"Good! I'm in California, getting plenty of sun."

"In December?"

"I never said it was hot, just sunny. They've got me working on a beach scene. Can you image running around on the beach in swim trunks in the winter?"

"Sounds positively horrific."

Richard chuckled, "Not at all. You know, it doesn't snow here in the winter, so it's actually not so bad. Just a little cold."

There was none of the usual spread of comfort he'd always felt from hearing Richard's voice. "That's good to hear."

"How's the whelp?"

"He's fine, behaving himself like an angel."

"Like I knew he would. Look, we've got a bit of a snag here. It seems my co-star has decided he doesn't want to go forward with the project and we're in need of a supporting lead role. What do you say, Paul?"

This was as familiar a scene as any other, only now, there wasn't the feeling of pride over Richard having called him for it, only the thought that he couldn't leave Mitch. "I..." He couldn't believe he was saying this. "I can't, Richard. Who would watch after Mitch?"

"Don't worry about Mitch, Paul. Jessie'll take care of it."

Paul thought he might be sick at the idea of Jessie watching over the boy. His mind was flooded with images of Mitch in the throws of passion, wanting it, genuinely begging for it and he couldn't... he couldn't go in there after that and tell him that he was leaving and that Jessie, who got off on torture, would be taking care of him for the next few weeks.

"I'm not leaving Jessie to watch over him, Richard. It'll be almost a month before we get back and I can't leave him with that man for a month. I just can't."

There was nearly a minute's pause before, "I didn't say anything about Jessie watching him. I said Jessie would take care of him."

It would have gotten out by now.

Oh, god, please no. "Richard..."

"I said he'd take care of it, Paul."

Paul closed his eyes and a voice echoed inside his head, clear as if he had said it himself. There was no way he was letting this happen and he'd lie to Richard if he had to. "Alright, Richard. When do I leave?"

"That's my Paul." He fought down nausea. "Your plane leaves tomorrow at seven in the morning."

The tightness in his chest had nothing to do with excitement, but the fact that he only had a few precious hours left with Mitch. He had to get the kid packed and home in time for him to drive back, pack his own bags and get to the airport by five. That was only - he looked at his watch - sixteen hours away and how long would he have before Jessie decided to come over?

"I'd better go then."

Richard chuckled, "Give Mitchell-dear a kiss for me, love. I'll see you soon."

"Right."

Paul hung up the phone and stared at it, trying to collect his thoughts. He wasn't sure how he felt about Richard, or about his admission that he had no intentions of taking Mitch home, or even letting him live, but he did know that he couldn't let that happen. He stuffed the phone in his pocket and carefully descended the snow covered steps.

The two car garage under Richard's flat was used for storage. There was memorabilia from every movie, and boxes of things that Richard had outgrown or just simply didn't use anymore, but what Paul wanted wasn't going to be among those things, it would be in the very back, behind the moth eaten sofa that had at one time served as Richard's bed.

It took him several minutes to traverse the treacherous floor and finally make it behind the sofa where the many bags that Richard no longer used cluttered the floor. There were two trunks, but Paul didn't think he could fit a trunk in his little sport's car. Eventually, he settled on two duffle bags and a backpack. Unlike most of the boys, Mitch hadn't collected a great many things and he was confident that he could fit them in those.

It took him longer to find Mitch's clothes. They had been shoved on top of a book case and were covered in dust, but Paul shook them out and tucked them under his arm. Upstairs, Mitch was loading music onto his iPod. He looked at Paul when he came in, but his smile quickly dropped as he saw the dirty luggage the man had brought with him. "What are those for?"

Paul dropped them on the bed, mindless of the dust that grayed Richard's white sheets. He couldn't bring himself to answer Mitch's question, because he still could only half believe he was doing it himself. "Go take a shower."

"But..."

"Mitch." The boy pouted and Paul went over to him, kissing him full on the mouth and tracing the inside of lips with his tongue. When he pulled away, Mitch was too flushed and flustered to argue as he ushered him into the bathroom. "Take a shower. I've got... I've a surprise for you."

