Double Cross

by TheProducersHat

Summary:

Leo has finally got everything he wanted in life: a career of a Broadway producer, a loyal partner and more friendships than he could ever wish for. But what happens when things don't go as you had expected? What if your past mistakes catch up with you? And how do you make the right decision, when it's against everything you've ever achieved?

Chapter 1: Hard Day's Night

A/N:  Sooo, after some plotting and consideration, I've decided to write my first long story... Let's see how it goes! xD Enjoy the first chapter and lemme know what you think! ^^

---

It's been a hell of a day at the Shubert theatre. And it wasn't even noon yet.

Sitting slumped behind the table in front of the stage, Leo stretched his already aching neck wearily, looking down at his watch. 6 more hours to go. He fought the urge to groan at the mere thought. Usually, they would be done long before dinner time, early enough to enjoy a little bit of evening sun while walking home. But those were hardly usual conditions.

At the height of a production, everyone going crazy was nothing out of the ordinary. As a matter of fact, it would shock him if they got through a single technical week without Roger storming off the stage melodramatically at least once. Or without Carmen and the rest of the crew following him frantically, joining in with their own proclamations of dissatisfaction in a chattery batch of chaos.

No, this was certainly nothing surprising, and being completely honest with himself, Leo loved to watch these little charades; it at least brought some entertainment into these stressful days. The problem laid elsewhere and it was nothing like the common issues him and Max had to deal with on a regular basis up until now.

This time, it was them against the nature. Autumn made itself known in its full power, when half of the cast had been taken down by a sudden outbreak of the flu last week. At first, it had been just a few members of the crew and several chorus girls they could easily replace. But then, as the weather outside grew gradually colder, important people like the lead actors, spotlight operators and even producers had been affected, too. The last part was especially troublesome for Leo. Personally, he'd been lucky enough to make it through this accursed epidemic unscathed still. Max, not so much. The worst part was, it had probably been his fault.

Earlier that week, Leo had insisted on taking the long way home from work, just so that he could get some fresh air after a particularly long day that had got his anxiety levels shooting through the roof. Little did he know that had only been the beggining. The first part of the walk had been ideal; Max had managed to lift his spirits by making fun of the day's events, carelessly laughing and imitating yet another of Roger's infamous fits. They had even stopped to order take out for the evening, as both men had been starving at that point. A change only came as the sky had darkened and the first drops of the usual autumn rain began to fall. Heaven knows that Leo hated to be caught in the rain no matter the situation, but combined with the chilly evening temperature and a storm beggining to rumble in the distance, it had been hell. By the time they had reached home, he'd been shivering like a leaf, spending the rest of the night wrapped in wool blanket to battle the chills. Max, on the other hand, had simply jested about Leo's sensitivity, changed into dry clothes and went right to sleep. "Come on, you're not made of sugar. You won't melt!" He had simply exclaimed, patting Leo's back forcefully before retiring to his room.

And now, several tiring days later, Leo had finally managed to convince Max to stay home and recover, even if it meant loads of extra work for Leo. As much as he wished to be with his partner while he felt unwell, it just wasn't possible, especially in this advanced stage of putting on a show. And besides, he felt more comfortable knowing that the sickness wouldn't spread among other workers; it was complicated enough to keep the production going as it was. At this rate, he was likely doomed to fall ill sooner or later too. They just had to hope it will be the latter.

Nonetheless, there was no point in feeling sorry for himself, or for Max, for that matter. There was work urgently waiting to be done and he'd just wasted precious time by staring into space and contemplating his rotten luck. So, setting his glasses down for a moment to rub his eyes, Leo leaned back a little to get a better overlook on all the papers sprawled across the desk. This was a mess. As hard as he tried, he just couldn't focus on one thing for longer than a few minutes, before yet another crew or cast member interrupted his train of thought, demanding his opinion on often unnecessary things. They were all just as nervous as him, Leo knew, but this was spiralling out of control. He couldn't imagine how Max ever managed to work without a partner.

As if that wasn't enough, all the accounting was his responsibility, too. He had always served as both an accountant and a producer; more often than not, it was more the former anyway. But now, with Max's unexpected absence, it all came crashing down on his head. Thinking of Max... It weighed down on his mind constantly, even though he was aware it was not something he should worry about now. Everyone fell ill once in a while, but it just wouldn't leave him be, for he knew that if it was him being sick, he'd want Max to be with him. At least in the beginning. But he also knew what Max was like; he wouldn't let anyone fuss over him and tended to take it pretty lightly. Thinking of which, he hoped he didn't go outside despite Leo ordering him not to. It sounded like it was raining outside...

"Everything swell?"

Leo jumped in his seat upon hearing an unexpected voice next to him, banging his knee against the table in the process.

"Ow, God damn it!" He cursed a little too loudly, causing several actors to turn and look at him in mild shock. Leo never cursed.

"Ah gosh, my apologies," he heard an all-too-familiar voice giggle. Leo finally inspected the person sitting to his right, while holding one hand against his racing heart.

"Jesus, Carmen," he began warily, but then had to laugh at himself too. "Give me a little warning next time, could you?"

"A little warning?" Carmen squealed incredulously, "I said hi and noisily pulled the chair across the floor... Need me to blow a whistle next time? Or sound the horn? I could take your blanket, too... Would you notice that?" He elegantly rested his chin on his hands then, looking at Leo with those observant dark eyes and a typical smirk plastered on his face.

"Haha," Leo couldn't resist a smile of his own at his friend's ever-present cockiness. He could clearly tell that he was merely trying to amuse him, though. "Alright, you got me. Congratulations, I'll be sure to get you a raise for that... So what can I do for you in these trying times?"

"Trying times?" Carmen raised an eyebrow, looking extremely satisfied with himself that moment.

"Well..." Leo only managed to mumble with a fading smile. Of course Carmen noticed. How could he not, after all? He had practically looked through him when he tried to address him.

"I see," Carmen simply replied with that unrelenting smile. He knew Leo would talk to him without being prompted.

"It's just this," Leo confessed after a short pause. "I wasn't prepared for such a mess. It all went so smoothly up until last week. How could have we predicted this would happen? A few actors dropping out, sure... But this? Nothing is certain and... It just kind of stresses me out, you know?" He raised his head then, giving Carmen a small reassuring smile. He shouldn't have to worry about this on top of everything, Leo knew him and Roger had a lot to deal with, too. Producers and directors. Always the most responsible ones for the outcome of a show.

"We've got understudies," Carmen offered calmly.

"For most of them, yes. But do they know their roles properly? No, not really. And what about the lead? Both she and her understudy are out... What are the odds?" Leo complained without really wanting to. He just couldn't stop himself.

"One of them will surely recover before the opening night," Carmen pointed out.

"What if they won't?" Leo disagreed.

"What if they will?"

"They'll miss tech week."

"So? Look at this, no one's doing anything productive anyway... They won't miss much, really." Thus Carmen leaned back against his chair, observing the scene onstage and never losing his smile. It unnerved Leo a bit, he had to admit.

"Yes well, that's the problem... No one's doing anything. And I don't know what to do, either. Max would know..." Leo added a little sadly, staring blankly at one of the unfinished books.

"Ha!" Carmen suddenly sat upright again, a sparkle appearing in his eyes.

"What?" Leo asked a little uncertain.

"I knew this was about him." He crossed his arms defiantly, that smirk only growing.

"It isn't..."

"Is too," Carmen waved his hand dismissively, as if he needed no clarification. "So what is it? You miss his professional guidance? You could always ask him once you're home, though, so... No. That isn't it. Hm," he supported his head with both hands again, pretending to be deep in thought.

"Carmen..." Leo just said helplessly, but the smile was infectious.

"Oh, I got it!" He turned to Leo again, his teasing smile softening. "You worry. Cause that's just what you do. Am I right?"

"Touché," Leo confirmed. Geez, this guy could be persuasive if he wanted. He wouldn't want him to be any other way, though. However, as much as he appreciated Carmen's well-intented attempts, he wasn't quite in the mood. And his head felt like exploding, for lack of a better word.

"Aw, come on," Carmen's voice changed from jesting to rather empathetic. He must have felt the little change in Leo's spirits. "Everything's gonna be fine. And Max? When has anything ever taken him down? I bet you 5 dollars, by the time you're home, you'll have found him dancing in the kitchen, making himself pancakes... Cause that's all that he can make, you know," he finished with a pleased smile.

But it worked. Imagining such a sight, Leo laughed sheepishly, covering his mouth with one hand and curling his head closer to his chest. He always knew just what to say to cheer him up and suddenly Leo felt guilty for having been cranky. This was Carmen, after all. The cheerfulness just radiated off of him wherever he went.

"Alright, but seriously," Carmen continued after regaining composure again. "It will work out, somehow." He winked at him, leaning closer to whisper in his ear. "Don't tell him, but Roger is a little... irritable, too. In case you haven't noticed, of course. And honestly? I can't blame him. Or you, for that matter. We're all stressed and overworked and uncertain. But why make it any harder than it is? I know you can handle this with grace. And besides, you're doing great; no one's killed anybody yet, they've argued only several times... Really, this is normal." He nudged Leo playfully, his jesting tone returning. He made it sound so easy. Although it was refreshing to hear someone staying positive and above things while everyone else went berserk.

"I guess..." Leo merely shrugged, his smile being genuine this time. "Thank you. What would I do without all of you here?"

"Probably have a moment of peace," Carmen joked, hopped up from his seat and outstretched one hand towards Leo gracefully. "So, up with you!"

"What?" Leo stared at the hand dumbly. "Why?"

"We're going to Neverland," Carmen rolled his eyes half-heartedly. Leo just continued looking up at him incomprehensively, not moving an inch. "Roger wants to talk to you," he finally explained with a sigh.

"Oh..." Somehow that little fact made his mood drop again. Maybe a part of him hoped that Carmen had come to talk to him just for the sake of talking, not in the name of yet another responsibility. He didn't know what had he expected, though. No one had time to pointlessly gossip during this period. "Of course," he offered a tight smile, striding past Carmen to get to the stage.

"Wait!" Carmen jumped after him in one dance-like movement, "I better come with you."

"You don't have to," Leo dismissed him shyly as he climbed up the few steps leading to the stage, avoiding the eyes of people he passed. He knew they were watching him keenly, for everyone wanted to know what was going on between the producer and the director. Even more so in a situation like this.

Taking a deep breath, Leo proceeded towards Roger warily, with Carmen following him like a stray cat, faithfully by his side. There were dancers stretching on the floor, some already going over their routine, some just idly standing around and waiting for directions.

And there was music coming from every corner. Singers practicing, accompanists playing and the orchestra tuning their diverse instruments, creating an unpleasant disharmony that bellowed through the entire theatre. On top of that, everyone was talking over each other; and from what Leo could overhear, they were no pleasant conversations. It certainly didn't make his headache any better.

Among that chaos stood Roger, one hand on his hip while the other stroked through his hair repeatedly, as he often did when exasperated.

He was obviously in the middle of a discussion with a very agitated-looking young woman who was gesturing wildly, her loud complaints raising above all the other voices. There were several actors standing around the heated pair, joining in with their own opinions. And it looked like they were all against Roger.

Leo gulped. This was not good. He knew how much the director hated to be corrected, let alone be berated by a group of distressed young actors who didn't even understand the complexity of the situation yet. He could feel his heartbeat rising as he came closer to the scene, reminding himself who he was doing this for. Usually that was something Max would deal with in a blink of an eye, for he knew his way around Roger by now and the cast respected him immensely. But now that he couldn't be here, it was Leo's job to step in for him. So, after a moment of consideration he straightened up and stepped forward, clearing his throat soundly to get their attention.

No one even turned. It was as though they were all looking right through him, not acknowledging his presence in the slightest. Leo was just about to speak up when one of the dancers jostled him roughly as he stormed away, probably unable to listen to that nonsense any longer. Leo just looked after him incredulously, but the guy didn't even bother to turn. He just kept going, apparently not listening to a word as his co-workers attempted to persuade him to stay, but it was in vain. As soon as he reached the nearest entrance, he went right through it, shutting the door after him noisily. Leo winced at the loud sound, cursing inwardly. Great. Another one out. The last thing he needed was Roger snapping and quitting, too. What would he tell Max when he returned and saw that half the company had gone?

"Excuse me," he tried to address them emphatically again, "could I have your attention? Please?"

But it was no use. They just continued shouting at each other, probably not even noticing that someone else had spoken. Leo closed his eyes for a moment to suppress the frustration that was steadily building up inside of him, but he knew he had to stay calm. Somebody had to be the voice of reason in times of panic. Funny that it had to be him, of all people. He almost laughed at that thought.

Taking another fortifying breath he turned to Carmen helplessly, begging him to do something with that single look. Taking the hint, Carmen just patted his shoulder encouragingly and pushed him slightly aside to address Roger himself.

"Rog, darling," he said simply, leaning close to his ear so that he'd hear him.

Roger, on the other hand, just turned his head to his direction and frowned slightly, dismissing him with a plain "not now, Carmen."

Taking offense from his disinterest, Carmen let out an aggravated puff and stepped in between the two quarrelers.

"Roger!" He barked at him then, finally putting a stop to that brawl.

At long last, everyone turned to the two of them, expecting an explanation. Carmen just rolled his eyes and gestured to Leo melodramatically, giving him room to speak his mind.

"Oh, um, thank you..." Leo stuttered nervously, suddenly losing his courage from moments ago as they all stood there, staring, waiting for him to interfere. To fix this. However, he collected himself rather quickly and turned to the person he came here for in the first place.

"You wanted to talk to me, Roger?" he asked uncertainly.

"Ah, yes... Leo, darling, I'm afraid this is not the moment-"

"This is exactly the moment!" The young actress suddenly intervened, stepping uncomfortably close to Leo and clinging to his arm as if she expected him to save her. "Mr. Bloom, tell him he's being unreasonable!"

Taken aback, Leo looked from the girl on his arm to Roger, not grasping what was going on. "I... I'm not sure I understand what-"

"She's not doing her job! What's there to understand?" Roger shot, pointing an accusing finger at her.

"You're not doing your job! We're not prepared!" she shouted back. The others joined in, making noises of agreement and nodding vigorously.

"You're the swing, damn it! That's what's expected of you, to be prepared no matter what!"

"Then why did no one prepare us? Why didn't you? You promised us the understudy will be ready!"

Roger was fuming. Leo could see that he was close to snapping. He had to do something. Anything.

"Alright, alright... Look, I don't know the story behind this, but Miss... He's, you know, I'm afraid he's right... You are the swing, therefore you should be prepared for situations like these and..." Leo trailed off, hoping that someone else will fill in. Instead there was a moment of unnerving silence while the actors looked at him as though he'd just betrayed them all. Once again he wished that Max would be there with him that moment.

"Oh, you can go to hell, too!" The girl suddenly looked close to tears as she let go of Leo's arm. "No one wants to see the swing! Or the understudy, for that matter... Why don't you just postpone the show? This is hopeless!"

Leo felt his stomach drop at the last part as he recalled Max's words from earlier that day: "Whatever happens, the show must go on, understand?"

No. Rescheduling wasn't an option. He was responsible for the finances just as he was responsible for making sure that this show will make it til opening night as planned. He couldn't disappoint like that after being in charge for barely 3 days.

"With all due respect, I don't think you understand how complicated that is. We'd have to give money back to loads of-"

"Of course!" A tall man joined the dispute. Most probably one of the dancers, but Leo couldn't remember his name. "Who cares about our health when there is money to make, right?"

"I didn't say that..." Leo defended himself, but the uncomfortable tightness in his chest just grew. This was beginning to be overwhelming.

"But you meant it," the man scoffed. "Seriously. Where's the producer, anyway?"

"I am the producer..." Leo said, perplexed.

"I meant the real one. The capable one. No offense, but you should stick to accounting," he jeered, looking at Leo as if he was beneath him. An insignificant accountant.

"Offense taken!" Carmen stepped in then, that exaggerated look of shock on his face. "Leo's kindness isn't your invitation to walk all over him, alright? He could have you fired if he so pleased!"

"Fine! Have me fired, but what then? Can you really afford another performer dropping out?"

After that, it all meddled into one havoc of voices. Roger was shouting at someone who had shouted at Carmen, while Carmen was berating the man who'd shouted at Leo. Soon the whole Debris household was included, some demanding to know what was the turmoil about, some stepping between Leo and a man who was apparently trying to argue with him. But Leo couldn't really hear them. He only noticed how his breath became faster as more and more people gathered around the scene, adding their own opinions and pressing themselves closer so that they could get a better view of the situation. He just wanted them to shut up. All of them.

"Stop it…" Leo tried to put an end to that nonsense, but it came out sounding like nothing more than a whisper. He took a deep breath.

"I said enough!"

The second order cut through the noise like a whip, silencing everyone at once. Even the music halted. There was a moment of shocked stillness, as the people only dared to exchange looks of surprise. Leo shouted rarely, if ever. That was usually Max's and Roger's speciality and more often than not, it meant nothing serious. That was just their way of getting people's attention, fairly necessary to get a point through in such a busy environment. But hearing it from Leo just felt unsettlingly out of place.

"Okay… so, anyway," Carmen began awkwardly to cut the uncomfortable incident short, "I think we should-"

"Lunch break," Leo cut in sharply as if he didn't even hear him. His gaze was fixated on the floor and his hands were obviously shivering at his sides.

Seeing this, Carmen bit his lip and cast a confused look at Roger. The director just nodded shortly, obviously understanding what Carmen wanted from him without having to speak the words.

"Lunch break?" Roger repeated calmly but incomprehensively. He raised a hand to put it on Leo's shoulder, but then thought better of it and let it his arm fall again.

"All of you," Leo continued, still not looking at any of them. "Lunch break, now."

Roger just clasped his hands in front of him, fidgeting with his fingers nervously as he turned to his team for help. They all shrugged in seemingly rehearsed unison.

"Now?" Shirley was the next one who dared to speak up. "But, dear, there's so much work to be done today, and it isn't even lunchtime yet, maybe we-"

"Yes, now." Leo looked up abruptly, causing several people to flinch at the unexpected movement. "We cannot work like this. Please, I just need… I mean, we need a little break… Don't you think?"

Suddenly he didn't sound angry or threatening at all, as his usual timid demeanor returned. It almost seemed as though that very moment, everyone felt guilty for ever having argued, seeing how they managed to push the always peaceful producer to his limit. So, not wishing to oppose him any further, the crowd started to disperse, hesitantly agreeing to take the much needed break.

As the last actors shuffled away, Leo was left on the stage with only the Debris production team behind him. They didn't say anything, though, presumably waiting for him to go have lunch with them. Finally Leo dared to exhale, letting his still aching head fall. This was humiliating. He'd promised himself to stay calm and professional and yet, as soon as someone went directly against him, he lost his composure and sent everyone away just so he wouldn't have to deal with them. Way to go. Max would be oh so proud of him.

He shook his head once to get rid of these thoughts and turned to the troop with a forced but convincing smile.

"I'm sorry. I know you all meant well, disagreements like that are normal. I should have handled it better, but well…," he chuckled, but it came out sounding a little desperate. "What is done is done. So, if you'll excuse me now…"

The team merely exchanged confused looks as they watched the young man stride away without inviting them to follow him. Usually he'd go somewhere with Max for the pause, but without him there, they'd somehow automatically expected him to stick to them. And besides, they didn't really want to leave him alone.

"Honey, where are you going?" Kevin called after Leo, jogging to catch up with him. "Won't you come along with us?

Leo turned in surprise when the fussy costume designer stopped at his side.

"Oh… Well, actually, I thought I will-"

"Kevin," Scott motioned to his friend to come back. "I think he wants to be alone, let the poor boy breathe. Am I right?" He winked at Leo then to assure him that it was alright.

"Thank you," Leo smiled gratefully. "I just need a little while to figure this out… Sorry, Kevin, maybe some other time?" He addressed the short man again, hoping he'll understand.

"Why, of course," Kevin's face seemed to fall for a split second, but then his jovial tone returned as he patted Leo's cheek affectionately. "Take care, then!" Thus he turned on his heel in an almost comical way and hurried back to his roommates.

"And make sure to actually eat!" Shirley added when Leo was almost out the door.

"Yes, mom," he called over his shoulder, having to laugh at how they all fussed over him. It almost seemed like they made it their responsibility to babysit him while Max wasn't watching over him like a hawk every minute of every day. That could have offended him, but it was quite flattering really. He knew how much they actually cared and that was just their way of showing it.

Collecting his leather suitcase full of paperwork and throwing a brown coat over his shoulders carelessly, Leo headed out, leaving the Debris team behind.

"Poor kid," Brian piped up right after the door fell shut behind Leo. "Looks a little stressed, doesn't he?"

"Seriously?" Shirley looked at him as though he'd grown a second head. "Thank you for stating the obvious, genius."

Brian just grimaced at her mockingly, while Carmen rolled his eyes at them. These two, always bickering.

"But you know, maybe they're right…" Roger interjected.

"About what?" Carmen raised an eyebrow questioningly. The rest of the team did the same.

"Maybe we should postpone the show..."

---

Soon enough, Leo could spot a tiny café huddled despondent among the huge city buildings; his destination. Hundreds of people rushed by it, outside on the crowded street, but it went unnoticed by most. Glancing up at the overcast sky, Leo pulled his coat closer around himself, fighting against the drizzle. Sparing one quick look at the daily specials written on a chalk board at entrance, he pushed himself against the small glass door.

The half a dozen customers glanced up as the door swung open, heralded by a blast of cold wind. Unlike the outside, the interior of the café was warm and cheery, with bright lights and colourful walls. The customers returned to their conversations as the door fell closed behind the new entrant and the cold breeze was forgotten.

The welcome scent of coffee wafted through the air, almost calling to him to come and rest. Looking around, Leo spotted one vacant metallic table in the far corner of the room and made his way towards it swiftly. It was covered by a simple plastic tablecloth with little red and white checks on it, a small vase of yellow carnation flowers standing in the middle. Taking a seat, he looked around for a waitress; the need for caffeine now consuming his mind.

A tiny woman teetered over in a simple pink dress and a black apron tied around her waist. Her face was fixed into a false smile. She had too much make up on and somehow Leo doubted she could even remember the natural colour of her hair. Not that it bothered him, though. He just wanted his coffee and a moment of peace to look over all the contracts again. Approaching his table, the waitress pulled a pencil from behind her ear and went through the routine questions she probably asked every customer that visited the café. She chewed her gum noisily between each word. Leo placed his order and sighed deeply.

Right now, he wished for nothing more than to devour a coffee with a cherry pie and head directly home, where he'd collapse onto the couch and tell Max everything. Well, maybe not everything. Nonetheless, that had to wait til later. Taking out his reading glasses, he grudgingly opened a payroll journal. He needed to record a new entry, and although he'd filled out these debits and credits tables a thousand times before, it was just tiring. But at least his coffee finally arrived. Taking a careful sip of the steaming beverage, he suddenly realized the royalty payments needed to be reconciled, too. And preferably soon. This was going to be a long day indeed.

Not wasting another moment, he took advantage of the relative privacy he finally had and started filling out the columns at a fast pace. The time seemed to pass quickly and before he knew it, it was nearing the end of this improvised pause. Maybe he could still fill out one more entry, finish his drink and head back to the theatre with a little more energy to deal with the fuss.

Once satisfied with his work, Leo set his cup down, thanked and paid for his order and got up from the table. Putting on his coat and the prized producer's hat, he collected his paperwork and braced himself to step back into the chilly afternoon. Not looking where he was going, though, he collided with an incoming costumer in the doorway.

"Oh! Excuse me, I'm sorry…" Leo apologized profusely, not looking the stranger in the eyes as he tried to catch his suitcase and prevent the papers from sprawling all over the floor.

"It's fine," a male voice laughed.

At last Leo straightened up, dusted off his coat and looked up at the man, opening his mouth to apologize again. As soon as their eyes met, though, Leo stopped in his tracks, forgetting to speak altogether.

The stranger didn't look any less surprised.

"Bloom..?"

Chapter 2: Twisted Every Way

Back at the theatre, it wasn't going any smoother than prior to the lunch break. As a matter of fact, it maybe even caused more chaos than before. Since it wasn't clearly stated that the break will last for an hour as it would under usual conditions, the cast and crew apparently took it as an invitation to come as they pleased. And what was worse, it seemed that the producer couldn't be bothered, either.

Roger paced the floor impatiently, checking the time every other minute as if that'd somehow make everyone come back at once. Hands at his hips, he walked up and down the stage at least a hundred times before Carmen stopped him by throwing a little paper plane in his direction. Turning sharply as the plane crashed into his hair, Roger shot his partner an exasperated look.

"Seriously?" he exclaimed incredulously, stopping at long last.

The DeBris team exploded with laughter as they watched Roger take the simple origami, throw it to the ground and stomp on it to underline his annoyance.

"But it got your attention!" Carmen called from where he was standing with the rest of the team, leaning against a wall on the side of the stage. He had his arms crossed, smirking at Roger with that usual smug glint in his eye.

"Nonetheless," Roger just waved his hand dismissively, "shouldn't he be back by now?"

"You'll have to be more specific… There's a lot of people who should be back by now!" Brian jeered and Shirley slapped his arm.

"Is this so funny to you? Excuse me, but I have a show to direct!" Roger huffed, throwing his hands up dramatically.

"Oh darling," Carmen finally walked over to him, smiling reassuringly. "You have to stay above things. So what if Leo is a little late? It's his show after all, he surely has a good reason."

"Yeah, maybe you've scared him away," Shirley shot at Roger grumpily.

"Or one of the enraged actors caught him and killed him," Brian joined dryly.

"Maybe it was the dancer…" Kevin added.

"Or," Scott cut in sharply to stop that theorizing, "he simply got too caught up in his work and is tired of you all."

"Or that," Carmen mused. "But enough of this. Scott is right, Rog. We can carry on without Leo too… For now."

"I know…," Roger sighed, his look softening when he met Carmen's kind eyes. "Still, Max will kill us if we lose track of Leo's whereabouts, but well… Murdering later." Thus he shrugged, turning towards his troupe.

"I'm afraid this indeed is hopeless. We cannot open without being certain that everyone knows their roles properly or that they're willing to perform at all, for that matter… A few more people getting sick and that's it, I don't want that on my conscience… I don't see why Leo would want to go through with such a risk," Roger lamented.

"Cause Max told him to," Carmen scoffed.

"Oh, you can't know that," Roger waved his hand, apparently not wanting to put the blame on someone that wasn't even present.

"You think?" Carmen raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

"Yes, well, that's not important… My point is, I'm not sure we should carry this on. I mean, look at this, half the cast is gone and they are still leaving, who says that by the end of the week we won't be out as well?" He looked at his team pointedly. "Or Leo. He lives with Max, don't you think he'll soon catch it too? And when that happens, I don't want to be the one responsible for the fail of this show… Maybe we really should consider postponing this."

"Isn't that a bit extreme? We've still got some time…" Kevin piped up, fidgeting with his hands nervously.

"It's Thursday. Do you think it'll be any better by Monday? Honestly, it only seems to be getting worse," Brian objected.

"I think so, too," Carmen agreed hesitantly. "It could end with a fiasco and nobody wants that, after all these months of hard work. And look at Leo, he's snapping… As much as he might try to deny it, he needs Max here with him, if only for the feeling of not being alone in this. So, yes... I'm with Roger," he smiled up at his partner then, linking their arms.

"Thank you, darling," Roger grinned back. "So, it's settled!"

"It's not," Shirley chided. "We still need Leo's agreement. And what about Max? Do you think he can convince him?"

"Oh..." Roger's face fell again. "Well, we'll have to see about that. So… Who'll tell him?" Roger looked around for a volunteer, but suddenly everyone was very preoccupied with anything else but meeting his eye.

Carmen sighed deeply.

"Fine," he grumbled after a while, "I'll do it!"

---

Leo hadn't seen this man for nearly three years. And yet, as soon as he found himself staring into a pair of alert eyes framed by thick-brimmed black glasses, he knew exactly who this was. His insides gave a slight jolt as he classified this rather short man into a category he'd rather forget. Whitehall and Marks.

In appearance he was nothing special, just another grey-eyed kid from work - thin and pale like a ghost. His dark hair was carefully brushed into a neat hairstyle very much like his own and the simple indogo suit he wore was nothing extraordinary, either. It was when he opened his mouth that everyone had to stop and listen, for this man was a true chatter-box, Leo remembered. Quick-witted and always full of energy, he was never able to stand quite still. Even now, as he stood before him, carrying his short height with easy self assurance, Leo noticed how his hands twitched at his sides and he blinked almost constantly.

No, there was no doubt in Leo's mind. This was his past co-worker.

"I don't believe it!" The young man finally exclaimed rather loudly, causing several customers to look up from their tables. It made Leo slightly uneasy. "To see you here, of all places… This is no Sardi's!"

"Oh, Perry…" Leo began, still mildly shocked. "What a surprise," he chuckled nervously, unsure of what else to say. He never really had a meaningful conversation with any of his co-workers, but somehow this felt a little like meeting an old friend. Or at least Perry acted like it.

"Likewise, likewise…" he laughed too, some of his primary excitement subsiding. Still, he looked at him with those vibrant eyes, though Leo couldn't really gather why. They weren't friends. Heavens, he didn't even know his full name! "What say we have a drink? You know, to celebrate," Perry winked at him while Leo stood dumbfounded.

"Celebrate?" Leo repeated incomprehensively.

"Of course! You're successful now, are you not?"

"Oh, um, I guess, but actually, I was just about to-" Leo stuttered, pointing to the door to try and explain that he had to go.

"Come on, just a moment," Perry almost pleaded. Why did this mean so much to him? They barely knew each other.

"Well, I was just about to leave, but…" Leo checked the time on his wristwatch, "Alright... I think I do have a moment."

This was strange, but being quite honest with himself, he was just curious what the fellow accountant had to say. Leo hadn't heard a word from his past workplace ever since he left, cutting all ties with the company instantly. But still, it had been a major part of his life, no matter how unpleasant. He wanted to know if things changed somehow after he quit.

"Excellent!" Perry clasped his hands together, his usual elation returning. He skipped over to the nearest table, pulling a chair aside for Leo. He had to smile at that.

"What do you want?" Perry asked as soon as he sat down, peering from behind the menu. "It's on me."

"Oh, no, I'll pay… It's not like one can afford to go big time with Marks' salary, huh?" Leo smirked, hoping it won't come off as offensive. But they both knew what working there was like, after all.

"How generous," he smirked back at Leo, setting his menu back down. "Just a coffee, then. A strong one, pretty please..."

"Need the extra energy to deal with Marks? Can't blame you, really… Actually, I might even get you a cake… As a compensation." Leo winked at him then, rather taken aback with what ease he talked to Perry. He was joking with him.

After placing their orders, Leo felt a certain sense of nostalgia wash over him. He knew that a few years back, he would have been too nervous to even ask this guy for a pencil. Whether this newfound calmness was Max's doing or if he'd simply changed as soon as he left the accounting firm, Leo couldn't tell. But it felt strangely freeing, to be able to share a coffee with an old acquaintance without having to worry about running a little late and risking a punishment from an impatient boss.

"You're funny," Perry shot suddenly, not looking up from his cup.

"I am?" Leo had to laugh.

"Really," Perry's eyes met his shortly, "I've noticed before. Not that I ever dared to tell you, but… I think you're clever."

"Dare to tell me?" Leo almost choked on his tea. How could anyone ever find him even mildly intimidating in any way?

"Yes well, you looked a little… Scared of me. Of everyone, to be quite frank. No offense," he sipped his coffee noisily. "You seem to be different now."

"Oh, don't be fooled yet... I'm sure Max- I mean, my bussiness partner would tell you otherwise," Leo objected dryly, but he couldn't resist a smile.

"Ah, yes, your partner," Perry perked up at the mention of the famous producer. "I'm actually quite surprised to have ran into you without him. You two are quite famous for sticking together, or so I heard."

"We are?" Leo laughed, finding it quite refreshing to hear such positive rumors about them for a change. Especially since this time those rumours were true.

"Mmh," Perry affirmed, mouth full of the cake Leo had bought for him. "I've also read that you live together. Is that true?"

"Oh," Leo felt his face flush at the question, but collected himself quickly. "Oh, yes. I mean, when I quit Whitehall and Marks, I had no reason to keep my own apartment, so…"

"I see," he merely replied, stirring his beverage and smirking. There was something smug behind that smirk, though.

"What?"

"Nothing," Perry looked back up at him suddenly, grinning. Leo flinched slightly as the man put his elbows on the table out of nowhere and leaned towards him. "I actually wanted to talk about something else, but first things first. How's the high life?"

"The high life?" Leo felt like a broken record, stupidly repeating everything the accountant said.

"You know, the fame, the parties… the girls," Perry emphasized the last part with a wink.

"Oh, there are no girls, really," Leo laughed sheepishly, looking down. "But to be honest, it isn't going so well right now… You know, it's this time of the year when no one's quite healthy, including my partner, so it's all on me now, including the accounting responsibilities and truth be told, I'm not really managing it as I should…" Leo stopped himself then, wondering why was he telling him all this.

He could've told him that he was doing amazing. That his social life was everything he ever wanted and more and that all kinds of girls were after him night and day. But why would he? That wasn't who he was. He was still the same old nervous him, only with better circumstances and surrounded with people who were like family. No getting drunk at parties, no expensive clothes and most of all no girls in his bed night after night. Heavens, he wouldn't even want that.

"Sounds tough," Perry simply replied after listening patiently. "Accounting, though? I thought you were over that part. Why don't you hire someone?"

"Yes well, we thought about it… But Max- I mean, we want to save the money and I don't know, we don't really trust someone else to do it, I guess… But you're right. I would use some help," Leo laughed somewhat humourlessly, looking down at his hands. He noticed with a start that they were shaking slightly. He frowned, wrapping them around his warm cup. Maybe it was because of the cold combined with caffeine.

"Well, who knows," Perry continued after observing Leo for a while, "maybe I could be your accountant one day."

"Oh," Leo met his eyes, a little surprised by the offer, but then looked away again, smiling slightly. "Yes… who knows."

"But you're happy?" The question came unexpectedly, taking Leo by surprise. It wasn't exactly a conversation topic he'd expect to have with someone he barely knew. With someone who didn't care about him.

Leo found himself hesitating before he could answer.

"I… Yes. Yes, I am. Happier than I've been, to say the least…"

"You hesitated," Perry stated, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

Leo opened his mouth to protest, but Perry waved his hand immediately, stopping him.

"I know," he assured. "It's a difficult question. You don't have to explain anything."

Leo watched him for a moment then, observing his expression closely and trying to find some hint of mockery behind his words, but there was none. It almost seemed as though he was genuinely interested in Leo's well being. But it just didn't make sense. Why would he care at all?

"Well…" Leo cleared his throat awkwardly, realizing he'd stared at him a moment too long. "Are you happy?"

"No," Perry replied simply, never losing his smile despite the negative answer. "But I'm happy for you. I really am. For having found the life you wanted. Hell, for having the courage to stand up to Marks in front of everyone! Did I tell you yet how amazing that was?"

"Why, thank you…" Leo laughed, feeling a slight blush creep up his face.

And suddenly, Leo felt a pang of sympathy for the other man. He'd been in his place before. Unhappy. Stuck. And God knew he'd wished for someone to simply come up to him one day and start talking to him like they did now. For someone to care just a little. Maybe they could have been friends, Leo realized with certain sadness. Maybe, in another lifetime.

A moment of silence passed between the two, but somehow it wasn't uncomfortable. Leo felt strangely at ease with him. How very curious.

His eyes explored the room again, trying to soak in that calm atmosphere. Fixating his gaze on the slow turning ceiling fans above, he leaned back, letting his mind wander a little. God, he could easily stay here for another hour or two. To just devour a warm drink in a cheery little café with someone who patiently sits and listens. To not have to worry about anything or anyone for a little while. Thinking of which…

Leo suddenly sat upright, his eyes darting to the glass clock on the wall. His stomach dropped as he saw the time. 13:10 . How was it so late already? He should've been back 40 minutes ago.

"Everything alright?" Perry frowned, seeing the look of panic flash across Leo's face.

"Ah, yes, I…" Leo gulped down the remains of his tea quickly, setting the cup down hastily and reaching for his briefcase. "I'm sorry, but I really have to go… I completely forgot the time and I should have been back at the theatre almost an hour-"

"Wait!" Perry almost jumped out of his seat when Leo moved to get up, stopping him with a raised hand. "Please, sit back down. Stay just a moment longer."

"Perry, I…" Leo sighed, glancing between the clock and the insistent accountant.

"Please," he prompted again, looking up at Leo from behind his glasses with pleading eyes. "I need to tell you something..."

---

"I'm gonna call him," Roger proclaimed definitely, crossing his arms.

"And then? What will Max do? You'll only get us and Leo in trouble!" Shirley protested.

"We already are in trouble!"

"So why not make it worse, right?" Shirley scoffed, throwing her arms up.

"We should have gone with him..." Kevin joined in the brawl, wringing his hands nervously.

Off to the side stood Carmen, watching the scene with little interest. He had simply decided to not bother anymore, for it was pointless. They wouldn't stop arguing anytime soon, he knew. Even if there was nothing to argue over, it was some kind of an unspoken rule that everyone goes berserk during the tech week. No exceptions. Well, this time he could as well be one.

Pushing himself up from the wall he was leaning onto, Carmen made his way towards Scott who stood a little further behind the team, shifting from one foot to the other repeatedly. He looked nervous, but not nearly as hysterical as Roger and the rest. Deciding he'll be the most sensible option at the moment, Carmen took him by the elbow and dragged him to the side.

"What are you…" Scott started to protest, but Carmen immediately motioned him to be silent.

"Listen," Carmen began, glancing over to make sure that no one else is paying them attention. "You and I both know that they won't solve anything by this blabbering, right?"

"Right," Scott confirmed with a sigh. "So, what's your evil plan, pray tell?"

"I'll go to the office," Carmen offered simply, awaiting the reaction.

"The office? What, you want to pay Max a little visit? Coffee and all?" Scott scoffed.

"Oh, stop it." Carmen rolled his eyes. "I'm gonna talk to him. Tell him that Leo's sent me to check up on him and prepare him for the fact that we want to cancel the premiere. Since Leo is God knows where and will return God knows when... I won't stand by any longer and let this blow up even more, so if I can't talk to him, I'll talk to Max, no? Isn't that fair?"

"I guess, but… What if Leo's already there? Maybe he's gone home…"

"Well then all the better! I'd catch two producers for the prize of one! Good deal, eh?"

"Don't mock me…" Scott grumbled, shooting him an offended yet somewhat amused look.

"I would never," Carmen jeered. "But seriously. It can't get any worse anyway, can it? And it would take some pressure off of Leo… Max should take the news better, he's been there before."

"Better? He's gonna skin you alive. And demand to speak to Leo, who, may I remind you, has been swallowed by the ground!"

"So be it! Maybe if he kills me first, he won't target Leo then..." Carmen smirked, but he meant it.

It felt wrong to just come to Leo with another responsibility and leave him for the wolves. No, it was better this way. There had been so many arguments that day already that one more telling off from Max really wouldn't make a difference. And besides, he wouldn't mind it at all if he could escape the chaos of the theatre for a little while.

"Yes, okay, whatever…" Scott waved his hands about, clearly resigned. "But what about them?" He pointed to the still bickering team. "Won't you tell them?"

"Oh, you will, but only once I'm out the door. Then you can explain everything, make things up for all I care… But I gotta go before they start listing reasons why I shouldn't do it." Carmen looked over to his roommates shortly, knowing that'd be exactly what they'd do. He hesitated himself, though, pondering whether his actions could have some negative consequences on the production or worse, on Leo.

But even as he considered every possible outcome, he found none that could be too harmful. It was the right thing to do. Everyone in the room needed some sort of resolution and quite frankly, he wasn't willing to wait any longer. This was enough.

"Alright… I'll go," Carmen decided after a while, turning to Scott fully. "You make sure no one kills anybody while I'm away, understood?"

"Yes sir," Scott answered dryly, giving him a little salute.

Carmen chuckled, gave him a little pat as a sign of gratitude and after making sure his team wasn't watching him, he started for the door swiftly.

"Where are you going?" A short dancer stopped him halfway through, her ginger locks pouncing as she hopped around him, a worried expression on her freckled face.

"Hell, most likely," Carmen replied casually and kept going, not turning back.

---

"Tell me something?" Leo frowned, wondering what on earth could be so urgent. But it did pique his curiosity. He had to find out now. "Do, then…"

Perry exhaled deeply and smiled when Leo sat back down reluctantly. Although he could still feel the uncomfortable tightness in his chest, knowing that he was well overdue with arriving at the theatre, this seemed important. At least to Perry.

So, Leo set his briefcase back down carefully, granting the other accountant his full attention again.

"Thank you," Perry said sincerely, his fingers drumming against the table at a mad speed. It made Leo somehow uneasy. "Well, I'm not exactly sure how to begin…"

"Please, just do," Leo prompted. "I'm really quite pressed…"

"Of course, of course, I'm sorry," Perry raised his hands quickly. "Alright, there's this. You do remember how Marks treated us, right? How he treated you."

"Me? I… Of course I do…" Leo shook his head incomprehensively. He really didn't like where this conversation was heading from the very beginning.

"Good. So you must know that he won't change? That he'll keep doing that to everyone?"

"What are you asking me, Perry?" He didn't understand. Why was he telling him this? Of course he knew...

"Listen," Perry stopped his crazy drumming on the table and folded his hands instead, but suddenly he looked incapable of meeting his eye. "It's gotten worse. You know, after you left, he's been looking for a replacement. A new target, you could say. But no one wanted the job; Of course they didn't, having heard about him… And please, don't take this the wrong way, but… You were easy for him. You let him do what he does. You didn't talk back. Well, until you did… And, believe it or not, it sparked some confidence in many of us. And he hates it. He hates that people dare to oppose him, so he's making an effort to make it as unpleasant as possible for us… And I just… I can't stand it, you know? I've had enough."

"Then leave," Leo offered helplessly. He knew how hard it was. How hopeless it seemed. But there was a way out. There was one for him, at least...

"And be unemployed," Perry nodded as if he had expected him to say exactly that. "Yeah, that won't work. I thought you would understand that, of all people…"

"I do," Leo spoke up hastily, sitting upright. "I do… And I'm sorry. But I don't see how I can-"

"I need your help," Perry blurted out.

Leo felt his hands getting cold. He didn't like that notion.

Something felt wrong. He didn't want to talk about the accounting firm. Or think about it, for that matter. How on Earth could he be any help?

"I…" Leo gulped, trying to sort his thoughts. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean…"

"This needs to stop, you have to agree with me on that. And I thought… You've stood up to him before and what's more, you have one advantage that no one else among us has; You're successful. You're above him now and since you don't work for him anymore, you don't have to be concerned about losing your job… You see where I'm going with this?" Perry looked up at Leo expectantly, hoping he'll catch on.

"No," Leo said slowly, trying to grasp the situation, "I don't…"

"Come on, you're smart," Perry pushed, getting desperate. "I want you to help me put an end to this. To fire him from his position. The things he's doing… Don't you think enough people suffered from it already?"

"Y-yes, but-"

"But what?" Perry was getting more desperate by the second. And so was Leo. He could feel the tremor of his hands increasing as the need to leave got stronger. He shouldn't be there. He needed to get back to the theatre.

"But I've moved on, you said it before… I found the life that I wanted, why would you ask me to go back?"

"I'm not asking you to go back," Perry shook his head, leaning in even closer. Leo pulled back instinctively. "You wouldn't have to give anything up, I promise. I just need your time and knowledge, I'll take care of the rest… If you would only hear me out-"

"No," Leo shot without thinking. He wasn't even sure what he was answering to, but it was the only thing going through his head that moment.

No. He wanted no part in this. That period of his life was behind him and quite frankly, he wanted it to stay there. No need for reminders when he finally got everything he only used to dream of.

"No?" Perry suddenly deflated as his shoulders fell, the disappointment apparent in his voice. "How can you say no? Just because you were lucky, you'll pretend that it never happened? Tell me, how old were you when you started working there? Twenty?"

"Twenty one…" Leo murmured, though he knew it didn't really matter.

"Twenty one," Perry nodded solemnly. "So when he hired another hopeful, naive kid to replace you… Will you just stand back, knowing that he'll share your fate? Minus the happy ending?"

"They didn't help me when I needed it," Leo closed his eyes, trying to block out the little voice in his head telling him how selfish that was. But why should he care? They didn't.

