He didn't want to accuse Gregory of anything, but Sam needed to learn.

"Or what?" asked Sam. Sam may have been older than Michael, but both his friends were vastly more knowledgeable and experienced in these matters.

"Or he realized you were gay and took advantage of you to get a blow job."

Sam didn't know how to react to that. It stung to think Gregory took advantage of him that way. He realized that if Gregory had simply told him he wasn't gay but was willing to let Sam give him a blow job, but not reciprocate, Sam probably would have sucked his dick anyway. It would have been an opportunity bring a fantasy to life. The thought of Gregory taking advantage of him pissed off the quiet, blonde seventh-grader. But his anger was tempered when he realized, if the other option was true, then he took advantage of Gregory and that might explain why Gregory was mad at him.

"What it really comes down to," explained Lukas, "is communication. Secrets are never a good thing, and if you are going to do sex stuff, you need to talk to verify you and the other person are on the same page. You haven't told Gregory you are gay or how you feel about him. You two didn't talk about what you were doing last night or this morning. A lack of communications leads to hurt feelings or making people mad."

"Yeah," added Michael. "Our coach says ask, don't assume. Because when you assume, you make an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'."

Sam sighed. "I need to talk to Gregory."

"Yes, you do," agreed Lukas. "Especially after that note you left."

"What was wrong with the note? I apologized and told him I would be avoiding him, so he didn't have to see me if he hated me."

"Dude, what you wrote made everyone thing you were going to off yourself," explained Lukas.

"Oh." Sam thought about what his note said. Then his eyes got bit when the light bulb lit. "Oooooh... shit. I'm sorry I scared you guys. I didn't mean that at all."

Michael laughed. "Yeah, I think we figured that out. If you were wanting to off yourself, coming to the home of a child psychologist is probably one of the worst places to end up."

That got a smile and a laugh from Sam. He pulled out his phone and turned it on. The phone exploded with missed calls and text messages, all from Gregory.

"I've got to call Gregory and tell him I'm alright."

Michael put his hand on Sam's phone to stop him. "Just be glad he didn't take your note the same way we did. Otherwise you'd have parents and police looking for you right now. And no need to call Gregory. He's here. Let's go find him."

When they found the group in the family room, Sam walked over to Gregory. Gregory stood and gave Sam a bear hug. "Sam, don't you ever run away from me again. You're my best friend and I'm here to help you with anything. Even coming out."

Sam laughed. "Well, I guess we can still be best friends even though you are confused and think you're straight." Sam's smile let Gregory know that he was kidding, and everything would be alright.

----------------------     

Gregory and Sam stayed for lunch and Lars planned for a bit of counseling afterwards while his boys did their homework.

"Aww, man," whined Michael. His lack of sleep was catching up to him now that he had a full tummy. "My laptop is in my backpack at the theater."

"I'll go with you," offered Sam. Michael and Lukas had been such good friends to him today, he wanted to return the favor.

"Okay," grumped Michael. "Com'on."

The boys headed down Maple Street to the Majestic. In Michael's state, the pace dragged, but Sam slowed to walk beside his friend. In a private moment with Gregory, Sam's bff admitted that since Trey had moved, Melanie was available, and he was planning to ask her out. Gregory went on to suggest Sam ask the one single gay boy they knew out - Michael. They could double-date or something.

Michael walked quietly trying to think of an excuse to sleep instead of doing his homework. Sam, on the other hand, watched Michael and contemplated the idea of dating the younger boy.

Sam nudged Michael with his elbow. "Christian is out mowing his yard."

Michael looked and he and Sam waved. Christian returned the wave then held up two fingers before tapping them to his wrist. Michael nodded in understanding but groaned under his breath. He had forgotten Christian was coming at 2:00 to work on "the book". So much for getting a nap.

The boys were lost in their thoughts and didn't speak the rest of the way to the theater. Approaching the front door, Michael spotted another cigar butt.

"What the fuck?" He picked up the new bit a garbage. A few embers glowed so Michael smashed them into the concrete before throwing the butt in the trash. When he turned around, Sam was holding the door open.

"Shit," groused Michael. "We forgot to lock it when we left earlier."

They entered the lobby and passed the concession stand. Just before opening the door to the auditorium, Michael spun and clasped his hand over Sam's mouth. Sam looked at the younger boy who mouthed "don't make a sound" then held a finger to his lips. Michael pointed towards the stairs and Sam followed Michael towards the balcony. They made the "u" on the landing when Michael stopped and peaked back down the stairs towards the lobby. The auditorium door opened and the voice that spilled from within was unmistakable.