Mitch nodded and shut the door behind him. Paul immediately went to the stack of DVD's next to Richard's entertainment center. He picked them up and dumped them unceremoniously into one of the duffle bags, coughing as it kicked dust into his face. Bugger, maybe he should have aired them out more.

It was surprisingly easy to tell what was Richard's and what wasn't. By the time Mitch came out of the shower, Paul had filled one bag with DVD's and games, another with clothes, and the backpack was crammed with books, the updated iPod, and a few other odds and ends that he had seen laying around the room. He'd even managed to find the jeans that he'd brought over for Mitch, though now that he looked at them, they were probably much too big.

Mitch stopped as he came into the room, his eyes fixed on the full bags sitting on the bed. Paul tossed him the jeans. "Get dressed."

"Why?" There was a resignation in Mitch's voice that forced Paul to stop his frantic last minute searching. As much as he would have liked to say different, Richard had treated the kid so badly, it wasn't much of a surprise that he would think the worst.

Standing in front of him, Paul pulled the towel off and knelt down, making Mitch step into too-big boxers and pulled them up. With great restraint, he kissed Mitch's forehead this time. "I told you, I've got a surprise for you."

He went back to looking under the bed and then in the closet. When he was sure that he had gotten everything, he looked back at Mitch and saw the kid still standing by the door, his arms wrapped stiffly around himself and his eyes averted to the floor. "What's wrong?"

Mitch looked up and stiffened, "You're going to Richard and you're taking me somewhere for someone else to watch."

Mitch studied Paul's face carefully. He'd overheard part of the conversation Paul had had with Richard and he'd gotten the gist of it. Richard wanted Paul to meet him wherever he was filming. The hopeful part of him thought that maybe this meant he would be going home, however, the logical side of him knew that wasn't it at all. The logical part of him knew that Richard couldn't take him home, because even if he swore not to tell there was too much risk involved. Most likely he was going to...

"I'm taking you home." He looked up sharply, unable to breathe as Paul sat on the bed, nearly toppling the luggage off it. The man raked his fingers through his hair and then looked up again to meet Mitch's gaze. "Richard wants me to meet him in America to do this film. I can't say for sure how long it'll take, because I'm stepping in as supporting lead roll and..." he shook his head, "Sorry, the point is, he wants me to do this and I will, but I won't leave you with Jessie, I can't do that. So, I'm packing your things and I'm driving you home and then I'll get on a plane and explain the whole thing to Richard when I get there."

Mitch starred for several seconds before he finally managed to think and even then, the only thing he could say was, "Oh."

Paul chuckled, but it had a deflated quality to it. "So, can you get dressed for me?"

Nodding, Mitch grabbed the clothes off the floor and pulled the jeans on. He must have lost a good amount of weight, because this was close to the size he'd worn before coming here and now they almost fell off his hips. The t-shirt was too big as well and he felt like he was swimming in the clothes. Not that he was complaining, because for once they were real clothes and he was going home.

Paul lifted the backpack, putting it over shoulder and then picked up the two duffle bags. "Okay, let's get out of here."

Mitch looked hesitantly at the door, but Paul nudged him forward, so he went to it, turning the knob slowly as if he expected something to jump out at him. Paul smiled softly as he realized that was probably exactly what the kid expected. The air was cold outside and Paul cursed as he realized that he hadn't seen Mitch's shoes anywhere.

He looked around, then down at his car and cursed, "Stay right there."

Mindful of the snow and ice that made the steps slippery, he made his way down the stairs and opened the back door, throwing the bags in. He looked back up at Mitch, shivering in the doorway and opened his front door, turning the car on and starting the heater before he went back up. Up close, he couldn't say whether the boy's shaking was entirely from the cold, or whether nerves had a hand in it. He shook his head and leaned down, "Hold on tight."

Before Mitch could complain, he wrapped one arm around the boy's back and the other under his knees and scooped him up effortlessly. God, the kid couldn't weigh much more than 100 pounds. He bit down on the guilt, pacifying it by reminding himself that he was taking the kid home, he was doing what was right. Maybe a little late in the game, but he was still doing it.