"Don't you see the irony of it?" Perry lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "No, they didn't. But who did you help? Didn't you just sit back, wishing someone would interfere? Speak up for you? Well, maybe they're thinking that too, but no one is willing to do it first…"

"Why should I be the first?" He stood up, trying to get away from the situation, but the more Perry talked, the more Leo realized how right he was. How could he pretend that he was something more, when all he ever did was reluctantly take a chance that Max literally had to shove into his face?

"Because," Perry stood as well, looking hard into Leo's eyes. "You owe me!"

The exclamation hung in the air as several guests of the café halted their conversations, discretely turning their attention to the escalating scene. Leo stopped where he was, trying to resist the urge to turn and go. He should have expected that. Of course he'd bring it up.

Suddenly he felt stupid for ever having believed that it would be just a little pleasant meeting with an old acquaintance that he'd forget about as soon as he went back to his life at the theatre. It was never like that. They all wanted something.

"Owe you?" Leo mumbled, but he didn't need to ask. He knew what he was referring to.

"When he took that… handkerchief of yours, causing you to panic in front of everyone… Who told him he can't take your property?" He didn't sound accusing or angry. Not at all. In a way Leo wish he had, because then he wouldn't feel so guilty. For being the coward that he always had been.

"Or when he forced you to work overtime while you were sick," Perry continued, his look softening. "Have you forgotten who waited for you to make sure you got home safely?"

"You did…" Leo whispered and looked away, feeling the shame in his chest like a knife. Truth was, he did forget, having tucked those memories away into a folder and filed them somewhere into the cabinets of his mind, losing the key. That was, until now.

"I did," Perry confirmed sadly. "I don't need to continue, do I?"

Leo just shook his head, avoiding the accountant's gaze. He was right, which was something Leo found harder to admit than he had expected. But he was scared. Of what might happen if he agrees. Or if he refuses. Every way seemed twisted, but he had to answer something. Could he really turn his back on a man who once showed him kindness when no one else did?

"Please," Perry walked over to Leo, putting one hand on his arm carefully. "I don't want to force you. I know it's a lot to ask and I know that we don't really know each other... But I also know that you're a good man. And we can do it, if you'll help me…"

Leo's heart skipped a beat. We can do it.

He'd heard those words before, under similar circumstances. Someone asking him to be brave enough to make a change, only this time, it would be a change in someone else's favour. It sounded like the right thing to do.

But then he thought of Max and everything he'd done for him. He thought of the theatre and their failing production. He thought of the DeBris team and the faith they all put into him.

And lastly, he thought of himself. Who he was and who he used to be. The things he did and those he couldn't do. And it made him sick.

"I'm sorry," he shook Perry's hand off of his arm, backing away towards the door until his fingers found the handle. "I can't do it!"

---

A/N: History repeating itself, huh? xD Let me know what you think! <3

Chapter 3: On The Line

There it was. Door 716.

Carmen stood in the small corridor in front of Max's office- no, Leo's and Max's office- staring at the rich font painted on the glass.

"BIALYSTOCK & BLOOM: theatrical producers"

He had to smile, seeing that. For years, it had been just Max's name there, or so Roger told him. He found it strangely warming to see both of their names there, two equal partners, working and living together. And as wary as he was around the older producer, Carmen knew that he wasn't a bad person. How could he be, when Leo adored him that much?

There was nothing to worry about. He could knock. He could explain. He could get this over with.

He raised his fist.

In a flash, the door flew open. Startled, Carmen let out a yelp as he came face to face with a disheveled looking Max. He was wearing his usual velvet dressing gown and his hair was untamed. It almost looked like he'd just woken up, which would be probable, considering the reasons for his absence in the theatre. He did seem rather pale, but not nearly as deadly ill as Leo made him out to be.

A mixture of surprise and curiosity passed across the older man's face, but soon his usual laid-back demeanor returned.

"Carmen," he stated simply. "Don't you have to be stupid somewhere else?"

"Not until two." Carmen smirked, strode past Max and let himself inside.

"Come in," Max breathed resignedly as Carmen already made himself comfortable in his armchair. His favourite armchair. "Care to explain what the hell are you doing here?"

"Lovely to see you too, Max," Carmen purred, entwining his fingers deliberately.

"Can we cut the pleasantries and get to the point of your presence in my humble abode?"

"Ah, eloquent as ever… But if you need to know, it was your partner who sent me here, actually."

Carmen knew he was pushing his buttons by those smug responses, but it was somehow mutual. They both enjoyed to annoy the other immensely, but it was more of a friendly game. Or at least it seemed so to Carmen.

"Leo?" Max's tone changed as his expression turned back to surprise.

"That's his name," Carmen confirmed, struggling to hold in laughter at Max's apparent change in spirits at the mere mention of Leo.

"What about him?" He tried to sound nonchalant again as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

Carmen didn't dare to ask how many he's had since the morning, but judging by all the mugs laying around, it was enough to keep one awake for several days. He turned away from the mess in mild disgust.

"Nothing," Carmen shrugged, trying to sound convincing. "He wanted me to check up on you. The little sweetheart, isn't he?"

"Why would he do that?" Unfortunately, Max didn't sound convinced at all. "I told him not to worry. Did something happen?"

"Oh please, when has telling him not to worry had any effect at all? This is Leo we're talking about, may I remind you…"

"You're avoiding my question," Max replied calmly, but there was a certain edge to his voice.

Carmen shifted in his seat.

"Well," he began, trying to think up a satisfying response on the spot. "I wouldn't say that something happened, but…"

"But what?" Max growled now. He should have known that lying to a liar won't be that easy, Carmen thought wryly.

"Nothing happened!" he assured Max quickly. "Just, you know, during this time of a production, everyone's more or less prone to panicking and-"

"He panicked?!" Max exclaimed incredulously.

"No! I mean, not exactly-"

"Not exactly? He either did or he did not!"

"Why are we shouting?!" Carmen snapped, cutting their little exchange short.

"I'm not! You were…" Max grumbled lowly as he pulled his gown closer around himself defensively, plopping down on the couch since his visitor still occupied the armchair.

"Does this really happen every time we're left alone together?" Carmen had to chuckle after they both cooled down again.

"It may seem like it," Max agreed with a sneer. "Still, it doesn't change the fact that you haven't answered."

"Oh, you're insufferable," Carmen massaged his temple, "but luckily for you, I have mercy for the sick…"

"Lucky me," Max scoffed. "So?"

"They're arguing. All of them. I hate to say it, but it almost seems that your absence didn't go unnoticed by the cast. One could even say that it caused anarchy to spread among them more than the flu…"

"First of all, please stop talking like a victorian cavalier..." Max passed a hand across his face tiredly. "Second of all, how does that relate to Leo? Did he start a riot? Blew up the theatre when no one was looking?"

"That's close," Carmen chuckled, imagining such a sight. "But no. He blew up, actually, but then again, so did everyone else. Didn't surprise me, really…" Thus he shrugged and got up, trying to make it look like it was no big deal. Like they had everything under control. And most importantly, like they totally knew where Leo could be found that very moment.

Maybe he should tell Max about that last part. Or maybe not. No, definitely not.

"Blew up? Are you sure it was Leo? My Leo?" Max laughed, finding it rather hard to imagine the shy man snapping and shouting the whole cast into their place.

"Yes, your Leo…" Carmen rolled his eyes, though he found it quite adorable. Not that he'd ever admit it to Max, of course.

"Boy, one is out of the spotlight for a minute and the whole production goes up in flames… Along with the assistant producer," Max chuckled, shaking his head at the absurdity of it.

"Assistant producer?" Carmen squealed in that over-the-top scandalised voice of his. "Excuse me, but I don't remember you ever having an assistant producer!"

"Oh, come on," Max jeered, waving his hand. "You know what I mean… He assists me, I assist him. It's a collaboration! Pure partnership! Does that sound better?"

"You're so impossible," Carmen huffed, crossing his arms. "Leo is no assistant! Just so you know, right now he's out there doing your job, atop his own, and he's doing it well…"

"When did I say he's not?" Max was really just quite amused at the defensive behavior. Though he had to admit, defending Leo was one of the few things they shared. "But alright, I see that being an assistant is offensive to you… My dear common-law assistant," he added quickly and ducked, expecting to be hit with a pillow or something of the like.

"Wow, can we just pretend, for one second, that you're not a complete douchebag and move on?" Carmen just held his head exasperatedly, desperate to get to the point and leave.

"I'd love to move on, to be frank... Move on to the bedroom." Max pointed to the door in the back of the room and moved to get up. "And please, tell Leo that next time he sends someone to babysit me, make it a girl at least," he stopped in the doorway, considering his words, "but not Shirley, for God's sake…"

"I'll be sure to pass your kind words on," Carmen rubbed his eyes shortly before looking back up at Max with a smug smirk, "to Shirley…"

"Oh, I knew you're cruel, but not that cruel…" Max crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe, mirroring Carmen's expression. "So, has Leo really sent you?"

"Of course," Carmen defended himself, although it did throw him a little off guard. "He's, you know, very worried for your well-being…"

"He is?" Max raised his eyebrows, clearly not buying Carmen's attempts. "I see… Well then, if you don't mind, I'll join you when you head back to the theatre. It tends to get a bit boring here, in my lonely little apartment…"

"Join me?" Carmen sat upright quickly, alarmed. "Why would you do that?" That wasn't on the plan. Not at all.

"To help Leo out!" Max exclaimed simply, already taking off his dressing gown. "And to ask him why in the hell would he send you to check up on me…"

"Well, who else?" Carmen jumped up from his seat, trying to hold onto his little invention still. "Leo likes me and you're just too bitter to admit it!"

"Aw, Leo likes everyone," Max brushed it off while he searched for a clean shirt to wear. "That proves nothing…"

"What do you want me to prove?" Carmen retorted, but soon realized that he drove himself into a corner that moment. He had just basically asked him if he didn't believe him.

"Prove? Nothing..." Max said over his shoulder casually as he tried to tie his cravate. "Cause I know that you're lying."

"Oh, come on…" Carmen threw his hands up, surrendering, while Max looked extremely pleased with himself that moment. "What revealed me? The stuttering? The body language? The fact that you're so good of a liar that you can spot another one right away?"

"A combination of the three, actually," Max answered dryly, crossed his arms and cocked one eyebrow. "Now that your secret is revealed, what summoned you here? The true reason?"

Carmen glared at him for several moments, itching to make another snide comment, but then thought better of it. If they continued their little battle of wills, he knew they were both stubborn enough to go on for hours. Normally, he'd probably go for it, willing to go to great lengths just to surpass the witty producer. But as soon as he considered that, he had to remind himself that he was doing this for Leo. Bickering with Max could always come later. With that promise in mind, Carmen took a breath to steady himself for the upcoming talk and leaned against the leather couch's headrest, trying to look relaxed.

"Fine," he began, noticing Max's impatient look. "There's... something that needs the approval of the producer before we can go through with it. And if I remember correctly, you could be the right person to ask…" Despite his efforts, he couldn't resist a snarky remark. At least a small one.

"Really?" Max asked in that sceptical tone still. It was starting to seriously get on Carmen's nerves, but he tried not to let it show. He did need his blessing, after all. "That means Leo agreed to that something already?"

"Yes, well…" Carmen hesitated, thinking how to put it, but no convenient half-truth came to mind. So, he grudgingly decided to go with his only option left; the plain truth. "He didn't disagree."

"What does that even mean?" Max scoffed, slowly losing his patience. All those unclear statements circled around Leo almost suspiciously, which made him wary; the easygoing accountant was hardly ever the source of problems at the theatre, but this time it sounded like that was exactly the case. And if Max didn't know better, he would even be worried.

"I didn't ask him," was the simple reply.

"And that's because..?

"I couldn't quite reach him."

Carmen didn't know why was he delaying the response so much, after all, it was nothing that serious. Though he had to admit, it did weigh down on his mind slightly. The possibility that something had happened to Leo on his way back to the theatre was still there, considering the slightly distraught state he left in, but he refused to even consider that. No, such mindset wouldn't help anyone.

Maybe he just didn't want to admit defeat to the other man. Or get himself and the rest of his team into trouble. Or maybe, he simply didn't want to worry him. Whatever it was that stopped him from being honest, it didn't really matter. This whole visit was awfully impulsive and unplanned in the first place.

"Carmen, I swear to God," Max warned now. "Where is he?

"Ah, well," Carmen scratched the back of his head, "that, I don't know…"

---

Determination drove him on. Face blank, as if a screen had been pulled down to hide his emotions, Leo hurried along. Fear sat heavy on his heart as he walked as fast as he could. Eyes plastered to the pavement, he stared at his shoes, moving swiftly in a blur.

The cold painted bright red on his cheeks as the crisp air blew through him, rustling his hair and chilling his bones. Leaves of red and brown flew past in a whirl of motion, momentarily adding color into the otherwise gray streets before the wind carried them away from view, their fleeting beauty forgotten.

He would forget. He would pretend that the meeting never happened, ban it from his memory and go on as usual. For if there was one thing he was good at, it was running from his problems, Leo thought disdainfully.

With each stride his mind became more clear, more resolute, as if the growing physical distance between him and Perry would make his doubts disappear. As if once he'd be safe behind the walls of the Shubert theatre, the whole incident would cease to exist.

Still, he couldn't get rid of that one particular sentence Perry had said to him.

I thought you'd understand that, of all people…

By God, he did. And that was the hardest part.

As the old building came into view, promising a new chance, a new beginning to that awful day, he blocked the words of his former colleague from his memory, at least for the moment. With each stride after that he felt more in charge of his own mind, his body and his actions. Then, abruptly pausing in front of the stage door to close his eyes and take in a deep breath of the chilly air, Leo steeled himself to face the people inside again.

He would apologize. He would explain. The rehearsal would continue as usual.

He pushed the door open confidently.

The atmosphere he was met with inside wasn't one he would expect in a place full of loud musicians, energetic dancers and brash crew members. It was quiet. Almost eerily quiet, as only the sound of the door clicking closed echoed through the silence.

The closer he got to the main auditorium, the more he thought that maybe Roger has had enough and sent everyone home. Maybe a part of him even hoped for such a scenario. However, as soon as he reached the side door leading directly into the hall, he was proved wrong.

Although hushed and scattered, he could clearly hear the several overlapping voices on the other side, but couldn't quite make out what they said or who had spoken. Not that it mattered, for they weren't addressing him. That was, at least not yet.

Again, he was reminded of the inevitable shower of questions that was bound to come the very moment he would open the door, but he counted on that. He sighed and took off his coat.

However, before he could even reach the handle, he heard footsteps approaching quickly. The door swung open in a flash, giving him no time to jump away. The hard wood collided directly with his face, making him stumble back several steps as he bent over, holding his nose.

"Oh my God!" a female voice exclaimed. "Leo! What the… Are you alright?!"

Rather shaken, Leo looked up at the woman, recognizing the voice even though it was unusually high for her. Shirley stood beside him, hands clasped over her mouth as she stared at him in mild horror. He straightened up, trying to blink away the tears that gathered in his eyes almost instantly, still holding one hand to his nose to stop the blood from coming. Well, that sure was unexpected.

"I'm fine," he tried to laugh to ease her worries. Though it indeed was quite amusing, he had to admit. Just when he thought the day couldn't get any better, this felt like the final punch it needed to be complete. Sort of a cherry on top.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were there…" Shirley explained, still quite pale from the shock. She recovered quickly, though, and slapped Leo's arm lightly. "What the hell were you doing there anyway? Where have you been?"

"What in the God's name is going on there again?" he heard Roger shout from the stage and march towards them, his entire troupe following close behind. That was the moment chaos ensured.

"Leo! By God, what happened?" Roger stopped before Leo, looking quite aghast himself.

"Dear, are you alright? Let me look at it!" Kevin joined, jumping around him frantically.

"We were so worried!" Scott added.

"You didn't just punch him, did you?!" Brian asked, turning to Shirley with the most disbelieving expression Leo had seen on him yet. Shirley defended herself immediately, adding fuel to the fire.

Leo did his best to stay out of it as he looked past the little crowd that had gathered around him to try and spot Carmen, in hopes that he'd rescue him from the spotlight. But he was nowhere to be seen. Leo frowned, thinking that he must have gone backstage.

"Shut up!" Shirley shouted suddenly, interrupting his thoughts and stopping everyone in their tracks. "Could we stop traumatizing the poor boy further? Brian!" She barked at the designer as he tried to shuffle away discreetly. "Why aren't you useful for once and go and get some tissues?"

"It's fine," Leo repeated, taking his hand away from his face to replace it with a white handkerchief. He grimaced at the stain, trying not to look at it. The sight of blood was the last thing he needed at the moment. "There's no time to waste time. Or, as Max would put it, time is money," he added with a slight smirk.

"Are you sure?" Scott put a gentle hand on his shoulder, looking down at him sincerely.

"Positive." Leo nodded, smiling a little despite the uncomfortable tingling in his face that just wouldn't go away. "Oh, and I'm sorry for my, um, delay... I guess I got a little carried away… by work."

"Yeah… A little." Brian chuckled as Shirley pushed him, glaring disapprovingly.

Leo just looked down sheepishly, having to smirk at the comment yet feeling slightly guilty for not being honest with them. Not that his little encounter was something they'd urgently need to hear about anyway.

"Marvelous." Roger clasped his hands together after a short pause. "As a matter of fact, Carmen needed to talk to you-" he halted, looking around- "where's Carmen?"

The others started turning their heads as well, muttering and searching for their missing friend. That was, everyone except for Scott. Leo titled his head curiously, focusing on the suspiciously quiet choreographer.

"Scott?" He asked carefully after a while.

"Me?" Scott jerked awake as his eyes widened. "I, uh, yes… I believe he went to the office…" He wrung his hands together, awaiting Leo's reaction uncertainly.

"The office?" Leo frowned, confused. "As in our office? Why?"

"Well, we-" Scott began, meaning to explain, but Roger pushed him slightly to the side immediately, cutting him off.

"There's this," Roger intervened, suddenly looking fairly uncomfortable as well. "Leo, this show… Do you think that it's, well, going as it should?"

"What? I… You know the answer." Leo let his hand drop from his face, still incomprehensive. "What are you implying?"

"Alright, enough sugar coating." Roger stroked through his hair once and sighed, fixating Leo with a rather stern look. "We will postpone this."

There was a tense moment where Leo's face washed blank with confusion, like his brain cogs couldn't turn fast enough to take in the information. In that instant his skin became pale, his mouth hung with lips slightly parted and his eyes were as wide as they could stretch. Slowly he began to shake his head. How could they even consider this?

"Leo, look around." Roger swiped his arm through the air. "This here is, quite literally, falling apart…"

"No…" He kept on shaking his head, feeling his pulse shooting up as emotions took over again. "It isn't yours to decide!"

"It isn't," Shirley agreed, her voice uncharacteristically soothing. "But try to understand… People are getting sick, shouldn't safety always be first?"

"But… Theatre is first. That's what you always said… It's always been like that. You can't just- just throw all the work away 4 days before opening!" This was not true. The one thing he didn't want to happen, happening right now. What would he tell Max?

"Dear, you can't believe everything Max tells you." Scott cut in, as if reading his thoughts. "Of course we don't want to do it, but sometimes it's just necessary…"

"It's not necessary." Leo disagreed, sniffing once as his nose started to bleed again. What a day. "It's convenient… For you."

"Honey, calm down," Kevin approached him now, getting worried.

"No, no, I just.. I mean, I don't-" Leo stuttered, but eventually gave up, sighing as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I'm sorry… I don't know. I need… I think I need to talk to Max."

"Of course," Roger exhaled as well, not feeling up to reason with him any longer. The rest of the team just nodded understandingly.

"Wait." Leo froze again as he remembered one important detail from earlier. "Tell me again why Carmen went to the office?"

"Well…" Scott fidgeted with his fingers as he looked to his team for help, but everyone stayed silent. "To tell Max about-"

"Oh my God," Leo shot instantly, not letting Scott finish his sentence. He has heard enough.

He turned away from them and went to collect his coat and briefcase, wanting to get to their office as soon as possible. In a flash, Roger caught his hand before he could reach for it, stopping him where he was. He looked up at him, confused.

"Will you just consider it?" Roger almost pleaded, though his expression was soft and undemanding. "Talk to Max, explain our reasons and try to understand them yourself… You'll know what to do."

Leo almost laughed at that. Truth was, he had no idea what to do.

He hesitated, for this moment was crucial. He knew that the remains of the eavesdropping cast were watching him too, waiting for his decision. Looking from Roger to the hopeful team, he sighed.

Finally he gave them a curt nod, disappearing without another word.

---

Even halfway on the stairs, Leo could already hear the unsettlingly loud voices coming from their office.

"In what context should I understand that 'you don't know' where he is?!" He recognized Max's demanding voice clearly.

"There's no context! Leo is a free man, he just went to have lunch!" Carmen defended himself, sounding irritated at Max's nagging.

Leo couldn't resist rolling his eyes. Not them too. It felt like he had to deal with more quarrels in one day than he did in a year. Though he had to admit, he found their concern quite touching.

Climbing up the last few steps to their floor, he wiped over his face once more, hesitating just a moment before entering the room. He wanted to get it over with better sooner than later.

The two men were so caught up in their exchange of opinions that they didn't notice him standing in the doorway for a good moment. Shutting the door rather noisily to get their attention, Leo watched as both their heads snapped to him in unison, cutting their little discussion short.

"Oh, come on!" Max threw his hands up after recovering from the initial surprise. He turned to Carmen. "What is this again? Have you told the entire theatre to come over with fruits and blessings?"

"Oh shut up, you cynic." Carmen shot Max a glare as he put a hand on Leo's back, leading him inside. "And be glad that he's alright."

"I assure you, I'd make sure you'd notice it if he wasn't," Max sneered, walked over to them and took Carmen's place by Leo's side. Leo couldn't help but snicker at their little competition.

Carmen just turned his eyes heavenward and muttered something unintelligible, before turning to Leo with a grin almost too wide for the current situation.

"Sweetheart, I was just telling Max here-" he gave him a pointed look again- "about the latest happenings in the theatre."

"He was," Max agreed, raising an eyebrow. "But I still don't know a damn thing."

"I see," Leo jumped in, hoping to cut it right there. "Well, thank you for coming. I'll take it from there…" Thus he ushered Carmen towards the exit hastily, practically pushing him out the door.

"What?" Carmen squealed, trying to get back inside. "But I was just about to-"

"Carmen," Leo warned, giving him a tense smile, though his look spoke volumes. "Thank you, I'll manage."

"Ah, of course," Carmen understood, winking at him once, "well, in that case… Farewell, Max. Do us all a favour and get better, will you? Leo," he bowed before him shortly and turned on his heel elegantly, leaving them alone.

Leo exhaled and closed the door behind him softly, leaning on it as he closed his eyes for a moment. It felt good to be home, even if not for long.

"Boy, what was that?" Max chuckled, walking over to his partner and throwing one arm around his shoulders.

"You tell me," Leo asked back and smirked, allowing him to lead them to the couch. Not bothering to even take off his coat, he collapsed on it gratefully, basking in the much needed comfort.

"Tough day?" Max raised an eyebrow, turning to Leo expectantly.

"Oh, don't even ask," Leo just groaned, covering his face with both hands.

"Hm, your wish is my command. Still, I believe you were supposed to tell me something about-" he stopped mid-sentence, frowning as he raised a hand to touch Leo's face- "what happened to you? Did someone punch you?"

"Oh, it's nothing..." Leo laughed sheepishly, twisting his head away gently. "Shirley just-"

"Shirley punched you?!" Max scoffed incredulously. "Bloom fights with our lightning designer and I miss it?"

"Ah, stop it," Leo pushed him and rolled his eyes, though he had his problems resisting a laugh at the mental image of such a battle. "Let's just say that the door doesn't duck away when your face is in its way…"

"Somehow I found the first version more plausible, but…" Max stopped to snicker again, "alright, I think I'll believe you."

Leo just made a face at him in response, but then his expression softened again, getting more serious.

"How are you?" Leo asked with genuine concern, looking Max up and down.

"My lawyer says I don't have to answer that question," Max replied smugly, leaning in close.

"Really? What does your accountant say?" Leo played along, inching closer as well.

"I don't know," Max held Leo's gaze, his lips twitching into a smile, "I'm afraid I'd have to ask him."

"He says," Leo planted both hands on Max's chest, pulling away just when their noses were almost touching. "That you're either clinically insane or just incredibly annoying."

"Why, that's curious." Max leaned back as well, amused. "I was meaning to ask you the exact same thing."

"In my case? Probably both," Leo grinned, unable to hold back anymore. Now more than before he wanted nothing more than to stay on that couch, joking with Max back and forth all evening until he'd fall asleep with his stomach hurting from all the laughter. That made the realization of what he still had to deal with all the harder.

Max must've noticed the slight shift in Leo's spirits, for instead of topping it off with another witty remark, he simply put an arm around his shoulders again, pulling him in closer for a sort of a hug. Leo responded to it eagerly, letting his head rest on Max's shoulder without hesitation.

"Carmen told me that you sent him to check up on me," Max started anew after several quiet moments, turning his head slightly to smirk at Leo.

"Oh, yeah…" Leo hesitated, slightly taken aback, but decided to go along with it. "I did."

"Is that so? Later he said that you didn't," Max raised his eyebrows, bemused at the contradicting facts.

"Yeah…" Leo looked down sheepishly and smiled, embarrassed at having been caught. "I didn't."

At that, Max just chuckled and shook his head, choosing not to ask any more questions. God knew what else he could find out if he continued pressing.

Leo, on the other hand, was rather conflicted. While he was well aware that he was expected to simply talk to Max about the show and head straight back to the theatre as soon as possible, he didn't have the slightest wish to actually do so. Nor was he really able to move from his spot, for Max was keeping him in place rather firmly.

Telling him about his unfortunate encounter seemed meaningless, too. For this was his life. This was home. And although it could get more overwhelming than he'd like at times, he was content.

The memories of past accounting firms and failing productions were slowly fading as he started dozing off, his thoughts becoming disorganized enough to release his mind into sleep. Now all he had to do was allow it to.

The world could wait.

---

A/N: Things are getting a little complicatedat the Shubert theatre, huh? xD Feedback much appreciated! <3

Chapter 4: Being Alive

A/N:  New school year, new chapter! Lemme know what you think :)

---

You know your day is off to a great start when you wake up and your first thought is 'no'.

Lazily stretching, Leo's eyes flickered open, eyelashes faintly batting against his lids when he blinked. Immediately a hundred questions shot through his mind. What time was it? How long had he been asleep? This wasn't his bedroom. Where was he?

From the carousel of random ideas came some order - a subtle awareness of who he was under the flow of thoughts with their loose connections to his waking life. After a few moments more he began to analyze them reluctantly.

Blinking several times to get adjusted to the brightness of the ceiling light, he became aware of his whereabouts.

He was laying on the couch in their office, debating whether or not he should get up. His muscles felt weak just like his energy, as if he'd never slept in the first place.

He closed his eyes again, willing the carousel to return, for his mind to tumble back to dreams, but it wouldn't. Now the tasks of the day were demanding he thinks about them, finds solutions and gets jobs done by day's end. He was awake and there was no retreat. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Leo groaned as he rolled off of the sepia-colored sofa he had been occupying. He had to get ready to start (or continue) the day.

Looking around drowsily, he frowned. Where was Max? He had been right next to him just a while ago. Or had it really been a while? He couldn't tell.

"Oh look, he's alive!" he suddenly heard an exclamation come from the bathroom.

Surprised, Leo turned, only to meet the eyes of the very one he'd been looking for. Max stood in the doorway, a toothbrush in hand as he smirked back at him.

"Oh, hey…" Leo smiled, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the sleepiness. "Ready for bed already?"

Max looked at him funnily. "Already? What do you mean?"

"Huh?" Leo titled his head, confused as well. "What time is it?"

"Six."

"Really?" Leo raised his eyebrows and looked out the window. It was, indeed, dark outside. "Well, that's not so bad... Although I'm afraid I won't make it to rehearsals in time, will I?" he laughed sheepishly. As far as he knew, they must have ended at least an hour ago.

"Leo," Max looked at him as though he'd lost his mind, "it's six. As in, six in the morning…"

Leo's eyes widened as he processed

what Max had just said. Six in the morning? No, there was no way. He had merely taken a nap... But the more he thought about it… Maybe it wasn't already dark. It was still dark.

"Oh my God," he simply said, pressing one hand to his head. If his memory was correct- though right now he doubted it- he had fallen asleep at barely 2pm. How on Earth does one sleep so long? "Why didn't you wake me?"

"Wake you? What for?" Max jeered as he disappeared into the bathroom again, reemerging after a while with somewhat styled hair. "You looked peaceful for once, a rare sight these days, if you ask me… And besides, 16 hours? Boy, if you manage to sleep a whole day through, one could even think that perhaps you needed it..."

"Yes, well… Perhaps," Leo smiled slightly, choosing not to elaborate on it. Max was right; he hadn't been sleeping well lately.

He watched as Max strode over to the table casually, pouring coffee into two mugs and offering one to him, which Leo took gratefully. He winced as he took the first sip - it was tepid, overly bitter and lacking real cream. It was a source of caffeine, though, and so he drank it like a sailor new to whiskey. From the corner of his eyes, he could see Max staring at him in mild amusement as he shook his head, motioning for Leo to follow him.

"Come on," Max prompted, setting his cup down, "let's have some breakfast, hm?"

Mouth still full of the bleak beverage, Leo held up a hand mutely. "Not me," he said as soon as he had gulped down the remaining sips, smiling at Max sweetly. "Thank you for this… this coffee, though, if you can call it that..."

"Be grateful for coffee while you have it," Max scoffed, walking over to the fridge. "Judging by how the production seems to be going, you're getting a glass of warm water next time…"

"Maybe so," Leo smirked, though his face fell slightly at the mention of their show. "But still," he tried to sound cheerful again, "my statement stands. Not hungry."

Eyeing him suspiciously for a few moments, Max finally shrugged, turning away. "That's a shame, I actually fixed you breakfast," he threw over his shoulder nonchalantly. "I mean, it's just a bowl of cereal… But it's the only thing I can't burn, y'know?"

Merely shaking his head and chuckling to himself, Leo went into the bedroom, stopping in front of the long mirror to stare back at his reflection idly.

Before the day had even started for the masses, he was already here, awake and fully dressed. He had obviously fallen asleep in the clothes he'd been wearing when he came home yesterday; his usual dark grey suit and the beige raincoat that he loved to wear whenever the weather would allow it. Max didn't like him wearing that suit, he knew. Or the coat, for that matter. He always said that now that he was a producer- a someone- he should scrap those bland colors and shapeless clothes and go for something more daring. Something that would match who he really wants to be. Who he really is, deep inside. Trouble was, he didn't know.

Who was he? A timid, spineless little accountant; that's who he was for as long as he could remember. Could a person really go from who he believed to be all his life to who he wanted to become in a matter of a few years? Maybe he could. Or maybe it was just a mental game that Max played with him to try and transform him into that 'someone'. Someone worthy of his profession. Someone who Max could always count on, no matter the obstacles. Someone full of life. A somebody...

He wanted to be like that. And he wanted to have somebody like that by his side, too. To have somebody who needs him and knows him a little too much, somebody who forces him to care. And by God, he did care. So why wouldn't he let Max really in?

Leo pulled the coat off of his shoulders slowly, letting it slide to the floor in a heap, soon followed by the suit jacket. Usually he'd itch to pick it up, straighten it out and carefully fold it, but right now he didn't feel the urge to do so. Perhaps he just had to stop worrying about those meaningless things and start living a little, like Max wanted him to.

But then again, maybe that was what he feared so much. Frightened of being truly alive, for with it came responsibility and risks, and more often than not, a great deal of disappointment. Allowing people to be so close to him was scary, though his mind constantly screamed that it's exactly what he needs. And if he gets hurt along the way, so what? At least he'd experience what it feels like to live without the "what if".

But, right now, it didn't matter. The only "what if" he had to worry about at the moment was that he'll be late to work. Again.

Quickly undressing and putting on a copper brown suit, - the one that brings out his eyes, or so Max had said-, he combed through his hair once, heading back to the living room.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled his senses as soon as he opened the door. He inhaled it earnestly and smirked to himself. It seemed that, after all, Max couldn't drink the lukewarm excuse of a beverage he had presented Leo with either.

"If you're waiting for an order, then yes, you can sit down," Max piped up without looking up from his bowl of cereal- the one that had apparently been meant for Leo- and reading today's newspaper. His hair was still rather messy from sleeping and he was wearing his checked pajamas, a little crumpled and untucked but still he managed to maintain his usual charm.

Leo smiled and walked over to him, sitting down on the edge of the sofa without a word. It was those quiet moments in the morning that he treasured so much; seeing Max in this unguarded state while he was still in the process of waking up was strangely endearing.

Leo felt his smile growing as he watched Max get a bit too focused on his morning paper, to the point that he missed his mouth and spilled a bit of the breakfast onto himself. Cursing under his breath, he set both things down on the table with a thud. Trying hard to suppress laughter, Leo took out a clean handkerchief from his breast pocket and sat close to Max, dabbing at the stained shirt gently.

Max observed him with a surprised but amused expression, but let Leo fuss over him without saying anything. Despite how strong their friendship had grown, it was a little unexpected; Leo wasn't usually the one to initiate such close contact out of nowhere. Leo seemed to notice, too, for he suddenly let his hands fall and moved away, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry," he mumbled, quickly searching for an excuse to escape Max's judgemental stare. "I should…" he looked away, moving to get up, "I should go to work."

"Wait," Max grabbed his elbow, dragging him back down. "I can literally hear you thinking, so spill it. What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

At first Leo tried to act clueless. He scoffed and raised his eyebrows questioningly, opening his mouth to answer as his mind scrambled for a satisfying lie. But then something stopped him. When did he become so quick to hide the truth? That wasn't how he would usually act. Or was it? Maybe he really hadn't changed that much from his cowardly self.

He took a breath and began hesitantly. "It's just… You know, these past few days-"

"Is it the production?" Max shot, interrupting his confession.

A little astounded, Leo blinked a few times, but recollected himself quickly. Now was the moment. He would just tell him, there was nothing to it. The cast is leaving. They are overwhelmed. Roger wants to cancel the show. As a matter of fact, we all do.

He closed his eyes to steady himself and be over with it. But before he could spit it out, he was interrupted yet again, this time by a hacking cough that ripped through the room unexpectedly.

Leo's eyes shot open as he jumped at the sound, suddenly forgetting all that he wanted to say. Instead he immediately went to Max, who turned away from him, coughing into his sleeve rather violently.

Leo's hands just hovered above his back helplessly, not quite daring to touch him but itching to do something.

After what felt like an eternity- but was probably just a few seconds- Max stopped, holding up a hand. "Sorry," he cleared his throat, offering a small smile upon seeing Leo's worried expression. "What did you wanna say?"

Again, Leo hesitated. What was he supposed to say? Max obviously still wasn't well. He couldn't burden him with this on top of everything. Not now.

"Nothing," Leo finally answered with the best smile he could accomplish. "It… It's just a little stressful right now. As always, after all... Don't worry about it now... Get some rest instead."

"Ah, that won't do." Max waved his hand as he got up, walking over to the closet room.

Confused, Leo frowned and jumped up as well, following close behind. "Where are you going?"

"Where do you think I'm going?" Max jeered and shot him a look over his shoulder before disappearing into the room.

Leo stared at the closed doors for several moments, dumbfounded. What was that? He had barely said anything.

Whatever that meant, he had neither the time nor wish to interrogate him right now. Shaking his head, Leo turned away, only stopping by the window to take in the view one last time before he would be off to work.

Outside it was still as black as night; only by the clock could he tell the difference between the time to sleep and the time to rise. He knew that the dawn would come on his way to the theatre, lighting the streets first in monochrome and then with subtle hues of colour, but he would be behind his desk long before the day is bright. Suddenly he wished for the multitude of vibrant hues from the city parks, the sky and even passing cars. Under the artificial glow of the street-lamps they were just sallow and dull. He also knew that by the time he leaves for home, it will be well onto twilight. He could only hope for a sunset.

The clicking of a doorknob ripped him out of his daydream. Sighing softly, he looked over to the closet, only to be baffled anew.

Max, on the other hand, barely spared him a look as he walked over to the hanger, fully dressed in a dark blue suit, and took his felt coat. When he threw it over his shoulders, he bent over to tie his shoes, humming an upbeat melody from their current musical.

Leo followed him with his eyes, mouth slightly agape.

"What, pray tell, do you think you're doing?" he asked slowly, disbelieving but aware of Max's plans.

Immediately Max held his hands up, not giving him space to protest any further.

"Shush, I know, I know. I should be in bed. I should get better first. I shouldn't go outside. Good, I know. Now that we've sorted that out, how about you grab your hat and go before we're both late?"

"Grab my…" Leo began asking but trailed off soon, a look of horror suddenly appearing on his face.

Max frowned at the abrupt change, knowing that panicked look all too well. "Leo?" he asked carefully.

"Grab my hat," Leo finished with that same alarmed expression, eyes wide.

"What?" Max raised his eyebrows, genuinely puzzled.

"My hat!" Leo repeated, louder this time, as he rushed to the hatstand, frantically searching through it.

"What's with your hat?"

"I don't have it…"

"You don't…" Max began, frowning. "What?"

"I've had it yesterday…" Leo continued, getting more desperate by the second. "I've had it!"

"Alright, I see, just calm down," Max reached out to try and soothe him, but it was to no avail.

"How can I?" Leo shouted, shaking his hand off. "It was your hat… My hat! How could I just-"

"Leo," Max said firmly and planted both hands on his shoulders to stop the ramble. "Slow down and think. Where did you last have it?"

Finally Leo composed himself enough to try and remember. First he thought of the theatre, but dismissed that right away. He was almost sure that he still had his hat when he went to the lunch break. His heart skipped a beat. The lunch break... Of course. He must have forgotten it in the café. He had been so set on getting away from Perry that he had left it behind.

He passed a hand down his face, weighing his options. Chances were, the hat was still there or hidden by the staff. Or, the more probable scenario, Perry had taken it upon himself to look after it until Leo realizes his mistake and finds him to get his hat back. Brilliant.

Of course, he couldn't tell that to Max. It would have given away too much.

"Um, I… I think it could be in the theatre, or-"

"Wonderful!" Max clasped his hands together, already pushing him out the door before Leo could react. "We'll look in the theatre. Surely it'll be there, hm? Where else, after all?"

"Yeah…" Leo mumbled hollowly, allowing Max to lead them away. Again, he was too astounded at how easily he had lied. "Surely."

---

The morning faded in like a scene from bad theatre production. The cast stomped about, slammed doors and projected their voices as far as their lips, then sulked because no one replied. It would be funny if this same play wasn't repeated every morning at 7 am. But it was, and Carmen had a bit-part to play with little to no lines. All he needed to do was trail behind Roger, nod, agree, and repeat it tomorrow. And the day after that, too.

Bored, he sat behind the desk usually occupied by Max and Leo, -who, once again, didn't show up on time-, and supported his head with both hands, lazily watching the scene onstage. People were rushing back and forth with no real aim, just to create the illusion of doing something. Roger looked frustrated as ever, but not as much as before. Even he had more or less resigned.

Still, Carmen was set on staying positive. It was just a passing period, he knew, and it was an unavoidable part of the showbiz life, as Max liked to call it. For the most part, it was exciting; knowing all those talented people, laughing at countless things going wrong in rehearsals and spending most of his time surrounded by music and dance. That was the magical part. The other was… Well, this.

Swinging back in his chair, he sighed melodramatically, staring a hole into the door as if that'd make Leo arrive sooner. He was waiting for him like mercy, knowing that when things got dull at work, Leo would always manage to entertain him, if only by making little mischievous comments about the cast. He was always so adorable when trying to make people laugh that even Max had no objections to Carmen occupying his seat from time to time and having Leo to himself.

As if on cue, the door into the auditorium swung open. Carmen sat up quickly, almost falling backwards in the process. When he balanced the chair enough to keep it in place, he grinned, ready to greet his friend.

Instead, he was met with disappointment.

It came as a slight shock to be greeted by Max's smug smirk where he expected Leo's shy smile, but he was soon calmed when the former accountant appeared behind him, following Max like a loyal dog. The two men exchanged a few words before parting, each walking in the opposite direction. Much to his delight, Max went straight to Roger while Leo shuffled over to where Carmen was seated, greeting him warmly with a small hug.

"Well well well," Carmen began when they let go of each other, smirking teasingly. "If someone isn't getting Max's manners… Whole 16 minutes late!"

"Oh please, you sound like my boss…" Leo complained and plopped down next to him. Then he chuckled, correcting himself. "Well, my old boss, that is."

"Do I? Would your old boss do this?" Thus he put both legs on the table, leaning back with his arms folded behind his head.

"What are you…" Leo laughed but glanced to the stage nervously. "You shouldn't do that!"

"And who's gonna stop me?" Carmen asked, wiggling around to get into a more comfortable position. "Oh my... Do you think Max would mind? Well, let's see... Hey! Ma-"

Before he could draw any more attention to them, Leo clasped a hand over his mouth quickly.

"Shhh!" He silenced him, unable to hold back a grin. "He won't let you sit here again, you know that, right?"

"He can try and stop me," Carmen scoffed, speaking just loud enough so that it would reach the stage.

"Really…" Leo still smiled but his face seemed to fall just a little. "Put them down."

"Maybe you should put them up," Carmen challenged.

"Maybe you should listen to the producer," Leo joked back but got up, seemingly done with the discussion.

Carmen crossed his arms, not ready to give up yet. "Or what?"

"Or," Leo walked around the table and tossed a thick pile of files in front of Carmen, "I'll make you fill those out."

"Make me." Carmen winked and tossed them back to him.

"Carmen…" Leo sneered and shook his head. "I'm serious."

"So am I," Carmen continued pushing just to see how far their bickering could go. And besides, Leo's been under such pressure lately; a little loosening up would certainly do him no harm.

"Alright, alright, let's stop…" Leo smiled at him sweetly, but Carmen could have sworn that he heard a slight edge in his voice.

"Come on now, the Leo I know isn't such a bore…" Carmen replied, trying to put him back into that jesting, careless mood. "As a matter of fact-"

"Carmen!"

At long last, Carmen fell silent.

He stared at Leo in mild shock for several moments; this was the second outburst in just two days. That was certainly out of character.

When he collected himself again, he cleared his throat and, without a word, put his legs back on the ground. Careful not to aggravate him any further, he took the files and opened the one on top.

"Come on," he said gently, patting the chair next to him. "Sit down, we'll look at this together."

Leo just looked back at him, the remorse apparent in his eyes. Putting one hand to his forehead, he took a breath.

"Don't be sorry." Carmen knew what he wanted to say before he even had the chance to open his mouth. "I pushed you. It's okay, you snapped, I get it." Seeing Leo's reluctance he put on the kindest expression he could accomplish and opened his arms widely. "Now come here, you!"

Hesitantly Leo complied and turned his attention to the paper as well, but Carmen knew that he just did that to avoid his eyes.

Carmen sighed. "You're dying to say it, aren't you?"

"Yes…" Leo let out a breath and nodded vigorously, but at least he smiled again. "I am sorry, really. I just, you know…"

"I know." Carmen simply patted his back, choosing not to elaborate on it. A change of topic seemed in place.

He shifted in his seat. "So… I see that Max is alright with the news?"

Again, Leo's head shot up, eyes alert. "What news?"

"You know, about the-"

He didn't have time to finish, as he suddenly heard loud stomping approaching them from the front.

"What the hell were you thinking?!"

They both turned sharply at the exclamation.

Max was storming towards them with Roger following close behind, who didn't look any less irritated. The only difference was that his anger was apparently directed at Max. Carmen turned to Leo, lips slightly parted.

"You didn't tell him?" he asked in a loud whisper.

"I…" Leo looked from Carmen to the nearing Max with wide eyes.

"Leo!" Carmen barked, already knowing the answer.

"Cancel the premiere? Have you lost your mind?!" Max soon joined in, planting both hands on the desk in front of Leo, who jumped back instinctively.

"I- I didn't…" Leo stuttered, looking to Roger helplessly, who just threw his hands up.

"I thought you told him already, like you said you would!"

"Well, y-yes, but I-"

"But what?" Max cut in sharply. "You thought it wasn't important? That just because I was away for three days you can make decisions without me?"

"Well, can't I?" Leo suddenly lost his cool as well. "This is my show, too. Don't act like you're the only one who has a say in this!"

"Don't try to shut me out of this, boy," Max growled, his tone dangerously low. "I've been here since day one. I'm more a part of this than you are!"

"Is that so?" Leo sprung up from his seat sharply, startling everyone. "How can I become 'a part of this' if you won't let me?"

"Leo, I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain this to you..." Max passed a hand across his face, closing his eyes shortly. "You clearly don't understand what's at stake."