With a heavy Greek accent, the boys heard. "That little brat will come back for his computer. When he does, we be prepared."

Michael turned and caught Sam just before he spoke. His hand prevented the boy from speaking and the stern look he gave Sam let the blonde know he this was serious. Michael motioned for Sam to follow and the boys ascended the stairs to the top of the theater. He led Sam down a corridor past the projector room to where he and Christian were setting up their video room. He carefully opened to door to avoid making any noise and pulled Sam into the room behind him. He gently shut the door and pulled out his phone.

Sam watched as Michael found the contact for Brian Parker and tapped out text messages:

Michael: 911
Michael: At Majestic and Yanni is here
Michael: HELP!!

Then the boy switched to text his dad.

Michael: Yanni is here at the theater
Michael: Sent 911 to Brian
Michael: Keep everyone away
Michael: I love you!!

Michael turned volume all the way down and put the phone on Silent Mode. He handed the phone to Sam and whispered, "There's a charger over there if you need it. But whatever you do, don't make a sound. Here's my pin in case the phone locks." He jotted down the six-digits.

Sam's voice trembled in fear. "What do those men want?"

Michael looked Sam dead in the eyes. "To kill me."

Sam's face drained of color.

"When I leave, lock the door and wedge this chair under the door knob. Don't come out unless me or dad come to the door. If someone else comes, make them send a text. If they have my number, their name will appear on the caller id and it will be safe. Otherwise, don't open the door for anyone -- and I mean anyone. Got that?"

Sam nodded. The adrenaline made his brain alert. He could repeat Michael's instructions word-for-word.

Michael slipped back into the hallway and Sam barricaded himself the room.

----------------------     

The text messages from Brian to Lars were brief.

Brian: On phone can't call
Brian: Send 911 to Feurst
Brian: Lock down the house
Brian: We'll bring Michael and Sam to you

Brian didn't respond to Lars' questions.

Lukas and Gregory were chatting on the couch outside of Lars' office when there was a knock at the front door. Before Lukas could get up to answer it, John, the boys' assigned security detail entered the house. "Lock the back door and draw the curtains. Get everyone into the kitchen as planned."

Lukas froze when ordered and Gregory had no idea what was going on.

"Now!" shouted John. Lukas ran to get Simon and Matthew, but the boys were already entering the living areas wondering what the commotion was about.

Lars emerged from securing the master bedroom and family room windows. "Boys, have a seat at the table. I'll fill you in here in a sec." Lars secured the rear door of the house then ensured the garage door was securely locked. He checked the curtains in the boys' rooms then joined the boys at the table. John remained inside the home with an eye to activity on the street.

"I got a message from Brian, but no details. But this is not a drill. That means Yanni Oikonomou and his men must have been seen close by." Lars turned his attention to John. "Why aren't you with Michael?"

"I followed Michael and the blonde boy to the theater. Then I received orders to return here and secure the premises."

"Have you heard anything?" asked Lars.

"No," replied John. His tone was laced with concern.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that it is on a need to know basis and the only thing I need to know is my order to protect everyone in this house."

----------------------     

Just past the video room was a ladder to the catwalks. Michael carefully climbed the ladder and stepped on to the network of walkways overlooking the auditorium. With his first step he froze. The rubber sole on his shoe squeaked on the metal footpath. It was faint and probably imperceptible from down below, but probably wasn't good enough. He slipped out of his sneaker and crept down the catwalk in his black ankle socks.

Over the auditorium, he could see the man who'd checked the lobby had returned to the auditorium. Yanni was seated on the couch smoking a cigar. That pissed Michael off more than the fact that the man had returned for him.

Being above the lighting protected the boy from being seen from below. From watching Yanni and his men, it appeared they were still unaware of his presence. But before he could formulate a plan, he needed to account for all of the men Yanni brought to capture him.

With a couple more turns, he made it to the walkway along the south wall of the theater. Passing over the off-stage light box, he passed through the rear stage wall and into the remodeled backstage area.

It was dark and he noticed his shadow drift across the catwalk in front of him. If he could see his shadow, anyone down below could see his silhouette from the auditorium lights. He could kick himself for not being more careful. A stupid mistake like that is likely to get him killed... or worse.