Once Mitch had been safely deposited in the passenger seat, Paul went to his side and got in, rubbing his hands against the hot air blowing from the vents. He was half concerned that Mitch hadn't tried to run. There was trust and then there was stupidity. Sure, Paul hadn't hurt Mitch and he'd said he was taking him home, but Mitch only had his word on that and it seemed strange that the kid wouldn't at least try something. The only problem was, he didn't think Mitch was stupid and that scared him even more, because the only other possibility was that Mitch had lost the will to fight.

He'd have time to think about that later, right now he just had to get going, before someone came out of the main house looking for him and saw Mitch in his car. Putting the car in gear, he turned to Mitch with what he hoped was a comforting smile, "Buckle up."

Paul started to back out while Mitch fumbled with the belt. He was doing the right thing, he was. So why was his stomach tied up in knots?

*****

Cynthia was sitting in the living room, watching television and biting her lips worriedly. She'd had to come home to Hatfield for Christmas, but, after three incidents of her breaking down into tears, her mother had promised that she'd be allowed to go back to London afterwards. It was just so frustrating to be here when she should be hanging out with Paul and trying to pry information from him.

She looked at her cell phone on the coffee table. He hadn't called her since the last time they'd spoken, but she wasn't really surprised about that. Paul was the sort that preferred to be led and he was more likely to wait for her to call. God, she was just being so stupid.

Turning off the television, she put her head in her hands and took several deep breaths. She should have gone to the police with what she had, she knew she should have, but it wasn't as easy as all that. When she took a step back and looked at the situation, she couldn't honestly say she would have believed herself. The famous Richard Carter went to a gay dive to pick up some faceless kid when he has a life partner and, on top of that, said life partner, Paul Zalinsky and god knew who else was in on the whole thing.

She leaned back into the cushions and tried to think it through again. There were just so many possibilities and until she knew which ones were the truth, she didn't feel comfortable going to the police. What if Mitch had gone willingly? What if he wanted to be there? What if he'd gone and then decided to stay when he saw himself on the news because he didn't want Richard to get in trouble? But, then, what if Richard had taken Mitch against his will and was keeping him captive somewhere? Or worse, what if Richard had killed Mitch? Then, of course, it could all have been some kind of accident. Maybe Mitch went home with him and he tripped and fell or maybe...

She kicked the coffee table in frustration and suddenly, her phone started to ring. Jumping, she picked it up and checked the number, half expecting it to be her mother checking up on her again. She'd slept late and maybe her mum thought she was out with her friends. Instead, she was surprised to see ‘Paul' on the display.

Answering it quickly, she took a deep, steadying breath. "Hello?"

"Hey, Cynthia, it's Paul." His voice was low, almost a whisper.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled a little. He really was a nice guy, all things considered. "How are you?"

"I'm good. You in Hatfield yet?"

"Of course, mum insisted, but I'll be coming back to London in a week or so. Why are you whispering?"

"I'm in the car with... someone and he fell asleep." There was a long pause. "Look, I need a favor and I need you not to read too much into it, okay?"

She shrugged, then realized that he couldn't see the gesture, "Of course, what do you need?"

"I need you to tell me how to get to Mitch's house from the Burger King." Her brain froze and a cold chill ran through her entire body. She couldn't form a coherent thought and when she didn't immediately respond, he asked, "Are you still there?"

"Yes, yes, I am. Um, why do you... I mean..."

"Look, please, just don't ask questions. I'm not sure I can answer them. Just tell me how to get there."

Her brain was working again and she stood up, running back to her room to get dressed while she talked. "You go left, towards the grocer and turn right at the second light, then another three streets down you take a left. You'll be on that road for about, maybe two minutes and you'll come to a stop sign. There'll be a play ground to the right and a large school building to the left. Go past that stop sign and take the first left."

She flicked on the speaker phone and threw it on the bed, pulling her jumper on while she spoke. "Go another two streets down and take a right, the sign should say Mayberry Street, Mitch's house is the second to last on the left hand side."