"Of course," Leo laughed humourlessly, shaking his head. "I know nothing and you know everything. How typical. Well, spare me!"

"Spare you what?" Max shouted now. "The truth? The fact that you have no idea what you're doing?"

Both Roger and Carmen stayed silent as the two producers exchanged bitter words back and forth, not wishing to add fuel to the fire. The issue was, Max had a point. And as much as Carmen would want to side with Leo, he did make a mistake. He was supposed to tell Max about everything that went on in the theatre in the time of his absence, especially about matters as important as these, which he hadn't. And the more Max talked, the more Carmen realized that maybe cancellation wasn't the only way here. Maybe they had all been wrong. So, he tried to stay out of it, only exchanging worried glances with Roger who stood behind the arguing pair, arms crossed.

It was only when he saw Max push Leo, even if only slightly, that Carmen decided it was enough.

"Leave him alone!" Carmen stood between the two, pulling Leo behind himself protectively. "This situation is not Leo's fault. It's not anyone's!"

"Stay out of it, Scott!" Max warned. And it was effective. Everyone fell silent for a second, somewhat shocked. Max - or anyone, for that matter- hardly ever used Carmen's real name. It was a sure indicator that he shouldn't push his buttons any further; so he didn't. "You knew about this too when you 'visited' me, didn't you? And you stayed silent. You're as wrong as him." He pointed to Leo, who didn't argue back anymore. His gaze was fixated on the ground, and Carmen could tell that he was struggling to control his emotions.

Roger must've sensed that too, for he decided to join in the brawl. "Max, stop it. I agree that Leo should have told you earlier, but don't blame it all on him. What difference does one day make?"

"What difference does it make?" Max jeered, turning to Roger. "I'll tell you what difference it makes. You can have it your way. This whole production, I leave it to you; do whatever you want with it. I'm done here…"

That made Leo look up.

"Max…" he said hoarsely, reaching out to touch his arm.

"And you," Max shook his hand off as he rounded on him. "There you have it; I'm letting you be a part of it. Isn't that what you wanted?"

Carmen watched the scene with bated breath. For a moment it looked like Leo would deny it, or start crying, or shouting, or… whatever it was that Leo does when he's upset.

But he did none of that.

"Yes," he finally answered and raised his chin defiantly. "Yes, it is."

Max stared at him disbelievingly for a couple of seconds, but then he scoffed, nodding.

"That's great, then," he said and lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug. He turned to leave. "You know," he stopped once more, meeting Leo's eyes, "maybe there's a reason you've lost that hat. Apparently you didn't honour it enough..."

And with that he walked away, leaving them alone.

---

His coat was not heavy enough for that wind blast. Hundreds of people hurried out of their cars right into the countless buildings all around. They wore formal clothes, and were only in the cold for the few seconds that it took them to get to the doors.

Leo searched for such a building, too.

After Max had stormed off, he couldn't stay in the theatre either. He had quickly offered some half-coherent apologies to Roger and Carmen before running yet again, hopping on the first subway going to his destination.

Once out of the subway he navigated himself only by intersection and memory. Otherwise it would be impossible to know where he is. He moved along in the thick crowd, feeling as if he was several inches shorter than everyone else. He couldn't see the bright shop signs, or the buildings to orient him - only backpacks, coats and hair. He was frequently jostled, but then again, he doubted that most of those people even saw him. With the smell of burned fast food oil he remembered he needed to turn right next and start to weave his way over.

The crowd parted around a newspaper dispenser but he failed to join the right path and was instead left smooshed up against it for a few moments, his suit brushing up against the dirty glass. How he hated to be lost in those crowds. Usually Max would be there to pull him away when way too many people got way too close to him, but not this time. Instead he had to inch sideways until once again he was in the current. Leo veered into the next street and finally recognized the place.

He stopped there to take a breath, feeling relief and dread wash over him at the same time.

Across the street stood a large, tall building with two towers and many, many windows. He had seen it a thousand times before, but only today did he truly look at it. The exterior was pretty, he had to admit. The interior would be too; if only so many unpleasant memories weren't hidden behind the pretty facade.

Not wasting any more time, Leo sighed and crossed the street. Once inside, he was met with a familiar sight; marble walls and ornaments as far as the eye could reach. He hadn't been there for so long, and yet, the atmosphere of that place alone never failed to make him nauseous. He proceeded cautiously.

But Perry would be here, he was certain. Perry and his hat, that is.

Every day, all the accountants were allowed to claim one "toilet break", as Marks always liked to snarl. And as clueless as Leo could have seemed to his coworkers, he was observant. So observant that he knew exactly at what time Perry liked to take his break.

He glanced at the big clock on the wall. It was now 8:28am. In about 30 minutes, Perry would get up from his desk, close his books and leave, only to return 15 minutes later, smelling like cheap vending machine coffee and cigarettes. He also knew where to wait so that he wouldn't miss him; Several years ago, Leo had joined him for the pause out of pure curiosity, and they had ended up sitting on the stairs in front of the back door for employees, thinking of many creative ways to call their insufferable boss. Leo felt the corners of his mouth turn up slightly at the memory. Thinking back, it was probably the most pleasant conversation he's had with anyone in that firm in all his years working there. How poetic.

Still, his heart started racing at the mere thought of having to talk to him, especially after their little encounter yesterday. But he had to do it. With a bit of luck, Perry was indeed in the possession of his prized producer's hat. And if not… then at least he'd have a chance to apologize for his hurried exit back at the café.

He just had to get his hat and go, nothing more or less. Bracing himself, Leo walked down the same corridor that he'd walked through every day for almost 15 years of his life. Needless to say, he didn't miss it one bit. Unlike the rest of the building, the corridor was dark, unkept and dirty. When he passed the door leading to the large room where his working desk used to be, he shuddered internally, but nothing could have prepared him for the shock that was to come afterwards. From around the corner, a poorly-lit figure appeared. Leo didn't even hear them coming. At first, he didn't think much of it. It was the unmistakable smell of tobacco that made him come to his senses.

Marks.

Quickly turning his face away, Leo scrambled for the nearest door, until his hand finally found a handle. He turned it without thinking where it led. When the door fell shut noisily, he held his breath, listening to the footsteps on the other side. They seemed to halt momentarily, and Leo felt the hairs on his neck stand when he heard them coming closer. But nothing happened. Just as quickly as the steps came closer, they retreated again. Thankfully, Marks must have failed to recognize him. Leo let out the breath he'd been holding, at last becoming aware of the cold air that surrounded him. Confused, he looked up, only to see the foggy sky above.

"You again?"

Leo almost fell down the stairs at the voice.

"Damn!" he cursed, whirling around and pressing his back into the door. He stared down at the person on the stairs in surprise. "Perry?"

"You know that's not my name, right?" the accountant asked, looking up at him quite unimpressed.

"What?" Leo squealed, not quite grasping what had just happened yet.

"Nevermind," Perry smiled and held his hand out to him. "Wanna sit?"

Reluctantly Leo did as he was told. He found himself unable to do anything but stare like an oaf. All of sudden he forgot everything he was there for in the first place.

Perry must have found that funny, for he chuckled and took a pull at his cigar. "Man, what was that?" he nodded to the door.

"Uh, yeah, funny thing..." Leo tried to laugh too but it probably just came out sounding nervous. "I wanted to find you and then… Then someone rounded the corner, and guess who it was?"

"Find me?" Perry simply asked again, never losing his smile. But there was something sad behind it, Leo noticed in surprise. Even his voice was much softer and quieter as opposed to his usual excited chatter.

"Ah, yes, but first… What did you mean that it's not your name?"

"Oh, so you really didn't know?" he looked a little taken aback, but still spoke pleasantly. "I see... Perry is just a nickname, actually."

"Really?" Leo raised his eyebrows. He genuinely had no idea; he'd never heard anyone call him anything else but Perry.

"Really," Perry confirmed, looking quite amused. "You see, no one calls me that, but my name is Oliver… Oliver Peregrine."

"Oliver Peregrine?" Leo repeated, feeling quite dumb for not having known before.

"A stupid name, right?" he smirked knowingly. "Well, that's why I don't use it. You know, we kind of share the same fate, don't we? I haven't heard anyone calling you by your first name either, to be honest."

"Yeah, kind of…" Leo had to smile. He never knew that someone noticed. "And your name is not stupid… Not at all. I like it, actually. Sounds royal."

"Thank you," Perry answered kindly, but once again Leo couldn't help but notice his eyes. He looked tired in a way. But then again, it was the morning.

A moment of silence passed between them, the quiet whistle of the wind being the only sound in the small yard. Leo shifted uncomfortably, looking down to his shoes. He should probably say something.

"So… What are you doing here? I know it's not my business... But shouldn't you be at work?"

Again Perry turned to him, blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Funny. I wanted to ask you the same thing."

"Oh… Touché," Leo smirked. He stopped to think how to put it. "I guess I felt like I owe you an apology, and-"

"An apology?" Perry interrupted, his face softening.

Leo looked down at his hands, wringing them together. "Yes. Yesterday, you were so polite to me, and I was just… I don't know, I shouldn't have turned you down like that. I've thought about what you said. A lot. And I figured that I didn't even give you a chance to properly explain what you wanted from me… I'm sorry, I should have."

"It doesn't matter..." Perry shook his head, his smile wavering.

"No, it does." Leo turned to him fully now, looking directly into his eyes. "I know that it's not easy. Working here, I mean… And you were right. I shouldn't act like it never happened just because-"

"It doesn't matter," Perry repeated, more urgent this time. Suddenly he didn't look so positive anymore.

Leo frowned. "But... it mattered to you just yesterday."

"It doesn't matter, okay?!"

Leo pulled back, startled. What the hell?

He was almost ready to get defensive, but then he noticed that something was wrong. Perry suddenly bent over, holding his head between both hands and shutting his eyes tightly.

"Hey..." Leo reached out but didn't dare to touch him. "What happened?"

Again Perry removed his hands from his face and looked up. Leo felt his stomach drop upon seeing the glassiness of his eyes.

"He fired me…"

---

A/N:  A little fun fact: Perry is based of one of the accountants actually showed in the movie. For those who are interested, it's the dark haired guy in black glasses sitting one row behind Leo, to his left xD

Also... Did anyone notice the little nod to LobbyLane's story universe? ;))

Chapter 5: Coming Up Roses

A/N:  For some reason, this chapter took much more time than the others. Sorry about that! But, to compensate, it's also considerably longer than the rest ;)) 

A little note to my readers and reviewers: THANK YOU!! You make me the happiest :) Also, one person asked if Perry is in the show, so I'm here to answer: Technically he is! He's based on one of the accountants in the movie, but he's mainly my OC as he has no lines there :)

Without further ado, enjoy and lemme know what you think! ^^

---

The simple room gave away more of Perry's personality than he probably meant it to.

Everything in there was functional. The mantle was where he put all his keys. A wrench set and a full ashtray rested on the coffee table. Under the small eating table was a pack of beer and a couple of books and magazines. Leo guessed that the fridge-freezer held meals for one and he had more clothes in his laundry basket than in his closet. He wasn't entirely hopeless though, for he clearly knew one end of a vacuum cleaner from the other; the tiny apartment looked quite tidy as a whole. All kinds of posters enriched the otherwise blank walls, along with a small photo of a man that looked to be around his age; a brother, perhaps. He had never decorated, that was for sure, but then who paints a rental place? Leo knew he wouldn't.

What had hit him the most the moment he had entered, though, was the omnipresent smell of cigarettes. The smoke permeated every little thing, every cotton-fibre, carrying it's odour long after the flames were extinguished. Of course, it was nothing unusual; more than a half of the theatre crew smoked too, after all. Still, he couldn't help the single cough that had escaped his mouth when he inhaled deeply, the acrid smell making his eyes water.

Perry turned to him then, smiling shyly; not a look Leo had seen on his face before. He couldn't help but smile back, for he was grateful to be there that moment. From what he'd gathered, Perry didn't bring people into his apartment often, if ever, yet he had agreed to let him stay for a while without hesitation. And even though Leo suspected that it was more out of practicality than hospitibility, he appreciated it nonetheless- they didn't want to freeze on the cold stairs in front of Whitehall & Marks, nor was Leo quite ready to go home and face Max and the confrontation that was inevitable. So, without ever having planned it, he now found himself in an unfamiliar apartment somewhere in the middle of Brooklyn, with a man whose true name he had learned barely an hour ago.

That was certainly an unexpected turn of events.

"Pretty fancy, eh?" Perry was the first to break the silence.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, and eyed Leo curiously.

"Oh, I'm not the one to judge, really..." Leo chuckled in response and turned his gaze away from the room, realizing that he had been staring too much. "I used to live like that as well… Actually just several blocks away. Did you know? We must have rode the same train every day, too. How could we not notice? Strange, isn't it? I mean, knowing each other for over a decade yet never really crossing paths… Don't you think it's curious?" He shot one question after the other. Then, realizing his frenzied behaviour, he cut himself off at once, one hand digging into his pocket instinctively.

"Woah," Perry snickered. "And they say I'm the chatterbox…"

"Sorry," Leo mumbled. "I- I'm not usually like that. So talkative, I mean. It's just a little, you know, a little unexpected… I was supposed to be at rehearsals right now, yet here I am-"

"Ah ah ah, slow down," Perry held up a hand, skipping over to a small plastic table in the middle of the room and plopped down on one of the folding chairs, motioning for Leo to do the same. Reluctantly he complied, but the feeling of not belonging didn't go away. Even though reason told him that he was better off here, away from the busy theatre, and away from all the worries it brought, his gut said otherwise. But then again, his gut had always told him to run away. From everything.

So, he sat down obediently, giving Perry a chance to speak whatever was on his mind. For heaven's sake, the man had just lost his job, his very livelihood; the least he could do for him was keep him company.

"You, my friend, need to loosen up," Perry began anew, pointing a finger at him with each word.

Leo scoffed in response, a glint of wonder appearing in his eyes.

"What?" Perry asked, the corners of his mouth quirking up as well.

"You sound just like Max right now…"

"I do?" Perry laughed while shrugging his suit jacket off, throwing it across a nearby armchair carelessly. "Well, I don't know you long enough to judge… But it seems to me that you have a type."

"A type?" Leo couldn't hide his astonishment.

"You know, people you tend to weigh towards," Perry winked.

Leo just kept staring.

"I'm teasing you," Perry finally sighed, that knowing smirk of his reappearing.

"Oh..." he merely breathed out a laugh, chewing on his bottom lip.

Perry gave him a strange look, but said nothing. "So, this Max... Will I get to meet him someday?"

Leo's head immediately shot up, eyes widening. "Meet him?"

"Sure," Perry replied shortly, digging through his pockets for something. Leo frowned as he pulled out yet another pack of cigarettes. Did he have an infinite amount of those? "I mean, come on, I'm friends with the partner of Max Bialystock. Wouldn't it be a crime not to encounter him?"

"Friends?" Leo repeated slowly, ignoring the other part of the question altogether.

"Are we not?" he returned the question, looking unbothered as he brought the cigarette up to his lips, reaching for a lighter.

"I… I don't know," Leo admitted, watching the flame flare up and die down again.

"Well," Perry shrugged, taking a long pull. "I think you'd be a great friend."

"Would I?" Leo muttered sluggishly and stared into space, suddenly taken by an unexplained wave of heaviness.

He shouldn't be there.

"Are you okay?" Perry inquired carefully after a moment of silence, taking note of Leo's faraway look. "Listen, I didn't mean to be too straightforward, if that's what-"

"No, no…" Leo shook his head quickly, closing his eyes for a moment to sort his thoughts. "You're not. There are just some… some issues that I've left unresolved, and now you, and I…"

"Me?" Perry leaned forward, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray.

"Yes, you… Look," Leo rubbed over his face once, standing up. The chair made a terrible screeching sound as it was pulled across the floor. "I want to help you; I really do. But I don't know… I don't know how. I need some clarity. I need to know what happened at work, I need to know who you are, but instead… We're just sitting here, pretending that everything's fine." He stopped in front of an armchair, leaning against its headrest. "Well, it's not... I know it's not. You know it's not. So, what are we doing?"

There was a long pause as Perry processed what Leo said, his usual peppiness replaced by quiet deliberation.

Leo looked down, fidgeting with his sleeve. He felt like a scoundrel for sparking hope in him only to crush it moments later. That wasn't how he wanted Perry to view him. He wasn't a scoundrel. He tried not to be. And yet, somehow, he always ended up doing the wrong thing. Was this the wrong thing? But then, how could he know what the right thing was? How could anyone?

"You don't have to help me…" Perry finally found the right words.

Plain and simple. He didn't have to do anything. He could walk away that very moment and never look back. It was almost an invitation to do so. It would have been so much easier. But still...

Leo shook his head.

"I know. But I want to."

"Why?"

"Because," Leo lifted his shoulders in a half-shrug, "I understand. Because it could have been me in your place. Because it's right. Just… because."

Perry nodded. Leo guessed that meant he understood. "So what do you wanna do?" His voice was quiet. Almost hesitant.

Once again, Leo gave a short, humourless chuckle. "Don't you see? That's the problem. What do we do?"

Perry didn't have an answer to that.

As Leo scanned his face for a reaction the silence hung in the air like the suspended moment before a falling glass shatters on the ground. He expected him to come up with a witty response, present him with some clever idea or simply shrug, but he did none of those things. Instead he got up, walked over to his desk and started scribbling something into what looked like an accounting folder. He had just offered him a helping hand and he was accounting. Talk about good manners.

Just as Leo was about to get offended, the sound of paper ripping broke through the quiet and instantly everything came to life again. The room seemed to burst with renewed energy as Perry sprung up, almost skipping over to Leo with the little scrap of torn paper clutched in his trembling hand- from excitement, Leo hoped- and a determined glint in his clever, sharp eyes. He held the paper out in front of him, practically showing it into his face. The sudden, 180 degree turn of his behavior from sulking to practically buzzing with elan was like being struck with a lightning; the sky being dark and gloomy at first, only to come alive with a blaze of electricity coming out of nowhere.

Leo blinked once or twice, still trying to recover from the unexpected change. Then, slowly, warily, he took the paper from him, squinting at the short message written on it. He didn't have his reading glasses on hand, but he was somehow able to make out the handwriting, which was nothing like his own. While Leo wrote in neat cursive, his letters usually inclined a bit too much to the left- a minor defect he simply blamed on his left handedness- Perry's penmanship was terribly spidery and illegible.

Nonetheless, he did manage to decipher it, even if with some difficulty.

"Tillary Street & Adams Street, Brooklyn, 11201," he read out loud. He looked up, confused. "What's that?"

"An address," Perry deadpanned, a strangely mischievous smirk playing on his lips as his eyes bore deep into Leo's.

"Surprisingly so," Leo responded dryly. "What address? Wait... Isn't this where the Brooklyn Bridge starts?"

To that, Perry only nodded, his grin widening. Instantly Leo got an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, for reasons he couldn't quite articulate. What could be so exciting about a bridge? They surely wouldn't find a solution to their problems there. Well, the bridge was pretty high above the East River, so unless he planned to- No. Leo shook his head quickly, mentally kicking himself for even getting such thoughts.

"I see… What for?"

"Meet me there." Perry winked, "Tomorrow, say, 11pm?"

"What?" It took him a moment to process what he had said, but once he did, he immediately knew that it was out of question. "I-I cannot… Max would know, I can't possibly just-"

"Oh, come on," Perry's tone changed to pleading with a hint of urgency. "He doesn't have to know."

"How?" Leo scoffed. "We live together, don't forget."

"So?" He still pressed, his eagerness never subsiding. "That's a detail, you can just say you're going for a walk, or a drink, or visiting some friend of yours, or something… I mean, it's not like he watches every step you make, is it?"

Leo caught himself wincing slightly at the last question. Was Max watching every step he makes? Maybe he was. But then, he didn't mean to be controlling, or possessive, or anything of the kind. Right? It was simply to keep him safe, and, being honest with himself, he couldn't say that he wanted to go anywhere without Max. He has had his share of going everywhere alone, whenever he pleased, but that was only because there had been no one who could join him, or care if he didn't come back, for that matter. So now that he did have that someone who did care about him, he wasn't too eager to ruin his trust by lying about his whereabouts. But then again, he was already here, in this apartment, without telling anyone. Maybe it wouldn't make much of a difference.

"Well, I guess, but I doubt that he would buy it… I mean, why would I visit 'a friend' at almost midnight? And besides, he knows my friends… He could ask them if he wanted to, and he would want to."

"Why wouldn't you? If you happen to have some close friends at whose house you can show up practically whenever, you could actually visit them, just for a while, so that they can't say that you weren't there. It doesn't even have to be so late. You'll turn up at 10 and by 11 you are off to the bridge!" He spoke with such enthusiasm that Leo almost felt bad for turning him down. Well, not almost. He definitely felt bad.

"Yes, that's another thing…" Leo brushed through his hair once which was instantaneously damp, leaving it disheveled. "Why so late? Are we planning on murdering someone?"

"Like who?" Perry snickered. "Marks, perhaps?"

"Perhaps," Leo smirked back, although that thought did cross his mind for a split second; and he dismissed it right away, reminding himself that he was talking to an accountant here, not a serial killer. "But seriously. Why?"

"Pedestrians, my friend. Tourists, people going to work, beggars… All those people cross the bridge day and night, but if I've learned something in all my years there, then it's that most of them are afraid to go over it in the late evening. Even less so in the autumn. We won't be disturbed, I guarantee you."

"Disturbed?" Leo squeaked, feeling a bit too much like a prey being lured into the woods by a predator, about to be devoured. "Disturbed from what?"

"Okay, what's the deal? You don't trust me?" Perry's face fell a little, but he looked at him quite amused. He probably sounded ridiculously paranoid.

"Should I?" Leo answered his question with a question.

"I'll leave that up to you." A corner of his mouth lifted, but then he grew more serious again, as if to prove his pure intentions. "But if you need to know, I just wanna talk. I want to give you the clarity you asked for, nothing more or less. Deal?" He held his hand out.

Leo still hesitated, staring at the hand and weighing what aftermaths this late night outing could possibly have, or if there would be any at all. Or if he could indeed pretend to visit Roger and Carmen. Or if Max would even notice.

"You do have a way to get around your Max, don't you?"

Although a little puzzled at the use of "your" in connection to Max, he nodded.

"So you can come?" That hopefulness in Perry's voice returned.

"Technically, yes."

"And practically?"

He was tempted. Very tempted, even, for his curiosity often took the better of him.

"I-I don't know…" And he didn't.

"What is there to know?" Again, the hopefulness was replaced by urgency.

"I'm just not sure this is a good idea."

"What isn't?"

"All of it. The place, the hour, the spontaneity. Don't you think it's a bit too… personal?" At least it felt so to Leo. It was all so rushed. He barely knew what was going on anymore, all the events from the last two days- it was inexplicably hard to believe that it had been just two days- meddling into one cluster of conflict and uncertainty.

And just as quickly as Perry's excitement had come, it vanished again. His features hardened, mouth set in a tight line as he nodded briskly, withdrawing his outstretched hand and turning away from him.

"Okay. Sorry." He spoke low, and sharp. Something in it sent a shiver down Leo's spine, feeling that pang of guilt in his chest again.

"What are you sorry for?" He didn't dare to raise his voice above a whisper.

Perry spun around to face him again, raising his hands in half-hearted surrender. "I crossed the line."

Leo closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. The problem wasn't Perry's spontaneity; it was Leo's cowardice.

"You didn't cross the line…"

"No?" Perry piped up, letting his hands fall back down. His eyes seemed to brighten in that split second. "Great! See you tomorrow, and don't forget to bring your coat; it's gonna be cold!"

He flashed him a triumphant grin, indicating that it wasn't up for a discussion, and strode over to his kitchen with a spring in his step. The only reaction Leo was able to give was a short, baffled laugh.

So, without any valuable argument to add, he stuffed the paper into his breast pocket and made his way towards the exit. He was too impressed by Perry's ability to get around him to even try to protest further. He would simply do as he asked and be over with it. And, with a bit of fortune on their side, they could even figure out a solution to this mess along the way.

There was nothing to it.

He lingered in the doorway for a moment longer, wondering whether he should show some sort of an agreement to their plans or if his lack of protest was indication enough, when Perry stuck his head out from the kitchen, a malicious glint in his eye.

"Oh, one more thing..." He stepped into the living room, fleetingly waving a round black object in Leo's direction. "If you show up, I'll give you this chic hat back!"

---

It turned out that, much to his surprise, sneaking out from Max hadn't been the hard part; he had merely shrugged when Leo had told him he'll be going to Roger and Carmen's for the evening, which gave him a very clear message of Max still being mad with him. So, not wanting to push his luck, he hadn't tried to talk to him any further and simply left. And secretly, he was grateful that he hadn't asked any questions- it made his whole plan much easier. But, he had learned, nothing was ever that easy. In the end, it had been convincing Carmen that his visit was purely unbiased that had turned out to be more trouble than expected.

"So, enlighten us, - and don't you dare to make something up - what brings you here?" Carmen asked him as soon as they were settled on their overly-cushioned, overly-glamorous sofa.

Leo tried to laugh.

"What do you mean, 'make something up?'"

"It's late," he replied with easy self-assurance. "You never show up this late."

"It's not late," Leo defended himself. "I usually stay up much longer than that."

"Staying up is one thing," Carmen continued, clearly unimpressed by his poor attempts. "Staying up and going all the way here, without Max, may I note, is another."

"Max didn't want to come."

"Didn't he want to come or didn't you want him to come?"

"Why wouldn't I want him to come?" He was baffled. How on Earth was Carmen able to figure it all out this quickly? But he couldn't know. He hadn't told him anything about Perry. He hadn't told anyone.

"Because, if I remember right, you two had fought quite a bit the last time I saw you together." He shot him a glare that was both sympathetic and sceptical. "Isn't that so?"

"You were there," Leo snapped, clenching his jaw. "You know what happened."

"I do," Carmen confirmed, his features softening. He leaned over then, laying his hand over Leo's. He had to keep himself from flinching away. "That's why I want to know why you are here, when you should be at home, figuring out whatever problems you two may have."

That was where Roger interjected. An act Leo was incredibly grateful for, as it had brought him out of that uncomfortable loop of lies, at least for a moment; A moment in which he would make up more, better thought-out lies. Oh, God. What had become of him?

"Darling, I think you are reading into this too much." Roger plopped down on the small sofa right next to Leo, kind of forcing him to be squished between the two of them, leaving him no room for potential escape. He tried to discreetly inch forward to gain a bit more space, but it had little to no effect. Instead, Roger put one warm arm around his shoulders, bringing him even closer. "Leo is always welcome here, no matter the hour or reason." He turned his attention from Carmen to him, giving him a broad, bright smile. "Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

"Of course he is," Carmen retorted before Leo could even say anything, touching his back as well as if to mimic Roger. "I never said he's not. I just want to make sure that everything's fine."

"Why wouldn't it be? Look at him, you're just distressing him with this police interrogation." Roger tightened his grip around his shoulders, in an attempt to reassure him, Leo guessed, but it really had quite the opposite effect. "Is he distressing you, Leo?"

By then, Leo could feel his palms starting to sweat, that all-too-familiar tense feeling settling in. It was being put into situations like these, where he was forced to take sides, that unsettled him more than Carmen bombarding him with questions.

He gulped, squirming in his spot.

"Yes, um, Roger, you are-"

"Right?" Roger offered with a triumphant grin. "Of course I'm right." Then, glancing at Carmen with a sly smirk: "I'm always right."

"Actually, I was about to say 'too close', but… Whatever works." Leo smiled weakly, just hoping to be released already.

"Huh?" Roger still grinned, not picking up on what was being asked of him, but once he did, he recoiled almost comically, that exaggerated look of realization on his face. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetie. We're both terrible, aren't we, Carmen?"

"Speak for yourself," he retorted, smirking as well. "You are. Leo's just too nice to say it."

"Not at all," Leo assured and carefully got up from the couch, trying not to seem too rude by doing so. "But can we not talk about this right now? There was a quarrel, yes. You've both been there, you've both heard it. And no, we haven't talked it out yet, which I know we should, but…," he trailed off, sighing deeply. "But there are other things I need to sort out first. The show… You know, he was right. The show must go on."

Roger and Carmen exchanged glances, as Leo tried to pretend that he couldn't see the worry behind it. "And how can we help you with that right now?" Carmen asked carefully, standing up as well.

"You can't," Leo looked up at him, his smile wavering. "And I don't want you to. I didn't come here to bother you with the production in the middle of the night, don't worry. Can't we just talk, without any deeper meaning? Please?"

In that moment, the tension in the air seemed to ease, and they both smiled warmly at him, their faces softening with relief.

"Of course, Leo," Carmen said, clasping his shoulder gently. "Of course we can."

And so they sat, and talked, and soon enough the entire DeBris house had joined them, chatting loudly and joyfully about events past and present. They had joked, and laughed heartily. It felt like no topic was left undiscussed: everything from Kevin's newest costume projects to Scott's choreography ideas as well as Shirley's potential love interest (which she vigorously denied, of course) found its way into the conversation. But, without ever having agreed on it, no one had mentioned Max or wanted to know anything about their petty fight. Although unsure whether that fact should calm him or unsettle him, Leo was glad they didn't, and just let himself be immersed in their careless joviality. Even if Carmen watched him from the corners of his eyes every now and then, an indefinable expression on his face, he was content. There had been a moment or two in which his heart was all of sudden in his mouth without any apparent reason, and he'd had to stop talking then, reminding himself that they couldn't, and didn't know the true reason he was there. But these incidents passed quickly, and he was able to calm himself and carry on with the pleasant evening without causing any disruption. Later, Shirley had made enough tea for 50, which Leo had accepted gratefully, soaking up its warmth and sweet, herbal scent.

For once, time seemed to flow differently. There was no rush or hassle about what will be; just then and there. It was hard to stay focused in that harmonious atmosphere. So hard that he could have forgotten about the very concept of time altogether, if it hadn't been for Carmen, who, laying on the floor with his feet up on the divan, suddenly propped himself up on his elbows, addressing him.

"Hey, why don't you stay the night?" he offered. The others turned to him as well, nodding in unison. "It's almost eleven, too late to wander the streets alone anyway. We could call Max that you'll be staying, and-"

"No," Leo shot without thinking, aware of how desperate he sounded but unable to contain himself. "I mean, no, that won't be necessary... I won't bother you here for so long, I have to-"

"You're not bothering us," Kevin interrupted and once again, the others agreed eagerly.

"Yes, well, thank you, it was a wonderful evening, but I…" he saw Kevin and Brian exchange long looks, and immediately knew that they suspected something. He cleared his throat, willing his voice to be more convincing. Just this once. "But I have to go home. I promised Max that I'll be back. And I'm sure you can understand that right now I don't want to set him off…"

That seemed to satisfy them, or so he hoped. Still, he couldn't help but feel like he had ruined the atmosphere in the room; stripping it of its warmth and forcing them back into reality. And although the looks on their faces were understanding, he noticed the slight disappointment behind it. What unnerved him more, though, was that Carmen's face hadn't changed. It was almost as if he had expected him to refuse.

"Sure," he heard Carmen pipe up jovially from his spot on the floor. Then, jumping up with the grace of a cat and walking over to him, he took him by the arm. "I'll see you out."

Offering rushed but warm farewells to the rest of the room, Leo let himself be led into the hallway. Once there, he could feel Carmen's eyes on him, observing him closely as he put his coat on, but pretended he didn't notice it. Instead, he busied himself with fastening the coat, button by button, trying to conceal the slight tremor of his fingers. He could tell that the slow, repetitive movement drove Carmen crazy.

He heard him sigh deeply.

"Allow me," he swatted his hands away, buttoning it up the rest of the way quickly, and straightened his collar. Once satisfied, he patted him on the lapels and fixated him with a rather stern look. Leo shrunk back instinctively.

"Leo." Just from the tone of his voice, it was clear that this was going to be a lecture. "If something was going on, be it problems with Max, or the production, or just anything, really… Promise you would tell me."

He looked down at his shoes. "Of course…"

"Leo," Carmen repeated, this time with a warning edge to it. "Promise me."

Forcing himself to look up into his eyes, which suddenly seemed darker than they usually were while they were in casual conversation, he nodded. "I promise."

Carmen held his gaze for a moment longer, as if trying to read his thoughts, searching for any hint of him being dishonest like a hawk. But in the end, it seemed that he'd passed the test; Carmen finally released him, stepping back with a contented smile.

"Okay," he shrugged, suddenly sounding a lot more like himself. Now, that was a relief. "But do me a favour; take a cab and go straight home. No loitering around in the dark, young man. Understood?"

"Understood." Leo couldn't hold back a smirk, doing his best to ignore the pang of guilt making itself known in the pit of his stomach yet again.

"Good. Are you sure you don't want one of us to go with you?"

"I'm sure."

Carmen sighed then, looking a little concerned still, but asked no more.

"Take care, then." He opened the door for him. "See you Monday."

"See you," Leo stepped into the night and gave him a little wave, smiling at his friend's concern.

The door fell closed. And with it, his face fell, too.

Funny. Just yesterday, he'd been asking himself who he was; who he'd always been and who he would be. Now he knew.

A liar. A miserable, colossal liar. That's who.

---

The East River glistened, mirroring the thousands of flickering neon lights, and the luminescence from the restaurants and skyscrapers that lined the shore. The faint wind brushed against the water's surface, the ripples ruffling its stillness, and shattered the reflection of the metropolis. In the dead of night even the city lights ebbed to a mere inkling.

Perry stared ahead into the slow-flowing blackness, eyes looking but not really seeing. He twirled the soft material of a hat that wasn't his between his fingers, tracing over its satin brim. What did he have it for?

What had he expected? Why should he come? For a piece of clothing which, judging by his grand producer status, he could easily replace with a fancier, less worn out hat? It had been foolish to think that it would work. Leo had no reason whatsoever to show up, much less help him. Still, he'd seemed righteous, if not a bit naive… So maybe he was still on his way, simply running a bit late. Or that partner of his wouldn't allow him to go. Or, in case he had decided to hail a cab, he was stuck in the traffic. Or in case he hadn't… Was it possible that something had happened? Wandering the Manhattan streets alone at night was, well, just as dangerous as walking across the Brooklyn bridge, probably.

He sighed, his breath a cloud of mist, evaporating as quickly as it had appeared. Then, almost by instinct, his hand traveled down into his pocket. He pulled out a small box, and a silver lighter, which was almost icy to the touch. But a spark ignited a flame, and soon enough the iciness was replaced with subtle warmth. He closed his eyes, savouring the feeling. That's what he needed. The rich cigar smoke eddied coolly down his throat; he puffed it out again in rings which swirled in the air bravely for a moment- blue, circular -then began to wobble into hour-glass shapes and taper away; odd shapes they take, he thought.

"You smoke a lot," a voice appeared out of nowhere; it had been so unexpected that he'd almost choked on his cigarette.

Catching his breath, he dared to turn around.

"Jesus fucking Christ… You're quiet."

Leo smiled faintly. "They say so."

He had to smirk back, the uncertainty from minutes ago dropping from his shoulders like a sandbag. On the other hand, it was Leo who looked unsure; shoulders bent slightly forward, both arms hugging his torso. But then, maybe he was simply cold. He beckoned him with his hand. "Come on," he said, heaving himself up on the bridge's parapet and patting the spot beside him, "I knew you're a good one."

Leo's eyes flickered to his shortly, but he stayed where he was, staring at the metal railing fearfully.

"What's the matter?" He extended a hand towards him. "Want me to help you up?"

Leo shook his head, looking down. "I just don't fancy heights..."

"Heights?" Perry raised an eyebrow, looking over his shoulder; down at the river and roads below. "That's barely, what, 80 metres? High enough to be painless if you fall, no worries."

"Yes, how reassuring," Leo scoffed, but climbed up nonetheless; shakily but carefully.

Despite Leo having refused at first, Perry took his hand anyway, keeping him steady until he was safely settled. For a minute, neither of them spoke; Leo keeping his gaze fixated somewhere in the distance, and Perry staring at him, trying to read his expression. More minutes passed, and eventually he figured that it'll have to be him who breaks the ice.

"Thank you for coming," he began. Leo only nodded. Perry sighed, trying a different approach. "You know… Only when I'm stressed."

That did get Leo's attention. He finally turned to him, eyes questioning. "Excuse me?"

"You said I smoke a lot," he explained, feeling triumphant that his little trick had worked. "Well, I only do when I'm stressed."

"But you smoke all the time…"

Perry winked at him then, giving him a lopsided grin. "Exactly."

For a moment, Leo just stared at him, incomprehensive, but then the corners of his mouth quirked up, growing into a wide smile, before he erupted into laughter. He was holding back though, he could tell; one hand over his mouth to cover his grin and his laughter was subtle, timid in a way. Still, hearing it -and being the source of it- seemed to brighten the night just a little.

"What, does it bother you?" Perry continued and blew out a gust of smoke pointedly, hoping to amuse him further.

"Not at all," Leo still chuckled and crinkled his nose, waving a hand to disperse the cloud. "I guess we all cope somehow."

Perry scoffed. "I guess you're right… How do you cope?"

"Me?" Leo seemed to think for a moment. "With what?"

"With stress."

"Why, do I look stressed?"

"Oh, please..." Perry turned his eyes heavenward. "Forgive me for noticing, but it's hard not to notice."

Leo tried to make what he assumed was supposed to be an offended face, but his smile gave him away. "Now, that's a good question…"

"So?"

Leo shrugged. "I… I'm not sure, to be honest," he said. "I wouldn't say that I cope particularly well with… with just about anything, but well, there's Max. And besides him? There are my friends, of course, there's music, there's the theatre, that accomplished feeling when your production is going so smoothly that for once, you feel at one with something…" he trailed off then, his mind seeming to take flight, that faraway look appearing again. A daydreamer; that's what Perry always thought him to be just from observing him at work every now and then. He felt strangely pleased at having his assumption confirmed.

"And your blanket?" he added nonchalantly, the thought springing into his head out of the blue.

Leo looked rather alarmed by that notion, though, his eyes growing several sizes. "My what?"

"Hm?" Perry glanced at him, oblivious. "Oh, do forgive me if it's… personal or something, but you know, I kind of noticed. Once again, it's hard not to notice. No offense."

"None taken," he assured and cleared his throat, turning his attention to his hands, which rested on his lap and constantly fidgeted with an edge of his coat; maybe to compensate for the lack of that blanket, Perry thought dryly. "Anyway. Could we… Could we get to the point, maybe?"

"Sure," Perry stubbed his cigarette out on the railing and threw it behind him, aiming for the river. He then turned his whole attention to Leo, moving himself into a crossed legged position- a position at which Leo looked quite horrified, his eyes darting from the river deep below them to him. "Ask away."

"Oh, okay, um… What happened at work? I mean, did you do something?"

Perry chuckled; he had expected him to ask exactly that. "I guess that depends on the point of view. But long story short, the guy behind me failed to prepare the tax returns on time."

That information only seemed to confuse Leo further. "I'm sorry, but I don't follow… Are you saying that he fired you for someone else's mistake?"

"Well, not exactly," he said, mouth twisting into a self-satisfied smirk. "He'd been yelling at the poor man for good 10 minutes, so I asked him to keep his voice down, lest he wishes that the rest of us fail our tax returns."

"You did?"

He nodded proudly. "I did. And it felt great, I'll be honest with you. But that was the beginning of the end, naturally. He turned his attention to me then, and saw a half-empty cup of coffee on my table; an unforgivable sin, as you know. So, he asked me to come to his office 'before he pours the fucking coffee over my overly-gelled head'."

Leo visibly tried to hold back a snicker at his impression of Marks, but failed.

"Oh," he was only able to choke out in between repressed giggles.

"Yeah, oh," he gave him a half-hearted nudge in the ribs to stop laughing at his misfortune. "Well, at that point, I already knew that I was fired; I could see it in that self-assured, spiteful face of his. So I gave him the most venomous smile I could accomplish and followed him, taking my coffee with me... I think you can imagine how this ends."

Leo's mouth fell slightly agape, realization dawning on his face. "You didn't… Did you..?"

He simpered at Leo's disbelief, eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Oh, I did… I so very much did…"

"Oh my God," Leo covered his mouth with his hand, equally shocked and amused. "You dumped the…"

"I dumped the coffee on his head," Perry finished for him, grinning widely by then. "So, yes. That may or may not have contributed to my fate, but you know… Maybe I don't have a way to pay off my debts now, but it was more than worth the look on his face. Good deal, don't you think?"

Despite his jesting tone, Leo's face got distorted with sympathy- if not pity- at the mention of his struggles. "Oh, I didn't know… I'm sorry."

Perry shrugged. "Well, I'm not. But enough of this. It is what it is."

And he meant it. Endlessly dwelling over what could and possibly will happen now that he, himself, had sabotaged his career, seemed quite useless. Partly out of pride and his hard-set refusal to even consider that what he had done was immature and petty, if not borderline illegal. But then, which of the things that Marks had done weren't borderline illegal, or, rather, full-on criminal? Maybe it wasn't right, but it was fair. He deserved every last drop of the coffee on that ignorant, obtuse head of his. His only regret was that he hadn't, like Leo had years ago, added some creative insults to it.

"It is. But it didn't have to be," Leo said, almost to himself.

"What do you mean?"

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug so quick that it looked more like a nervous tic. "I'm just thinking that maybe, if I had agreed to help you deal with him when you asked, this wouldn't have happened, that maybe, if I hadn't been so- so selfish, I guess, you would still have your job…"

"Alright, stop right there. That's bullshit and you know it. Want some?" He presented him with a flask of strong gin that he carried around for cases of emergency; this seemed to be one of them. Leo shook his head, though, insisting that he doesn't drink. Well, only sometimes, occasionally, he'd add after a pause. "Are you sure? From my point of view, you look like you're freezing your ass off a little bit. It would warm you up."

At that, Leo did smile slightly, but shook his head nonetheless.

Perry sighed, clueless how to continue the conversation without mentioning anything that might deepen his apparent feelings of guilt, however unfounded they were. That little remark about his debts seemed to have dampened Leo's mood, which hadn't been his intention at all, for he didn't even want to say it. One of his fatal flaws; he talked and talked and talked. And even when there was nothing more to say, and whoever happened to have enough patience to listen to him had long fallen silent, desperate to end the conversation, he would talk some more.

But the silence was getting too uncomfortable to ignore, and he physically needed to say something; to have Leo say something.

"Hey, watch this." An idea popped into his head just when he thought he might start singing Harbor Lights just to break the quiet.

Almost as if possessed by a strange, intense exhilaration, he reached for his flask and poured the gin all over his own hand, ensuring that no part was left uncovered. He only hesitated for a moment before getting his lighter and bringing it close to his flesh.

Shocked beyond words, Leo jumped back as he watched the newborn flames lick the surface of his hand mercilessly, not leaving a single bit untouched. Refusing to be contained, they danced blue and white, weaving and swirling throughout his hand like an unfinished drawing. Then, as quickly as they had appeared, they died out again with only a light movement, a soft breath of air: its life compositing into nothing but deathlike grayness that floated in the smoky air.

Bewilderment grazed Leo's face, eyes wide, as he gasped: "You're insane…"

"Ah, insanity runs in my family," he replied, more delighted than he should be at Leo's reaction. "It practically gallops. But you know, fire is fascinating."

"Is it?"

He had so many answers to that. He could talk about everything from its practical use to its destructive abilities and finally, its unique beauty. Fire was the most beautiful weapon of them all. The warmth along with the welcoming feel it gave but as you slowly approached, it snarled and bit. Everything you loved could be gone in minutes, due to a single nip. The flames flickered with no thought of the oxygen or the fuel they consumed; they had no appreciation of what had been given to them and no concern for what would be left after. But, of course, he couldn't tell him that.

"Undoubtedly," he said instead. "Don't you find it pretty?"

"There are other things I find pretty, to be honest," Leo sneered.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, this," he gestured to the glimmering view before them. "Although, some nights, I wish I lived in the country. Living in the city means more people are out and about at night, cars driving around with their headlights on, businesses lighting their fluorescent signs… And sometimes I just can't take it. I want to see the sky littered with twinkling stars. I want shooting stars to be a normal thing. Here, it's always masked by the artificial lights and airplanes. And I know it sounds foolish, but for just one night, all I wanna see is the moon and a sky full of stars..." Leo spoke with such genuine, sheer desire that even he found himself at a loss for words. And in that split second- in that faint light and that specific angle from which he observed his features that were almost ceaselessly full of childlike wonder- he reminded him so much of… He shook his head, trying to clear the image. It was merely his imagination, the late hour and the gin combined clouding his senses.

"It's absurd, isn't it?" Leo asked timidly when he didn't say anything for longer than was normal for him.