He hid while his eyes adjusted to the darker space. He glanced up at the skylight, covered by tarps while teams worked on the roof and parapet. Everyone feared damaging the expensive architectural feature. Right now, Michael couldn't decide if he was glad the covered skylight would help hide his movements overhead, or if he preferred to have the light to have a better view of what was going on down below.

It takes about 20 minutes to optimize your night vision, but it only took a few minutes for Michael to gain enough to spot the second henchman. He scanned the room in case there was a third until he was satisfied he'd correctly assessed his challenge.

The henchman sat on a stack of soundproofing tiles to the left of the entrance, just outside of one of the first-floor practice rooms. The boy watched as the man pulled out his phone and messed around with the screen.

Michael searched the room for inspiration. Across the room, on top of the practice rooms, he spied the sections of metal roof trusses removed to install the skylight. Perfect. But how to get to them? The catwalk ran along the back of the stage wall. It didn't extend to the back wall of the building. He moved to the point closest to the north practice rooms. It was about 25 feet to the trusses over the recording studios and the floor 40 feet below.

He looked up to find a truss from which the catwalk hung and passed over the practice rooms. Moving into place, Michael grabbed one of the poles that held the catwalk in place. Grabbing the pole, he used it to support himself as he stepped on the mid-rail, then the top rail, of the walkway. His heart raced when his socked foot slipped. His grip on the pole was the only thing that kept him from falling.

'This has got to be the stupidest thing I've ever done.' One false move and he would either make a noise and be caught or fall to... well... He white-knuckled the support while he rose to the balls of his feet, careful not to slip. Stretching for the truss running directly over-head he was a few inches short of reaching it.

Michael found better footing and reassessed his options. Fight or flight. If he chose to fight, he had more opportunities, perhaps even an advantage, if he took them on here back stage. Otherwise, he needed to return to where Sam was hiding, and hope help would get there soon. Michael was tired of running. His recovery book spoke of closure and that was something he didn't think he could find as long as Yanni was somewhere out there coming for him. Resolved and committed to his decision, Michael crouched and took measure. Knowing if he hesitated any he might chicken out, he leapt into the air.

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Zach followed Lars into their en suite bathroom. He could tell his partner was struggling with something and Zach was determined to be there for his man.

"Are you okay?" asked Zach, knowing full well what Lars' answer would be, and the true answer.

Lars started to speak but the look on Zach's face told the man his younger partner was already two steps ahead of him. "If the boys were safe, Brian would have responded to my texts."

"Do you know that for a fact?" asked Zach, his left eyebrow raised. Lars saw Zach's expression and almost laughed. Zach responded by noting, "I learned from the best."

Lars accepted Zach's embrace. "Nothing like hearing your own words being used against you," sighed Lars, relaxing in the familiar embrace.

"Then this should sound familiar, too. Worrying about the boys won't change anything. WE can't do anything about what is happening down at the theater. WE can only help the boys who are here and prepare for dealing with Sam and Michael when they return." Zach stressed the "we" to remind Lars he wasn't alone in this.

"Gregory is worried sick about Sam, especially after what happened this morning. I think Matthew is reliving the night Michael was missing and found nearly dead. He seems calm on the outside, but I don't think he is handling this very well. Simon's trying to be strong for Lukas, but you know how he worries -- especially when he feels helpless."

Lars nodded. Everything Zach said made sense. Especially the part where he was wasting his energy worrying about Sam and Michael when he could be using it to help the boys here at the house.

"Before we go back out there, how are you going to handle things when Michael returns?" Zach inquired.

The doctor had been so caught up in his own head he wasn't surprised by Zach being a step or two ahead of him, but he thought he'd caught up to his protégé. "What do you mean?"

Zach walked over to his school bag and pulled out of the book Michael was using for recovery. "I picked this up from the library. One of the major themes of this book is closure. If I know Michael, he's not going to find closure until Yanni is put away for good."

Lars agreed. "Yeah, you're right. I don't think I can find closure either while Yanni is out there."

"So, what do you think Michael will do?" asked Zach allowing Lars to come to the same conclusion he came to earlier.

"Oh shit," exclaimed Lars when he realized where Zach was leading him.

Zach returned to his original question. "Assuming we are correct, and Michael does something we'd wish he hadn't, what are you going to do?"

The two men had a lengthy discussion. If Michael were to do something they considered bone-headed, should he be punished? Should they trust that he will do what he felt he needed to do to find closure and support him on his journey to recovery. They felt they had come to a decision, but the test would be when Michael made it home. When, not if. At that point, they hoped they would be able to keep a cool head and do what they'd planned. Until then, they needed to support the other boys.