"Right, that's right at the second light, left three streets down, first left after the school building, right at the second street, that's Mayberry and then second to the last on the left hand side. Do you have any other street names?"

"No, I don't have a license, so I don't really pay much attention."

There was a very long pause and for a moment, she thought Paul had hung up. She zipped her jeans and picked up the phone, turning off the speaker and holding it to her ear. "Paul?"

"You don't have a license?"

Oh, shite! "Well, I mean, I don't... drive, I guess, so..."

"Cynthia, how old are you?"

She cursed, but didn't stop pulling on her snow boots. "Um... seventeen?"

He laughed, but it was forced. "Why don't I believe you?"

She put her head on her knees, sighing and then sat up. "Okay, fine, I'm fifteen, a little over a month younger than Mitch, actually."

"That's just perfect. I really am turning into a pedophile."

"Paul, I'm sorry, but I couldn't bring myself to tell you, especially after we... you know."

"Bloody shite, you can't even say it. I'm only dating wrinkled old porn stars after this."

She grabbed her keys from the hook by the door and leaned against the wall. If she opened the door to go outside, he'd probably hear it and she didn't want him to know she was leaving. "I am sorry."

"I know." He did sound as if he knew, too, like the whole affair was inevitable in some way. "I'd better let you go so I can drive. It's icy on the roads."

"Okay."

As soon as he'd hung up the phone, she left. Mitch's house was two streets down from her own and if she hurried, she could make it there before Paul.

*****

"Mitch."

Mitch groaned. His neck felt stiff and his back was aching. "No."

"Come on, Mitch, wake up."

He couldn't do this right now. He was too sore and tired to deal with Richard. Couldn't the man just leave him alone for one bloody day? He pursed his lips together to muffle the sob that broke lose. "Please?"

"...Mitch, it's Paul."

His eyes snapped open as the events of the day flooded back to him and he found himself staring at his house. He sat up and looked around the car. That's right, he'd fallen asleep in Paul's car while they were driving to his house. Actually, he hadn't really been sure that Paul was telling the truth about that. For all he knew it was just some ploy to get him in the car, but Mitch was beyond fighting things at this point. In the end, Paul was bigger and stronger and if Mitch had refused to get in the car, he could have made him.

"Hey."

His head shot around to see Paul, looking at him nervously. "Hey."

"We're here."

He glanced over at the house again. "I know."

Paul hesitated for a moment before taking Mitch's face in one of his hands and kissing him. He kept it chaste, not using his tongue and when he pulled back, Mitch looked confused and uncertain. Paul bit his lip and plunged forward with what he wanted to say, "I know that this doesn't even begin to make up for everything, but I am sorry. I'll speak with Richard and get him to leave you alone."

Mitch shook his head shortly, "No, no, I'm not going to say anything to anyone, I just... I just wanted to go home."

"I know." Paul put his forehead against Mitch's, not missing the way Mitch relaxed against him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

When Mitch had nodded, Paul reached past him and opened the door. "I can't really help you with the stuff." Mitch nodded again, stepping out of the car and hissing at the sharp sting of snow on his feet. Quickly, he opened the back door and pulled out the heavy bags, grunting with the effort of lifting the bulkier of the two duffles, which he was almost certain held the movies.

Standing next to the car, he looked around nervously, before smiling at Paul. "Thank you."

Paul didn't say anything else, just smiled before taking the car out of park and driving off. Mitch turned around. He was home.

*****

Cynthia wasn't sure why, but she was angry. She'd hid behind the bushes of the Dearing's neighbor and watched the whole thing and she was bloody well pissed off. Really, she wasn't sure what she had expected, but the tender display had been too much. Through the car windows, she had seen Paul kiss Mitch and they'd sat together, cozy for well over a minute, before Mitch had gotten out and what the hell was in those duffle bags?! He certainly hadn't had anything on him when he'd disappeared.

Paul drove off and Mitch turned away from the street, still holding the two bags bulging with she didn't even know what and a large backpack on his shoulders. He didn't move, just stared at it, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing until Cynthia finally couldn't take it anymore. She stepped out, her feet crunching in the snow.