"No…" he finally replied, snapping out of the trance. "Not at all."

And just like that, it suddenly felt so wrong. All of it. Dragging Leo here, in the middle of the night and possibly damaging his work performance, just when he needed to give it the most he could. Forcing him to be a part of his problems when he had his own. He had done enough for him already; Maybe it was about time he let go of his fantasies that had little to no chance of coming true. Wasn't that what being an adult meant? There was a fine line between determinedly following your desires and childishly seeking justice in a world where fairness was more of a social construct used to soothe the public, while equity was truly granted only to those who could pay for it. It was time to grow up.

"Alright, listen... I'm sorry for making you come. You were right, it was too sudden, too far-fetched, anyway. It was good to have seen you after these years, believe me, even better to know that you're faring well, but look…" he sighed, trying to convince himself that this was the right decision. It had to be. "I think you should go home. I'll be fine. Just tell your partner to get me some free tickets to that show someday, will you?"

"Perry…" Leo shook his head as if asking him to stay, but did nothing to stop him when he started to leave either.

"Oh! And since you're too shy to ask for it yourself," he stopped, reaching into his coat, "here's your hat."

He had to smile at the urgency with which Leo took his hat back, as if afraid that he'd take it from him again. That was the moment where he knew that he'd done the right thing. Leo had his own life now; who was he to drag him back into old patterns?

"Well, I'm afraid that's where we part our ways," he pointed to the direction of Brooklyn and gave him a little salute. "So long, Mr. Bloom. If you need me, you know which side of the bridge you can find me on."

He lingered for a moment longer in case Leo wanted to say his goodbyes as well, but he hadn't, not even when he turned, and went, taking to the streets once again. The relentless downpour of the morning had since tapered off into a softly falling mist which managed to paint the area in a strangely fanciful light - the street lamps caught on the tiny droplets of water granting each lantern a delicate golden aura, and for a few moments, the strangeness of the day was far from his mind.

"Wait!" His peace was short-lived, though, when the sound of scurrying footsteps approached from behind. Surprised, he turned, only to find Leo jogging to catch up with him.

"Wait," he repeated, a little out of breath when he stopped beside him. He waited patiently as Leo gathered his thoughts, looking as hesitant as if whatever he was about to say was a matter of life and death. When he finally found the courage to speak, he blurted out the last thing he expected to hear: "You can work for me."

"What?" He asked, dumbly.

"I could - I will - arrange it somehow. If you want to, of course. It would solve both our problems, wouldn't it?" he implored, sounding unsure of his own words. "I would have more time for the theatre and you, well… You would replace me as our accountant. We'd pay more than Marks; that's a promise." He attempted a laugh, but it sounded rather strained.

He, on the other hand, couldn't bring himself to speak, let alone laugh. "Are you serious?" he croaked out at last. Leo nodded, but this time, it was resolute.

"Seriously, if you're fucking with me-"

"I'm not! I'm not... Look," he said, digging through his breast pocket for a pen. "I'll give you the number to our office; if it's Max who picks up, say it's a mistake. I just- I don't want him to know that we know each other, alright?"

"Alright..." he replied with barely any voice.

"Good." Leo gave him a faint smile. "Do you mind if I write the number on your hand? I thought I had the piece of paper you gave me yesterday, but I must have lost it…"

Of course, he complied, staring in silence as Leo carefully scribbled the numbers on the back of his hand.

"Done," Leo said triumphantly when he finished and stepped back, already starting to walk back towards Manhattan. "Well, think about it... Until then, Mr. Peregrine."

"Thank you," he called after him before he could leave. "I mean it. Thank you, Leo…"

He realized, suddenly, that this was the first time he had called him by his name. Leo halted in his step and looked back at him, an unreadable expression on his face. He waited with bated breath. The producer recovered quickly, though, and only tipped his hat to him before continuing on his way. Glued to the spot, he watched his figure receding into the darkness. What had just happened? He couldn't mean it. And yet… Taking several moments to gather his wits, he allowed himself to laugh out loud- out of joy, out of the absurdity of it all- and headed back into his apartment, too.

He was almost halfway over the bridge when a tall, slender man clad all in black came into his pathway. He staggered back a few steps, startled at first, but giggled it off, too happy to care. He made a move to the side to let the other man pass, but much to his shock, the stranger grabbed him by the lapels, roughly pushing him against the bridge's steel railing.

"Woah!" he exclaimed, holding his hands up. "What's your problem, dude? I didn't see you!"

"Quiet," the figure hissed, their face shrouded by a hooded sweatshirt. Cold fear spread up his body then, but he tried not to let it show.

"Look, buddy, if you're looking for money, I just lost my job, so I may not be the best-"

"Who are you?" the man demanded, ignoring his excuses.

"Pardon me?"

"Who are you," they repeated, voice hard and unwavering, "and what do you want from Leo?"

---

A/N:  Lots of foreshadowing in this one, huh? Now things can get moving! Until next time x

Chapter 6: Conversations

A/N: I wanted to post this before Christmas, so that I might have some time for a holiday oneshot. We'll see!  Needless to say, this is not what I had planned for this chapter and I kept changing it, but sometimes ideas come spontaneously, and sometimes, it's for the better :) But that's for you to decide; happy reading! x

---

It had been barely two days after their first fight when the second, the worse one, had happened.

It had been a Monday; the day for which the premiere of their production, Double Cross, had been originally scheduled. That show - the main source of their problems for the several last months. Agreeing to produce it was one of the hardest decisions he's yet had to make in all 30 years of his career, because unlike all the other musicals he had ever worked on, with or without Leo, it wasn't satire - it wasn't even a comedy.

The story was set in New York during the Great Depression, so naturally, the plot was bound to be of the pessimistic kind, too. It's too depressing, Roger had said to him when he had first presented him with the concept, as he always had when the script didn't exactly correspond with his extravagant idea of what a Broadway show should be. Only this time, he hated to admit, he had to agree with him.

On another occasion, he'd overheard Brian mumble, "This show's more cursed than Macbeth," when a set piece came undone out of nowhere, nearly - thank God just nearly - swiping their lead actor into the orchestra pit. And, indeed as if by some curse, that comment had stuck with him since then.

Cursed.

He had never been superstitious; but maybe it was.

The storyline followed the fate of a wife and her husband, a struggling but ambitious press agent who will stop at nothing to get to the top; he lies, he cheats, he betrays his partners and friends. And despite his loving wife's efforts to lead him into the right direction, he never listens. That was the part that Max did find interesting, for it was realistic, even if more relatable than he'd like it to be. Then there was the predictable, overly optimistic part: The man succeeds despite his crooked methodes, getting columns in the best newspapers and the money and the clients and the fame. But as those tales always ended, his success is short lived and he, the morally compromised hero, goes not only bankrupt, but also gets beaten to death by his own wife.

Roger had been right; it was too depressing.

Ironically, the entire thing had been Leo's idea, a fact by which he had been equally shocked and impressed. The topic was controversial, and risky, but not in the sense that most of their past musicals had been. The audience always expected the same pattern from them; an outrageous, knee-slapping satire that should make them ashamed for even finding it funny, but each night, hundreds of people left their performances in a drunk-like intoxication from the travesty they had just witnessed, and the critics loved it. They all did.

So when Leo had brought up changing their style altogether - as a kind of an experiment, he had later said - he did have his doubts. Serious doubts, if he was being honest, but Leo had been insistent. That newfound confidence and determination was something he wasn't used to seeing in him, but it was strangely charming; a glint of a person he knew that Leo could be. There's so much more to you, he'd always say to him in moments where Leo would doubt himself, apologizing for behaving one way or another. And Leo would always ask: Like what? That was usually the moment where he found himself unable to give a clear answer. There just is, alright? he'd reply, and that would be the end of their conversation.

There always had been something thrilling about him that he couldn't quite decipher or put into words, but now he had an idea of what he meant all along. It was those moments in which Leo would show what he was truly capable of that made him so proud and humble to be his partner, because he himself wouldn't have the courage to go through with such a risk.

But finally, after weeks of bickering and listing the advantages and disadvantages of putting on a show as treacherous as that, he had agreed. Leo had given him a smile so big and bright then, that he couldn't help but give in without further protestations. And Roger, hearing that it had been Leo who came up with it, became an instant fan of the idea as well.

So it had been settled. The actors had been cast, the costumes fitted, and the rehearsals began.

From the beginning, something about it was off. He could tell that everyone felt the same way, but they had never brought it up, never acknowledged what was so obvious. Even though it wasn't, not really. The music, for one, was spectacular; the kind that flows through your veins and swirls in your head weeks after you had first heard it. That was the reason why Leo had fallen in love with the show in the first place, he supposed, and he couldn't blame him. Leo had always seemed to care for music more than he did, but in this case, even he could recognize its potential. Still, there was something not quite right in the way the actors delivered their lines, there was something missing in the script. But every time he'd try to define what the problem was, he found nothing. No one did.

Eventually, they all seemed to surrender to the fact that it'll never be ideal; that there will always be that one missing piece to complete the puzzle. That was, everyone except for Leo who, while painfully aware of his error, was also incredibly stubborn. He'd keep working long after the rehearsals were through, wrecking his brain, longing to make it right; refusing to accept anything less than perfection. He still hadn't.

So they had let him - if only to feel less responsible - but not much had changed. Sometimes, you can do everything right and things will still go wrong; the key was to never stop doing right. Not that he was the one to talk.

But, in spite of everything, the actors acted, the conductors conducted and the directors directed. Everything had run as smoothly as it could have. That was, until summer changed to autumn and took half the cast with it. It had gone only downhill since then; having to drop out himself was merely the last straw. As their production descended deeper and deeper into that hole they couldn't seem to find an escape from, the reason for their dispute had been obvious; Leo had, in the end, decided to postpone the show by a week. He didn't want to do it, Max was certain about that. He did it because others told him to; because he wanted to prove that he had just as much say in what happens to the show as Max did. Quite simply, he did it out of wounded pride. And somehow, that had angered him more than he thought it would.

The breaking point, he supposed, had been when Leo came home that day, well past midnight, looking as careless as if the past months' events never happened - as if with every minute he spent dawdling around the Upper East Side instead of working, their careers weren't sinking a little lower and lower, until they would be nothing but a memory of good luck they once had.

It worried him. For the first time in years, he could say that he was genuinely worried; about Leo's baffling calmness at that moment, about their careers, about their money and their reputation. He worried about the added workload - changing advertising, extending contracts - that Leo had brought upon himself. About the theatre and their actors.

About Leo.

No matter how hard he would try to deny it, it always came down to one concern only; Leo. When exactly had he discovered that pattern, he couldn't recall. Of course, a certain sense of responsibility towards him had been there since the beginning, but something had changed. It wasn't a change for worse, he knew that, and yet, it sometimes felt like it. Because with responsibility came great care, and with great care even greater affection.

At times he liked to, secretly, think of their relationship as a contract; that way it felt like something secure and less abstract, something permanent. But breaking a contract never hurt. Breaking a person did, and that scared him.

"They should have kept you," was the first thing he had grumbled when Leo waltzed through the door that night, smelling of perfume he knew only Roger would wear. He'd been joking then, but it turned out, unexpectedly, that Leo wasn't as relaxed as he appeared to be.

"Maybe they should have," he snapped back and slammed the door.

He couldn't explain what had come over him that moment. Maybe it was the stress; the worry for their show. Maybe it was the worry for Leo. Maybe it was just worry and frustration in general, overflowing the moment the door fell shut. Or maybe - just maybe - it was the worry for his own, selfish being.

Whatever it was that had made him act the way he did, he couldn't explain it - but he remembered what he had said all too well.

You're going to damage everything we've worked for.

God, you're such a puppet; so gullible.

Anyone could play you like a fiddle.

It's your fault.

Incompetent.

Spineless.

A coward.

It was only when Leo had started crying, that he snapped back into reality. It all came crashing down on him then.

And for the first time, after all was said and done, he was certain that the decision he had made those months ago was a wrong one.

He hated that show. He hadn't realized it before, but he did. He hated it for what it was; a reflection of his own past, all his mistakes and faults crammed into one bitter, broken-down character. He hated it for the emotions it awoke in him; for the things it made him say. He hated it for what it was doing to Leo.

He hated it for making him cry.

It really was cursed. It had poisoned their idyllic streak of happy years, when they had nothing to worry about but the way they're going to spend their money. And he had let it.

Neither said anything for a long time, but there wasn't silence. From the other side of the room soft whimpers kept coming, like a small child who's lost his parents. But there was no small child in the room.

Only Leo.

And as much as he had craved to do something that moment, there seemed to be nothing he could say, nothing he could do, the damage had been done. He hadn't even looked at him; he couldn't bring himself to.

"You know, Leo," he began, weary, once Leo's sobs were reduced to heavy breathing, "there's something that Boris would always say to me in times like these."

He finally closed the distance between them and brushed a stray strand of hair out of Leo's eyes, giving him a sad half-smile.

"Opening night and death wait for no one. You're either ready or you're not."

---

He didn't understand it.

The pillows were fluffed, the temperature in the room was perfect, and Roger was fast asleep next to him, looking peaceful. A lingering haze of sleep sat somewhere at the back of his mind but was too far away to reach. He tried to lay on his right side. He tried the left. But no matter how hard he tried, he always ended up laying flat on his back, eyes wide open as he stared a hole in the ceiling. Because every time he'd close them, a pair of icy eyes and a snide smirk would flash through his head. That man. He looked almost amused when he had pushed him against that bridge, demanding answers.

I'm just a friend, he had said, and when he didn't respond: Why, is it so hard to believe that Leo has other friends?

Maybe it was. Not because he wasn't the sweetest man on Earth or, God forbid, didn't deserve them, but he found it hard to imagine Leo going out with 'just a friend' in the middle of the night at the height of their production; especially with one he had never seen or heard of. So he had asked him exactly that.

How come he'd never heard of him?

The answer both shocked him and not: Because Leo doesn't want Max to know.

He didn't like that notion. Not at all.

So Leo had a friend; alright. That friend knew something about Max; expected, everyone who knew Leo was bound to somehow be aware of Max, too. But he was also someone that Leo wanted no one else to know about and only met with at night? If he hadn't known better - if it had been anyone else than Leo - such secrecy could only mean one thing.

Then he had demanded his name.

He had given it without hesitation: Oliver.

Oliver. So Leo's secret - not to mention good-looking and young - friend was Oliver. He had made sure to remember that. Still, he hadn't been convinced, so he asked further. What was his profession? Where did they meet? Why were they on the bridge, of all places? Why so late? Why didn't he want Max to know?

To his surprise, he had told him everything he wanted to know without the slightest uncertainty: He was an accountant. They met at work. Leo didn't like crowds. Again, Leo preferred that they are alone. The only question he took a while to reply to had been the last one, but he had answered even that: I don't know.

How could he not know? What did it mean? Did he genuinely not know or didn't he want to tell him? All those questions buzzed through his mind for the past several hours, refusing to grant him the luxury of sleep. And not only that. What if he wasn't who he said he was? What if he wasn't Leo's friend at all, but someone who threatened him, or blackmailed him, or planned to hurt him in any way?

He didn't know.

He wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he was also aware that now that he had started it - now that he did invade Leo's privacy - he had to find out. But how? He couldn't just walk up to him and start asking about this Oliver. It'd have given everything away. Although, chances were that Leo will already know about their little confrontation before he'll even have the chance to explain himself.

That worried him, too.

He had tried to stay anonymous, yes; the hood was over his eyes and he didn't tell him anything about himself. But Leo wasn't stupid. Quite the contrary; he was very, very smart. Smart enough to figure out who Oliver's mysterious attacker had been, if given the smallest indication.

What was he thinking?

He sighed, rolling over onto his left side for the hundredth time that evening, and for the next fifteen minutes or so, he watched Roger's back; the way his shoulders rose and fell with every deep breath.

"Roger?" It was no more than a whisper; impossible to rouse him.

"Roger."

No response.

"Roger."

At last, a grunt.

"Rog," he repeated, nudging his shoulder lightly, "could we talk?"

Roger groaned again, pulling the blanket closer up to his chin and curling into himself as if that way, Carmen couldn't see him.

"Come on," he pressed, although fighting a smile, "it's important."

He heard him sigh and shrug the blanket a little lower, but didn't open his eyes. "Talk, then."

Knowing that this was the best he could get from him at the moment, Carmen sat up, propping himself with several satin pillows.

"Aren't you gonna fall asleep while I talk to you?" he asked, half joking, half not.

"No."

He smiled. "Alright… Well, I'm not sure what it is, but… Don't you think that Leo's been acting strange lately?"

"No."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Are you even awake?"

"No."

"Roger!"

"What?" he moaned, at last rolling over onto his back and making it seem like opening his eyes was the greatest strain he could ever want from him. Finally he was awake and alert, though; he could tell from the little frown on his face and his eyes weren't glazed over anymore, but glaring at him.

"Good morning," Carmen said dryly, used to his partner's melodramatics. "I repeat: Don't you think he's acting strange?"

"Who?" Roger asked with a whine, still annoyed at the disturbance.

"Leo!"

That made him perk up, and he leaned against the bed frame, searching Carmen's face as if he had the explanation plastered right on his forehead. "What with him?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you!"

Still, Roger looked clueless.

"Jesus," Carmen passed a hand across his face and took Roger by the elbow, dragging him off the bed in one swift motion. "Come with me."

"What are you- Where are we going?" He stumbled after him, still groggy, but followed nonetheless.

He let himself be led into the kitchen, where Carmen sat him down at the table. Walking to the counter, he heated a cup of milk and added a pinch of cinnamon to it; a gesture Roger would have otherwise taken as a display of affection, but the way he slammed it down in front of him told him otherwise. But he didn't look angry, no. His eyes were troubled but more than anything, he was frustrated. So Roger leaned his elbows on the table, granting him his full attention now.

"Don't tell me you've noticed nothing, well, nothing strange, really…" he began, brushing through his hair that was already disheveled from bed. "Not just when he was here, before you say anything. I mean, what about all those little outbursts at the rehearsals? I know that he's stressed - I'd be more concerned if he wasn't - but he's not snappy, and he's certainly not the type for nightly visits. It's just strange; I don't know how else to say it."

"Well, darling," Roger said, his tone as light as if they were discussing the morning paper, "in the best sense possible, Leo is a little strange."

Something about that had irritated him - maybe it was the tone in which he said it, or the way he swirled the creamy, frothy liquid around his cup carelessly - or maybe the fact that it was true.

"That's not the kind of strange I mean and you know it," he huffed. "And besides, don't talk about him like that."

"Like what? You know I love him, but it's true. Look," he set the cup down, getting a little more serious, "if you're worried, why don't you talk to him? Leo isn't secretive, either."

"There's that." He sat up straight, pointing a finger at Roger. "He is. I didn't think he was either, but he is. He wouldn't tell me anything…"

"Maybe that's because there isn't anything to be told." He entwined his fingers, somewhat pleased that his theory could be true. "Quite frankly, Leo doesn't respond well to stressors. He never did for as long as we'd known him. So what I don't get is your sudden concern with behaviour that's normal for him, even more so now when the situation in the theatre is the way it is. Believe me, even Max is losing his mind right now…"

"That doesn't explain anything," he said, even though really, it did. He had considered all that, of course. Not only considered; he had analyzed and reanalyzed it over and over, always coming to the same conclusion. That something didn't add up.

And now, all his doubts and speculations were nearly confirmed by the encounter.

"No, I think it explains everything," Roger insisted. "You may know Leo, but I know Max. And when he gets angry, it's better to leave him alone until he cools; mark my words, I've been around him long enough. Leo said so himself. He just needed to escape for a while."

He couldn't help but scoff at that. "I'm sure he did."

Roger frowned, seeming to pick up on a hint for the first time that night. "I might be wrong, but I can't shake the feeling that you know something I don't."

Although glad that they were finally getting somewhere, he also dreaded having to explain himself. Despite his intentions, it felt like betraying Leo, like ridding him of his right to do as he pleased. Nonetheless, he was faced with two options; leave him be but risk him getting hurt, or interfere but keep him safe.

He chose the latter.

"Alright, you're gonna think I'm delusional, but try to see the connections." He stopped, choosing his next words carefully. "Remember the last thing Max said after they've fought?"

Roger winced. "That Leo doesn't deserve the lost hat?"

He nodded. "Right. Now, where did he lose it? When?"

Roger only shrugged, while Carmen nodded again. "Keep that in mind for later."

So he talked, and Roger listened, only making small sounds of acknowledgement or scoffs of disbelief every now and then. He told him about the way Leo had looked to the ground when he had tried to talk to him. He described the prominent smell of smoke in Leo's hair when he had hugged him - not the usual New York smog; cigarette smoke. He reminded him of his strange, unexpected visit, and the way he kept zoning out every few minutes. But what had stood out to him the most - the thing that Roger kept negotiating - was the way he had avoided a conversation about Max at all costs and how he had claimed that the only reason he had come alone was because of Max's reluctance to come along.

Now, that didn't add up. Had Leo really wanted Max to accompany him - and he always had - in the end, he would do as he wished. The producer had always tried to present himself as unyielding and resolute, but when it came down to it, there were very few things he'd deny his partner.

Because as innocent as Leo seemed, he'd always had his ways to get around people, although he wasn't sure whether he was even aware of it. Over the years, he had gotten them sponsors and signed contracts just using his natural charm and harmless appearance. People trusted him, so if he only tried, he could get them to agree to near everything. More often than not, though, he didn't want to do it, bribing people; but he could.

But, it seemed to Carmen, he hadn't tried that much this time.

Still, after all his observations - all the subtle and not-so-subtle hints - Roger kept staring at him, a permanent little frown upon his brow but not making any connections. Whether he simply chose not to understand or was genuinely clueless, Carmen couldn't tell.

"What are you implying?"

"So you're gonna make me say it? Alright…" He sighed deeply, rubbing his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I think he's seeing someone."

At first, there was no reaction. Then a smirk, tugging at his lips. But the smirk grew into a scoff, before Roger dissolved into laughter so unrestrained and genuine, that he almost joined him. Almost.

"Will you stop that?" he said, but the smile broke through. "I'm serious."

"Oh, of course you are…" He barely managed to choke out in his gleeful hysterics, wiping tears from his eyes as he went. But the more he laughed, the less amused Carmen was becoming. Roger seemed to sense this, though, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself.

He managed to keep a straight face for approximately 2 seconds before breaking into chuckles anew.

Carmen glared.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry…" He held a hand up, covering one more giggle with a cough. "So, you're telling me… You're telling me that Leo - the same Leo that cried when Max had to leave for a week - is out there, having some nightly fun with someone we've never seen? While Max sits at home with the flu, unassuming of Leo's secret rendez-vous? Oh, Darling… If I didn't know better, I'd say you are sleepwalking right now…"

"Well, how else will you explain this? He had left his hat somewhere and didn't immediately rush to retrieve it. And not just any hat - the one that Max gave him. He smells of cigarettes when no one in his close circle is a smoker. He sneaks out and he apparently lies. Doesn't all this seem a little out of place for him?" He was agitated now. Did he really sound that ridiculous? "And besides, I'm not saying that Leo's screwing around with some accountants, or whatever it is that you're thinking about. I'm merely suggesting that he, well… That he needed someone, so he found them. Why he doesn't want anyone to know, I'm not sure… I suppose that he worries that Max would be jealous, which, knowing him, he probably would. But why not me? Or you? I thought he trusted us at this point..."

"With some accountants?" Roger jeered. "Now, where did accountants come from? Even though, I have to admit, if I had only Max to look at all day... I'm sorry, but I'd find someone too."

"Take this seriously!"

"Alright! Alright, just…" Roger shook his head, reaching over the table to lay a hand atop his. "You have to understand, this sounds a bit crazy to me. Leo would never… I mean, I don't think he would."

"I know. But I think he already did."

"Why?" he asked, getting a little frustrated himself. "What makes you think that?"

So it had come to this. If he wanted Roger to believe him, he had to.

He reached into his pocket.

"Well, first of all..." He unfolded a little piece of paper, slamming it down on the table in front of Roger with more force than he had intended. "This."

Confused, Roger leaned over the scrap, inspecting it with furrowed brow, and read aloud:

"Tillary Street & Adams Street, Brooklyn, 11201."

---

"Leo?" The first inquiry was soft, almost hesitant.

"Leo." The second was more of a statement, clear and impatient.

"Leo." When he repeated it for the third time, it was almost a threat; an edge in his voice that he would otherwise try to keep gentle, at least when speaking to him.

Making it blatant that he was still annoyed with him, Leo raised his head very, very slowly, fixating him with a glare that almost made him uneasy. Max didn't budge, though, holding his gaze, eyebrows raised in expectation of some snappy remark. The direct eye contact must have intimidated Leo, though, for he looked down after just several seconds, fidgeting with his pencil as he sat crouched behind the desk.

Max didn't even try to resist rolling his eyes.

He was aware that he had hurt him, yes; but it wasn't as if Leo had left him spotless. Quite the opposite. Still, the little selfless voice in his head kept nagging him, reminding him that he had started it, that he was the first one to say those things, and that Leo had merely defended himself. That voice was right, he supposed. He should just apologize, he supposed; but somehow, his cynicism and pride prevailed.

"How long do you plan on being offended?" he asked, and Leo looked up again, not any less agitated. "I mean, I don't wanna obtrude, but we kind of have a show to produce, so communication-."

"We?" Leo cut him off and despite his somewhat frigid voice, he was relieved.

Ever since their little war of words, Leo hasn't so much as looked at him, let alone addressed him. Max wasn't the type to deal with arguments by this silent treatment nonsense, but he wasn't too willing to be the first one to break it either. So, they had carried on with this battle of wills for a while, but it was so unnatural - so wrong for them, who hardly ever let anything mess with their contentment - that even he swallowed his pride in the end.

It surprised him that Leo was more reluctant to do so.

"Yes, we. Or would you prefer to deal with it all alone?"

"No," Leo mused, turning back to his books, where started scribbling something again, "but I thought that's what you wanted."

He gave a deep sigh, walking over to sit on the edge of Leo's desk. Those who didn't know Leo the way he did would probably disagree; but he was excellent at making one feel guilty when he was in the mood.

"Come on," he nudged his shoulder, "you know me. I say things all the time, but how many of them do I actually mean?"

"I hope that applies uniquely to the bad ones," Leo grumbled and gave him a rather speculative look, before finally breaking into a guarded smirk.

"God, you're impossible…" He had to shake his head. "And I mean that!"

Leo clicked his tongue at him and ducked his head down, pretending to continue reading through the papers; a vain effort to hide his smile. Although his hard-set wish to stay angry with him was quite adorable, Max knew - hoped - that he won't last long.

"What do you want?" Leo asked instead, never breaking eye contact with the work before him.

"Make you talk."

"Why? You know I'm busy."

"Because," Max said, tilting Leo's chin up to meet his gaze, "it's getting late, and you look to be approximately 2 hours from being pronounced dead."

"Thanks," Leo said dryly, twisting his head away. But even in that split moment, his eyes were evidence enough that he was no longer in the mood for bickering, as was his voice when he muttered a quiet "I'm tired."

"Maybe you wouldn't be if you didn't spend nights on end with Carmen and the co," he offered, meaning to lighten his mood.

"I'm not sleepy-" Leo shot him a glare again- "I'm tired. As in drained."

"I know you are." Max allowed himself to stroke over his hair once, and to his relief, there was no protestation from Leo. "But what do you suggest? There's no way around those contracts…"

"I'm aware, but we could make it easier. I thought..." He spoke almost too softly to be understandable, but Max had learned not to tell him to speak up; more often than not, it had exactly the opposite effect. So he didn't, and Leo at last continued. "I thought that maybe we should hire someone."

Max raised his eyebrows. "Like who?"

"An accountant, perhaps."

Stunned, Max stayed silent, expecting him to elaborate, but instead, Leo just stared up at him with his big, imploring eyes, waiting for him to say something.

"Leo-" he tried not to scoff, momentarily worried that maybe Leo was too tired- "you are the accountant."

The accountant in question rolled his eyes - a gesture increasingly less rare for him - and sat up in his chair, as if gathering up some confidence for whatever he was about to say.

"Yes, but that's the point. Maybe I should finally start being a producer instead. Enough of these double shifts, don't you think? You just said it yourself; I look terrible."

He laughed out loud this time, although he didn't find it at all amusing. It was absurd; Leo had always been his accountant, and a good one at that. He seemed to enjoy being consumed by numbers, so deep in thought that he couldn't hear whenever Max would chuckle at his unceasing muttering of figures and fractions and assets and debits; and Max enjoyed watching him, too. But if he hated it that much, why wouldn't he say anything sooner? Why now, when having their finances intact was more important than ever?

He felt himself getting defensive once more.

"What, wanna work with me as little as possible?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Leo said in a low voice, searching his face, "we live together…"

"Much to your dismay, huh?" he barked at him, but the wounded look Leo gave him grounded him somehow, and he took a breath. "No, Leo. Not now, anyway."

"Why not?" A hint of desperation crept into Leo's voice.

"Because it's your job, and it's important."

"And I'm not?"

That made him stop. He didn't speak, what was there to say? Of course he was. If anything in that room was of any value to him, it was Leo.

Still, he stayed silent; out of bafflement, out of dignity that he clung to even now.

"Please, trust me on this..." For once, Leo was the bolder one and spoke first, laying a hesitant hand atop Max's own. "There's someone… Someone who would take the job. We will wait til the premiere is through, of course. But please; let us try this."

Looking from Leo's hand to his hopeful face, he sighed. "Do you know them?"

"No," Leo answered a little too quickly, as Max watched him scramble to change his reply, "I mean, I know about him, but we aren't close, no."

"I didn't think you were; I would know, I hope." He gave him a slightly sardonic smile. "How do you know about him, then?"

"From work," he said, his voice wavering, but the smile he returned was fixed.

"What, is there an infinite stock of miserable accountants at Whitehall and Marks? They give them away for free, don't they?"

"Not really, I'm afraid..." The tension in Leo's shoulders seemed to ease at his jesting comment. "He's gonna want money too."

"Good point here." The mention of money made him sit up, as Leo shot him a look that he knew only meant one thing; don't say it. But "why pay another accountant, when we have you?" he said, and Leo reacted exactly the way he thought he would; slamming his book closed and standing, throwing his hands up in such a comically inordinate fashion that he could only associate with him.

"How could I ever expect otherwise?" he asked; a question more directed towards the heavens than him. "It's always the same story when money is concerned."

"You know that's not true, Leo."

"Isn't it?" He stopped pacing and crossed his arms in a challenge. "Then prove it."

Oh, to hell with it. If there was someone who had already thought of every possible outcome - every thinkable and unthinkable scenario that he somehow managed to consider long before anyone else - it was Leo. And if Leo believed that it was for the best, then he had to believe him, too.

So Leo stared at him in anticipation and he stared at Leo in exasperation when finally, without further consideration nor protestation, he gave in.

"Fine, you manipulator. But don't you think you're gonna see any less of me because of it. On the contrary; the less accounting you have to do, the more time you'll spend at the theatre. Got it?"

"My intention exactly." Leo smiled at him once more, only this time, it wasn't forced, or polite, or whatever other meek expression Leo was able to make. This time, there was a smugness to it that Max wasn't used to, but grew to cherish it more every time it would show itself.

He was about to reach for him but didn't have to, for Leo walked to the desk himself and sat on the edge of it - close to him though there was enough space to sit further - and he was relieved. Whenever a situation like that would come up - whenever he was convinced that this was the time their fortune would end - he was reminded, over and over, of what he had in Leo, and over and over, he would be wonderstruck.

It would seem to others, and sometimes to him, too, that he was always the one reassuring Leo; the ever-confident protector, the only thing standing between him and the rest of the world. But now, increasingly more often than before, he would see how wrong and one-sided his assumption had been. Leo was always there; Leo always stayed.

"I'm sorry," Max said after a silence, and the sincerity in his own voice surprised him. He felt Leo look up, but Max didn't meet his eyes. "What I said; I know it's not your fault." Leo nodded his thanks, but stayed quiet. He could have added, "Well - not entirely," but he knew that would be just another way to hurt him. So he hadn't.

"We're going to the premiere together, right?" Leo asked then, softly, speaking to the ground. "I know I said I don't want to. I was angry, too. But you know me; I won't go unless you do."

That made him laugh for some reason, his frustration subsiding by the minute. "Of course we will, Leo..." He gave him a look. "Quite frankly, I didn't take you seriously even as you said that."

"Hey, don't try me," Leo said, giving him a nudge, and for the first time in weeks, he was truly grateful for the sense of normalcy between them.

Moments passed with neither of them speaking, when he felt Leo moving to get up. Instinctively, he grabbed his arm again, keeping him in place. But when Leo turned to look at him, surprised, he forgot everything he had wanted to say. He improvised. "So, a new accountant, huh? Tell me about him; tell me why we should trust him."

Leo looked startled at the change of topic, but answered immediately. "You don't have to trust him - trust me. I assure you, he's-"

The buzzer of the extension telephone went off like an annoyed rattlesnake. He extended a hand to pick it up, but Leo was faster, jumping for the handset almost frantically. Scooping it up with unsteady fingers, Leo spoke into it, listened for a moment, and just as quick as he was to answer, he didn't hesitate with dismissing whoever was on the other side either. "Later," he said, voice terse, and without another word, hung up.

"The hell was that?"

"The box office." Leo waved a hand. "Because of the refunds. Let's not let that ruin the moment of calm, shall we? I'll deal with it tomorrow; I've got all week."

He nodded, more out of habit than conviction, when he realized, slowly, that Leo was lying to him. There was no way it could have been the box office; It was nearing nighttime, well past their office hours anyway. Leo seemed oblivious to his error, though, as he put the phone back in its place, regaining his seat at the table and sat even closer to him than the first time. He heard him sigh deeply, before he felt the weight of his head, warm on his shoulder.

He turned in his direction then, meaning to say something, but all words had left him. Leo's eyes were already closed; but his face looked troubled. His body was relaxed; but his hands were curled into fists, one of them clutching at the untucked tip of his shirt.

He let out a sigh, too - one of exasperation, of frustration at the unknown - but finally, he gave in to the urge to let things go.

"Yes," he mumbled, feeling his eyes getting heavy as well, "let's not ruin this."

---

A/N: Next one will finally be the big day; the premiere ;) Hope you stick around until then and stay safe x

Chapter 7: Something About This Night

A/N:  So, here it is - the long awaited opening night. A longer chapter this time; hopefully none of you mind :)) Sit comfortably and enjoy! x

---

Perfect lines of hundreds of people kept forming at the doors of the Shubert theatre, excited chatter sounding through all of Shubert Alley. In the swarm of bodies, beautiful ladies clung onto the arms of their charming gentlemen, each of them dressed up to the nines. Some of them already sipped on champagne, while the men stood more to the side, smoking cigarettes, almost blocking the stage door as the last latecomer actors desperately tried to push through them. That was no different from any other performance night - the people, the exciting chaos - but tonight was no ordinary occasion. Tonight was the only chance they had to impress the audience's expectations, however unreasonable or ambitious they might be.

Anticipation hung in the air, its electrifying intensity making it harder to breathe, harder to concentrate on anything but the beating of his own heart. It was near impossible to tell excitement apart from nervousness; both were omnipresent, taking hold in varying situations and at varying degrees.

For example, it had been sheer nervousness when Max pulled him through the crowd and into the lobby, nodding politely at everyone they passed. Being courteous with everyone was important, for you could never be sure which of them were critics and which were ordinary theatregoers, though some of them made it rather blatant, whispering among themselves so loudly that they were hardly whispers anymore. Sometimes their gazes would wander over to him and Max, pointing at them rather shamelessly, and he would try giving them an acknowledging smile, but what he would always get in return were dirty looks. The real nervousness, though, came only when two of those men walked right past them, timing their comment just right so that it would reach them all the while pretending to address the other.

"What do you think, Howie, another hit or failure of the year?"

The man in question - who he would later recognize to be one of the most influential critics of the New York Times, Howard Taubman - only scoffed.

"Failure," he replied definitely.

It was in that moment that he felt the floor sway under his feet ever-so-slightly.

"Don't mind them, Leo." Max brushed it off with an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "It's a mind game. They love to see you shaking."

"Well, if that's what they are doing, they are succeeding. Look-" he held up his hand to show its tremor- " just like they wanted. Oh, Max, I just don't get it… Can't they show a little respect? We all worked so hard for this - literal sweat and blood and God knows what else went into the show. And besides, they can't judge what they haven't seen yet."

"Respect?" Max barked out a laugh. "My naive friend… Don't you know by now? If you wanted respect, you should have pursued any other career. You're never gonna get it from these animals."

"Maybe you're right." He had to laugh himself, relaxing just a bit at witnessing Max's self-assured demeanor. How did the confidence never leave him? "But, still. Right now, I would rather hide behind the seats and only emerge when all of this is over."

"Now, that's a wish that can be granted. Twenty minutes and you can stop all the worrying. It's the point of no return once the overture starts playing."

He looked down at his watch. Ten minutes past nineteen. In all of twenty minutes - twenty five if he added the customary 5 minutes - and their fate would be sealed. No more wondering about what could have been done differently; what could have been improved. Max's phrasing was accurate; it was the point of no return and there was no escaping it.

Max, seeing his inner struggle, only smirked and offered him his arm.

"Ready to take them by the storm?" he asked.

No, his mind replied, but his mouth said otherwise, and he smiled back at his partner warmly.

"When haven't I ever been ready?"

---

It is a different story in the auditorium. With the lights dimmed, the tension in the room increases as the audience begins to quiet down, the silence almost loud in comparison to the noise that buzzed through the theatre just seconds ago.

And yet, it is in that moment that he can feel his body starting to settle as well, nervousness replaced by genuine exhilaration about what they had created. He imagines what must be going on inside all of the actors right now. He can almost see Roger, pacing backstage as he tries so hard to appear calm for the sake of the cast - can almost hear their final proclamations of "break a leg" as they join hands in a silent homage to the show. Nobody knows what to expect; not the audience, not the cast, not himself. But it is better to not expect anything, he had learnt, and instead let oneself be taken in by the matchless atmosphere.

On Broadway, where the theatre is lit up with a thousand brilliant beams, it truly is the broadest way of mankind. Yet the brightest lights of all are inside, awaiting the curtain rise. It is there where people come together in music and dance and show the world that dreaming is something that can happen upon a stage.

Then, in a blink, music fills the air without effort; the sound rushing in and around every person in the room. Some react to the beat, others continue in chatter, but it always speaks to them in some manner. A lively tempo can lift them, elevate the spirit, whilst a slow one can relax the mood. Before the first notes filled the air every person was filled with prejudice and expectations; with it they all feel the same tidal flows and the beginnings of togetherness feels warm.

"What do you think, Leo," he hears Max speak next to him, and he leans in towards him, "is it too late to change everything yet?"

And then the curtain goes up.

---

The feeling came before the performance was even over.

This could be the one, a little hopeful voice kept repeating. After all this waiting, it could work.

Though he wasn't sure what made him so confident. But when the applause broke through the auditorium - when the house was brought down by a standing ovation - he felt something in him shift from doubt to naive hopefulness akin to what he sometimes experienced in his early years of producing. So could this show really beat their expectations, after all the set-backs and inconveniences? Could he have been wrong, could all of them? He didn't dare to make the bet.

Because even though the audience seemed satisfied, leaving the theatre in lively bunches of chatter, it was impossible to miss the smaller groups, loitering after the crowds. Those were composed of men whose faces he mostly recognized, sparing him not-so-subtle looks of judgement and not even making any effort to hide their little notebooks. He didn't want to imagine what kinds of notes they had in there, but he'd been around long enough to predict its nature. It seemed to him, sometimes, that critics became critics just out of spite towards the theatre. Who, after all, could really want to spend all their life criticising an art they would otherwise love?

But critics risk nothing at all, while simultaneously making them risk everything they've worked for. Himself. Leo. Roger and his team. Their cast and crew. All of these people dedicated months of their life to a single piece of art that they have agreed on to be worth the effort. Had it been really, though? They'd have to see about that still.

And yet, he couldn't help but find satisfaction in the process; in everything that came with it, the good and bad. Putting on a show had never been easy, or as poetic as people imagined it, or as thrilling, or as noble. But it wasn't tedious either - it was what it should be and nothing else. The fights, the disappointments, the pressure; those were all a fundamental part of it. But so was love, so was passion, so was union. And he wasn't going to give that up because of several bitter critics who grew to dislike him over the years for one petty reason or another.

At least they tried. At least they weren't afraid to take their chances and just put all their cards on the table. It had been a depleting journey, especially those last weeks, but in the end, he was proud of the result.

Whether the public would share his views, though, was a question of the near future.

"Can you see them?" Leo hissed into his ear, already looking in dire need of his blanket. "They're about to pounce on us like vultures. Just look at their faces… They'd write the reviews in our blood if they could."

"No doubt of it," he replied, "but when has it ever been different? It's probably an act to keep us on edge til the newspapers come out. It's always the same story - pretend they don't like it and then call me a theatrical genius. Lately, anyway. And if the public likes it; well, that's half the victory."

"If they like it." Leo protested, hugging his torso. "You can hardly judge the show's success based on what an opening night audience thinks. At least a half of them were the cast's family."

"Jesus, Leo." He tried not to sound too exasperated, though he was only half listening at this point. "Have you ever tried considering the positive outcome? Those happen too, you know."

Leo didn't react to this - and if he did, it was probably an eye roll - but Max didn't bother to look. His gaze was already fixated elsewhere.

He watched as crowds of people flooded into all the nearby restaurants and buildings, but one place in particular had the most attention. It had a sign hung above its entrance, which simply read "Double Cross - Opening Night Party Tonight". It was meant to prevent regular passersby from bothering, but he suspected it had the opposite effect - anyone who saw it attempted to get in, and when they would be denied, they'd peek in through the windows. What were they trying to spot? Him and Leo, probably.

Ideal moment to join the hassle.

"You coming along or not?" He barely spared his partner a look over his shoulder before stepping forward, more than ready to dive into that world of glory again.

Unlike most of the things that had anything to do with putting on a show, this never failed to impress him. The thrill of being the centre of attention; of being honoured and looked up to by people he used to idolize when he was younger. The pleasure of getting to witness Leo in one of his less guarded states, when the reviews would be released and his relief would be so great that he'd clap his hands in uncontained excitement. You couldn't experience those moments sitting at home, contemplating whether to take the risk or not.

He was proved right the moment he stepped in, Leo trailing behind him, and the guests turned in a unison that seemed almost rehearsed. In an instant, they started clapping, some cheering them on, some raising up their glasses to them. Oh, how he missed this.

He turned back to look at Leo who, though smiling shyly, looked as uneasy as before. If not more so. But he had expected this, knowing his patterns by now. That long hour or two before the newspapers arrived, he'd be on edge, laughing along with others only to fit in, but he knew better. Because even though Leo apparently thought he was being subtle by keeping his hands constantly in his pockets - mainly the left one - anyone who knew him even slightly was able to pin it down to more than a simple attempt to seem casual. He had to smirk to himself when he noticed him doing it even now.

But, to his credit, he'd always loosen up once the critics made their verdict and be able to enjoy the night - as long as the floor wasn't too cramped. Which was partly the reason why the celebration took place in one of the Hotel Astor's restaurants tonight, as opposed to the Sardi's like he had been used to most of his career. Firstly, Leo had insisted on it after a little incident a few years ago, when the Sardi's had been a little too small to comfortably fit a little too many people. And secondly, all about the building was much more luxurious, which was enough to convince him to change locations.

And it had been worth it.

The grand spaces of the hotel invited the lungs to expand, to truly absorb the restaurants' aromas and enter the moment. The walls were adorned with gold and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings, making little specks of light dance around the room.

"Now, that's better, isn't it, Leo?"

He half expected his question to fall on deaf ears, as on these events it was nearly impossible to keep track of the other at all times. Usually, it took about two minutes before someone would separate them, so he'd been almost startled when he turned and Leo was still right behind him, sticking to him closer than was necessary.

Seeing his surprise, Leo smiled his goofy smile and stepped back, nodding in agreement to his question.

"Remind me of this next time you complain about me being too close," he grumbled but didn't make a move to make more distance between them either.

Instead, he took him by the arm, moving through the crowd at an impossibly slow pace, since someone stopped them every few steps. Most of them had the same thing to say; praises about the show, remarks on the talented actors, offers of future collaboration. But there had also been some less pleasant encounters. One man had somehow managed to be intoxicated already, and felt the need to tell them that the lead actress was, in his words, "too much of a tease." Whatever that meant. One stopped them only to confess that they had fallen asleep during the 2nd act's entr'acte. Another woman thought it a good idea to blatantly flirt with Leo while her husband was right there at her side. Such interactions dragged on through all of the evening, but as the time progressed, they gradually became less irritating and more entertaining.