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Over jumping his mark to ensure he reached it in case he slipped, Michael caught the truss then slowly lowered his body. He repeated to himself, 'Don't look down.' Hanging a couple feet to the side of the catwalk, he took a deep breath before starting for the practice rooms.

Hand-over-hand Michael made his way across the open backstage area to the landing above the north practice rooms. He reached his destination only to realize he was hanging directly above the discarded truss sections. If he dropped down and didn't break an ankle, the clatter of the metal trusses would alert everyone of his whereabouts. He looked around and found a safe spot, but it was several feet to the right. 'If I ever needed to stick a landing, it's now.' Changing his grip as if he were on the high bar in gymnastics, Michael swung until he judged he had enough momentum to carry him to the cleared spot. With a final swing, he released the truss and prepared to land as softly as possible.

He hoped a four-point landing would help him absorb the impact. His toes touched down first. He used his knees as shock absorbers to slow his momentum. He didn't have enough room to roll. Instead, he allowed his body to rock over his center of gravity. With arms outstretched, he caught himself on his finger tips and showed himself as if he were performing a pushup. Success. He lowered himself the rest of the way down. Lying flat on his chest, he finally exhaled and came down from the anxiety over the stunt he just pulled.

Back on his feet, Michael found a metal truss he could lift without it clanking against other debris. He moved it to the end of the practice rooms facing the stage area, then looked for some screws or nails or something small. He needed to get the henchman to cross the open area and come around to the end of the practice rooms as if he were going to the stage or into the recording studios.

His eyes having adjusted to the dark, he realized it was brighter than he thought at first. He could see rather well. That also meant he could also be seen easily. Michael needed to be careful. He hoped the light from the phone would make it hard for the man to see in the dark.

With a few washers he scrounged up, the boy moved into position. Michael tossed a washer to the floor below, right where he wanted his target, and watched to see if the man got up to investigate the noise.

The washers pinged as they bounced around before wobbling to a stop. The man, curious, rose to inspect. Michael pulled back and out of view. He lifted the segment of truss as if he were going to jam it into the ground. He smiled when the henchman turned the corner. Seeing the glint of the washer, the man mistook it for a coin. He bent to pick it up.

With all his might, Michael sent the truss down upon the man. Like spearfishing into the dark ocean, the projectile sped true to its target. Michael heard the dull thud and a loud crack upon impact. His victorious feelings were short lived, however. The clamor of the truss striking the polished concrete floor could've woken the dead. In fact, it got the attention of Yanni and the other henchman. Certainly, the other man would be on his way to see what happened. Michael had to make his move, and fast!

He dropped onto the balcony for the third-floor practice rooms and ran down the steps as fast as he could. His socked feet on the cement treads made little sound. He could hear shouts from the stage.

"You imbecile! What the fuck are you doing back there?" After several more attempts to provoke a response from his colleague, the henchman headed backstage to see what was going on. Rushing into the darkness, the man slowed as his eyes adjusted to the change in lighting.

When the man moved closer, Michael turned on one of the painter's lamps he'd pointed in the man's direction. The lamp completely blinded the man from seeing what, or who, was behind the lamp.

The man raised his hand to shield his eyes. "You fucking idiot. What the hell do you think you are doing?"

"I'm no idiot," declared Michael.

"Oh, it's you," said the man with deep distain. The hulk of a man approached the voice from behind the lamp, knocking the lamp out of the way, the bulb exploding upon impact. The man blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He could make out the figure of the boy just a few feet in front of him.

Before the man could lunge for him, Michael used his toe to flick on the power strip. The air compressor roared to life. Michael raised the nail gun with his right hand and pulled the safety back with his left. The recoil caused Michael to spray nails from the man's forehead to his groin, and from shoulder to shoulder. His body jerked in pain from the impact of each projectile. The man staggered backward pulling his gun from its holster. Unable to control his body's involuntary reactions to the nails penetrating his flesh, the gun fell from his hand. Bouncing off his foot, the gun skidded across the floor. Michael stopped firing when the man crashed to the floor. The boy turned the power strip off and headed to the stage.

Michael watched as Yanni struggled to get his fat ass off the old, worn sofa the boys kept on stage. He was mumbling something in Greek that no one would understand. Finding his balance, he straightened and caught sight of his obsession. He removed the cigar from his teeth and smiled in surprise. "Well, well, well, we meet again Michael. Not quite under the circumstances I'd expected, but I did promise myself I'd get you in the end."