Two things could have been responsible for this change in spirits: his own beginning intoxication or the first reviews finally coming in. Those were opinions from minor newspapers, ones that no one really cared about, but opinions nonetheless. While unimportant, they were positive, which was the main reason for their heightened hopes. Still, everyone was waiting for the resolve of the two most influential papers, ones that could mean the life or death of their show; The New York Times and The Wall Street Journal. Personally, his hopes were on the Journal. He had seen the Times' critic before the show, and although he had told Leo otherwise, he didn't expect anything great from him. The reason for his doubts reached well into his past which, being frank, he would rather leave in the past where it belonged. Taubman had a good reason to not be in his favor, but his relationship with the Journal was still relatively untainted. But of course, it could very well be the other way around. It didn't pay to take guesses in this business.

Roger, however, seemed to be in a much more confident frame of mind. He could hear him before he addressed them; could see him before he danced over to them.

"Look who we have here, the Kings of Broadway themselves!" he greeted them in his sing-song manner, extending both hands towards them.

He rolled his eyes, but more out of habit than spite.

"So it's in plural now?" he scoffed, giving Roger a small hug anyway. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"Fallen?" Roger exclaimed. "Max, please. This is as high as you'll ever be."

"Doesn't that flatter me…" he jeered again, though Roger was right, he supposed; he'd never been this lucky in life.

Roger just waved his hand at him, as he often did when he had no more arguments in stock, turning his attention to Leo.

"And besides, who else would be more fit to take over your legacy than young Mr Bloom here?" He gave Leo a suggestive wink, at which he blushed, his smile sheepish.

"Heavens, give me a few more years, will you?" he said but had to smirk at Leo's bashfulness, who was already attempting to subtly move on to the bar. "If I were in your place, I'd worry more about your replacement. I do hope that Carmen picked up enough directing skills over the years; because I might kill you one day."

Roger burst out laughing at that, the tequila in his hand probably contributing to his easily amused mood, but what caught his attention that moment was Carmen's reaction. Or the lack of it, for that matter.

"Oh, don't you worry," he addressed Carmen, realizing that he hadn't heard a word from him all evening. "He'll get a heart attack on one of the rehearsals before I can get my hands on him."

Carmen only shook his head at both of them, though.

"Might if I borrow him for a second?" he finally said and pointed to Leo, who stopped, a hint of alarm creeping into his expression.

"No," he answered, frowning. "For once I've managed to not lose sight of him for longer than five minutes; let us enjoy the occasion." He nodded to Roger. "Stick to your own man."

Carmen raised his eyebrows at that, looking between him and Leo.

Max knew his looks. Normally, they would be meant for him, judgemental and disapproving of practically every move he made. But that was an unspoken game between the two of them, both enjoying the rivalry more than they'd admit. So seeing that same look on his face - the same look he'd given him after learning about his Springtime swindle - being directed at Leo sparked curiosity in him.

He'd have to ask him about that later.

Still, everyone waited for Carmen's response. A snide remark, a protestation - anything that was expected of him when he was denied something. But none came, and instead, he gave them a curt nod, before leaving with Roger without further explanation.

He looked to Leo, confused.

"What's it with him? Have you two fought or what?"

"No." Leo, who blanched visibly, shook his head. "No, we haven't."

He studied him for a moment, searching for clarity; trying to make sense of all of their behaviors these days. But he could find nothing, could remember nothing that he could put his finger on and say: "This. This is what you've been hiding. You can stop now, because I know; I know and I can fix it." Still, he wanted to trust him. Still, he was convinced of Leo not being the one to lie for nothing. He had never done anything to convince him otherwise. He almost let that reassure him, but then he remembered their fight. And the outbursts at the theatre. And the strange late-night visit to the DeBris household. And finally, he remembered the lie; the dismissed phone call that he avoided confronting Leo about up till now.

That was when he knew; he was being left out of something. Out of something that apparently had nothing to do with him, but was starting to disrupt everyone else. But how could he have missed such a thing? How could anything that concerned Leo not concern him? How could it escape his attention in the first place? He didn't know, which bothered him for the simplest reasons; he wasn't used to not knowing. All his life, he could see through people's intentions even before they saw it themselves, could accuse and condemn a person for their actions and never be wrong in his judgement. That was the way it worked in the business; you either noticed an issue before it could become one or fell short.

And Max Bialystock never fell short.

"Leo, listen-" he pulled him towards the wall where less people could hear them- "I don't know if you realize this, but it's getting quite obvious that-"

He couldn't finish his sentence as the door to the restaurant flew open and a man with a stack of newspapers entered. And despite telling himself - as well all the others - that the critics didn't bother him, he felt his stomach drop as others broke out in expectant chatter, reaching for the papers hungrily. Forgetting about his frustration with Leo, he pushed his way through the swarm of bodies, getting his hands on the Journal's review before anyone else could read it.

With one fortifying breath, he made himself look down at the words before him.

"Living up to its title, Bialystock and Bloom's brand new musical "Double Cross" leaves you feeling, for lack of a better word, double-crossed. The phenomenal score by Frank Loesser and a surprising vocal performance of Alfie Husmann clashes with the bleak plot, creating a massive contrast with this famous duo's previous collaborations. After the success of "High Button Jews", a source of ridiculous slap-happiness for the spectators, this woefully tired story will throw you straight into a middle-age crisis. Combined with its length of more than two and half hours, sitting through it - and leaving unaffected - is a true test of courage.

We are introduced to a Great Depression stricken New York by a captivating opening number, where we meet the show's protagonist. This struggling press agent is eager to make a big name for himself, drawing us into the plot with a long soliloquy about his hopes. However, this optimism fades as the second lead enters - the agent's wife who's against his crooked methods - and only falls deeper down that hole as the show advances. Both heroes get increasingly more melodramatic, coming to a climax right before the intermission, at which point the wife is swaying on the edge of lunacy. We get a new bout of hope at the beginning of the 2nd act, only to be cheated anew. I think it is no spoiler to say that this story is a tragedy from overture to curtain call.

Unsurprisingly, the staging is as cold as the rest of the production, with only minimal set design, up to the point that it's almost unbelievable that this performance was staged by the same Brian Collins that worked on the duo's debut mega-hit "Springtime for Hitler". However, the lighting was a pleasant surprise, keeping the flashiness and glamour that we're used to seeing from these well-known producers, with a new, darker twist.

Although this kind of entertainment might appeal to some, it is extremely off-putting for those who seek a pleasant evening in these gloomy months of autumn. So if a good time in the theatre is what you're after, cross seeing this musical out of your planners; preferably with a double line."

Todd Egan, The Wallstreet Journal

He lowered the newspaper, every part of his body coming to a halt while his thoughts caught up. After a wash of cold he looked up, noticing how hushed everything became for the first time. They haven't stopped talking, no. But they were no longer loud and boisterous in their conversations, choosing to whisper and mutter among themselves instead. He didn't even have to read the Times' review to know its nature.

So, the Journal had failed them. So had the Times, as well as all the people who were starting to leave, wanting nothing to do with a failed show. Even though the majority stayed, he supposed it was more for the alcohol than support.

He realized that Leo was standing next to him only when he heard a sharp exhale, but when he turned to look at him, he was already pushing past people, disappearing from his sight before he could gather himself.

He sighed, suddenly too weary to follow him.

Maybe this was really the end of their lucky streak. Maybe this would really be the one mistake he had to make to be thrown back into old patterns. And if it were to be the truth…

What were they going to do?

---

If anyone had the right to be more devastated than the producer of the show, it was the director.

Carmen looked on, dismayed, as his partner raved, reading and rereading what they had written about their performance, pointing out all that was, in his words, "a completely bigoted judgement of a work of art that was apparently too complex for the corrupt half-wits to grasp."

Not that he didn't share his view.

He had been suspicious about the show at first, as they all had been, but had grown to be fond of its depth after just a few rehearsals. But then, that same depth also turned out to be its downfall.

He sighed, swirling the champagne around in the glass without ever really sipping it, his eyes scanning the room. An advantage of the new, larger space was that he had a better outlook on everyone's faces, as the people tended to stand in groups that weren't too crammed together. The disadvantage was that there were twice as many faces to look at.

"Looking for someone?"

He turned to find Scott standing next to him, watching the hundreds of little interactions between the guests with the same solemn expression. Everyone had grown so grim all of sudden, he thought as he observed him. The night's magic spark went out with a flicker.

"Not at all," he answered after a moment of silence, tearing his gaze away, "just thinking."

"Well-" Scott gave him a side eye, pointing somewhere in front of him- "I think that I've found you your target anyway."

He frowned, following his finger. It led him to the centre of the room, where some commotion seemed to be building up. He squinted, trying to make out what was happening, until he was able to pinpoint what it had been that Scott wanted to direct him towards.

A small circle had formed around two men, one of which was tall and well-built, making noisy complaints while rubbing on his shirt furiously. The other was one he recognized immediately, and he made his way towards him as swiftly as he could.

"Excuse me," he called at the duo before he even reached them, making their heads whip around towards him. "Is there a problem?"

Under such close inspection, he could see the source of the conflict; Leo must have been stumbling through the crowd and accidentally made someone spill their wine - red wine, to make it worse - all over their white shirt. He looked to Leo with a raised eyebrow, who gave him a shrug in return, his expression more frightened than apologetic.

As the man raved on about how Leo walked around like a bull in a china shop, not looking where he was going whatsoever, Carmen just stared at him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. When he at last finished, Leo stuttered out an apology, even offering to pay for the cleaning - to which the man only responded with a vague gesture, already turning his back to them.

He saw that as a chance to make their exit.

Taking Leo by the elbow, he led them back to where Roger and the team still lamented the show's failure. Leo said nothing besides a muttered "thank you", and he had to smirk. It wasn't the first time he's had to save him from a social interaction gone wrong on one of those events, and he knew that Leo was aware of and embarrassed by it. But he never had minded, taking pleasure in the fact that some things never changed.

"You've read it, haven't you?" He heard Leo speak next to him at last, but didn't turn to face him.

"Yes, Leo, I have. Everyone within these walls and beyond has read it; don't try to steer the conversation this way."

"Which way?"

He gave him an unimpressed look. "Away from why I want to speak to you."

That made Leo stop, his expression the same as it had been just moments ago while dealing with the enraged man. But at least he didn't say anything else, giving him a chance to gather his thoughts.

But even then, he didn't know how to begin. Even then, it felt like some sort of a betrayal. Truth was that he didn't want to bring it up at first - at least not with Leo - but Shirley had convinced him otherwise. He wasn't even aware she knew - Roger must have told her - but in the end he took her advice. If Leo really were to be in some kind of trouble, it was better to nip it in the bud.

He took a breath.

"Where were you last Saturday?" He started out simple; hoping it will trick Leo into telling him more than he otherwise would.

"Last Saturday?" Leo frowned. "I don't remember. At the office?"

"Is that a question?"

"What?" He could see that Leo was growing steadily more uneasy, but he wasn't going to give up now. So he waited, and at least Leo answered. "I - no. I mean yes. Yes, I think I was at the office."

"No, you weren't." He crossed his arms. "You visited us, remember?"

"Oh." Leo's eyes seemed to brighten and grow dim at the same time. "Yes, I remember that. You didn't want me to be there."

"What are you saying?" It was his turn to frown. "Of course I wanted you to be there. I just said-"

"You said I should be at the office," Leo shot at him before he could finish, "so I went." He suddenly didn't look so unassuming anymore; his gaze sharp and posture rigid.

Carmen could feel himself getting defensive, too.

"Did you, Leo?" He took a step closer, returning his stare. "Did you really?"

"Darling, what's the fuss?" Leo didn't have the chance to answer as Roger approached them - Scott, Shirley, Kevin and Brian trailing closely behind. "It's not because of the reviews, is it?"

"No, it isn't," he said without taking his eyes off of Leo. "I was just asking Leo about his Saturday night."

"Oh, right!" Roger clasped his hands together as if he'd just told him they were discussing the latest Broadway gossip. Everyone turned to Leo expectantly. "Where have you been, dear?"

Leo let out something he supposed was meant to be a scoff, but it sounded more like he was choking on air; a telltale sign that he was nervous, which, in turn, made Carmen all the more suspicious.

"What the hell is this about?" he exclaimed in that same strained tone. "Why do my whereabouts concern you so much? Don't you trust me?"

All eyes were on Roger now, awaiting his verdict. But he didn't seem to realize that it was a question meant for him, and he looked to Carmen instead.

The focus shifted on him. Did he trust Leo? Normally, yes, without a second thought. Did he trust him now? Of course not.

"Exactly, Leo. We don't trust you. Because we know where your office is; and it sure isn't anywhere near the Brooklyn Bridge." It felt wrong on all levels to be speaking to him in such a manner, but he left him no other choice. Sometimes, the only way to really get through to Leo was by intimidation. He didn't know where he had gotten the mindset that every serious question directed at him was some sort of a personal attack; that behind their every effort to get something out of him was an intention to humiliate him in some way. He didn't want to know, but that didn't erase the fact that Leo still guarded his privacy like his life depended on it.

"How do you know?" Leo asked, his breathing becoming somewhat disordered.

"Alright, listen." He tried a gentler tone, sensing his distress. "First of all, settle down. No one's trying to pounce on you, we're just-"

"How do you know?" he repeated, his voice getting louder. Carmen leaned back a little astounded, but kept his ground. "Did you follow me?"

He took a while to answer that one. "Let's say I happened to know the address."

For several long moments Leo simply looked at him without saying anything; looked at him with those big, imploring eyes. He was almost ready to give in and let him have his secrets to himself, but then something in Leo's face changed. He no longer looked scared or confused. Just deceived. "You took it," he simply said then.

The plainness of the statement made him somehow uneasy. "Took what?"

"Don't act like you don't know," he almost spat. "The paper with the address. You took something that was mine just like that. And yet I'm the bad one? What if it was something important?"

"I'll do you one better: Why don't you want Max to know about it?" Carmen paused. "About him?"

It seemed to be that question that sent Leo over the edge. Visibly blanching, he took him by the arm with more force than he'd expected from the ever-gentle man, pulling him off to the side.

"Could you keep your voice down?" he hissed, his demeanor back to panicked. "Why are you like this, anyway? You're acting as if I'd killed someone!"

Carmen scoffed, twisting his arm free. "No, Leo, you're acting as if you'd killed someone. And quite frankly, I'm starting to think you have."

He knew he was getting prickly, but he couldn't help it. He wasn't the subtlest of people, so this speaking in riddles and endless hinting at things was enough to drive him up the wall.

Leo, on the other hand, looked like he was about to cry.

"What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice much quieter now; much more like Leo. His persistence, too, seemed to be waning.

"I want-" he stepped closer, placing both hands on his shoulders to relax him- "I want to know who that man is and why are you keeping him a secret. If it really is nothing as you say - and I do want to believe you - then just tell me. Tell me honestly, and I swear I'll leave you alone."

"He's a friend," Leo answered after some deliberation, still somewhat irresolute. "Well - he's someone I know. I have for years."

"You have?" He let his hands fall from Leo's shoulders. The man had told him the same story that night - just a friend. Could it be true, after all?. "Oh. I just - I never noticed. I mean, I didn't know you had-"

"Friends?" Leo filled in for him, slight sarcasm lining his words. "I know. I can't believe it either."

"Leo-" he began, but Leo held up a hand.

"I've had a life before meeting Max too, you know? I just want to know someone who doesn't only talk about the theatre. Is it so bad of me to want company? Haven't I been alone enough?"

Carmen shook his head, his resolve crumbling. "You do have company; you have us."

"Yes, but you are-" he didn't finish, making a vague, flustered gesture with his hands.

"We are what, Leo?" he prompted, frustration flaring once more. He clenched his fists. "Too gay? Not fun anymore? Is that what you wanted to say?"

"What?" Leo exclaimed, the offense evident in his voice. "Why would I-"

He suddenly yelped, halting in his protestation. It took Carmen a moment or two to gather what happened, but once he did, he felt his stomach drop, filling up with cold unease.

Two arms encircled Leo from behind as he flinched sharply at the unexpected contact, but Carmen didn't dare to say or do anything. He just watched the scene unfold before him. Slowly, Leo turned, meeting the person's eyes. Alarm spread on his face then, but in that moment, the arms squeezed a fraction tighter and Leo had no choice but to ease into the embrace, reluctantly returning it.

When they finally let go of each other, for an instant, no one spoke. The team stood a step behind them, looking at Carmen, who was looking at Leo, who had his eyes on- "Perry?" he asked at last.

"Leo!" The man in question exclaimed without missing a beat, flashing him a bright smile. "You getting along? I've read the reviews; Taubman didn't disappoint, did he? Though I've expected more from Egan, I have to admit. Didn't you? Well, either way. Wanna talk about it over a drink?"

Leo stared at him the whole time, thunderstruck, not moving an inch. When he finally came to his senses, he glanced at Carmen only for a second before answering. "Oh, right. I mean, of course; to everything you said."

"Excellent," he continued in that same jovial tone, already taking hold of Leo's shoulder. He seemed to notice the team for the first time that moment, giving them a courteous smile. "Unless I'm interrupting something?"

"Not at all," Leo cut in. "We've discussed everything we needed to. Shall we?"

"Gentlemen," Perry - as Leo had called him - gave them a nod, his look lingering on Carmen for a second too long.

He felt the urge to say something then, but all words seemed to have left him.

Perry? Who the hell was Perry? He had introduced himself as Oliver.

What was going on?

Bur before he could react, they were already departing, leaving them more confused than before.

---

"I apologize for that entrance," Perry began as soon as they were seated at the bar. "I just wanted to save you from them. It looked like you were under attack."

"Oh, I was..." Leo laughed humorlessly, passing a hand down his face. "I think you know why."

"That I do," Perry nodded, already taking out a cigarette, "but I swear I had nothing to do with that. He found me himself. But you didn't tell them, did you?"

"About Marks?" He propped his chin up on his palm, staring ahead. "No, of course not. I don't need them giving me a thousand reasons as to why it is a bad idea - I can list them myself."

Perry snickered, waving a waiter over. "Don't you worry about that. Nothing good comes out of expecting the worst, anyway."

"Oh no, worrying works." Leo smiled weakly, watching the bourbon fill up his glass. "Most of the things I worry about never happen. That has to mean something, huh?"

"Now, that's fair," Perry chuckled once more and blew out a gust of smoke which twisted in its artistic way, forming curls in the gloom, illuminated only by the age-speckled bar lights. Along the wall was every hue of amber liquid in their inverted bottles; every vice that Leo avoided all his life. But why should he avoid it now? Who was there to tell him no? The situation practically begged for a drink or two.

So, hesitating only a moment, he accepted the glass from Perry, holding it up with little ceremony.

Perry did the same, clicking their glasses together.

"To the night you'll never remember," he said.

"Let's hope so," Leo replied, coughing lightly as he took a sip. "Tell me, though. How did you get in here?"

"Well-" Perry gulped half the liquor down in one go- "that makes for quite an entertaining story."

"Lucky for you, I've got all night," he said smirking, for Perry's energy was infectious.

So he went on talking, never staying on one topic for too long, and soon, every word that came out of Perry's mouth sounded like the peak of comedy to him. But even though his glass kept refilling, he didn't feel much different, except for the few times that he found himself tipping in one direction through no fault of his own, so he compensated, but overcompensated and was tipping in the other direction instead. Perry kept laughing at that, and he laughed with him, for once not feeling self-conscious in the presence of so many people.

He also kept looking around, trying to spot someone, but who? Oh, Max! Maybe he should find him and tell him that he was doing fine. That the reviews didn't affect him as much as he probably thinks they have. Who cared about the critics, anyway? It wasn't as if the show had to close because of them, no? Yes, he should definitely tell Max that. Thinking of which-

"Never have I ever?"

He turned his head to Perry who spoke, and a split second later his vision followed. Funny. He turned his head once more, giggling when his surroundings lagged again.

"What?" He was finally able to focus on Perry, who looked at him quite amused.

"Never have I ever," he repeated, wiggling his eyebrows. "One of us lists things we have never done and if you have, you drink."

"Oh." All concentration seemed to have left him, but he nodded. "Wanna start?"

"Okay, let's see. Never have I ever.." he rubbed his chin, "swindled the books? Besides Springtime, that is?"

He had to think hard for a second, willing his thoughts to organize enough to come to a conclusion, but finally he smirked, taking a deliberate sip from his drink.

"Oh, you lawbreaker," Perry laughed but kept his own drink where it was. "Was that at the firm still?"

"Mmhm," he affirmed, "for Max, the first day I met him. 2000 bucks or so. Just overlooked a decimal point, you know?"

"So the classic… got it." He winked at him. "Ah, and before I forget - can I sign the contract later?"

"Huh?"

"The accounting contract." He smiled at him. "Remember? Our arrangement? It's just that I still have some paperwork and legal things to sort out with Marks before I can officially look for other jobs, so-"

"Oh, sure." Leo waved his hand dismissively, fascinated anew by how the motion seemed to leave a trail in the air. "He's a prick."

"Word, my friend," Perry agreed, patting him on the back. He nodded towards the bar. "Another one?"

Leo, feeling confident in his newfound sense of lightness, saw no reason to pass the offer up. There was almost a faint buzzing feeling in his core body as he finished something he assumed was scotch; not that he could tell the difference between that and plain whiskey. By that point he was somewhat able to acknowledge that he should probably stop there, but his mouth felt so dry. A small glass of wine to flush down the harsh burn of strong alcohol couldn't make much of a difference, especially as he was never able to get past tipsy.

But apparently, he could.

Maybe it was that one more drink, or perhaps just enough time for him to metabolize that last one, but from that point on, everything seemed to spiral rapidly out of control. His limbs all felt very loose; his head heavier than normal. The careless mood started wearing off as well, his thoughts shifting back to reality, no matter how altered it felt.

He felt the need to get up. He needed to find Max.

"Hey, I don't think you should-" Perry started a second too late.

As soon as he stood, the entire universe seemed to spin around him in a decidedly malicious manner, and it took about all the mental concentration he could muster to focus on a single object in front of him. Or a person. A person?

He saw a flash of silver glimmer in the crowd. Silver. Chains.

"Carmen?" he muttered at what he believed to be a low volume, but apparently was enough to make everyone turn towards him. Including Carmen.

He could see - or guess - that he was moving towards him, though it was quite hard to tell which direction was down. Not that he needed to worry; he'd probably be going that direction soon.

"Leo, what the..." He grabbed him by the shoulders the moment he reached him. He could see him struggling to keep his balance, and he knew he was struggling to keep it. "Jesus Christ, are you hammered?"

"'Am not…" He shook his head, which just made the spinning worse.

"Oh yes, you are," Carmen almost laughed, "you're completely and utterly wasted."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he just frowned, holding onto Carmen.

"Wait." Carmen suddenly stopped looking amused, glancing over his shoulder. "Is that his fault? How much did you have, you moron?"

Again, he didn't know how to answer, but someone did for him.

"Hey, I didn't know he'd get drunk that fast."

"You didn't know?" Carmen exclaimed, his pitch climbing with each word. "You've known him 'for years' and you didn't know that Leo doesn't drink?"

He heard a snicker behind him. "Apparently he does, buddy."

At that, Carmen lunged forward, fuming, but he was somehow able to hold him back.

"Stop," he managed to say, "It isn't… I mean, he didn't…"

"Really, Leo?" he interrupted. "Is that who you spend time with? I'm telling you, this is gonna backfire. Whatever you're doing; it's gonna backfire and there will be no one to help you."

"You don't like Max either!" he protested, pushing him back, though his hands didn't work quite as he told them to.

"That's beside the point," Carmen snapped. "I admit that I think you could do better, but-"

"Better?" he asked, appalled. "What better? This… that's as good as it gets, Carmen!"

"I'm not gonna argue with you when you can barely stand," he said coldly. "But let me tell you this: Keep doing what you're doing and you're gonna ruin the only good thing that's ever happened to you."

He felt his frustration flare at that notion. The only good thing? Was that all his life was worth? Screw him. He knew nothing. Stemming his body against Carmen with all his might, he stumbled backwards, prepared to fall.

But instead of a hard impact with the ground, his back made contact with someone's chest. He instinctively leaned into it, twisting around to identify the person. And even though his vision was starting to get spotty, he recognized the face immediately.

"Max!" Both relief and fear surged through him when he saw his undefiable expression, but he clung onto him nonetheless.

"Why are you shouting?" Max looked at him bemused, then added, "Wait a minute. Are you-"

"He is," Carmen chimed in, his stare burning through Perry. "Ask him about it."

Max raised his eyebrows, turning to where Carmen gestured. "And you are?"

"Oh, my manners." Perry hopped off the bar stool, extending a hand towards Max. "Oliver Peregrine, your new accountant. At your service, Mr Bialystock."

Leo could no longer keep up with what was happening.

He looked to Carmen. He wore the same hateful stare, looking ready to protest, to tell Max everything.

He looked to Max. His expression remained neutral as he took Perry's hand, shaking it with uncharacteristic passivity.

That instant his eyesight blurred, but not because tears were welling up. Everything became fuzzy; then he saw nothing at all. He was floating through an empty space filled with a thick static. Throughout the inky space his heartbeats pounded loudly, echoing in his ears, alongside fading voices telling him to respond. He blocked them out.

Feeling in his body drained away until finally all grew quiet.

---

A/N:  Whew, that was a detailed one. Please note that I have no idea whatsoever what being drunk feels like, so I guess this is a hit or miss! Well, lemme know in the comments :DD Until next time x

Chapter 8: Action and Reaction

A/N:  Still here! Lost a bit of the steam since the last chapter and creativity returned only recently. Nonetheless - Double Cross never left my thoughts and here we are, better late than never ;) Enjoy!

---

Sound was the first to return when he came to; the sound of laughter, reverberating all around the room. Smell and taste was second; the stench of cigarettes that permeated his clothes and the lingering alcohol in his mouth, making his stomach turn. Then, sense and sight; alternating between closing his eyes because he was incredibly tired, and opening them to focus on one object and hold it still because when they were closed, he could literally feel the Earth spinning on its axis.

When he at least managed to coordinate his senses enough to focus on his surroundings more than on the waves of nausea which threatened to make him deposit last night's $100 bar tab onto whatever surface was closest, Leo turned his head slightly to get a better overview of the situation.

Once again, he was on the couch in the office - it was beginning to feel like he spent more time there than in his own bed. And, once again, Max was there - only this time, he wasn't alone.

"Oh, would you look at that! It's alive!"

Leo didn't even have to look to recognize the source of the voice. Instead, he groaned and shut his eyes closed again, as if that would somehow make them both disappear. If only they would keep their voices down. They clearly didn't understand that their every hearty laugh and each exclamation felt like a balloon under his cranium, slowly being inflated, pressure mounting until he thought it might burst. But it never did, and he understood at once why they called it a hangover, for it felt as if the blackest of clouds were over his head with no intention of clearing until late afternoon.

"It is?" Max responded after a moment and turned in his direction, that same annoying excitement in his voice. "I was starting to think he may have overdone it a bit with the celebration."

The statement was met with another bout of laughter, somehow even more obnoxious than the last, and he wanted nothing more than to throw a chair at their faces. Had he been able to get up, he thought he would have, but instead, he wrapped himself tighter in the duvet which had been carelessly thrown over him, the waves of nausea adding to his misery. His brain still felt like it would swell beyond the capacity of his skull, but now his dehydration was too obvious to ignore. He needed water. Preferably to drown in, but just a glass of it to drink seemed like a good idea, too. Forcing his heavy eyelids half way open, Leo swung his feet to the floor, pushing himself up.

Immediately Perry was at his side, one hand hovering over his back, as if hesitant to touch him, yet the other patted his shoulder forcefully. One look told him that he was suppressing a laugh, which somehow irritated him more than the fact that Perry was the reason for the state he was currently in. He never would have touched a drop of the bourbon if he hadn't been there to offer it.

"Get off of me," he snapped, jerking his shoulder away.

"Woah, somebody's cranky."

"Somebody needs to shut up."

His own boldness took him by surprise, but it seemed that his filter had left him along with the first glass and hasn't been back since.

"Leo, manners," Max quipped, but unlike Perry, he didn't try to hide his grin in the slightest.

"Manners?" he parroted more to himself. Why was Max in his favor? Not that he was going to complain, but he had expected it to go differently. After his transparent attempts to keep their "arrangement" a secret, not to mention his yesterday's faux pas - of which the memories, perhaps thankfully, were rather foggy - he was prepared for a sea of questions, along with a few waves of criticism.

He almost believed that he was going to be spared of it, but then Max's face took on a more serious look. He immediately dreaded what was going to follow, though he knew he should have expected it; knew he deserved it. He himself would have been upset, and hurt, if Max were to keep something - or rather, someone - secret from him. Even more so if he had gotten wasted with the said person, in a society where reputation was everything. So, why should he get any special treatment? Being a coward was no justification to be exempt from the inevitable reaction.

"Nonetheless," Max finally ventured, "now that you're alive, I think there's some talking that we - no, you - will have to do. Don't you think, confidant?"

There it was; the "reaction", as his father used to call it. "Your every action, no matter how small, will have a reaction; remember that, boy, and you'll steer clear of trouble. Understand?"

And he did. Perhaps far too well. And so for years, he would go by that rule, and for years, he indeed did steer clear; of experiences, of relationships, of life, really. Well, now he had taken action and so far, it brought him nothing more than what he was told was certain to follow: trouble. For once, he had taken action, and already Max was throwing words like "confidant" at him, in a not so friendly context. The very definition of the word - a friend who you can trust, who you tell secrets - sounded like a mockery, aimed directly at his behavior these past weeks.

He gulped. "Well, Max, I think I owe you an explanation concerning our plans with the accounts for-"

"Your plans? Save your breath." He nodded towards Perry. "He already explained that."

Taken aback, he blinked and turned to Perry as well, who gave him a wink in return.

Still, he wasn't convinced that this was going to be so easy; it never was. So, he asked, "Everything?"

"Everything," Max confirmed.

Max and Perry were getting along well, then. More than well. Was that good? Probably. No, definitely. But Max would hardly address him so strictly if there wasn't more in store. He couldn't allow himself to feel relieved yet.

"So you're not…"

"Pissed?" Max finished for him again. "Well - at first I was surprised, to say the least. I had thought that there's nothing in your head that you won't voice out loud. To me, at least."

You have no idea, he almost said, but stopped himself and hung his head instead, suddenly ashamed of ever having been fearful to tell Max anything. He had never let him down, after all. Even when he had made one bad choice after the other, he had brushed it off and helped him deal with it. While complaining about it, maybe, but never giving up.

"But-" Max continued- "your mysterious friend here explained that also, so relax."

"He isn't my-"

"It was because I told you to keep silent, wasn't it?" Perry interrupted, pinning him with a sharp look. "You know, before things settled back at the firm and all…"

"Oh?" Leo raised his eyebrows, not quite catching up. But then the sharp look softened, and he understood at once that Perry was covering for him. "Oh... Yes, that's right. I'm sorry. I should have talked to you first about it either way."

Max, on the other hand, merely waved his hand. "Ah, nevermind your accounting arrangements, that's above me. The question is why didn't you talk about him? You didn't have to pretend you two weren't friends. What did you think I'd do, get jealous? Heavens, you are allowed to talk to people, Leo. In fact I encourage it. So what was this about? Why all those secrets?"

But Leo could hardly keep up with the onset of questions, his head aching all the more with the strain. "I… What? We weren't-"

"Oh, I'm afraid that is my fault too, Max," Perry jumped in to save him from his nervous stuttering, but somehow it felt more like a disturbance than help. Leo opened his mouth to speak again, but Perry was faster. "It was me who told him to keep my identity to himself until everything's settled. You know, one doesn't want everyone whispering I've been fired from the most influential accounting firm in New York when they just happen to be searching for a new spot."

Perry's explanation seemed to be plausible enough, for Max raised one eyebrow as he always did when detecting a lie, looked between the two of them, then broke into that all-familiar subtle laughter; a sign he was relieved.

He had bought it. Just like that, without any further questioning, without any further doubt. If it had been Leo, he'd have been subject to an hour-long cross-examination to make sure he isn't hiding anything, or worse, outright lying. As paradoxical as it was, Max hated it when people lied to him, and was usually able to recognize dishonesty in a heartbeat just from looking at a person's body language. But now those safety measures were omitted, and he fell for Perry's persuasiveness just as Leo did for Max's, years ago.

What was going on here? It sure was a disruption to how things always were; how Max always was. Leo didn't like disruptions.

And besides - did Perry just call him Max? They were on first-name terms? He couldn't explain why, but it felt like an invasion of something intimate. Up until now, he had thought that Max calling him by his first name within the first day of their meeting was a rare occurrence, something special only Max and him shared.

But now it has somehow lost its meaning.

"Well, then-" Max slapped his thighs jovially and walked over to him- "that explains it. Didn't even hurt, hm?"

With that he ruffled his hair, taking Perry's place by his side. And as much as Leo wanted to

scoff or roll his eyes at the comment, just a look into Max's amused eyes was enough to break his facade. Lifting his mouth into a slight smile, he shook his head. "Only a little."

Max returned the smile but only for a second. "You really went overboard last night, just so you know. Doing okay now?" he asked in a low, suddenly a lot more private voice.

"As okay as I deserve, I suppose," Leo answered dryly.

Max only clicked his tongue in response, handing him a glass of water from the coffee table.

"I should have kept an eye on you. I just forgot that children shouldn't be left unsupervised, you know? Or let near alcohol, for that matter."

"Max…," he was only able to groan in exasperation as he took a sip of his water. It turned out just seconds later that even water was tricky business in his condition, though. For a moment he sat still, counting the breaths he took in and out, and then he dashed as fast as he could to the bathroom behind the desk.

"I'll look after him." He heard Perry say, but didn't pay much attention if a response from Max followed.

When he was just gagging over the toilet until he was coughing up only long strands of saliva, he lowered the toilet seat and sat, resting his face in his hands, until he felt better.

Only then did he notice that he wasn't alone in there, and that Perry sat on the floor, leaning against the wall opposite him. The one dark curl that he always maintained fell casually over his left eye as he curled it around his finger over and over, staring back at him solemnly.

Leo almost started feeling intimidated when even after several moments his stare was unrelenting, but then Perry blinked and was on his feet so swiftly that Leo flinched.

"Hate me still?" The question was jesting - or so he supposed - but he could tell that he expected a real response.

"This is not the best time to ask such questions." Leo buried his head in his hands again, too weary for conversation. "Give me a few hours and ask again."

"Hey!" Perry's tone was still convivial as he came closer to crouch beside him, but his expression didn't match the amicality he presented. "I saved you a great deal of trouble there. He was furious when we brought you here."

Leo removed his hands from his face, suddenly uncomfortable. "Of course… I was just-"

"I know." Perry waved his hand and hopped up again, looming over him instead. He wasn't exactly tall - though not as short as him or Max either - but he had the strange ability to carry himself if he was taller than everyone else. "Just don't forget that, hm?"

Leo frowned, slightly disturbed by the notion, but the sound of the door opening cut off his train of thought.

Max burst into the room, shaking his head as he walked straight towards him. With the both of them standing over him, staring at him and judging, he felt the urge to snap at them; to send them on their way and leave him alone in his self-induced misery.

He didn't have the chance to, though, as Max knelt before him, placing a tentative hand on his cheek.

"Aw, look at this. Who knew he could get any paler?"

Perry made a sound of agreement and smiled, holding eye contact for a moment longer before turning away, somewhat sheepish.

"Listen-" Max continued- "I'll excuse you at the theatre today. I can attend the meeting for the both of us, but…"

He turned pensive, humming in thought, then turned to Perry. "You think you could look after him til I come back?"

"What?" Leo squealed before Perry could give an answer. "No, I don't think he has to… 'look after me', because I will be coming. Just give me a moment, and I can-"

"Sure thing." Max scoffed. "And you will throw up in the cab. Don't think so, buddy."

"But-"

"Come on." Perry finally interjected. "We'll have fun. You'll show me how it's done around here and I'll make sure you don't die of dehydration. Deal?"

"Deal!" Max agreed for him, clasping his hands together. "Leo, two tasks for you - behave, don't die. Oliver - make sure he behaves, don't let him die."

Perry nodded, and leaving Leo no chance to protest, Max gave him a half-hearted pat on the head before disappearing in the doorway, the front door shutting after him just moments later.

They were alone.

"Oliver?" Leo asked then, bewildered, after enough time passed for the silence to be awkward. "You hate when someone calls you that."

Perry shrugged. "I don't mind it as long as I like the person."

Leo raised his eyebrows. "Well, can I call you that?"

Perry grinned and shook his head. "No."

Trying hard not to be offended, Leo sat up slightly, crossing his arms. "Don't you like me?"

"Well, do you?" Perry countered, fiddling with the leaves of a fake flower sitting on their sink.

The question took him off-guard, he had to admit, because he didn't know how to answer it. Did he like Perry? He didn't dislike him, that much he knew. But he felt it was too early to develop some form of a stronger bond, though Perry still acted as if they had been the best of friends, once. Sometime in this perceived past that only Perry seemed to remember.

"Well-" he began at last- "you're nice to me."

"I am?" Perry chuckled. "I mean - you're helping me, after all. A little kindness is the least I can offer you in return, I guess."

"Not everyone would, though. Some people just take."

"Yeah." Perry smiled a little sadly, letting go of the leaf. "Some people."

Another moment of silence passed between them, but it wasn't as uncomfortable anymore. Thinking about it, he didn't know why he was being so reluctant to let Perry closer. He, too, had done nothing to deserve anything less than his kindness. Quite the contrary; he had just helped him a great deal with smoothing things out with Max, something he was now incredibly grateful for. He didn't know if he could have beared Max shouting at him or raising his voice even slightly when his head felt like splitting in half.

Sure, Perry was acting a little strange sometimes, but who was he to say half a word about strangeness? It was still a wonder that someone like him managed to find people who not only accepted him in all his eccentricity, but also loved him.

So maybe he was just being selfish.

"I am sorry. I haven't been making the best impression so far, have I? I don't know if it counts for something, but to my defense, tech weeks, opening nights and a hangover aren't the best precursors for my mood…" Leo chuckled nervously, hoping he would understand. Quite frankly, he was quite surprised he was still managing to pass for normal after the events of the last few weeks. "It'll get better from now on, I hope."

"Mmhm, hope is an important value to keep." Perry laughed a little and disappeared shortly, only to come back with a few documents in hand, which he proceeded to throw into his lap. "But have you seen this?"

Gaze lingering on Perry for a second, he frowned and looked down on the papers. Just a quick overview of its contents was enough to make his stomach do a somersault, only this time it wasn't because of his late-night adventure.

Slowly he started shaking his head. "This is bad."

Even though it was just a general record of the show's incomes, outcomes and attendance percentages - which he had seen a thousand times before, brooding over the books until the early hours of the morning, day after day - it was updated of last night's premiere documentation, as well as the critiques.

"Well said," Perry mused and took the files back. "But don't jump to conclusions yet; it's been just one performance."

"And a fair number of previews which didn't do any better," Leo fretted. "Oh, God. Don't let this be the one that closes after the premiere. Does Max know?"

Perry shook his head. "Not yet. I only finished those statistics a while ago - don't give me that look, Max gave me permission to look through your files - so there was no time to break it to him. I sent the data I could collect on such short notice to the theatre, though. So he'll probably be hearing of it pretty soon."

Although flabbergasted that Perry was able to orientate himself in the documents of their show and add his own figures to them in such a short time, Leo decided to not give it much thought for the moment. Right now, he should be focusing on getting a grip and checking the books himself.

Upon standing he discovered that he was still rather shaky and that the Earth hadn't stopped turning around him yet, but he was able to walk over to the sink without much difficulty. Splashing cold water on his face just to feel something refreshing, he instantly wished he could wash his brain free of the toxins, too.

"Leo-" Perry's voice sounded from the next room- "could you come take a look at this?"

So he did.

After almost an hour of checking and rechecking the losses as well as the small successes of their opening night fiasco, he was exhausted, but at least he had an idea of the situation: This was going to be a box office bomb. He simply knew it.

"So?" Perry asked without looking up, having occupied himself with reading a book that Leo had left on the table a few nights prior - Of Mice and Men, his long-time favourite which also happened to give him the initial idea to produce Double Cross, mainly because of the Great Depression setting.

"So nothing," Leo responded, slamming the books shut as he felt his hands start to tremble. "If the audience capacity of a production is under a certain percentage, investors will no longer want to continue funding that show. It's that simple. If it's not being seen, it's not making money."

"How do you know it won't be seen? The ticket sales will drop a good deal under Taubman's influence, sure, but maybe-"

"Maybe nothing," he repeated, frustration flaring by the minute. "Maybe it is just meant to be. Maybe sometimes, the expectations for a show and very high budgets far exceed critical reviews and attendance and that show becomes an instant bomb. Don't you get it?"

"Hey, calm down, will you?" Funny, it was a phrase that Max would have used, Leo thought, though it sounded more alarmed than Max's usual tired plea. "It's nothing final. And besides, my quest is to look after you, so do me a favour and don't stress it."

"Don't stress it?!" he almost shouted. "How could I possibly not? I've been around long enough to know where this is heading. First, the sales will fall so much that investors will start dropping out. Second, we lose our key actors. Third, the production will close prematurely. And last, Max will kill me, if not the whole production team, because for the record, this was all my idea; so much for being independent. This - this is bad!"

"You already said that."

"It seemed worth repeating."

The outburst seemed to have drained his remaining energy, and he fell back against the chair with a huff. He winced as the movement created a screeching sound on the floor, tearing through his head like a bolt. Great; a migraine on the way; just what he needed.

"Look-" Perry addressed him after a while, gesturing towards the unfinished books- "I know I haven't signed the contract yet, so technically I shouldn't, but if you'd let me…"

Truth be told, Leo couldn't care less whether Perry was officially their accountant or not; the only thing that mattered to him at the moment was that he won't have to be the one to do it.

"You would?" he asked shyly. "Well, if you don't mind… I'd give anything to just be in bed right now, so that would be convenient. Regulations be damned."

"You're the boss."

Thus Perry winked at him, sat behind his desk - it felt so strange, having someone take his place - and got to work.

---

Several weeks after the disastrous premiere, the Shubert theatre was graced with a period of relative peace. It was well-deserved, so everyone made sure to bask in it as long as it lasted. Despite Leo's worries about the show closing as soon as it opened, in the end it didn't, and performances were scheduled to go on for as long as people would have them. So far, so good; though not as good as everyone had hoped.

As Perry had predicted, the sales went down considerably a few days after the reviews were out, and they hardly got an evening with a full house. It was disheartening for everyone - especially for Leo and Max, who had been used to nothing but full houses - but at least there was profit. Not much, just enough to keep the show going, but combined with their savings and a little determination, the show went on. It had to; there was no place for things getting worse, so they just had to hope they would get better.

As far as the mood in the theatre was concerned, there was an improvement. After seeing that even an unsuccessful start did not have to mean an entirely unsuccessful month, the cast as well as the crew seemed to have settled down noticeably. They were still wary, well aware how fleeting a bit of luck could be, but the rehearsals were much calmer than they were for months. There was not as much need to attend all of them either, though that applied mostly to the producers and other employees who didn't have to be present at all times. It was the director who was needed no matter what, which, of course, meant the same for his assistant. A fact that Carmen wasn't entirely pleased with, because the good spirits seemed to have reached anyone but him.

Though it wasn't all bad; less people meant not having to speak as much, thus not having to hide his irritation. But today, the theatre was as crowded as it had been any pre-opening rehearsal, because it was the end of the month. And that only meant one thing; a monthly meeting where they would discuss the show's successes and losses so far. This time, he knew it would be more about the losses, which was one of the reasons why he would rather go home.

Another was that Leo would be there and this time, he predicted there would be no way to avoid a conversation. Ever since the night at the Astor hotel, they have barely spoken, as up until now, they've managed to overlook the other by simply pretending to be busy whenever there was a chance for interaction. He wasn't sure which one of them had initiated the silent treatment, but somehow none of them were willing to let it end yet. Carmen because he was still convinced that Leo was making a mistake with that Peregrine guy. Leo because he was obviously hurt by that notion.

Truth was, he had no valid argument to dislike the new accountant; they haven't made the effort to have a real conversation either, and judging by how everyone gushed about him every time he'd show up at the theatre, there was no argument to make about him. He was polite, he was funny, he was charming. He had never said a cross word or refused to do a favour. At least everyone said so.

But to Carmen, his politeness was manipulative flattery, his humor cheesy, and he just could not see the charm that everyone talked about. He was well-dressed, sure, and conventionally attractive, he supposed. Alright; he knew how to make himself stand out even in a simple well-fitted suit, but that had nothing to do with internal charm or charisma. First thing was, he smoked everywhere. In the auditorium, in the theatre's office where he worked, even in the dressing rooms. This was not allowed; some time ago, Max had banned cigarettes from the main spaces of the theatre because it irritated some of the singers (that was the official reason - the real was that it irritated Leo) and because once, someone had accidentally set a costume on fire because of it. And now that he was breaking the rule, no one said a word, not even Max.

That was the thing that Carmen hated most of all; how well he got along with Max.

Somehow, even after witnessing him get Leo drunk to the point of collapse and the subsequent hangover which had him out of work for three days, Max liked him. For the same reasons everyone else did; he was funny, he was charming, he was someone that Max could talk to without having to worry about insulting him.

As much as he loved Leo, he had complained to him before about how everything was like walking on thin ice; a wrong word could hurt him, a wrong movement scare him, a wrong joke insult him. That was just how Leo was, and Carmen had never minded it, though he understood that for someone as brash as Max, it could get exhausting sometimes. With Perry it was easier; if Max insulted him, Perry simply insulted him back. No hurt feelings, no consequences. Leo would roll his eyes at them, but even he looked to be more amused than anything else.

Which was an issue itself, because it was not like Leo to tolerate breaking the rules, whether it were those of politeness or written restrictions. Carmen didn't understand him; he understood none of them. Could they not see what he was seeing? Did they all fall for a few nice words? Were they not curious to know more?

He crossed his arms with a huff, sinking deeper into the auditorium's seat headrest, watching with a frown as Max prattled on about raising the tickets' prices, to which Roger objected loudly.

"Really? Is that your solution? Ask them for more money and they'll come running to you! I'm sorry, Max, darling, but those aren't your investors."

Despite his grimness, Carmen could not help but snicker at that; the incredulous expression on Max's face as he turned to Leo was just too good.

Leo shrugged and smiled at him shyly. "He's right, Max. The attendance is low as it is, and while raising the prices would result in a temporary profit, it would drop again twice as much. People just would not go."

Carmen thought Max grumbled something like "aren't you smart?" in response, but his attention was elsewhere already. He scanned the stage once, twice; he could have sworn that Perry was standing next to Kevin on the other side of the stage just seconds ago, but now he was nowhere to be seen. Instinctively he turned his head, but of course, there was no one behind him. He shrugged and turned back towards the stage.

"I've gotta tell you; even the meetings back at Whitehall & Marks used to be less boring."

Carmen almost jumped out of his skin. He somehow managed not to curse out loud, but when he looked to his left to see a pair of blue eyes squinting back at him behind his thick glasses, that typical smirk on his face, he thought he might curse anew.

"Do that again," Carmen hissed, "and you better hope your health insurance covers workplace injuries."

Perry scoffed and made himself comfortable, mimicking Carmen's posture; arms crossed, legs up on the seats in front of them.

"Hm, violence. Well, that's one way to go about it."

Carmen shot him a look and said nothing.

"Or we could talk."

"Then talk."

"That's curious-" Perry titled his head- "Leo described you as chatty."

"I really don't care what Leo described me like," he spat, but immediately wished he hadn't; of course he cared. "Maybe I just don't want to talk to you."

"I figured."

Carmen sneered. "Obviously."

"Look." Perry sighed and squirmed around in the seat to face him directly. "I don't know what has anyone told you about me, but we don't have to compete. I'm not here to oppose you."

"Compete? Over what? And with you, of all people? Don't make me laugh; you're not that funny."

Perry only sighed and turned his focus back to the stage. "Over Leo's attention."

It took Carmen a moment to process what he meant. "I beg your pardon?"

"Come on." Perry leaned back, that self-satisfied smirk never disappearing. "You evidently like him. And it vexes you that he's not as much looked at you in the past month."

Who did he think he was? Of course he liked him. Of course it irritated him to no end. But there was no way in hell he'd give this man the satisfaction of letting it on.

"You think so?" he said and noticed how indifferent he sounded. "Has Leo told you that or are you just sticking your nose into things that aren't your business?"

"A bit of both, actually. But enough of this." He took on a serious look for the first time. "I don't mean to antagonize anyone. I'm sorry if you got that impression. And besides, what exactly is your problem with me? What did I do?"

"That's exactly the problem!" Carmen finally lost his patience. "You did nothing. Absolutely nothing to deserve a place in Leo's life. Nothing to deserve Max's respect. And yet, they all just… Who even are you? Where did you come from?"

For a moment, Perry stared at him with that same solemn expression, staying silent. It would have almost intimidated Carmen, had they not been in a theatre full of people he knew. Anything he would say or do, the others would hear. That much was certain, and that calmed him to a certain extent.

But then Perry started shaking his head, and laughing, silently; so silently that it sent a shiver down Carmen's spine.

"Oh my God," he only said. "Oh, God. Of course."

"What?" Carmen demanded, fuming by this point. "What the hell's so funny?"

"You are!" Perry exclaimed. "You're acting as if I'm doing something illegal since day one, always so resentful whenever I as much as look into Leo's direction. You're resentful now too, and why? Because Leo is avoiding you. It really is quite simple, my friend. You're jealous!"

That was the last straw. Standing, Carmen slammed the scratch pad where he kept all his notes about the show down onto the seat beside him. The impact made the first people turn, but he didn't particularly care. Let them hear exactly what he thought about this Oliver Peregrine.

"Don't you dare 'friend' me! You're not anyone's friend, and especially not Leo's! You don't know him. He doesn't know you! Why must he always choose the worst possible influence? First Max, now you. Does he have no judgement? Doesn't anyone here? They may have all fallen for a pretty face, but I'm telling you, anything you do, I'll know, and I will-"

"Are you listening to yourself?" Perry remained seated, his calmness infuriating. He just looked up at him as if he were crazy. "You're criticising his judgement as if he has none of his own. Are you really that bitter that Leo didn't choose you? Everything he wants is inherently bad just because it doesn't include you? Not even Max is that jealous, and do forgive me, but they are much closer than you and Leo ever were."

"What do you know?" Carmen shouted, sure that at this point, all the attention was on the two of them. "You've known him for all of a month! You have no idea whatsoever about what kind of relationships Leo has. You have no idea about me. You don't even know my name!"

For a split second, Carmen was convinced that the last comment had shocked him. He didn't let it show in his expression, but he squinted his eyes, for once not blinking as rapidly as he did most of the time; among other things, though they were harmless, that was a quirk of Perry's that frustrated Carmen to no end.

But just as he thought that he had finally managed to shut him up, Perry smiled at him - a smile he would under other circumstances consider friendly - and deliberately twirled one dark curl between his fingers.

"You sure about that, Scott?"

A coldness akin to fear spread through Carmen's body then, travelling from his hands up to his face. Instinctively he looked towards the stage to try and see if anyone had heard, but it didn't seem like it. His assumption that they were the centre of attention was correct, though, and everyone had stopped talking, the meeting coming to a halt.

But their eyes weren't on Perry as they should be, but on him. Most of them looked shocked, some clueless, but Carmen's gaze lingered on those who looked angry. Roger, standing in the middle of the stage with hands on his hips, wore a frown, eyes searching Carmen's face for an explanation. Then there was Max, his arms stuck mid-air in a gesture of incomprehension, his problem most likely being just the fact that he had been interrupted.

Then he looked to Leo.

He was standing just a few inches away from Max, head tilted to the side as he tried to figure out what was going on. His expression being angry would have been an overstatement, but there was a trace of something Carmen would call worry mixed with hurt.

Carmen felt no sympathy for him though. Who else could have told Perry all those highly personal things if not Leo? All because he wanted him to be safe. But if that was the game he wanted to play, then so be it.

"You-" he hissed, grabbing Perry by the lapels just like he did that night at the Brooklyn Bridge- "keep away from me! If Leo thinks he's better off with you, fine. What should I care if he doesn't? But I'm warning you, if-"

"Jesus Christ, what's wrong with you?" Losing his temper at last, Perry shook Carmen off of himself in one quick movement, standing up as well. "It's not my fault that Leo isn't interested, man! How could you even expect otherwise, acting like you do? Maybe you should accept that and stick to your director. Freak!"

With that, Perry pushed his way around him, in between the seats, storming down the auditorium and up the stage just to disappear backstage. The curtain swirled once and drew closed after him again, making specks of dust glitter in the spotlight. Deprived of their voices, the theatre would be perfectly silent again, if it weren't for the sound of Perry's receding footsteps, echoing all around.

Had he been able to, Carmen would have ran after him to finish what he had begun; to make him realize that he wasn't going to stop until Perry proved himself worthy of a place in their team. He would have, but he stood petrified in anger as he watched Leo storm past Max, who made no move to stop him either, and took the same path as Perry had seconds ago. And judging by the look Leo shot him just before he vanished behind that curtain, he was obviously on Perry's side, too. Even after what he had said - no, shouted really - for everyone to hear. For Roger to hear.

Such lies. Ever since he showed up; nothing but lies. He was disgusted. By the both of them.

He couldn't contain himself anymore.

"Traitor!" he yelled after Leo, even though he was already out of view. Snatching his notepad and a scarf he had thrown over one of the backrests, he flung it around his shoulders and marched towards the stage without even looking at it.

"Roger!" he snapped then. "We're going. Leo obviously doesn't need us here today."

Upon receiving no reaction, he stomped one foot on the ground, his impatience flaring. "Now!"

When he was met with silence for the second time, he finally bothered to meet Roger's gaze.

Much to his shock and dismay, Roger's expression mirrored Leo's almost exactly; there was that same hurt, but the worry was replaced by something that more resembled betrayal.

Had they all gone crazy?

"What?!" he lashed out once more when Roger still said nothing, throwing his hands up.

"What's wrong with you?" was the only thing Roger said at last - the same thing Perry had said to him - before departing as well, several of their roommates hurrying after him, leaving Carmen no place for a reaction.

And just as quickly as his anger had come, it vanished again.

Suddenly, he was afraid.

What had just happened?

---

The sun was already setting when they had gotten out of the theatre, every glass surface in the city reflecting the warm evening glow. It was a particularly nice autumn day, one of those very few when the fall was actually enchanting, the colorful leaves which swayed in the breeze matching the orange sun rays. The rest was just a grey, tiring prelude to winter, but right now, right here, this could be Max's happy place. The circumstances weren't ideal, of course, but the city always had this effect on him; ever lit, ever awake, ever with a pulsing heart.

Allowing himself to appreciate this moment of calm for a second longer, he sighed and turned to face the reality; he turned to face Leo.

They sat in a little diner by the road, the one they always went to after work when they knew they would be too lazy to cook dinner. The outdoor terrace was still open, so they had sat outside to get a little fresh air after such a stuffed meeting.

He watched solemnly as Leo struggled with his tortilla, cursing under his breath as pieces of salad kept falling out of it and the sauce was dripping from the other side onto his sleeve. Still, he couldn't help but smile fondly as Leo picked out the pickles from the poor, massacred tortilla, one by one, throwing each onto the plate angrily.

"You okay there?" Max asked, really trying to hide his amusement, but couldn't.

"I hate pickles," Leo grumbled, not looking up from his dish.

"You asked for a tortilla!"

"I didn't!" Leo countered, sealing the fate of yet another pickle. "I said I don't care."

Again, Max couldn't help but snicker. He didn't know how Leo did it, but he was always the funniest when he was angry.

"Don't think I can't see you're laughing at me."

Max's smile only widened. He chose not to respond and only observed him while he was still focused on his food, because in those moments he could get a better look at him without getting embarrassed from holding eye contact for too long.

The late sunlight accentured his auburn hair to the point it looked ginger - something he adored to tease Leo about, because he was not a ginger - and even though his eyes were turned downwards, he could see the specks of light which revealed that his eyes weren't as dark as they seemed. He would compliment them on his freckles, too, which now made themselves very much visible also, but he didn't want to meet the same end as the pickles.

Finally Leo noticed he was staring at him. "What?"

"Nothing." Max raised his eyebrows and fixated the passing cars instead. "I'm just pitying your tortilla."

"One more word about the tortilla-" Leo said in between a bite- "and you're getting me fries."

Max jeered. "God forbid. I wouldn't want to see what you'd do with the ketchup."

"Well forgive me, I'm a little cross right now!" he exclaimed and dropped the wrap again, wiping his hands.

"Don't you say…" Max rolled his eyes. "With whom?"

"You're seriously asking?"

"Carmen or Perry?"

"I don't know!" He stroked through his hair. "Well - Carmen for sure. He just has to attack him every time he sees him to prove me wrong. But why did Perry say that?"

"Because he thinks it's true." Max shrugged, sipping on his coke. "You didn't think Oliver wouldn't notice that Carmen is not exactly chasing skirts, did you?"

That made Leo stop slightly, and he frowned, but more in confusion than irritation. Or maybe he was just cringing at the name that Max used. "Well, no, but I'm-"

"You're very manly, yes…" Max had to laugh as he leaned back in the plastic chair, ignoring Leo's huff of annoyance. "Hey, let it go. You know Carmen's mood swings - he's gotten them from Roger. And Perry just doesn't know better, can't blame him."

Leo turned thoughtful then, tracing along the edge of his cup with a finger.

"But... what if it's true?" he muttered almost inaudibly. "What if Carmen-"

"I'm here, I'm here!" They were interrupted by a familiar voice. Perry hurried towards them and immediately plopped down in one of the chairs. "Forgive the delay. Couldn't find my folders."

Leo nodded his greetings while Max gave him some sort of a fist bump - that was new - as Perry untangled his scarf. His eyes traveled down to Leo's plate then.

"Ew, what happened to it?" He made a face and raised one eyebrow at Max. "A victim to Leo's wrath?"

"Pretty much," Max answered and they exchanged knowing looks.

"Hey," Leo piped up, "I'm right here, you two."

"Yes, Max!" Perry exclaimed, feigning outrage. "You're speaking like that in his presence and forcing him to eat this? That's practically abuse. Get the poor boy some fries! Just look at him - so pale. You're evidently not feeding him enough."

"Evidently," Max teased. "But I think he's quite content."

"No, Max." Leo took advantage of the situation and smiled at him sweetly. "Do get Leo some fries."

Max looked him up and down. "You shouldn't eat greasy. Remember last time?"

But the glare which Leo pinned him with was enough to convince him, and he sighed dramatically and started for the diner. "Alright, alright!"

"Be so kind-" Perry quipped before Max left- "and bring some coffee too while you are at it."

"You and Max together are starting to scare me," Leo complained, a twinkle in his eye.

"Aw, we do? I think we're quite even." Perry gave him a wink. "Seeing your plate, I'm a little worried for my safety too. Note to self - don't mess with Bloom."

Leo smiled a little embarrassed. "I'm not angry at you, if that's what you're worried about. And I'm sorry for Carmen, he's just-"

Perry waved his hand. "Nevermind that. I'm sorry too, but he somehow managed to push my buttons. I'll try to set it right, okay?"

Leo looked down and nodded. "Thank you."

The sound of traffic and nearby chatter of passersby filled the short silence between them. Leo still hadn't raised his eyes to meet Perry's, so he took his opportunity to say what he wanted in the first place

"Anyways-" Perry glanced over his shoulder to see if Max was a safe distance from them- "there are more important things at hand right now. Let's say I have a plan."

"Really?" Leo didn't sound particularly interested by this, continuing to focus his cup of steaming tea. "Is it a good one?"

"Well-" Perry bobbed his head and gulped - "I have a plan."

At long last Leo raised his gaze. "I'm listening."

Perry considered that a small victory. "You'll need to take a day or two off from the theatre, though."

That did seem to catch his attention, maybe even take him by surprise, but after only a small hesitation, he raised one shoulder in a gesture of indifference.

"Whatever. As long as I don't have to speak to Carmen."

A corner of Perry's mouth lifted. "Understandable. Say-"

He paused for dramatic effect, leaning his elbows on the table just as he did that day back at the café, with that same exhilaration written all over his face.

"Would you be up for a trip down the memory lane and pay a visit to our old prison of a certain accounting firm?"

---

A/N:  Thank you for sticking around! Feel free to drop any question you may have in the comments xx

Chapter 9: Led Astray

A/N:  A quicker update to compensate for the last 3-month hiatus :) Quite a lot of stuff happening in this one; lmk if you notice any patterns ;) But most of all enjoy! x

---

When it was 3 am and he couldn't sleep, he would open the window or step outside on the balcony. Just to feel the cold, crisp air on his skin. To take a deep breath and watch as it created clouds when he breathed out. Or, he would simply look at the dark sky and marvel at how beautiful it was. He would try to find the moon and sometimes even the stars, but it was near impossible to spot one in New York. When he was feeling especially burdened, he would talk to them, whispering all his uncertainties out into the universe. There was hardly the need to do that anymore, now that he had people to confide in, but sometimes it felt better to let the stars carry the weight of his worries instead of Max for a while.

When it was 3 am and he couldn't sleep, he would make himself a cup of tea, grab a pen and paper and write all the things he wished he could say in the form of a letter, and address them to the people he wished he had the courage to tell. People from his past, his present, sometimes even to no one in particular; someone he would maybe meet in the future. When he was done, he would seal them in an envelope and keep them under his bed, thinking that maybe one day he would show them the words he wrote. But for the moment, it would be out in the world and that was all that mattered.

When he would start to shiver, he would step back inside. When his hand would start to cramp, he would stop writing. Then he would crawl back into bed and try to sleep, his blanket safe in his grasp, hoping to feel a little lighter.

But today, none of that seemed to work.

And he had tried. But the usefulness of his thoughts evaporated long ago, leaving his fatigued brain to fire ideas almost randomly, flailing without direction. And when he would start trying to do meaningless Math in his head, he knew that things were bad and he would probably stay in this sleepless state for the rest of the night. In the four hours he had been in bed, though, he must have fallen asleep several times. Not for that long each time, just enough to break his sleep into unrefreshing chunks. But he must have, for he remembered bits and pieces of contextless dreams.

Usually they would be a strange mixture of his current life and of places and people long in the past. He couldn't even call them nightmares, because nearly each one of them would start with something mundane, pleasing even. Like the most recent one; the one he still remembered the most.

He had been with Max in their office, sun streaming in through the french windows and coating the room in a golden gleam. Somehow, he had felt that in this dream it was months after the autumn ran its course, long after he had first met Perry. Yes, it had undoubtedly been summer, and he had felt content and carefree when Max had sat down next to him. There was a reason he had done so, and he had been saying something, but such details he couldn't recall. All he remembered was the moment Max had pulled something out of his pocket and gave it to him. It was a letter, and when he had looked down on it, his eyes fell on a stamp he would recognize anywhere; Whitehall & Marks.

He awoke with a start then.

The other one was much less complex; just a train horn honking in the distance and the feeling of his bed shaking. He recognized the feeling though; it was the same sensation as when the train would stop at its final station, back when he would ride it to work every morning.

A train. Something from the real world. That thought had awakened him again, and soon his mind was back on work, deadlines and gloomy office spaces he would rather forget. He tried to guide his thoughts elsewhere, but soon he would doze off again, and he would be back at the firm. After that they were mere snippets of events he may have experienced, or they may have been just a fabrication of his drowsy mind. He couldn't really tell the difference.

A door slamming down the corridor and a man shouting at someone. Him waking up in his old apartment and realizing he's late. Getting stuck in the old building's elevator.

By that point his heart was thumping out of his chest and he had to get out of the bed again, getting himself a glass of water to refresh his mind. As he sat on the edge of the office's hardwood table, his eyes wandered over to the clock. It was four thirty in the morning. So close to facing the challenges of the day yet so far from letting this night end.

Of course, he knew the reason behind those dreams.

With the day approaching, he was forced to think with building urgency of what was in store tomorrow, and he realized, for the first time really, just how crazy this whole plan was. As soon as Max wakes - or, rather, as soon as Leo wakes him - he and Perry would stay behind and instead of heading to the theatre, they would head to Chambers Street, to visit, as Perry had once said, "their old prison of a certain accounting firm".

There was nothing he wished to do less, but Perry insisted that it was necessary, and that he had to go with him. Firstly because they needed to collect some documents which would convict Marks of abusing the workplace policy, and Leo had to be the one to collect them because the staff was less likely to remember him and therefore recognize he shouldn't be there. Secondly because Perry wouldn't want to go alone anyway, and Leo owed him.

Of course, getting those documents would only serve as supporting material to what they already suspected was dubious. They couldn't present it to any authorities - that would be like giving themselves away - but they could lead them to it. And firing accusations with no material evidence would surely be dismissed.

Another complication was that to do so, he would have to skip work, because it was the only day that their former boss would be out of town with no one else in charge - and even if someone was, he wouldn't let them into his office. But what bothered him more than missing a day at the theatre was that he had to lie to Max. Because he still knew nothing about their true intentions, the only thing he could do to ensure staying at home - or to make Max believe so - was fake an illness.

It felt low to make Max worry for nothing, but what choice did he have? He would tell him; eventually. Right now it would do more harm than good.

But the more he thought about it, the more possibilities of things going wrong crossed his mind, and the more he was starting to doubt his decisions. But he couldn't back out now. Not only did he have to do it for Perry and everyone else in the firm, but also for himself. If he gave up because of his cowardice again, it would be a blow to his confidence which, as everyone would agree, was dangerously low already.

So as always, he had said yes. And as always, he was reconsidering his choices once he actually had to take action.

He desperately needed to talk to someone. Either to tell him that it was insane and make him quit, or to make him stick through. But who could he go to?

Not Max, for obvious reasons, and certainly not Carmen. But excluding Carmen essentially meant excluding the rest of his friends as well, for they all came from the same household. Who would have thought that having more relationships than ever before in his life wouldn't guarantee him something as simple as a listening ear?

He had no choice. And only one person would understand anyway.

Setting the half-empty glass down as quietly as possible, he reached for the phone, dialing the number he knew from memory by now.

It rang for a rather long time, to the point that he considered hanging up, but at last a tired voice sounded from the other side.

"The fuck?"

Leo had to chuckle.

"Hey, it's just me. I'm sorry for waking you up, but-"

"Leo?" Perry's voice changed from annoyed to intrigued within a heartbeat. He heard the distant shuffling of bed sheets as he presumably sat up. "Everything okay?"

"Well, what do you think? I'm calling you in the middle of the night," Leo tried to joke, but received no response. So he cleared his throat, always careful to keep silent. "Anyway. I know this must be terribly unexpected, but… I'm so sorry, I really didn't know who else to call."

"I don't mind you calling, but for the love of God, stop being sorry and spit it out."

Although the wording was rather harsh, Leo could tell when he was being serious and when he simply wanted to lift the spirits.

This was the latter.

"Yes, I'm sorry - well…" he hesitated, considering whether he should maybe make an excuse and let him go back to sleep. But there was nothing he could think of, so he decided to let it happen.

"Leo?"

"Can you please come?" When he finally got the words out, his voice was quiet, so quiet that for a moment he wondered if Perry could even hear it.

He was almost about to repeat himself when the silence stretched on, but finally he got a delayed answer.

"Sure." Though he sounded somewhat aghast, he also didn't sound angry, which calmed him. "Sure I can."

So Leo explained what was going on, and why he was the only person he could talk to, as well as why Max couldn't know. They arranged to meet on the roof of the building, where it would be far enough from Max's earshot, but close enough to home.

He got dressed hastily, only taking a light jacket he knew he would probably be cold in, but he felt like needing to cool off. He had also left a note, just in case Max would wake up and see him missing.

"Wasn't feeling well - took a walk. Be back by sunrise - L," was all he wrote.

Depositing it on the bed, he took one careful look at Max, fast asleep, and left without further consideration.

---

By the time he made it to the rooftop, Leo was frantic, riddled with all kinds of paranoia. That Max was going to see through it. That Carmen already did and was going to tell Max. That they were going to get caught. That they were going to get into trouble. That he would go to jail for it - again.

On and on he went with the catastrophic scenarios, until Perry had to physically force him to sit down, take a breath and try to have a sensible conversation about it. It was rather cold up there, the early morning breeze chilly, but not nearly freezing enough to justify the intensity with which Leo shook. And though he insisted that he wasn't cold, that it was simply the adrenaline, Perry had him take his jacket anyway, and eventually, he seemed to have settled down.

Not wanting to set him off again, he offered they lay on their backs and watch the dawn slowly take over the sky until he was ready to talk. So for the several following minutes, neither of them spoke, staring up into the bluish dark above them. Judging by the speed at which the clouds were changing colors, they had maybe an hour before the sun would rise. He thought that if Leo wouldn't speak up for another half an hour, he would prompt him, but in the end he didn't have to.

Gaze still lost somewhere in the sky, Perry saw in his peripheral vision as Leo put one hand under his head, titling it towards him.

"I didn't even thank you," he spoke at last. "You could be asleep right now."

"Ah, don't mention it." Perry copied his pose. "Nobody waits for me in the morning. Or in the evening, for that matter. I can do whatever I want; total freedom."

"Freedom or loneliness?" Leo asked almost inaudibly.

Taken aback, Perry cocked an eyebrow, looking to Leo for an explanation.

"I'm sorry," he quickly spluttered. "I don't know why I said that. That was-"

Perry waved a hand, frowning in thought. "I'm not lonely. I see people all the time."

"People or friends?"

He had to laugh. "What?"

"There's a difference between the two, you know." Leo smiled back faintly. "Do you have friends?"

He was surprised at Leo going for such personal questions, especially as he had never asked much about himself. He just chose to trust him, it seemed, a naivety he was still somehow bewildered by.

He took a moment to answer.

"Naturally I do. Besides you and Max… the whole theatre now, wouldn't you say?"

Leo smirked, probably seeing through his attempt at avoiding the topic. "I'll have to ask Carmen about that. But I mean it - is there someone? A girlfriend, a best friend?"

Perry shrugged, turning his head away to watch the dispersing clouds. "Girlfriends now and then, but none of them wanted to get serious. I'm not sure if I did. But I do have a brother, which counts as a best friend, I suppose."

That seemed to have brightened Leo's mood, and he leaned on his elbows, eager to hear more.

"Really? Good to hear that. I assumed you-"

"We haven't talked in years," he shot without really intending to, but if he let Leo talk, this conversation could drag on for longer than he wanted.

Immediately Leo drew back, excitement subsiding. "Why? That is, if you don't mind me asking, I shouldn't have..."

"Drugs," he cut him off, keeping his voice indifferent. "My fault, I guess. And Marks', to a certain amount."

"Oh." The shock was evident on Leo's face. "Is that why you want to… What is it that you want to do again?"

"Get him to court. Have him fired. Have him pay; I don't care how." He noticed then with what vigour he said those words, and had to force himself to soften his voice again. "But no, not because of Elijah. Because of everyone who's ever had to work for him. We just got lucky we could leave; not everyone has it so easy."

Observing him for a while longer, Leo gave a long sigh, laying back down on the cold concrete. "I know. It wasn't easy to leave though. It was more like being stuck in a labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imaging that future kept you going. But you never did it. You just used the future to escape the present. I never would have done it if Max hadn't been there. And now I'm going back. Am I not crazy?"

And just like that, the guilt was back. He should just let him go; convince him to give it up and leave. But he needed him.

"Hey, you can still back out. You know I'm not forcing you; this is your choice entirely."

Leo took a moment to truly ponder, obviously lost in thoughts that only he had access to, but Perry knew the answer without him having to say it. He was too good to refuse.

His biggest strength and weakness all at once.

"I know it is. But I can't give in to a momentary fear. That's what kept me back there so long in the first place. I was always too afraid; of everything." As he said that, Perry could tell he was scared even now. His voice shook ever-so-slightly, and he avoided looking at him. But he knew that entering the office was the last of his concerns; it was the concept altogether. Because as naive as Leo was, he wasn't stupid; he was well aware of the memories this task would bring, as well as the potential dangers.

And he chose to go with it anyway.

"Well, let me tell you this." He heaved himself up from the ground and extended a hand towards Leo, pulling him to his feet. "Being afraid only ever means one thing."

As he took him by the shoulders, and Leo looked up at him with big, imploring eyes, he felt a strange sense of connection between them for the first time.

He had to swallow before continuing.

"That you are about to do something very brave."

---

When Max woke up that morning, the first thing he noticed was the amount of light streaming in through the bedroom window. Not the usual late-for-work kind of morning sun, but much crisper, brighter, and certainly much more annoying.

That had to mean it was early.

He groaned and rolled over, pulling the sheet up to his face and shutting his eyes tightly. But even in that split second of having them opened, he noticed an absence in the room.

Frowning, he sat up in the bed and looked around. No Leo in sight. He strained his ears to listen if he had maybe gotten up earlier - why in the hell would he? - but didn't hear a trace of someone else being inside either. He stretched and pulled the blankets aside, meaning to look for him in the living room since he was now too thirsty to go back to sleep anyway.

But just as he was about to get up, he noticed a little scrap of paper on the bed where Leo was supposed to be asleep. Cautiously he moved over to collect it.

"Wasn't feeling well - took a walk. Be back by sunrise - L."

He read the short message once, twice. Feeling unwell? What did that even mean? Anxious-unwell or sick-unwell? Because if it was anxiety related, he was an idiot for not waking him up and telling him. If it was a physical indisposition, he was even a bigger idiot for going out alone.

Somewhat irritated that he wouldn't even tell him his whereabouts, Max climbed out of the bed to go sit on the couch, for he knew falling back asleep would be impossible by now.

So he made himself coffee, staring down the door and counting the minutes till he could tell Leo off for those unexpected disappearances, essentially making him stay up and wait for him. And looking at the time, it was past sunrise already.

He should be there any minute.

As he sat there with the note still in his hand, the other clutching the newspaper that he was too drowsy to read anyway, time seemed to pass slowly. He was almost about to go back to bed - or at least use the couch as a bed - when the rattle of keys in the door roused him again.

Leo appeared in the doorway just seconds later, his back turned to him and obviously unaware of his presence as he locked after himself.

The surprise on his face as he noticed Max on the couch would have made him laugh, but right now he was too sleepy, annoyed and, being frank, worried to play games.

"Max," Leo began, averting his gaze quickly. "Good morning."

Shaking his head, Max started towards him to help him out of the coat he was wrestling with, pinning him down with a stare he hoped was at least a little strict.

"Where were you? Are you even a New Yorker if you dare to stroll around before dawn?"

But Leo kept his head down, obviously embarrassed. Max sighed.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a tired voice instead, raising Leo's chin to look him in the face.

Leo's eyes searched his for a second.

"I think I'm sick."

---

It had been one moment only, and everything seemed to spiral out of control. One sentence.

One name.

Ever since Roger heard the outrageous rumour that he - after all the years they've been together - actually had the hots for the sweet, innocent Leo, he acted differently. At first he claimed that of course he didn't believe it, but that the way he was treating Perry was completely unjustified and unnecessary. Then the story changed slightly; it was not the way he treated Perry that bothered him, but the excessive control he's trying to gain over Leo. The final version of his argument sounded something like this; He, a man of a not so faithful reputation himself, understood that it was natural to find others attractive, platonically or not. That sentence alone was almost enough to make Carmen lose his cool and send him to depths of hell that no one has ever been sent to, but Roger managed to top it off yet: "I just think you may be jealous, darling."

And thus it happened that not only was he not talking to Leo, but Roger joined him on that list. But of course, he turned it around so that it would seem that it was actually him, and not Carmen, who brought on the silent treatment, as well as being the one who had any right to be angry. He was "cheating" on him, after all, but even Roger had the decency to not call it that.

Then there was the issue with his name - the one he had given up long ago. It wasn't the fact of someone having uttered it that bothered him; it was the upsetting reality of being betrayed by a friend who, more than anyone, should understand the importance it held for him.

He no longer knew whether Leo was just too unassuming or too well-trained by Max to do these things without conscience. To this day, he hadn't even apologized to him.

Of course, he had no proof that it was Leo who had told Perry, but how else would he know? That thought frightened him more than the betrayal. More often than not, he wished that it indeed was Leo's doing.

He didn't dare to consider the other options.

Because if Perry would be able to find that out about him by himself, it would mean he would have no problems finding out anything about not only him, but all of them. God knew that Max's past alone was a topic better left in the past where it belonged. Just as he was certain there were bits in Roger's history he didn't know about, and he really didn't want anyone to delve into his own either. Among the four of them, only Leo had nothing to be ashamed of - besides the occasional fraud, which was mostly conducted by Max anyway - but ironically, he was the one who carried the most guilt. And if Perry could find out anything, he could as well do anything; but what could he want from them? Them, who really didn't have much besides money and each other?

He didn't even have the language to describe his indignation over the whole situation. Everyone was so stupid. Most of all Leo, who seemed to have learned nothing of not being so gullible. He could get used a thousand times over and still jump after the first stranger that smiles at him. Then there was Max, who happily supported him in it; Leo needs to socialize, after all! And Roger. He believed every word that came out of that dandy's mouth, who did nothing but spread lies and flatter everyone on sight while pretending to have even the slightest knowledge of the theatre.

Perry. Who did he think he was? Infiltrating himself into their lives uninvited, tainting every relationship he came upon. First him and Leo. Now him and Roger. And he had the bad feeling that Leo and Max would be the next in line.

He didn't care what they thought. Maybe his reaction to Leo having a "friend" in Perry as he so claimed was a bit extreme, but one could never be too careful when it came to new people. He had believed Leo would know that. But what wasn't overreacting in the slightest were those interventions into their interpersonal relationships in the theatre, where he had been for all of a few months and already acted like belonging there.

He didn't. And he never would.

Yes, he had made up his mind. Today will be the day he talks to Leo and forces some sense into him.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was after nine already. Max should arrive with Leo any second now.

So he waited, his feet dangling off of the stage's edge as he swung them back and forth to distract himself, but patience had never been one of his virtues. At one point Roger had passed him and handed him a stack of papers wordlessly, continuing on his way with an air of indifference. He had almost said something to him then, but bit his tongue at the last moment.

First Leo, then Roger.

Arguing with both of them at once could end up in his disfavor.

Finally, the big side doors into the auditorium opened, and Max entered swiftly. Carmen rolled his eyes. That had happened before; impatiently expecting Leo only to have Max shoved into his face, but usually Leo trailed close behind.

Hopping off of the stage to be ready to pounce on him the moment he entered, he started for the door, crossing his arms.

"Carmen?"

He turned in surprise at Max's call, but barely raised an eyebrow. "Later, Max."

"What're you loitering there for?"

"I said later!"

He heard Max jeer behind him. "Okay, whatever. Just don't get sore; Leo ain't coming today."

That did get his attention.

"What? Why?" he squealed incredulously, rounding on him.

Max gave him a smirk. "I'll tell you later."

Holding back from shouting at him, Carmen took in a breath and let it out, making his way over to the seats.

"Why?" he demanded, planting his hands on the desk.

"Because-" Max jokingly dropped a file folder on his fingers to get his hands off the surface- "he is sick. I will be sure to pass on your well-wishes, don't worry."

Carmen sneered, rubbing his hand. "You won't have to. I want to talk to him myself."

"No, you don't," Max continued in that same jovial tone. "I think that after weeks of this bullshit between you two, you won't be coming over for tea, and he needs to rest."

Carmen frowned, getting troubled despite his better judgement. "Well, what's wrong? Something infectious?"

Max shook his head, continuing to unpack his things. "Don't know. He came home from a walk early in the morning, saying he feels sick. He was all shaky though, and complained of some pains, so a bit of a fever I assume. No need to call the priest yet."

But Carmen was intrigued by something else. "A walk? Where would he go?"

Max gave a haphazard shrug. "If I knew. He left a note saying he's unwell and that he's going out, that was all. When he came home I had other concerns than to interrogate him on the routes he took. And besides, Oliver's with him, so if anything happens he'll be taken care of. Can you go back to work now?"

Carmen grit his teeth though. He had heard such a story before. "Who's with him?"

Max groaned dramatically and seated himself behind the desk, pretending to fill out some paperwork. "Jeez, come on. What's your problem with him? Let the man breathe; I'm grateful he's there."

"Grateful!" Carmen had to scoff. "You left Leo alone with him and you're patting yourself on the back for it?"

"Jealous much, huh?" Max grunted under his breath and looked up at him shortly.

He couldn't believe this. Had they all lost their minds? What the hell was in the air?

Snatching the paper from Max so that he would pay attention to him, Carmen came close to the table. "Dammit, not you too! You seriously believe this? I'm as much Leo's admirer as you are his 'business partner'!"

Finally he got a proper reaction from Max; he looked rather furious as he reached to retrieve his papers. "Oh, shut up. Save this for your team, not the wide public!"

"Don't you worry. If there's someone that Leo is going to be seen with now, it's Perry, not you!"

Max grabbed his forehead as if physically trying to stop himself from lashing out, rubbing his eyes. Carmen expected backlash, but when Max spoke again his voice sounded calm, though there was a dangerous edge to it.

"Leave him alone, would you? He doesn't know you. No wonder he gets the wrong impression when he sees-" he gestured wildly around Carmen- "this!"

"I don't care! He had no right to intervene between Leo and I. Much less Roger and I! I'm telling you, Max; if karma doesn't hit him, believe me that I will."

"No right!" Max exclaimed now, laughing despite not finding it at all funny. "And what right did you have? To stalk him like a madman? To get physical with him whenever he gets tired of your bickering? Look, your concern for Leo is truly touching, but there are other ways-"

"He's spending less time with you." Carmen's voice suddenly turned cold, as did the anger inside of him. He just felt betrayed. By all of them. "How long has it been since the two of you had really been alone?"

When Max opened his mouth to answer, he held up a hand. "Don't. You know I'm right. He's everywhere, and when he's not, Leo asks him to come. He's grown to like him, and you know how attached Leo can get. Be careful, Max."

When he saw that Max's expression changed from aggravated to confused, Carmen saw his chance.

He was listening. At long last, someone was listening to him, and what was more, starting to believe what he was saying.

He came close, choosing his next words deliberately.

"Be careful-" he looked Max hard in the eyes- "because before you know it, you may be the next in line. You better hope Perry doesn't plant some seeds of doubt about you into Leo's head as well, because if he does…" he trailed off, shaking his head. "If he does, Leo will be the first to believe him."

He stepped even closer to ensure that only Max would hear the next words.

"And the last to forgive you."

It seemed that the theatre became quiet only when he said that, for everyone to hear. But glancing around, no one was listening to them.

It was just him and Max, glaring, waiting for a follow up.

But when none came, Max straightened up, grabbed a pencil and started writing into the books that normally Leo, had he been there, would have taken care of.

"Screw off, Carmen," he said then, casual as ever. "Oliver was right, after all; Leo is better off without you."

---

The sun was already in its full power above New York when he arrived at the busy Chambers Street. Given that it was rather narrow, and that it was the busiest hour of the day, the pavement was crowded. Which had been their intention; the more people they could merge with, the less likely were they to be noticed. And then, the city streets were full of people at all times of the day anyway.

Leo had taken his old corporate briefcase with him - which he had never returned, for some reason - to fit in with the other accountants who kept coming in and out of the tall building. There was no way to tell him apart from the other employees, and judging by the blank looks, they didn't remember him either. Or they simply didn't care. Still, he was terrified.

What if someone were to recognize him after all and, God forbid, wanted to strike up a conversation with him? That would have certainly drawn unwanted attention. And what was worse, he was certain that the building's receptionist remembered him; he had talked to her hundreds of times before, even if it was just a good morning. And she was chatty. If she were to see him coming in, she would surely stop him and ask a million questions.

It was not that he didn't like her. She was an older woman, boisterous and always smiling, but he had never particularly enjoyed talking to her. Firstly because he never had anything new to tell her; he woke up early, went to work, went to sleep late. Rinse and repeat. Secondly because she just was too nosy for her own good.

Taking a breath to try and calm his racing thoughts and heart, he searched the crowd for Perry. They had somehow lost track of each other halfway on the route to the firm, but had agreed beforehand that in case this happened, the first to arrive would just wait for the other. Yet, he could feel himself beginning to panic slightly when Perry was nowhere in sight, but clutching his blanket in his pocket kept him from giving in to the urge to turn and leave.

He waited, keeping his head down still to minimize the chances of anyone recognizing him, but what was the point? No one had ever taken any interest in him in the middle of a street - logically, there was no reason to be so vigilant.

But he couldn't help himself. Before they left, he had told Perry that "it just feels illegal" and Perry had given him a strange look, replying only: "Well - it is."

Somehow he had blocked that fact out. Of course, Max had taught him how to do illegal things, as well as how to get away with them, but no matter what, he always had the same bad feeling about it. Maybe not as intense as the first time; but still enough to keep him on his toes.

They had gone over the plan a thousand times, but he constantly repeated it in his head anyway; slip in with an employee, avoid the reception table, and head for Marks' office. If the hall wouldn't be empty, he would wait in the bathroom, and try again. Once the air was clear, he would get into the office, - Perry had gotten a copy of the keys, God knew how - get the employee personnel files, employment termination records, the payroll documents, and anything else that would prove that he didn't adhere to the company policy. Meanwhile, Perry would stay outside, looking out for any potential obstacles and once Leo would be done, they would swiftly make their exit.

It sounded simple, but considering it now, it seemed nearly impossible. There was no way he would be able to stay collected.

At long last, his accomplice rounded the corner, and instantly he felt a surge of both relief and fear. Relief because he wasn't alone in it; fear because it meant having to do the deed was nearing.

Perry, on the other hand, looked perfectly calm. Hand in his pockets, he strolled towards him as if he was merely taking a walk down West Broadway, carrying himself with confidence. Coming to a stop beside him, he gave him an encouraging smile and turned away, as to not draw attention. He then leaned against the building's cream white wall, lighting himself a cigarette and staring up at the sky.

It gave the impression that he was simply on a break.

So Leo stared at him, fidgeting, unsure of what to do with himself. Should he look away too? He did, just in case. Maybe he should say something. Or better stay quiet?

"Hey-" Perry bobbed his head towards him then, a slight smile still playing across his lips- "just act natural."

Leo frowned and hugged his torso.

"For this kind of situation, the most natural thing would be to panic, so technically I can panic."

Perry's smile widened, but he still hadn't looked at him. "Not what I meant. Act like it's a normal day!"

"My 'normal' days as of late, consist of a lot of panic."

That was enough to break Perry's calm demeanor, and he burst out in an incredulous snicker. "Will you just cooperate?"

Leo stroked through his hair, somewhat damp with sweat, and threw his hands up in an exasperated gesture. "When a person is panicking, they are not apt to cooperate very well!"

In turn, Perry rolled his eyes, finally turning his body to face him. "Hey, everything's in our favor today; it's better to tell yourself that, anyway. It will go smoothly. And besides, you have made a decision and stuck to it. Be proud!"

Leo couldn't resist a slight smile as he shuffled his foot, kicking a pebble around. "I guess… I used to be very indecisive."

Perry took one last puff from his cigarette and gave him a look. "And now?"

Leo looked up at him with a twinkle in his eye. "I'm not sure."

Perry gave a breathy laugh and passed a hand over his face. "Sounds like you. Now-" he clasped his hands together, then put them on Leo's shoulders- "ready?"

Leo shut his eyes closed and shook his head.

"Great!" Perry gave him a forceful pat on the back. "Off you go."

By now, he was so nervous that it manifested itself as outward calmness; which was probably as good as it would get. Letting go of the blanket still safely tucked in his pocket, he took one last look at the tall structure and reached for the door handle.

Do it or don't do it - he would regret both.

---

It turned out that, despite his worries, the hall in which the former boss' office was located was practically empty. One or two men in identical suits passed him on his way there, but they hadn't even looked at him; perhaps for the first time in his life, he was truly grateful for being invisible to other people.

Another relief was that no one felt the need to talk to him, even though he had expected that. Indeed, as Perry had predicted, everything was in his favor. Yet, for some reason, it didn't relax him in the slightest.

Who was he fooling there? The reason was quite simple; fear.

He knew he was scared when those old concerns ran through his head, when he heard the taunting laughter of years past. He still remembered the way he felt when he first stepped into that office, barely in his 20's; after he had made his first mistake in some of the records.

He knew he was scared when these bad memories cut loose their chains and invaded his confidence, eroding the person he had built since those days. Or, rather, the person Max had built.

But he has had enough of fears.

Trembling, his brain battling over his instincts, he laid one gloved hand on the handle. Then he waited. Breathing, staring, not really thinking of anything. For a moment he wished he could stay like that until the issue resolved itself.

But it wouldn't.

So in one swift movement, he pulled out the keys, stuck them in the lock and without really knowing how, he was inside. The door fell shut behind him with a quiet click.

In that dark room there were shapes in monochrome. Had the curtains been pulled aside, of course the daylight could reveal the rich mahogany of the floor or the deepest scarlet of the small couch in the corner, but for now it could be a scene from a black and white movie. He only dared to light up the small table lamp, lest someone from the surrounding buildings saw light streaming out from the window. Immediately the silhouettes were more discernible than they were only a short while ago. Leo took a fortifying breath and opened the first cabinet.

Inside, he was met with rows of papers, all looking the same at first glance. But being in the firm for years, he knew how to sort through them quickly enough to find the folder he needed and not be scolded for loitering. And indeed, he found what he needed within seconds.

Feeling victorious, he went through all the drawers and cabinets in the same fashion; always careful to make as little noise as possible. With each found folder the gratifying sense of victory strengthened, to the extent that it almost overclouded his fear. There was something so liberating in doing forbidden things; Max had taught him that. So even as his morals protested, he agreed to one illegal - or at least borderline legal - thing after the other, despite them having decided that after Prisoners of Love were through, they would save their immoral maneuvers for cases of emergency only. And besides, this time it was hardly immoral; he was doing it for the profit of others. So, to silence the nagging voice in his head, Leo considered this an emergency.

And it seemed to work.

As he stood in the middle of the quiet office, hands full of documentation that could liberate tens of employees from inhumane working conditions, he felt a thrill of power. For the first time in his life, he was above Marks. For the first time, he was the one in charge. And he was determined to savour that feeling.

Glancing around the barely-lit office once more, he tucked all that he collected into his briefcase, making sure he left nothing behind. Everything was intact. Just as if he had never been there.

Well, that was easier than expected.

Pleased with his work, he felt the adrenaline surging through his body in powerful waves, urging him to leave and enjoy this feeling of superiority at the same time. But even now, his flight response dominated all his senses, and he would have followed it, had he not felt the need to scan the office one last time. Because as he did, his eyes fell on something he hadn't noticed was there before. In the very corner of the desk, a small golden frame rested among bottles of half-finished liquors, shimmering subtly in the streak of light that escaped in between the blinds. Cautiously he stepped closer to take a better look at what the frame held.

Inside, a worn photo of three people caught his attention; a dark haired woman with deep set eyes looking directly into the camera, one of her hands laid atop a child's shoulder. The child was a girl no more than 6 years old, with chubby cheeks and a wide smile, as compared to her mother's subtle one. Leo swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling his hands getting sweaty as he pulled the photoframe closer. Obviously, the third person was a man he knew all too well.

He let go of the photograph and put it into its original place, stepping back as if he had been burned. He always knew that Marks had a wife, though he had never particularly cared if they were still together or divorced, or if he even had one woman at a time. But what he never knew was that he had a daughter, and such a young one at that.

How was this right? Marks was a moron, sure, and deserved every inconvenience that would happen to him, but what fault did the child have? Leo himself had had a father with whom he would rather have nothing to do, yet everything he did - every trouble he would get into - had influenced him. And who knew; maybe this little girl loved him as a child loves their parents; unconditionally. Maybe at home, he was nothing like the cruel man he knew from work.

Leo hesitated. What right did he have to ruin a child's heroic image of their father, perceived or not? To ruin a family? He looked at the briefcase in his hand, weighing his options; he could still put everything he took back, leave, and pretend this never happened. He could go home, lay in his bed and wait til Max would come back, and then he would tell him everything. It would be over, and he could go back to his normal life. Not as thrilling as that of a thief, he supposed, but safe and content. And Perry would understand. He had to.

Laying the briefcase on the table, he opened it with unsteady fingers, still unsure. But the feeling that washed over him after he put the first folder back where it belonged was enough to convince him. One by one, he opened the cabinets, returning them into their original state, desperate to leave this moment of confidence he never should have given into behind him.

He had the employee personnel files in his hand when a rattle of keys stopped him in his tracks.

In an instant, he felt something cold move across him, as if he were being iced from the inside, his organs and nerves being coated by a sheath of frost. In that moment, he thought he might break, that if he moved or made a sound the ice would shatter and he would splinter and crack. So in this petrified state, he held his breath and awaited the inevitable to happen.

And soon enough, it did.

His mind was empty when the door opened to reveal the person he feared would enter all along. Panic switched off the logical part of his brain and put the primitive part in charge - thus reactions in place of responses, a lack of self control and simple solutions over ones that take consequences into consideration.

The simplest solution, as well as the only one his brain was able to produce that moment, was to run. To push past the larger boss and flee into the street, where he would erase this incident from existence; wishing he could turn back time to yesterday.

But he found himself rooted to the spot as Marks moved towards him, eyes burning with the same cold fire of fury he had been used to seeing every day; yet, it never failed to paralyse him. He felt so trapped he thought he might faint.

"A producer in my office?" His voice was uncharacteristically quiet; surprisingly nonplussed by Leo's presence. "Why, what a precious visit."

Leo didn't say anything. He couldn't.

"Tell me, how is it?" he continued, boring deep into his eyes. Leo was unable to look away. "Lots of money? Lots of friends?"

Still, he remained silent.

"Tell me!" Marks shouted without a warning, and Leo startled. But even then, he couldn't bring himself to speak. He barely understood what he was being asked.

Marks, it seemed, found the answer himself. "Thought so." He gave a low laugh, before adding: "How dangerous - to finally have something worth losing."

He spoke those words so casually, aware of the fear they brought. He said them to control his brain and body, and they did. Why else would Leo follow all his stupid rules for so many years?

He stepped closer to Leo yet, scowling down at him, obviously enjoying every second of his terror. He was a sadist and, where Leo was concerned, an unusually relentless one: even years ago, he was in the boy's face constantly, prodding, belittling, taunting.

And then he stopped.

Snatching the files from Leo's hand, he threw them onto the desk, along with his coat and briefcase. Then, walking over to the door, he closed it, and with unsettling ease in his movements, he gestured towards the chair.

"Sit down," he ordered.

And as Leo obeyed, his movements the opposite of easy - robotic, shaky - he felt, suddenly, that the centre of this man's attention was a very bad place to be.

---

A/N: Question for my dear readers - what's your stance on longer chapters? Too much info at once or better for immersion into the story?

Chapter 10: Insult to Injury

A/N:  Man, when life gets busy! Thankfully, the holidays brought more free time; enough time to write again :) Enjoy xx

---

He had started suspecting that something was amiss when even after half an hour, the doors to the tall corporate building would not open. But it was only when they finally did open, that he was confident things went worse than he had hoped.

Too taken aback to act as Leo flew by him at a speed he didn't expect, by the time Perry had gathered his wits and started after him, Leo was already lost in the crowd. He had tried to follow the direction for a while but had given up soon enough when the crowd just kept growing and the chance of catching Leo in there decreasing. So, he had stopped to think, but only for a moment. With a destination in mind, he continued to move; not the impulsive and random swipes of the cornered, but a kind of fast movement that is precise and well thought out, with the calculation of a chess player.

In his hurry, it didn't even occur to him to lose his cool, so he felt no agitation when slow walkers blocked his path; he felt no relief when the subway station entrance came into view. His only aspiration was that maybe, if he were lucky, he would catch a train heading near Times Square before Leo did. As always, he took his chances with the traffic - crossing the road without looking left or right - and entered the station, passing under an all-too-familiar rusty sign, creaking in the late autumn breeze: Chambers St.

If the subway were the arteries of the city, the stations were its lungs; the wide doors breathing people in and out, life anything but stationary once the subway was entered. Looking around, he scanned the huge departures boards with names of stations and corresponding train numbers and times. Not that he needed to see; he knew those routes off by heart. He made his way through the mass of people - some just tugging along, others running, or trying to do so. They all seemed to be unconscious of anything going on around them, yet they somehow managed not to run into anyone else, almost operating like a clock which served as a reminder of the time he was running out of.

The sound of a spirited violin kept the chaos alive, and Perry found himself speeding up, too, to the rhythm of the folk song it played. The intercom announcement added to the havoc, signifying a train about to leave for the 42nd Street station. Stepping up his speed-walk to jogging, Perry dashed down the stairs, pushed in between the people, and through the cabin's doors before they got closed. Once inside, he scanned his surroundings; the train was packed, but not so much that he couldn't move around.

The people he jostled while making his way through were particularly soulless that time of the day, their eyes vacant and indifferent even as he apologized for every bump to their slouched shoulders. He had the impression they wouldn't blink if he climbed over their heads. But the apathy that the underground of New York seemed to bring upon its inhabitants turned out to be beneficial for him; as soon as he got to the end of the cabin, he spotted a figure so agitated it contrasted with the rest of the passengers so much that he would have to be deprived of all senses not to notice.

The relief he resisted earlier washed over him now and he leaned on one of the poles, watching from a distance as Leo fumbled - with his briefcase, his coat - while trying to reach a handrail and not get too close to someone at the same time. Perry watched him for a moment longer, not making any attempts at getting his attention. Only when the train came to a stop at the Franklin Street station did he put him out of his misery by pulling him out of the doors and out onto the platform in a motion so fast, Leo had no time to protest.

Once he did process what had happened, though, Leo pried his elbow from the firm grasp, rounding on him with alarm so genuine, Perry had the urge to raise his hands in surrender. But the initial shock lasted only a second, replaced by a look of fierce indignation. As the train sped away - sending a gust of wind through the platform, a scattered newspaper fluttering in its wake - for an instant there was stillness. But it was so quick, so fleeting, that the explosion of emotions that followed didn't come as much of a surprise.

"You-" Leo gasped, so aggravated he had difficulty getting the words out- "you planned this! You led me on, knowing perfectly well… perfectly well he'd come."

"What? Who?"

"Marks! Please, quit the act." And then, when he wouldn't react: "Perry, god damn you! What are you doing? Why did you- I thought-"

"Leo," he finally found his voice, as surprised as Leo at the calmness of it. "I didn't."

That response only seemed to convince Leo further of his accusations.

"I'm not asking you if you did it." Leo kept shaking his head, as if denial would undo it. "I want to know why. Why would you use me for this?" It was obvious he was trying to control another outburst, but by the impatient crack in his voice Perry knew he would have to be very careful with his words. "Perry?"

Perry wasn't any less confused, but given the situation, he was only concentrated on calming him first. "What do you mean?"

"What do I…" Leo frowned as if gathering his thoughts; as if such a question was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Why, you think I'm stupid!"

"No, I only-"

"Yes, you do!" Leo continued, giving him no more space for explanations. "And why shouldn't you? I am! I am for trusting you, for helping you, for letting you force me-"

It was his turn to frown. "Who's forcing you?"

"-to go along with this! And most of all for not listening to Carmen when he-"

"Leo, if you just listened to me-"

"When he warned me you would do this, and I-"

"Leo."

"Don't call me that-" Leo interrupted his reasoning for a second- "and I ignored him, because I wanted to believe-"

"Leo!" At last, he lost his patience, and did something he had seen Max do before when Leo was distressed and wouldn't - or couldn't - hear him; he took his face between his hands, making him stand still. "Stop it! I didn't! I don't even know what you're talking about! I…" He took a breath and relaxed his hands a little, allowing Leo to move should he want to. "I didn't… I swear."

Even when Leo did stop his condemnations, his whole body trembling with eagerness to be proven wrong, Perry knew it wasn't going to be so easy. When trust which was built on words was shaken there was very little a person could do, but words were all he had and relied on; he had spent decades perfecting his vocabulary and how to use it while dealing with different people, places, or situations. He had read all the books, and spoke to anyone who would listen, but there were only few in his life who didn't confuse listening with simply hearing - Leo among the minority - so he had read some more.

He still remembered the opening lines to the first book he had ever owned; It was new and heavy and smelled of toluene or maybe vanillin and ink, given to him by his brother when they were young. At the time he understood the phrases but not their meaning, but he had reread them over and over, until they became engraved in his thoughts and actions: 'A word triggers all definitions of that expression in the brain before it chooses the right one from context. In that moment, different emotions are triggered, and these emotions can subtly affect behaviours and attitudes. Thus, expressing oneself is an art that requires some awareness of neurology and how the brain both creates and is developmentally influenced by words and word patterns.'

"Is that all you have to say?" Leo's desperation thrust him back into reality.

But for once he was at a loss, and he couldn't help but wonder about the message this almost-plea held. Was it a hopeful wish that a simple 'I didn't' would be his only justification? It would be clear and reassuring, after all; if he didn't do it, for Leo it would mean he had trusted the right person and had simply been a victim of bad luck; and bad luck was easier to overcome than betrayal.

He already knew, though, that it was the opposite. A rationalization as straightforward as that was hardly enough to satisfy Leo's racing mind. Another excerpt shot through his mind then: 'For instance, mixing bad words with bad moods could be a precursor for trouble; You'll have many opportunities to change a mood, but you'll never get the opportunity to replace the words you spoke.'

Leo, he concluded, was definitely in a bad mood. He had one opportunity to get him back or drive him further away.

"Please, stop and think. Why would I do such a thing?"

A lack of reaction.

"What would it bring me?" he asked again, making sure to stand a safe distance from Leo now, so as not to intimidate him. "Right. That's right… There's no reason."

He let his hands fall as the frantic, nervous movements which Perry grew to consider usual for the other man diminished slightly; he was listening. But he was far from convinced. They weren't all that different in the first matter; He, too, had a habit of being frantic in excitement, but while Leo's ever-present frenzy stemmed from anxiety, his was passion-driven and deliberate. Trouble was, it proved to be the same case when it came to buying a lie - or believing a truth - for Leo's inner turmoil prevented him from being sure of either. He simply waited and hoped he'd be swayed towards one of the possibilities.

And that responsibility was his now; his moment to prove his skill and use the proper words in favour of them both.

"I knew he would come back in the afternoon, but it wasn't supposed to be this early," Perry began, watching Leo for any and every reaction. None came, so he continued. "You took too long. I thought..." he swallowed, "I thought it'd be enough. I'm sorry."

What a terrible occurrence, when words fail. He had seen it happen before. He could see it now. And he knew it was final; his one opportunity came and passed.

"You're sorry?" Leo repeated - he had to taste the words on his tongue for himself to make sure he had heard right. "You knew he would come… And you are sorry?"

Perry could feel a muscle in his face spasming, and for once he was even aware of the rapidity of his blinking. Anxiety didn't discriminate when it came to situations as uncomfortable as these, and he didn't consider himself great at managing it either. But he knew how to transform nervousness into self-defence, so he tried that.

"Leo, I know you hear this phrase more often than you would like… But do calm down."

But it was too late. Leo was back to shaking his head, denying his attempts both physically and mentally.

"No." Plain enough. It would have been, had he not continued: "No, it's getting too dangerous."

For the first time in a long time, Perry felt something akin to panic rise in him, the kind that constricts your throat and freezes rationality; the kind you feel when something is about to drop and shatter, and you know there's nothing you can do to stop it.

"What are you saying?"

Leo took a breath, shaky as he inhaled. "I'm done with this. Please, don't say anything. Just let me go, and I'll call you when-"

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, Leo."

The twitching travelled from his face into his right hand, and he stared at it so that he didn't have to look Leo in the eyes,

He heard a scoff. Of course, of course. It was laughable. "Well… You don't have to." Perry looked up just as Leo smiled his sad smile. "Go home, Perry. I will reach you. Eventually, I will."

Eventually; synonymous with never. He fixated his hand again. "No. No, you won't."

"Yes," Leo almost laughed by now, starting to leave. "Yes, I will."

Perry's hand shot out without him really intending to and closed around Leo's wrist in a pathetic attempt at keeping him where he was. Of course, Leo was rather unfazed, albeit surprised, and turned back around with a little frown. In his current fervour Perry couldn't really recognize whether it indicated curiosity or annoyance, but it had little importance. What mattered was that it worked.

"Wait. You might really want to reconsider."

"No, I don't think so." Now there was no doubt that any curiosity had become anger, as Leo tugged at the hand keeping him in place. "Let go."

"I'm sorry, Leo. I'm so sorry." He was fully aware that anything he would say next would damage the relationship they had developed, but there was no going back now. He left him no choice. "But I can't let you ruin this. If you... If you leave… Or say anything about this… God, I really hate doing this, you know? Then I'll have to say something, too."

Finally, Leo freed his wrist and pulled it close to his chest, his eyes now fearful despite the strained smile he tried to sell. "Say what? That you've cheated me? That Carmen wasn't that far from truth when he-"

"You've committed fraud, Leo. Several frauds, and not only that; you've just come from an unsuccessful burglary."

Any attempts at a smile disappeared from Leo's face, as well as the color in it. "Springtime was long ago and has been resolved… There's nothing-"

"Who's talking about Springtime?" How painfully unfair this was. How very necessary at the same time. "What about the two thousand dollars for Max?"

Leo was back to looking somewhat confident in his innocence. "That's hardly enough to cause anything more than a fine. And besides, such frauds have to be repeated to have a chance at proving intent in court. You know this."

"I could prove it." Perry said, looking down on him with remorse. "I would really hate to - but I could. First, I know about Prisoners of Love; not hard to figure out. And then, you've let me do the books. I manage the accounting now. And you'll agree that it's easy to 'miss a decimal point' here and there, especially when the show is a… how to say… a flop?"

Leo was clearly contemplating Perry's sanity at this point. "Do you take me for a fool? Yes, that's right, you manage the accounting; any mistakes and frauds go to you. The contract was on your name from the beginning."

Perry sighed, tired of having to prolong this. "Was it? Do you just not want to remember or was the hangover so big?"

It took Leo a while; but he remembered. "I was sick…" he muttered more to himself, then got louder as realization dawned on him. "Yes, I was sick because of you, so I've let you do it under my name! Once! And you go and do this? And now you have the nerve… Perry, you are threatening me!"

"No." Perry made a step forward to close the distance Leo was trying to maintain. "No… I am desperate. And desperate people do desperate things, haven't you heard?"

Leo pushed him away again the second he got closer. "You forced me to do this!"

Perry didn't react to the push - it was warranted, after all - nor did he attempt to move once more. He simply looked at him, hoping remorse shone through his words. "I didn't. I would never force you to do anything, Leo. This was all your choice; I offered that you quit."

Leo looked down; he knew that much was true.

"Well," he started anew, all the vehemence in his voice gone; it got quiet and resigned. "You are forcing me now."

Perry shook his head. "Oh, no. It's the law who's forcing you; only it has the power to do so, nothing else. No one else, Leo, remember that. You can run from people who enforce things upon you, but you cannot escape what's written."

Leo fell silent. Eyes cast downward, he stood still except for a hand that made a move to reach into his left pocket, but then he thought better of it and let it hang at his side again.

"Hey," Perry spoke again after a minute or two of terrible silence, interrupted only by the screeching of trains arriving at and leaving the station. He even dared to reach out and touch Leo's arm again, although very softly and only on the sleeve. "I won't tell any of it. No one has to know. Not Max, not the authorities; no one. Not if you do the same for me, of course. Agreed?"

With the last word Perry removed his hand from Leo's sleeve and extended it before him instead.

Leo stared at it for a long time - at times it looked like he would refuse - but finally he gave in and took it. He didn't squeeze it, but it got the message across; he agreed.

"Good-" Perry reassured him and clasped both of his hands around Leo's cold one- "you're a good man, Leo."

It did little to ease Leo's displeasure. He pulled away in a flash and kept his head down, as if meeting Perry's eye would cause some further damage.

"I have a condition, too." The sudden coldness in Leo's voice chilled him, but he nodded nonetheless; if anything, he could always refuse.

"You will settle things with Carmen as you promised. I don't care how; just do." He stopped there for a second, his features regaining the softness Perry was used to seeing. When he spoke again, he spoke gently; as if those particular words didn't deserve the same harsh treatment. "And then… If I go along with everything… You'll leave Max out of this. It's not his business, is it now?"

Perry waited a moment, though he didn't know what it was he waited for, and only then did he comply with Leo's requirements.

"No." He gave Leo a tight-lipped smile and adjusted his glasses. "No, it is not indeed."

---

He had never liked the catwalk staircase backstage. It was steep and poorly lit, the steps wound in a tight circle with big gaps in between, rising inexorably to the top of the building. Many a time had someone tripped on one of the metal steps and twisted an ankle in the better case, broken a bone in the worse. The walls around it were as rusty looking as the stairway itself, with ropes and pipes hanging all over, exposed and adding to the shabby look of the wings.

Nonetheless, Carmen was in a surprisingly careless mood that day, humming a melody from one of the show's opening numbers as he climbed down, fingers tracing along the banister as he went. The day having been rather uneventful, he had been happy to obey Shirley's request of going up to the catwalks and manipulating the lights until she signified they were intact. They were still in the process of bettering the show - which was a constant task, after all - and everyone had taken their contribution to the common goal with utmost seriousness. Everyone except for Leo, or so it seemed to Carmen, who only appeared to be more unrested and reckless after his short-lived 'sickness'; Carmen didn't believe any of it in the first place.

Not that he let that get to his good spirits. Max was, no matter whether Leo participated or not, managing everything that needed to be managed, and much to Carmen's reluctant surprise, there had been no problems with the accounting either. As it was, Carmen would have called Leo's current presence in the theatre useless, but he knew better. Whenever Leo would do anything but his very best, there had always been something else behind it than simple laziness or incompetence. Leo loved his job as a producer more than anyone, but in the last several weeks that seemed to change. Ordinarily, Carmen would have asked him about it, but those were hardly ordinary times in regard to their relationship. So, he said nothing. Let Leo come to him himself or don't come at all.

Still, he missed him and their little talks. If Leo doesn't speak up soon, maybe he should let go of his pride and take the first step, Carmen thought as he rounded the final sharp turn. So lost in his thought he was that he didn't notice until the last moment the other person about to climb the stairs up. Carmen yelped and jumped back a step as the person swung halfway around the pole which connected all the stairs into a spiral, stopping before him just in time to avoid a collision.

And just like that, his good mood was gone; he knew he shouldn't have laughed when the usherette told them that this staircase was almost certainly cursed. He had just come face to face with a demon, after all.

"Mr. Peregrine," he greeted in a mocking tone, crossing his arms in front of his body. "Searching for something?"

"Actually, Mr. Ghia," Perry answered in the same manner, except he flashed him a smile along with it. "I was just going to adjust the lighting. I have overheard-"

"That's very thoughtful of you, but you need not bother; I've just done exactly that. So, if you'd excuse me…"

Carmen moved to go down the remaining distance separating him from solid ground, but Perry was quicker and gripped the opposite side of the railing too, blocking his way by doing so.

"No hurry, my friend." Never losing the smile, he beckoned him with his head to remain where he stood. "While you're here, we could as well make amends, as they say."

Too curious to protest, Carmen folded his arms again, looking Perry up and down while fiddling with his chains. "Did Leo send you?"

"Why, of course."

"So you don't actually want to 'make amends'?"

Perry sneered, relaxing his grip on the railing as he sensed that Carmen wasn't going to run from him, but not moving out of the way yet. "Please, give me some credit. If I didn't want to do it, I simply wouldn't have, don't you think?"

Carmen scowled down at him for a moment more, but then he fixed his expression into a more welcoming one. "Okay, talk. Impress me. Woo me. I hear you're good at it."

"Well," Perry began and chuckled, somewhat uncomfortable at the expression, "they apparently say so. But what are we, children? Let's settle this and move on. Holding grudges at the workplace isn't good for the... company? Is that what you call it here? Anyway, forgive my corporate vocabulary - old habits. Let me just say that in no way did I intend to create tension between Roger and you. I've lost my temper, forgotten my manners; you surely understand why. Well, take that as my apology. And don't worry, I don't expect one from you in return... Even though I think I should."

Now Carmen had to chuckle. "You think? Sweet. I'd agree with you, but then we'd both be wrong. So no, thank you. I don't accept apologies from liars and stalkers."

"Stalkers?" It was Perry's turn to be - or appear - shocked and amused. "What in heaven's name would I gain from stalking you? May I remind you who followed me to the Brooklyn Bridge?"

"I was referring to something more personal." The fabricated joviality disappeared from Carmen's voice, springing back to its brusqueness. "But seeing you also like to hide behind pseudonyms, Perry, maybe it just didn't seem like such a big deal to you."

Perry halted in his comebacks then, but not for long. His eyes lit up with some renewed enthusiasm as he picked up on the clue, but his response didn't quite match the energy.

"What, the Scott thing? Huh, seem to be sensitive about it. Is it because there's another Scott around here already?" He looked about with an air of innocence, as if trying to spot the mentioned person. But soon he was back to smiling, if one could call it a smile, and spoke with the same carelessness. "Either way, it didn't seem like a big deal to me because it didn't seem like one to Leo. He just mentioned it."

That did throw him off guard. Only recently had he repressed his ego enough to have a short conversation with Leo in between rehearsal breaks, enough to ask him about the name. But Leo had sworn he didn't say a thing, and Carmen, so naive, had believed him.

"So he did tell you, didn't he?" He made sure to sound terse and indifferent all the while seething inside; if it was true, Perry indeed was innocent in the matter and Leo had lied. Again.

"Oh, I would hate to cause Leo some problems. I only wanted to explain, and then, he wasn't sober-"

"Forget it." Carmen cut him off with a wave of a hand, mentally distancing himself from the topic as well. "I'm more interested in why you mind being called a stalker, but a liar leaves you cold."

"I'm afraid I didn't know what you were referring to, friend."

Perry's dedication to staying polite no matter what was maddening to Carmen; he felt it wasn't his authentic self, yet he was convinced that he could pour soup into the man's lap, and he would apologize to him.

"I know Leo wasn't sick." Straight to the point. He didn't have time for this.

"I never said he was."

"So you're admitting it?"

Perry laughed as if he had just made a joke - a short bark of a laugh before reverting to his standard expression - then shook his head. That was one of the things that bothered Carmen about this man; out of all the reactions that seemed fabricated, his laugh was always genuine.

"Heavens, no. I don't usually ask Leo about his physical wellness; all I know is he appeared to be fine when we headed to Chambers Street together a few days back."

"A few days back?" Carmen frowned. "When exactly?"

"Why, is it important?" Perry asked, but could read the answer from Carmen's silence, and shrugged. "The day Leo wasn't at work, I suppose."

He wasn't getting this. Something was incredibly off, but every time he would try to get closer to it, it would retreat even further into the unknown.

"Chambers Street…," Carmen murmured to himself, but in his peripheral vision he saw Perry nodding. "Isn't that the place Leo worked? Where both of you worked?"

"That's the one," Perry confirmed; he almost seemed excited about the fact.

"What for?"

"Oh no, Leo didn't tell you about that either? That big mouth of mine; he's not gonna be happy I told you. But you won't tell on me now that we are friends, will you?"

"Listen here." Carmen jumped forward and stabbed a finger into Perry's chest. "I don't care whether you tell me or not; I know where you went, and I know that Leo lied. That's enough. He will tell me if you don't - I will leave him no choice."

Perry was smiling again; the whole situation in fact made him happy. "In that case… I can only wish you good luck."

The fashion he said it in indicated that this was the end of their conversation; that he would turn around and leave now. But he did no such thing, lingering as if he expected Carmen to add something he could taunt further.

"I appreciate that," Carmen mocked in return, advancing one step down. "Now, move over!"

Perry stayed. "You still haven't accepted my apology."

"And I won't. Ever since you showed up, it's only been problems," he spat. His path was still blocked. "I believe I asked you to move."

Perry went up the same step Carmen had just descended; his smile faltering for the first time. "Stay out of it, or we're going to have one problem more."

Finally; Carmen's turn to laugh at him. "And what are you going to do? You don't seem to realize that we are a community here. When I tell them this - when Leo comes to his senses - no one will stand behind you. You will be alone! No one will care what you have to say! Do you understand that or are you duller than you look?"

For a fleeting second the amusement disappeared from Perry's face completely. Doubting his intellect was a bold move - one Carmen knew was going to hit the right places - but he regained his composure in a blink of an eye.

"Sure, underestimate me." Perry's excited demeanor was back - so jittery was he that his voice shook. "That will be fun!"

Carmen's cup of patience overflowed then; it spilled and leaked and soaked up every last piece of consideration he had. Planting both hands on Perry's chest, he pushed. He didn't intend for a forceful shove - just one enough to get him out of the way - but he had underestimated both his strength and Perry's resistance.

The fall was unexpected, like a storm in the middle of a sunny day, and just as harsh.

Petrified, Carmen could only watch as Perry tried to grab onto the banister, but his arm slid down it, forcing him to let go before he could steady himself. Seeing him fall backwards, neither of them having any control over it, Carmen's breath hitched in his throat and sped up almost in the same second, and time didn't go in slow motion as he thought it should, nor did it stop. Only thing he registered before the impact was how quickly Perry's facade crumbled; how panicked and vulnerable even he could look.

Then there it was - time stood still after all.

Perry landed on his right shoulder; had he not grabbed the railing and steered the fall that way, he would have landed on the back of his head. But to Carmen it made little difference. He was frozen in shock, unable to go and help him even as he heard a soft groan coming from below.

He was both glad and not when people started coming in, having heard the thud. Leo was among them, Max following suit and soon the whole troupe was packed in the small backstage, staring. They probably thought Carmen had climbed up to attend to the lightning and fell in the process, the stairs having such a bad reputation to begin with. All the more shocked they were to have been wrong in their assumptions; all the more speechless at the reality. Carmen was safe on the stairs, with one arm still outstretched in front of his body. Perry was under the stairs. On the ground. Unmoving.

Did he really need to explain anything at all?

Much to Carmen's dismay, Leo was the first to come to his senses. In a matter of seconds, he was kneeling next to Perry, who, sensing his presence, rolled over onto his back as slowly as could be. No one had said a word yet, except for the occasional chipper of "oh my God'' or "what happened?" from the back of the crowd. But the silence spoke volumes. At first, he was surprised there wasn't much of an uproar, but then he noticed why; Max was holding everyone back with one simple gesture of his hand, and the company respected Max. No one but Leo dared to intervene.

Forcing himself to look back at the pair beneath the stairs, Carmen almost wanted to shout at them to get lost. Not out of anger, but cowardice, as he could hardly see Leo so frightened of what he had done, his hands and even arms trembling as they cluelessly hovered over Perry. But that was nothing compared to witnessing the actual aftermath of his actions.

At long last, someone spoke; it took him a moment to realize it was Leo.

"Are you okay?" His voice trembled, but at least he was brave enough to ask.

The question was stupid, of course. Judging by Perry's pallor, though accentuated by the shock, there was no doubt in Carmen's mind that he was in pain. But aside from the initial moan, he was perfectly silent even when Leo touched his obviously dislocated shoulder, his mouth opening with no sound coming out. One side of his face was bloodied, too, but Carmen concluded it was nothing but a cut near his lip, as alarming as it looked.

"What happened?" Leo asked further after receiving no response the first time. Now, that was a better question. "You… You tripped, right?"

Whether this was Leo's attempt at denying the obvious or covering for Carmen, it was noble-minded of him, but rather useless. Everyone knew what happened. Nevertheless, what pulled Carmen out of his stupor was Perry's reaction; he nodded.

"I… Yes. I tripped, and somehow..." He spoke haltingly, as if the blow had taken his breath away, but Carmen could understand him even from a distance. "I fell. Tripped. I don't…"

"Okay, okay…" Leo hushed him then, seeing the effort speaking cost him. "That's fine."

Maybe it was the confusion and pain that made him say that, but it lifted a weight off of Carmen's shoulders anyway. He didn't mean to hurt him in the first place; why should he be viewed as a villain? Maybe it looked worse than it was, after all; aside from the shoulder and split lip, he looked to be more stupefied than anything.

But his hopes at escaping unscathed were soon crushed; an onlooker spoke up.

"No, he pushed him!" A young dancer, no more than 18, stepped forward. She pointed a delicate finger at Carmen then turned to him fully. "I saw it. He wanted to pass, but you wouldn't let him. There was some shouting, then he 'tripped', yes..."

Everyone gasped. Then steadily, a rumble started spreading through the theatre, despite Max's attempts at shushing them.

"Carmen?" He didn't have to look to know who had spoken; Roger was probably more confused than Perry there on the floor.

But he was given no chance to answer.

"Go away, all of you. Now." No one moved, but the noise decreased. "Out!" It was Leo who had given the order. At last, the crowd started to disperse, though reluctantly, so Leo turned to Max. "Max, take Perry- I mean Oliver… Whatever! Just take him to the hospital. And you…" His voice got quiet as he addressed Carmen. "Leave us alone, Max."

Max halted in his attempts at getting Perry to his feet, whose face was contorted by pain but who was still otherwise mute.

Max had something to say, though. "I'm not sure I want to leave you alone with him, now! Keep away from the stairs, will ya?"

"Max." Leo repeated sternly, shooting him a look. "Please…"

This time even Max took the hint. Without another word, he and Perry walked off, with Max supporting him in case he got dizzy, but otherwise there wasn't much need to; he could walk on his own.

Still shaken, Carmen descended the remaining steps. From the bottom, the stairs seemed to disappear into the ether.

And coming face to face with Leo, he wished he could disappear there, too.

---

He was so angry these days. It's been there a while now, this anger, escaping when he was away from Max, away from his work; when his routines kept getting disrupted day after day. At first, he was coping well, never having been the type to complain the second something didn't go his way, but it accumulated. Now he was irritable even during the days where nothing happened, even when there were no people to provoke it. What was worse, in his case, it was particularly true that feeling anxious triggered fight or flight responses, so much so that he was positive they were his only reactions left.

They say anger is the bodyguard of sadness, that the only real way out is vulnerability. But how could he be vulnerable now, with Carmen looking more than ready to pounce on him with all kinds of explanations and questions Leo didn't want to hear? He had been vulnerable his whole life; he had been vulnerable with Perry. It backfired. Now, in turn, Perry was vulnerable with Carmen. It backfired. What was the point if everything resulted in more hurt?

"Okay, listen to me." Carmen's voice broke him out of his thoughts, speaking to him like he would to a 5-year-old. "Believe me, I know how this looks-"

"Did you push him?" Screw it. Why should he listen to what he has to say? He wasn't as stupid and gullible as everyone around him seemed to think. He could put two and two together even without the excuses.

"Leo, don't-"

"Did you?"

"Well, yes, but-"

That was all he needed to know. He nodded his head once - just to signify he understood - and turned on his heel. It would be better for all of them if he didn't speak until he was calm.

He made it barely two steps until he was stopped. Taking Leo by both shoulders and backing him into a wall, Carmen gave him no room to escape unless he put up a fight. Thankfully for both, he didn't have the energy to, though he wished people would stop touching him and dragging him around for at least one day.

"Leo, enough is enough; it's about time we stopped this nonsense." While Carmen overflowed with distressed vigor, Leo stared back at him, apathetic. But he let him talk. "What happened? Why won't you talk to me? To Max? I thought… I thought you're over this. The secretiveness, the distrust… Why all these fights? Are you in trouble?"

Out of all the questions, Leo registered maybe two. He went with an ambiguous answer: "No, everything is fine. I'm just not a fan of pushing people down the stairs when all they wanted to do was apologize."

Carmen closed his eyes, holding back from saying something he would regret. "You didn't let me explain. I… I did push him, but not… I didn't want him to get hurt. But he was in my way-"

"Well, that changes everything! I also get physical with people who stand in my way." With those words, Leo wrestled his way around Carmen, storming off towards the stage.

Still, the dancer in Carmen was quicker; and he was determined.

"I know where you went. I know where Chambers Street is!" Leo's path was blocked again, but it wasn't necessary; he would have stopped nonetheless. "So please, do yourself the favor and tell me. Be brave for once! Whatever it is, we'll figure it out; I'm offering you help now, if you need it. And consider it well… Because that offer may be limited."

There it was; the chance to confide in someone and let the evolving catastrophe-to-be end. But he let it pass by, as he did with many chances in his lifetime, and instead he replied: "Okay! Fine! You got me! I lied. Happy now?" He was aware of how hysterical he sounded at that point, but he couldn't control it. Maybe if he got upset enough, Carmen would even leave him alone. "I went to Whitehall & Marks, so what? I still have some unfinished business there. But the good news is it's not your business, so you can rest easy now that I've told you. But Carmen-" In that moment he wished the anger would have stayed around a little longer, because now fear sat right in its place. "Please, don't tell Max. It's not important. He would bother for nothing."

"Oh, I'm not going to say a word," Carmen snarled, getting more impatient by the second.

Don't you see I'm trying to protect you? Leo wanted to say, but the question he said out loud was different: "You're going to make me tell him, aren't you?"

"Loud and clear." He put emphasis on both words, then added in a more easy going manner: "And every gritty nitty detail."

"This is getting ridiculous. I won't talk to you if you do it." Leo clenched his fists, remembering Perry's words from a few days earlier. Only law can force him; no one else. "You can't force me!"

But Carmen wasn't swayed. His eyes were narrowed, his stare almost condescending.

"If you don't tell him, I will."

He had made his point. With nothing else to add, Carmen started to go, turning around to make one last remark: "Oh, and before I forget; I already told Max I don't think you were sick."

Leo grit his teeth. "So?"

"So you'll have to lie a little harder when he asks about it!"

---

The balcony was by far Leo's favourite part of their apartment. It was a place to let peace into the soul as the world passed by on the city street. The night air smelled of approaching winter, cool and fresh and raw. Leo welcomed the coolness, as well as the chills that racked his body; at least he didn't feel like burning anymore.

Already restless when he went to bed that evening, he had woken up a while after midnight with a fever, one that made him unable to stay buried under the thick covers. So, he had grabbed one of them off the bed and threw it around his shoulders, creeping to the balcony to try and cool off.

It didn't come as much of a surprise, the sickness; the flu season wasn't over yet, and he had been feeling off for days since that early morning on the roof with Perry. The stress of the last rehearsal must have only set it off.

On the other hand - at least he didn't have to lie now.

Because, as Carmen had predicted, Max did ask about his 'illness'. At first, Leo had been determined to tell him the truth - how could he lie again? - but his body had other plans. Just as Max had raised the question, Leo started coughing so violently that instead of getting angry at him like he was supposed to, Max got even more irritated with Carmen for accusing him of lying when he was so obviously unwell. But even after that misunderstanding, Leo had planned on telling him the truth; he had already opened his mouth to speak.

Then, absolutely inexplicably and without any warning, he had started crying. Just like that. He still couldn't explain why. But Max, the poor man, had been so alarmed by it that he wrote it off to him being overwrought and sent him to bed.

After that, he no longer had the strength to go through with his plan.

But right now he was calm, and he must have even dozed off on the balcony's lounger, because when he roused, Max was kneeling next to him, feeling his forehead. Sitting up with a bit of a start, Leo smiled at him once the momentary daze wore off.

But Max didn't return it. His brow was furrowed, and he looked troubled. "How long have you been out? It's freezing balls here."

"Not long," Leo assured him, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. "Do you want me to go in?"

But Max waved his hand and motioned for Leo to scoot over so that he could sit next to him. "No, we can stay a moment longer. Can't sleep either."

Leo made a sound of agreement, even though insomnia wasn't his problem tonight. After that they fell silent, as it only occurred to Leo with delay that Max was probably trying to start a conversation.

"Why?" he asked dumbly, staring ahead into the night.

Max chuckled next to him. "Why do you think?"

"Oh." He knew who Max was referring to, and suddenly he felt a little guilty. So preoccupied with his own troubles was he that he only spared Perry's condition a fleeting thought when Max had come back from the hospital with the news. A dislocated shoulder, Max had said, but they already knew that. Other than that, he had been sent home with a sprained wrist and some bruising on the ribs which, while painful, was good news.

Still, besides relief, Leo wasn't able to feel much of anything since they returned from the theatre. The temperature made his brain fuzzy, and as much as he tried, he couldn't really focus on anything or have a heart-to-heart with anyone. By the end of the day his incompetence got frustrating, but more for his entourage than for Leo himself. Not being able to think clearly gave him a break from thinking about everything that happened.

"Hey." He felt Max's hand on the back of his neck. It was soothingly cold, so he leaned into it and closed his eyes, only half-registering Max's next question. "You're feeling okay? You're pretty warm, kid."

"We're in trouble, Max," he mumbled all of sudden, not quite aware of what he was saying.

"What did you say?" Max, too, had trouble keeping up. "What trouble?"

But it was then that a particularly chilly gust of wind blew around them, carrying fine droplets, each one a promise of the rain to come. He felt them on his face, letting his eyes rest for a moment longer, feeling the ambiance of the street, hearing the sounds, taking in the aroma, letting his mind be still. Then when he wanted to see again, it was as if he just arrived here, breaking out of the trance-like state.

He looked to Max, who was observing him with scepticism; he was probably expecting something from him.

"What trouble?" Leo repeated after him, as confused as Max, trying to find a connection.

Max kept his eyes trained on him for several uncomfortable seconds, but then he sighed and let his hand fall from Leo's neck, patting his knee instead.

"Nevermind," he said. "We better go to bed."

Chapter 11: To Hit The Wall

A/N: Busy, busy, busy; that pretty much sums up my days as of late. But I'm content and motivated still, so enjoy the longest chapter of this story yet! xx

---

Breakfasts at the DeBris house have always been the highlight of the day for its inhabitants. Every Wednesday and Friday, soft pancakes and berries would be on the table, as warm as they would be in the sun, maple syrup threaded upon the top. It remained by far the favourite breakfast in the house, yet it had little to do with the food itself. The mornings were associated with calm routines and laughter over the newspaper which Kevin never failed to bring and which Brian would read out loud, picking only the sauciest articles and gossip. Shirley would cook and pretend to find their humour tasteless, all the while complaining about how Scott and Sabu were making it a habit to be late to the table.

He and Roger would usually content themselves with sharing a small sofa in the corner, observing the hassle from afar.

But today those were only memories, and in place of the lively chatter was clanking of the metal forks upon the plates, almost menacing in the uncharacteristically tense atmosphere. Everyone was seated, minding nothing but their food, except for Roger who paced circles around the table, and Carmen, who occupied the sofa on his own.

"Carmen, for the last time." Roger stopped at last, one hand brushing his hair back while the other started tapping against the wall he now leaned on. "Why did you push him?"

But Carmen had resigned on trying to explain anything after the first two attempts. The initial effort at clearing it up came shortly after the incident; it resulted in nothing but shouting and accusations. So they had agreed to let it sit for the night, and once they were rested, they would discuss it over breakfast. Of course, 'being rested' was only a figure of speech, given the circumstances, but he had hoped that it would at least give the mind some time to settle.

The opposite happened; the decreased quality of sleep - or a lack of it whatsoever - only deepened their irritability, and so it happened that before they had even said good morning to one another, they had started snapping. So now Carmen did his best to appear unbothered as he ate his apple, having passed up the pancakes, and looked out the window instead of facing Roger.

"You don't ever feel like just pushing someone down the stairs every now and then?" he quipped sarcastically in response, taking another bite out of the fruit.

He knew this was no time for jokes, but he couldn't help feeling proud of himself when he heard Kevin choke on his milk a little upon the remark, or resist rolling his eyes as Roger gasped in his theatrical fashion.

"Carmen!" Roger exclaimed, so aggravated he almost stomped his foot.

It was enough to break Carmen's passivity up until that point.

"What?" He jumped up in agitation, rounding on his partner. "I told you! It was accidental! And if you can't wrap your heads around the possibility of that happening, then stop asking me!"

But Roger couldn't be shaken that easily. "I would really love to believe that, but both the witness and everything you've had against the poor man up until now tells a different story!"

No longer was everyone preoccupied with breakfast; now all eyes were on him. Carmen scoffed and threw his head back in frustration, tired of having to explain himself over and over again.

"That 'poor man' is bad news," he snapped, clenching his fists. "I don't trust him and neither should you. You should stand after me, damn it!"

"I did!" Roger's shout reverberated around the room, and once more it became silent. Carmen stepped back a little and averted his gaze, while Roger let out a sigh and spoke again, quieter this time: "I did, but this… I cannot stand after this. Carmen, you may have killed him, for God's sake!"

"I know that!" Carmen snapped back at the same volume, his need for justification returning. "I know, but why would I want to hurt him this way? Why would I do it so publicly? Do you think I would want everyone to turn on me?" He swallowed, gathering the courage to meet Roger's eye again. "For you to turn on me?"

"Then why-"

"I got angry, okay?" He looked between Roger and his friends at the table, trying to read out if they believed him. "He was being rude, so I snapped and before I knew it-"

"Rude?" Rogger stopped him, frowning. "Are we talking about the same person?"

"Well-" Carmen halted as well, thinking back to that afternoon; thinking back to Perry's maddening correctness. "He wasn't exactly rude, but he had some snide remarks, so I-"

"So you pushed him down the stairs!" Roger finished for him, throwing his hands up and turning away in exasperation.

Carmen forced out a humourless laugh, marvelling at how amazingly stubborn Roger could be even in situations as dire as these. It was almost as if he didn't want to be proven otherwise; as if he wanted him to admit to some unspeakable crime and face the consequences just so he could say "I told you so."

Worse still, others started joining in; Brian being the first one brave enough to intervene.

"What's your evidence?" he asked out of the blue, but it wasn't necessarily an attack. As compared to Roger, who was already in the midst of fretting and jumping to conclusions, the others were more patient. "I mean, you know I usually trust your judgement, but I fail to see the motive here. Why don't you trust him?"

"Why do you trust him?" Carmen retorted, turning defensive once again. "He's trying to split us apart. And look, it's working! And not only us; Max and Leo as well. I don't know why, but what I really can't comprehend is how you all can be so stupid not to see it!"

"Well," Brian sneered and sunk back into his seat, no doubt insulted. "At this point, I bet the guy is scared of you enough to agree with anything you ask him to say, so you might as well prove it!"

Carmen shot him a look, disappointed how quickly even he, one of the more considerate ones, turned on him. "Be quiet, Brian."

"No, he's right," Scott entered the brawl, setting his cutlery down with a clank. "What is it that you have against him? You say it's not jealousy; we believe you. So what then? He's been nothing but sweet to us. To everyone. To you, even!"

"Me?" Carmen put a hand to his chest, baffled. "When has he ever been sweet to me?"

Scott crossed his arms in turn, raising an eyebrow. "Did he not cover for you when Leo asked how come he's lying under a flight of stairs, with you on top of them? Did he not stretch the budget so that our salaries didn't have to be docked when the show was a no-go? And you know that had Leo still been the accountant in charge then, Max would have convinced him to save money whereever possible; starting with us. Really, Carmen. How did he deserve it to be treated this way?"

Carmen barely had the time to open his mouth before Shirley joined in with the same vigour.

"And he offered to fix the lights for me without being asked."

Carmen could do nothing but scoff, mouth agape as he shifted his attention between the two of them. "I fixed the lights!"

"He has nothing against the way we are either," Sabu added somewhat casually, reaching across the table for another pancake. Only when he noticed the silence that surrounded his comment did he look up from his plate. "What? There's no way he didn't notice!"

No one protested, the blunt observation seemed to have plunged them into thought and calmed the mood for a moment.

"He brings me coffee every morning," Kevin muttered into the quiet, unsure whether it was an argument enough to throw in.

Once more, no one protested or laughed, but they exchanged looks that spoke for themselves. It was then that Roger stopped pacing and cleared his throat, making everyone turn towards him.

"And he never lets Max mock Leo in any way, not even even jokingly," Roger wrapped it up and propped himself against the table, rounding on Carmen.

"So tell us, darling, and tell us honestly." Roger's voice was calm this time, but Carmen found himself wondering whether the trace of venom he heard in his words was really there, or if he had imagined it. "What is the real deal here?"

Truth be told, Carmen had already given thought to all they said. He didn't know why Perry would cover for him or act friendly despite Carmen's obvious signals that being friends was the last thing he wanted, but he didn't budge. So maybe his reactions were premature, but he felt they weren't unwarranted; though he hoped they would be.

"Not that you would care-" Carmen spat the words, reaching for his chains as if to reassure himself they were there- "but for starters, he knows my name." He paused there, waiting to see if there would be any kind of reaction. Some of the looks he got were comprehending, while others stayed confused. He grasped the chains a fraction tighter. "The real one, before you start saying I've gone crazy. Leo told him, in case you're interested."

Shocked silence followed. He found himself devouring it, wickedly; shame and delight mixing in his veins as he watched their faces change. The mention of Leo's name, he noticed, jolted them awake more than the mention of his own, and he didn't blame them. Who knew what sweet Leo was capable of?

"He did?" was all Roger could muster in response. Funny, Carmen thought. All the others suddenly had nothing to say either.

"He did," he confirmed. Then he felt a bolt of electricity, almost a calling; they finally got a taste of what was on his mind for weeks; they were finally close to understanding. He stepped forwards - one step, two steps - until he was in Roger's face, giving him no choice but to lock eyes and listen. "You want to know what else he did? He lied. To you. To me. To Max and everybody else who wasn't Perry. And he didn't lie for him, no; he lied with him. When you said that he didn't tell Max about their little Brooklyn Bridge meeting just so he won't get jealous? Wrong. There was always something more behind it, and I had that confirmed yesterday."

Now not only Roger, but everyone was alert, hanging on every word he had to say. It was about damn time they did, and so he continued. "Poor Leo, being out of work because of that unshakable flu that has gotten us all… That's what all of you were thinking, wasn't it? Well, that's what I thought too. But don't you worry, he isn't sick and he never was. What a relief, right?"

"How does that relate to…" Kevin piped up shyly, desperate to find how he may be mistaken.

"To Perry? Well, he was of course either the one who encouraged him to fake it or at least willing to allow Leo to do so, because he's the one who was with him when he was supposed to be at work. On another thought..." His voice got darker than usual as he continued, saying the words almost to himself. "He was at work. Just not the one where he belongs."

This time it was Shirley who caught on. "What is that supposed to mean?"

At long last Carmen relaxed slightly and stepped back from Roger. He let out a breath, addressing all of them now. "They went to their past workplace - you know, that accounting firm Leo was miserable at. He told me so yesterday, but wouldn't tell me why. The strangest thing about this? He practically begged me not to tell Max. Now, am I exaggerating?"

"Well-" Roger began after a short break off. Carmen shot him a warning glare; somehow he expected what he would say. But Roger didn't seem to notice, and continued nonetheless: "You may be. I'm not saying youare, now - calm down. What I mean is that maybe… Maybe it's more innocent than it seems; you can't know, those are no crimes. Pushing someone down the stairs, that is a crime. And then, faking an illness is one thing, but a name is just a name… Perry can't know-"

"Just a name?" Carmen couldn't believe what he was hearing. Roger, of all people, knew what it meant - or rather didn't mean - to him. "Look, he may not have a problem with 'the way we are', but others might. Others did! There's a reason some things - some words - are meant to be and stay hidden. There's a reason we have to stay hidden!"

The moment he finished his short, unintended speech, something in the air seemed to change. All of a sudden no one looked at him with suspicion or blame. Just like that, their faces turned more understanding, their postures less rigid; they were starting to lean on his side. Yes, he thought, his heart skipping a beat at the new glimmer of hope. Yes, I need you with me.

And just when Carmen thought he wouldn't, Roger nodded, too. "Okay," he said. "Okay, I'm sorry. We'll talk to Leo; all of us. I'm sure… I'm sure he has a good explanation - we just need to be gentle. But even then… How is any of this Perry's fault?"

Carmen's face fell again. Seriously?

"Let me explain." Roger held up a hand before he could say a word. "He surely didn't ask Leo to tell him. How would he know it holds any importance to you? It seems Leo just… slipped. And I seriously doubt he's forcing him to spend time together either. Have you ever seen their interactions? Leo likes him, and he likes Leo. All those meetings must have been voluntary on both sides. Well, no matter-" he clasped his hands together- "you need to apologize."

Carmen gave a scoff, letting his hands fall at his sides. "Apologize?"

"Why, yes. He isn't responsible for Leo's actions."

"Even if that were true; he won't speak to me."

"Surprise," Brian's voice sang from behind Roger, but one look from Carmen kept him from saying more.

"It's not like he needs to say anything, is it?" Suddenly Roger sounded rather jovial, giving him a cheap smile. "I can ask Max for his address, or you may call him. Either way, you can kiss his shoes if he doesn't sue you."

He couldn't risk losing their alliance again. Looking from Roger to his team, hoping that maybe, one of them would disagree, he finally gave in.

"Fine," he forced between grit teeth. "But I'm not bringing flowers!"

With that he made to storm off, as the team started dispersing into their rooms as well, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks.

"Wait," Roger said and looked down, somewhat embarrassed. Carmen waited. At last Roger sighed and met his eye. "If it's true what you're saying… If Leo really did tell him about your name - maybe about your past - and if he wasn't sick… I guess I owe you an apology."

Despite his initial instinct to brush him off and continue on his way, Carmen forced himself to let go of the hurt and take the chance; at being trusted and supported like he used to be, at things being good again. At normalcy.

"I guess you do," he replied with solemn disinterest, but failed to resist the smile tugging at his lips. "And don't question whether I'm telling the truth next time, will you?"

"Well..." Roger scratched the back of his head and made a face - they were back to jesting. "I sure hope you are."

Carmen titled his head and cocked an eyebrow. 'And if I wasn't?' he almost asked, but then thought it better to leave while things were calm - no need to tempt the gods. With that in mind, he gave a low chuckle and started to leave.

Lingering in the doorway for a second longer - a part of him hoped Roger would have something more to say still - he nodded, acknowledging nothing in particular, and disappeared into the living room.

He already had one foot up on the first marble step when a vase overflowing with yellow tulips on one of the tables beside the stairs caught his eye. Retreating, he came close to the flowers. Stroking over the petals which shone so brightly in the late morning light, he lifted them from the vase and up to his nose; they smelled like the spring which he so ached for lately.

And just like that, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

---

The silence was driving him crazy. He had always hated the quiet days, the ones of still telephones and silent clocks; he would always do everything in his power to avoid them. Sometimes that meant that despite living alone, there was hardly a time his small studio apartment wouldn't be filled with music from the rusty gramophone - The Everly Brothers took turns with Tony Bennett - while other times it meant being out and about as long as possible, surrounded by the symphonies of the city instead. The song was in the gentle hum of refrigerators at the milk bar and the rhythmic passing of cars on the street. The high notes were the sirens, the horns and the hollering. To someone unaccustomed it could be less than therapeutic, but to him, these were the sounds of home. And being deprived of them was worse than the constant aching in his ribs and shoulder.

Even if he were to will himself to get up from the bed he now occupied for longer than was comfortable, he couldn't stand to listen to anything either way; the pain from the strained shoulder muscles spread to his neck and up to his head, making it throb and pound, which in turn made the hopes of such a distraction impossible. So he had tried reading one of his books about human communication, one he had read before but which oddly brought him comfort, but after squinting through the first two pages - his glasses had broken in the fall and he had forgotten how bad his eyesight had gotten - his thoughts kept flashing back to the backstage, the staircase, the hospital. He couldn't get his mind off of Leo's worried looks, or of the guarded but caring way Max had spoken to him while they sat in the waiting room. And though he couldn't see why they should care - especially Leo, considering what he must think of him now - it brought him a sense of gratification which he had so tried to avoid. There was no place for gratification, those empty consolations; not now. Not until everything was as it should be.

So with nothing to do, he half sat, half lay on the bed, trying to read stories out of the ceiling, searching for something that would keep him busy for as long as he was to be confined to this bleak, eventless place.

Eventually, the grey walls started getting greyer, the dim light in the room dimmer; he must have bored himself to the point of sleep freeing him, and it must have been a deep sleep; deep enough to make him disorientated and hazy upon waking. At first he couldn't figure out what it was that disturbed his much-desired rest; a distant ringing in a fog of tiredness, coming from everywhere but stronger on his right side. Irritated, he turned in that direction; there was a phone on the bedside table, and he reached for it, but at that moment the sound stopped. He blinked, retreating his hand and settling back into the pillows. Then, there it was again - short and buzzing and not anything like the noise his phone made - and he realized, perhaps a little too slowly, that it was the doorbell.

Too curious for his own good, he sat up, but was reminded immediately why he spent the day in bed; the injured ribs protested by a single but sharp, breath-hatching jab; his arm spasmed. Cursing, he sank down again, damning himself for not leaving the door unlocked for whoever it was to enter. Taking a moment to be frustrated, he breathed in; breathed out - and heaved himself up, staggering across the room until he reached the door. For once he was glad those Brooklyn apartments were so small.

Leaning his weight on the door handle, he fiddled with the lock for a few moments - his dominant arm being in a sling - and opened. Although he didn't know who he was expecting, he was still surprised to come face to face with the one who occupied his mind most these days.

"Leo?"

Leo smiled at him - but it looked rather insincere - and handed him something; wordlessly, as if he believed he could avoid a conversation altogether if he stayed quiet.

Puzzled, Perry took it from him. It was a box, too small to be chocolates and too big to be jewelry. It was plain and black with just a tiny lettering in the corner, which, he guessed, would reveal the contents, had he been able to read it; once again, he missed his glasses.

"Oh-" he said, dumbly, too embarrassed to admit he had no idea what it was- "thanks."

Leo titled his head; obviously this wasn't the right response. So tentatively, he opened the unexpected gift, but even then, all he could see was something glossy sitting in a jumble of a soft black material. He looked up at Leo, a little helpless. "Sorry, I…"

If he could clearly see Leo's expression, it would probably be confused, but he said nothing and reached to retrieve the box, taking the object out; Perry flinched when he proceeded to practically shove it into his face.

But Leo only chuckled and muttered something that could have been a 'sorry', when at last Perry understood what the mysterious thing was.

"Woah," he said when the cold material of the glasses settled on his nose, only to be startled anew when even then his vision remained unchanged. "That's-"

"The optometrist told me your prescription ought to have changed since the last time," Leo blurted out, suddenly sheepish. "So you must come in yourself for the lenses, but I thought they'd suit you and everything's paid for in advance, so you don't have to-"

"Thank you," Perry interrupted his fretting, hoping he didn't sound too touched or not touched enough by the gesture. Carefully he took the glasses off again and couldn't help a grin. "Honestly, thank you. I'm kind of screwed without them."

"I figured," Leo chuckled softly - this time it sounded more genuine.

Perry meant to ask how come he knew his prescription in the first place, but then he remembered their little exchange from some weeks back; Leo had been tired of overlooking the stage hussle all day long, so he came to visit him in the theatre's small office. Once there he had realized that he didn't really have anything to say, so after a few moments of awkward silence, he had asked to try on his glasses. It came so out of the blue that he must have given the poor guy quite a look, but then he laughed and handed them over. The common reaction ensued: "Wow. Those are strong." And Perry, too used to this comment, had anticipated what would follow and told him exactly how strong they were. It was a small thing, a detail; but it still warmed him that Leo remembered that about him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked instead and let Leo in, while he stayed strategically leaned against the doorframe. "Max says you're sick."

Leo, still tense, wandered around the room, maybe searching for a place to sit, maybe just avoiding meeting his eye. "I'm fine." He said after a while, toneless. "A little high on aspirin, maybe, but fine." He stopped and seemed to think for a moment. "I'll keep my distance, though. Don't worry."

Perry had to snicker at his concerns. "I'm not worried about getting sick, if that's what you're thinking." He paused. "I'm worried about you."

"Me?" Leo repeated, fingers flicking through some pages - probably magazines he'd left on the table - while keeping his back to him still. "I'm not the assassinated one here."

"Almost assassinated," Perry emphasized, sticking a finger up in the air. "Not so easy to get rid of, my friend."

"Please-" Leo started saying, voice sharp. 'Don't call me that' was what Perry assumed should have been the full sentence, but Leo didn't continue it. He had stopped wandering, too, and sat on the edge of his bed, which was in the furthest corner of the room.

Then, the question he dreaded: "Won't you sit?"

"Of course, of course," he replied nodding, already measuring the distance from here to the first thing he could lean on so that Leo wouldn't notice any difficulty in his movements. As expected, his attempt was unsuccessful; Leo understood as soon as he grabbed the first chair for support. He moved to help, but Perry dismissed him with a wave. Ignoring however ridiculous he might have looked, he crossed the remaining distance as swiftly as he was capable and sat down next to Leo, who kept one hand extended should he need assistance.

"So-" he began once he was seated, making an effort to not sound too breathless- "what can I do for you? Won't Max miss you?"

"He knows I'm here," Leo replied, and once again Perry noticed the gentleness in his demeanor whenever he spoke of Max, but forced himself to say nothing about it. "What he doesn't know is I'm headed to Whitehall & Marks afterwards."

Leo said this quickly; so quickly that he almost asked him to repeat himself, but he knew he'd heard right.

"Today? Why? We didn't plan any-"

"No, we didn't," Leo cut him off. "The plans were made for us. He only let me go the last time after I promised I'd meet with him again. To 'make amends', he said." There was a sudden bitterness in his words, mingling with uncertainty and a fair share of anger. "Call me crazy, but I don't dare to disobey. Not even after all these years."

Refusing him certainly wasn't a way to go; such a course of action was guaranteed to make things worse, for if there was anything the old prude hated it was refusal to submit. Still, he had to say something. "I should go with you. Just in case-"

"In case what?" Leo cut his sentence short, practically shouting by then. "In case something happened? Isn't this what you had planned all along?"

"No," Perry almost whimpered in his urgency, inching even closer to Leo. "No, you mustn't think that. I was telling the truth when I said I didn't know he would catch you. Don't you believe me?"

"I don't-" he said, and Perry thought that would be the final statement. But "I don't know," Leo finished, and instantly he felt a little lighter. Leo trailed off after the confession, his breathing a little agitated at first but calmed the longer they sat in silence.

"When you…" he started anew once he was composed again, but this wording didn't seem to satisfy him. "When this happened-" he corrected himself- "you said you tripped, not that Carmen pushed you. Why?"

A corner of Perry's mouth quirked up. He had expected that question since the beginning. "He's your friend." He raised his head and focused on Leo's face; but not his eyes, as he'd have to squint to be able to read anything in them. "I didn't want to get him into trouble. Or the theatre."

At first it seemed Leo wouldn't accept it. His gaze was fixed on him, something in his comportment that carried a sense of a distrust so set that it wouldn't go unless something were to shake it; something real and genuine that would return their relationship its original spirit. The tragedy, he came to realize, was that one never knew what that thing was, or if it existed at all, and the one who carried the information wouldn't disclose it.

"I see," Leo said despite his obvious doubts. "I appreciate that. I'm sure he will, too."

Perry nodded. There was nothing else for him to say or do.

"Well-" Leo cleared his throat and got up- "thought I'd stop by, but I should go now. Get better."

Normally he'd have led him to the door, but today he thought it better for everyone if he stayed put. "Wish I could go with you. I'm afraid I would only slow you down, though."

"And you would walk into a pole," Leo added after a moment, his voice sounding the smallest bit thicker, as if he were fighting to keep it as bland as he did until now. But Perry picked up on the light-hearted subtext, and easily so, as Leo was always more of an open book than he would admit to himself.

Not wanting to upset him now that he was amical again, Perry laughed at the well-intended jab, and Leo laughed with him. In that short exchange, a silent agreement was created - they could stay civil, they could work this out - but it lasted only a moment. Leo turned to go.

"Be careful," he blurted out at the last moment, just in time to catch his hand, squeeze it and let it go all in the same fraction of a second.

"Of course," Leo assured, a tint of bewilderment in the simple words, and then he was out the door without much ceremony.

In a way Perry was relieved. Coming to see him meant not all was lost; yet. It meant he still cared, no matter how little. And that was something to work with. Replenished now that he had had company, albeit for a short while, he smiled to himself and collapsed backwards onto the mattress. Once he got better, he would start rebuilding the lost trust again and he was confident, now more than ever, that things would work out. Just minutes ago, he believed the whole incident to be a setback, a complication. But the visit brought a new perspective; Leo's sympathy was a bridge, and it just took time to trust his weight on it.

What was more, if fortune was to stay on his side, the nosy assistant would be off of his back too, now that he was legally compromised. That was what he told himself as he lay in the bed, which didn't feel as constricting as it had in the morning. He was positive the relative contentment Leo provided with his visit would last for the day; the positivity persisted even as another buzz from the doorbell ripped through his thoughts.

"It's open," he called, unbothered to sit up and look as he assumed it to be Leo, having forgotten something in his rush. The door opened with a creak; hesitant footsteps shuffling in. He expected a burst of apologies and explanations followed by a speedy exit, but neither came.

"Just take whatever you forgot and hurry along," he addressed him and put his uninjured arm over his eyes, a little amused at Leo's tentativeness. "He's gonna skin you if you're late, but you know that."

"Oh? I don't think Roger will mind," an unexpected, sardonic voice countered.

He sat up so quickly he had to stifle a pained yelp. Even without his glasses, he recognized the person all too well.

"Well damn me, speak of the devil…," Perry muttered under his breath once the initial surprise wore off, rubbing his once again aching chest. "What in the hell do you want? Here to finish me off?"

Carmen didn't react to the comment and let himself in instead, looking around the apartment with an air of astonishment, as if he were surprised to find it clean and normal; no weed gardens and the like. Perry had to roll his eyes.

"Tell me, is there any particular reason-" Carmen spoke up at last and pointed towards the hall with one hand, the other holding a bouquet of what seemed to be yellow tulips- "why I just caught a glimpse of Leo hurrying out of here?"

---

There was that feeling in his stomach again, a soft mixture between nausea and electric tingles. His head had begun to buzz; his heart rate increased as if he were running away like he wanted to. His own steps echoed back to him off of the marble walls of the old firm. Walking through the hall felt more like treading a conveyor belt; like he was a cow in the slaughterhouse heading toward the captive bolt. That feeling never changed. What did change, though, was his situation; he was no longer powerless, no longer in the inferior position. No, he was a producer, one with a reputation and influence and wealth. Just the thought of that sounded surreal to him - he had never come to think of himself as a man of power in any sense of the word - yet it was true. Surreal or not, the notion gave him a sense of confidence he so desperately needed right now. He needed to fake it, at the very least, for the boss liked to intimidate more than anyone he had known while having the capacity to appear professional when it came down to it. It was enough to drive one up the wall.

But he was stronger now. He wouldn't let it get to him anymore. He has no power over me, Leo repeated to himself as he raised his hand to knock on the office's door. No power. He knocked once; twice. No power.

The door opened almost immediately. Leo half expected to be berated for being late - though he knew he wasn't - but was able to keep up the pretense of emotionless composure even as they came face to face. Greetings were exchanged, one dripping with more disdain than the other, then Leo sat down behind his side of the table without being prompted. If anything, he could at least try to be over with this ordeal as quickly as could be. He didn't react when he heard the door behind him fall shut; he said nothing when he heard a key being turned in the lock. He had only done so to frighten him, Leo was sure; or at least he told himself that.

As Marks seated himself opposite him, Leo kept his chin up, making himself maintain direct contact. It wasn't too hard at first; the man wasn't even looking at him, smiling slyly as he focused on the Newton's cradle which was on his table ever since Leo could remember. Every time it would swing left, he would catch the ball, wait a few seconds, then let it fall back with a metallic click. Trifling with its natural momentum caused it to be out of rhythm with the clock, the steady tick and tock disturbed by the click at an unpredictable frequency. He repeated the same process at least 11 times - not that Leo counted - until he could take it no more.

"Why am I here?" he blurted out, never taking his eyes off of his former boss. It did put an end to the unnerving sounds, for he halted the cradle's movement altogether and set it aside.

"Why-" finally Marks met his eye and jeered- "you know why."

Leo stood his ground. "I don't."

"You don't?" He asked in his irritating accent, laughing openly now as Leo clenched his teeth. He would have his turn to speak; he just had to be patient. "Let me remind you. First things first, you entered the building without alerting the receptionist. That in itself is a minor offense, but then-" he leaned forward on his elbows, lowering his voice- "breaking into and stealing from an office doesn't paint a good picture of you either."

"I know that." Leo snapped. "But that's not why you wanted me to come."

Marks leaned back in his chair and squinted his beady eyes, something between amazement and amusement at Leo's boldness in them. "I could press charges against you."

But Leo couldn't be fazed that easily; big words often meant minimal actions. "You already would have if you had planned to. What do you want from me?"

It felt as though he waited for this question exactly; he smiled his sinister scowl. "You."

Leo's internal calm, or what remained of it, seemed to crumble that moment. The notion filled him with dread, mostly because he couldn't imagine what it meant. What mattered more, though, was that the external facade remained unchanged; he could still fool him.

"I beg your pardon?"

Leo heard another scoff as Marks got up from the table and circled it, but he could no longer look at him. Instead he stared ahead, fixating on nothing in particular as he fought the urge to let his thoughts drift; they often did when he was faced with difficult situations. But this was not one he could ignore. He had to stay present.

"You heard me." He was somewhere behind him now, but Leo didn't dare to turn. "I want you here. As a matter of fact, I think you want to be here, too."

Now, that was a concept so ridiculous he could have laughed. "I assure you that's not the case."

"No?" He was standing close behind him; Leo could feel it. "What is, then? You had said it yourself - you took the employee personnel files to retrieve your own record. For days I couldn't figure out why, but then it clicked; no one wants to hand in a resume with reports so tainted, do they?"

That made Leo turn around, furious. "What are you talking about? I've never done anything-"

"Yes, you have," he bellowed out of the blue, pushing Leo to face the wall again. He didn't dare to protest. "Did you think you could leave without a notice and face no consequences? That you are exempt from law now that you have money? When you leave, all your extra work falls to another; if they make a mistake, you are responsible. And you are responsible, Bloom."

"Money? Really?" Leo said in disbelief. "If that's what it's about, I could have just paid you any losses back-"

"And why should I make it so easy for you?" Marks retorted. At that point Leo was glad he wasn't facing him; the outer facade was starting to fall apart as well. "You didn't make it easy for me, so returning the favor would only be fair. Isn't fairness what you're after, in the end?"

So many questions; Leo had answers to none of them. And then, he had never been sure which questions were truly meant to be answered; so he asked one himself, fighting to keep his voice even: "So? What happens?"

A low chuckle followed. "Come on, Bloom." He was right next to his ear now, causing a shiver to run down Leo's spine. "You want the job back; filling in columns is all you can do. It's fine, I understand - not everyone is cut out for show business."

Leo had to close his eyes to refrain from lashing out. Firstly, it would betray his nervousness. Secondly, he was afraid. Genuinely afraid of what might happen should he cross the line which he didn't even know the borders of.

"I would prefer it if you spoke to my face, Mr Marks," he hissed despite his worries, making sure he put enough of a spiteful emphasis on the way he called him.

Leo judged by the momentary silence which followed that the request had stunned him. He recovered quickly though, and crossed back to his original place. He didn't sit down in the chair, still looming over him, but at least he wasn't so close anymore. "Assertive, are we?" he only said with mock surrender. "That's new."

"People change," Leo retorted, feeling just a little proud of himself for passing as someone even remotely 'assertive'.

A sneer was what he got in response. "No need to get prickly," he spat each word like venom; Leo wondered how he and his coworkers managed to stay silent all those years, for this was his default way of speaking. "I'm merely offering you to make amends."

Leo took a breath and made himself hold his condescending gaze again. "So you said."

"Think of it as an exchange," Marks continued as if Leo hadn't even spoken, starting to pace the room's short length back and forth. "You will resign from your current position and reclaim your old spot at the firm. For lower pay, of course, as any new employee would. This way - and only this way - you'll pay back every last penny you owe to the company. You are to do this voluntarily; no lawsuit, no 'friends' getting you out of it. And you are not to leave the company again unless I, personally, throw your sorry ass out." By now he was only inches from Leo's face, his eyes burning with menace so deeply rooted that Leo was afraid to recoil. "Is that understood?"

He had almost stuttered out a terrified 'yes, Mr Marks' out of habit, but caught himself in time. Instead, he stemmed his hands on the chair and straightened up, giving Marks no choice but to back off unless he wished to kiss him; fortunately he didn't.

"There's no way for you to force me to agree to something so absurd," Leo defended himself, making an effort to sound forceful despite the tremor in his voice. "Do you think I don't have the money to exonerate myself of a petty breach of contract? Then you're very mistaken, sir." With those words he sprung up from his seat, meaning to regain the upper hand. "You have no power over me."

There was the sleazy smirk again which Leo wished he could just slap off of his face then and there. "You sure about that?" the taller man purred. Then, in the blink of an eye, any humor vanished from his features as he grabbed Leo's chin roughly, forcing him close to his face yet again; so much for wanting to be spoken to directly, Leo thought dryly. "Say a word about this meeting or try to otherwise oppose me-" he seethed- "and all of your careers go up in flames."

Leo felt his blood go cold. "Our careers?" he asked and swallowed, or tried to; his mouth went completely dry.

"Your careers," Marks confirmed and released his grip on him. Leo watched him walk over to his desk in silent apprehension as he proceeded to dig something up from his drawers then throw it onto the table. With building dread Leo recognized the files; a copy of the accounting book for Prisoners of Love and a ton of other papers all proving his guilt; overstating revenue, failing to record expenses accurately, misstating assets and liabilities. All the creative ways to commit accounting fraud.

"How did you…," he was only able to get out as all power to protest seemed to have left him. Then slowly, cruelly, the realization set in. Tears of anger stung his eyes as he let out a single nervous laugh, feeling his palms beginning to sweat. He had to be the most gullible person on earth; of course, there was only one person who could have provided Marks with such information. "Why now? It's been years," he said quietly in place of the question he already knew the answer to. It didn't even bother him anymore how weak his demeanor had gotten.

"Why?" Marks repeated almost incredulously, the volume of his voice raising. "You did this to yourself the moment you stepped a foot into my office! Don't you get it?"

Unexpectedly Marks started towards him and this time, adrenaline finally kicked in, overpowering Leo's desire to seem unflinching. In a bout of panic he tried to get away from his path, but the reaction came a second too late. He grabbed hold of both of Leo's forearms in a single quick motion, halting his movement.

"I will strip you of all that you know-" he began backing him into the wall, slowly at first- "all that you love-" he pushed harder as Leo tried to wrestle himself free from the tight clutch- "until you have no shelter but me!"

The moment Leo's back made contact with the hard wall was like hitting a switch. He has had enough of people manhandling him; he was tired of being dragged along like a ragdoll by everyone who exceeded him in strength. In a daze-like moment of despair he wished for someone to burst through the door - Max, Perry, anyone - and put a stop to this, but he let the thought go as quickly as it came. Nobody is coming to save you, he told himself. Wake up.

And wake up he did. Gathering all of the nervous energy - all of the fear and betrayal and resentment - towards one forceful blow, he aimed for the head as he swung one fist forward. Both to his surprise and not, he didn't miss.

He was released instantly as the man stumbled backwards, holding both hands to his nose and bending over slightly. Leo stood petrified by his actions at first, but finally remembered what he had done this for and moved away from the wall, putting the desk between them as a barrier.

Marks had his back turned to him so he couldn't see his expression, but as he straightened up and gave a somewhat astounded chuckle, Leo started doubting whether this was a good idea after all.

"My my," he heard his tauntingly bemused voice, "you really have changed."

Leo raised his chin defiantly in spite of shaking all over. "I'd hope so."

But Marks' sharp turn caught him off guard again; he didn't gather himself in time before he was seized and held up by the lapels of his suit once more, the desk doing little to maintain a safe distance.

"But I know what you are underneath - this." He looked him up and down in disdain. "A quivering, pathetic coward too scared of his own shadow to do a damn thing about this. And I promise you - I will bring him out again."

With that he was dragged out of the office and shoved into the cold deserted hallway, with a pit in his stomach the size of the Grand Canyon and hopelessness so profound he saw no point in trying to quell it anymore.

---

He could always tell when Leo's mind was drifting; he just couldn't say which paths it took or when he would come back.

Sitting in his preferred spot - the shabby leather armchair next to the lamp - with his legs up on the seat ever since he came home from his check-up on Perry, Leo had been sketching into his time-worn sketchbook for hours on end. Though that was a bit of an overstatement; most of that time he stared off into space, the pencil barely brushing against the paper. At one point Max had interrupted his daydreaming to talk about how his visit had gone, but Leo was rather curt with words and straight-to-the-point in behavior. After a well-deserved day off for the whole theatre, Max would have expected an evening a little more dynamic than that, yet he couldn't quite blame him.

Given the pressure Leo no doubt must be feeling after yesterday's incident, combined with the stress of work and his current state of health, it would be selfish to expect enthusiasm from him. His temperature, for instance, started increasing again as evening approached, but they decided it best they let it run its course. That considered, making him comfortable was the last thing he could do, whether that meant giving him space or making sure he drank and ate something every now and then. Still, there was only so long Max could stay without some kind of an impulse; sitting in silence until they both went to bed wasn't how he wanted his free day to end.

So when the clock hit 7pm, he decided there had been just enough of artsy time.

Getting up from where he sat, Max made sure to stay light on his feet so as to not startle Leo when he came up to him; the boy was able to get so deep into his thoughts at times that ripping him out of them harshly could give him quite a scare. He didn't mean to lurk, but once he came close enough to the armchair to look over Leo's shoulder, he couldn't help but to watch him guide his hand along the lines of an emerging sketch, too early in the process to figure out what he had in mind. His strokes were short but precise, the pencil in his hand steady; it had a way of speaking directly to his artist soul, of allowing him to translate some of his ideas to the page. Leo's sketches were always very geometrical - buildings, or rather pieces of them, often snuck into his drawings. Not that he ever had any architectonic aspirations. When Max had asked about it, he explained it was simply the structures and patterns that fascinated him. It made sense, for apart from architecture the sketchbook - or what Max had seen of it - was filled with designs for marquees and lettering and even pieces of sets.

He had half a mind to comment on it - there was a sketch of an antique door standing alone that caught his attention - when Leo shifted to make himself more comfortable, setting the pencil aside and leaving the outline unfinished. That meant he was aware of Max standing behind him, probably waiting for him to speak up. Of course, there were things he did wish to discuss with Leo for days; he just didn't find the right moment to do so yet, as he had the feeling it would upset him further when distress was the last thing he needed. Tomorrow, he had promised to himself, but when tomorrow became today, he still didn't get around to it. So the tomorrow became a 'later', something less demanding and more flexible to the given situation. Maybe he would talk to him now; maybe later.

Coming closer yet, he encircled his arms around the younger man's shoulders from behind, propping his chin atop the armchair's backrest without a word. He no longer felt like speaking anyway. Leo responded to the embrace with a slight delay, reaching up with one hand to grab onto Max's forearm lightly. Max shivered at the touch; if someone were to ask him why, he would blame it on the coldness of Leo's fingers. Since Leo didn't break the silence either, Max used the moment to ponder about everything and nothing, noticing how with his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, the bright glare from the lamp only accentuated the clammy paleness of Leo's skin. A pang of sympathy surged through him then; of course he didn't feel like fooling around.

"What are you doing?" Leo's shy voice sounded at long last.

Max had to smile at the pointless question. "Hugging you."

"Well, get off. I don't want you to get sick again."

Max just kept smiling, with no intention of letting him go just yet.

"You know," Leo continued when even after several moments Max held on to him, "there's a fine line between hugging and holding someone down so they can't get away."

Only then did Max take the hint. It was a no-touch kind of day. Still he smiled and stepped back, settling for just being in his presence for now.

"I'd rather you stay here, then."

Something about that comment seemed to have caught Leo terribly off guard; he quickly looked down and drew in a shaky breath, as if he was preparing himself for some kind of a confession. But "me too," he only said, voice meek and sad.

That was when Max knew to make the move; talk to him now or regret whatever consequences there would be later. It wasn't like Leo not to tell him about everything that crossed his mind day and night. To a certain amount he missed that.

"Okay, enough moping. Will you talk to me at all?" He walked over to sit on the armrest, careful to keep his voice and stance as casual as possible. "You've been like this since you came from Oliver's. Did he upset you anyhow?"

Had he been able to see Leo's face from that angle, he would think the notion amused him.

"No," he breathed, sounding a little cross, as if it was the most ridiculous question Max could have asked.

Max raised his eyebrows and had to scoff. "Convincing."

Leo didn't reply, but was back to looking somewhat guilty.

"What, then?" Max sighed and tried again, gentler this time. "You met Carmen, didn't you?"

That made Leo look up, his head tilting in wonder. "Why would I meet Carmen? I was nowhere near the East Side."

This confession left Max with two possibilities; he was either lying about where he'd been that whole time, or he was seriously out of it. He wasn't even sure anymore which one he wanted it to be.

"I spoke with Roger, you know. You and Carmen were supposed to be at the same place at the same time. Weren't you?"

At that point Leo just stared up at him with big, apologetic eyes, looking ready to cry. But why? What could have made him so distressed without Max noticing? They spent virtually every second of the day in each other's proximity. But before he could even finish the thought, he remembered Carmen's warnings from earlier. That Leo was spending less time with him. That they were rarely alone anymore. That he avoided him, even. All of that since the arrival of their new accountant, of whom Max had nothing but good meaning all along. Still the doubt didn't leave him, growing with Leo's every excuse, every unexplained disappearing, every silent evening like this one.

"Leo?" he gathered his courage and asked after a silence. "Where were you?"

Suddenly he found himself dreading the answer; that was, should Leo give him one, and to his surprise, he did. Only problem was, Max didn't quite understand him. That seemed to be Leo's life motto: When in doubt, mumble.

Max leaned in closer, frowning. "What was that?"

The fact that he had to repeat himself seemed to have upset him, for he sat up sharply and raised his voice to the point he almost shouted.

"I went to Whitehall & Marks, okay? Was that clear enough?"

Of all the things he expected, this wasn't the one. It sounded so simple, so trivial. Just like another little thing Leo would sometimes mention bothered him over lunch, a worry that would disappear as soon as he would share it. Max would even go as far as to laugh at it, but Leo's body language alone screamed at him to keep his defensive humor to himself this time.

"Well, not to be prematurely reassured…," Max chuckled nervously despite his attempts at staying serious. "But I must say I expected something - I don't know - something more serious than this."

"Is a lawsuit not serious enough to you?" Leo almost hissed at him, but his voice was strange. It didn't hold the anger Max expected it would; or, rather, it wasn't directed at him. Still, he was alert now, that unshakeable feeling of things about to collapse dawning on him.

"A lawsuit?" Max tried to laugh it off again, but Leo's face didn't change. "Against whom? Where did this even come from?"

"Marks. And it came from me." The matter-of-fact, unflinching answer gave Max a start, but he let Leo continue. "That man… Max, he's a scumbag. And you know it means something coming from me. I can't let him keep ruining the lives of smart, hopeful people who think coming into accounting will give them a calm, stable job. I've seen it a thousand times over; no one could stay happy there. So we…" He trailed off for a second, his eyes clouding over as if he were trying to remember what it was he wanted to say. "Um, so we decided to stop it. And there's only one way to do that. Well - the only legal one, that is."

It took Max a while to process what he meant, or even to associate Leo's words with people and places he brought up after years of little to no mention of them. Why this sudden need to change anything at all that no longer concerned him? It made no sense. Nothing did.

"Who the hell is 'we'?" He had tried to stay calm - really. But this play with details and the unsaid was beginning to drive him up the wall, for he wanted nothing from Leo but to be straightforward with him and end this endless circle of denying the obvious and making excuses that did nothing but feed Max's unease.

Leo quickly averted his gaze, his previous drive vanishing and fading to nothing.

"Me and Perry."

Without Leo having to say it, Max had somehow expected for him to be included somehow. He was Leo's only link to his days at the firm, after all. And then, thinking back, Leo's erratic behavior often seemed to stem from his interactions with the fellow accountant, though up until now, he had taken it to be a sign of nothing but good understanding between the two. They shared a history, they shared a profession; who was he to interject?

Well, those were the thoughts he contented himself with until today. Apprehension suddenly clouded his unproblematic relationship with Oliver, for he was certain - or wanted to be, at least - that this wasn't an idea Leo would come up with on his own.

"So if I'm getting this right-" Max rose from the armrest, turning to face Leo- "you two thought it to be a good idea to file a lawsuit against your lunatic ex-boss you just can't get over? Because if revenge is what you expect to get from this, I can't even begin to tell you how much this is gonna come back to bite you in the ass."

"It was my idea, just so you know." Leo sprung up from his spot too, but being seated in the same position for so long, he swayed and had to grab the headrest for support; not the dominant stance he probably meant to convey. "Leave him out of this. He reminded me of Whitehall & Marks, yes, but he's not responsible for my decisions from then on. I want to do it; I need to. I don't expect you to understand, but if there's anyone you should be angry with it's me. Perry, he… He tried to convince me not to do it, but I didn't listen." He was getting more desperate by the second, his aggravation building until he sounded near to tears. "Can you believe that or are you gonna pull a gun on him for a change? Finish what Carmen started?"

"Jesus, relax-'' Max made to take a step closer but thought better of it, only holding his hands out instead. "I didn't say half a bad word about your partner in crime. What I can't fucking wrap my head around is why you would get included with the law; again, may I remind you! And for something so petty. Really, Leo, I can't take you seriously when you're feverish. Is that why you're talking nonsense?"

Max knew the second he said it he was only making things harder for himself. The more he'd get under Leo's skin, the more he would clam up and lose his willingness to explain anything calmly. He knew this, but couldn't stop himself. He wasn't angry at Leo; not really, not in the sense most people would be. He was angry at Leo's naivety, his almost chronic vulnerability and susceptibility to getting carried away by idealistic views of a world that was unattainable. His intentions were noble, no doubt; what he was risking for them wasn't. In Max's eyes, it was just plain stupid.

"When did you, of all people, ever care about the law?" Leo then shouted back at him."You just can't bear me having other friends! The very thought of me acting on my own repels you. It always did!"

"When did I ever say that?" Max asked, baffled.

"You didn't have to! Just leave me- leave this alone…," he countered almost breathlessly and closed his eyes, putting one hand over them in an attempt to hide the tears he could no longer hold back. He suddenly looked very unthreatening and without the eye contact, it almost gave the impression he was arguing with himself. Even the arguments themselves sounded soulless, unfounded somehow; as if he himself didn't believe them and threw them at Max only for the sake of opposing him.

And despite his indignation, Max couldn't stand to watch him struggle. He already knew the drill; the moment Leo's breathing would start getting disordered, panic inevitably followed, something Max didn't have the capacity to witness right now and that Leo didn't need on top of already feeling so under the weather.

So he sighed and stepped closer, not yet touching him.

"Leo," Max stated - maybe a bit too emotionlessly - but no reaction followed, except for a little gasp for air as Leo tried to regain control of his body. So he tried again. "Look up at least. Come on."

He gave this tactic a chance only for a while, patience not being one of his virtues. When Leo wouldn't budge, he resorted to taking his hands into his own; not being as gentle as he had intended at first - he never could when he was agitated - but not too rough to scare him off either.

"I'm not buying this," Max began forcefully once Leo gave up on trying to step back and searched his face, but his head remained turned away from him. "This is not about honour or justice or whatever crap you're trying to sell me here. You're in trouble big time, aren't you? You said so yourself. And you're not getting me off your back until I find out what it is." He had to stop there and collect his thoughts; he couldn't shake the feeling of being about to ruin something, that gut feeling you get while the 'something' is already being ruined. He swallowed and continued nonetheless. "Whether you tell me or not."

But Leo was too deep in his hysterics by now, his own thoughts louder than any points Max was trying to get through to him.

"Max, please." he cried, only getting more frantic with each word. "You don't understand; I told you you won't, and you shouldn't, so stop trying. Don't tell anyone anything about it, don't ask me about it, don't mention it. Don't do anything. I can't tell you why; just listen to me for once and don't!"

"Listen to you?" Max exclaimed, never easing his hold on him. "Are you listening to yourself?"

"Let go of me!"

"To let you go where?" His grip moved to his bare forearms; that way he could get him closer to himself, a move bordering on intimidation and comfort. "To Oliver? To run from me any chance you get then come up with a lie as stupid as this?"

"I wasn't lying!"

"You better not be!" he gave a final bellow then fell silent. Everything did. And it was deafening.

Max let his head fall, taking a few breaths to drown out the ringing silence in his ears and refrain from lashing out any more. In front of him, Leo was as still as the air around them, not making a sound despite having been crying up until now. It was as though he was waiting for something to be said or done, the fearful tension in his body suddenly more pronounced than it had been even while they were shouting.

The change made Max wonder; for one uncomfortable moment he worried that Leo was afraid of him. In the next second he wished that were the case.

The bruises on Leo's arms weren't particularly noticeable or extensive. In fact, they were rather subtle in the dim light of the evening, but up close, he could see the blueish streaks going down both his arms in an almost symmetrical fashion. In a panic, Max let his hands fall, concerned that he had caused them by accidentally squeezing him too tight, but quickly enough he realized he couldn't have. First, they wouldn't have formed so quickly, and then, they would have been a different color. No, somebody else must have been responsible for them.

Cold dread spread through his body upon the realization.

"Leo," he said with almost no voice, looking up into his face for the first time in a while. "How on earth did you get so many bruises?"

His partner, on the other hand, didn't seem too shocked. The expression he wore on his face was more that of pity, but not towards himself; it seemed to hold sympathy for Max, an untold apology in that simple look.

"And there will be more-" he said, his voice once again thick with tears- "if you don't stay away."

And even as Leo pulled his sleeves down, giving him one more pleading look before disappearing behind the doors to the bedroom, Max stood, silent, no thoughts really crossing his mind expect for one:

Staying away was never an option.

---

A/N: Not long enough? ;)