Title: Consillium [ReV 242]
Featuring: Brian Postal
Date: March 16, 2011
Location: Abu Dhabi, U.A.E.

Brian, freed from his sterile hospital prison, enjoyed the… um… luxury accommodation provided a PRIME curtain-jerker in the U.A.E. But to honest it wasn't really all that bad. The bed was clean and there was a coffee-maker. Brian sat on the edge of the made bed in the lamp-lit room with the curtains still drawn at two o'clock in the afternoon. Apparently there was a pool and weight room on the ground floor as well. What more could you really want on the road?

Family? Not in Postal's case. His parents were dead and he hadn't seen his brother in over nine years. He should have just called. Brian hangs his head in shame and wonders how he could have let a little embarrassment separate him from the only blood he had left.

Friends? He hadn't seen Colin in nine years either. Could it be? Nearly a decade come and gone in instant, the snap of a finger. Well, it seemed that way in retrospect anyhow. Then there was Rachel. She was a keeper. Through-and-through. And here it was coming up on eight years since she walked out of that hospital room. She really never came back. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a diamond ring. He bought it with his first cheque from a Detroit studio gig. It still shined like the day he bought it. That rock was like a time capsule of hope. That hope was long dead now.

The more he thought about it the more it seemed that guilt and regret were the only memories he had left. What a depressing state of affairs. Brian let out a disparaged laugh. How could this be his shot? His big friggin' chance. What a joke that was. He'd lost two out of three… and even if he'd won them all who would he share it with? Who would care? And to make matters worse? He was once again relegated to lackey for the boss. Doing Shakur's bidding. Did this sound familiar? But then, it probably didn't really matter. There was no one to lose, and no one to disappoint this time.

Right?

He supposed there was some value in doing it simply for himself. For engaging change. Just to say he won. Or at least that he tried. Maybe winning wasn't as important as trying?

Brian reached for the lamp switch. He was just going to lay down in the dark. Alone with his thoughts. Maybe he'd get lucky and fall asleep - at two o'clock in the afternoon. Sleep was his only real escape from this world. It made the days end a little quicker. He didn't really have much reason to be awake anyhow. But in that moment something led him to crack open the drawer on that bedside nightstand.

The
Holy
Bible

Brought to you by
The Gideons

"Hmm… I guess they assume Americans are staying here." Brian laughed a little. He expected it to be a Quran, or empty. Nonetheless he thumbed the book open and read from the book of Herbews.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."

Brian smiled a little as he rubbed his forehead. "Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us." he repeated. Brian closed the book in one hands and tapped it against the other. He dropped it back in the drawer and slid it shut. Then he laid back on the bed and popped the switch on the lamp. The sun found itself unable to break through the thick, heavy curtains over the windows. Brian closed his eyes in the darkness and let his mind run rampant.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

The knuckles-on-wood sounded like cannon fire as Brian let from the bed into a standing position. He found himself confused. 'Have I slept' he wondered. A quick glance at the digital clock revealed that he had been on the bed for about 45 minutes. He still wasn't sure if he'd slept or not. He walked toward the door.

"Brian?" came a voice from the hallway.

Brian knew the voice. He didn't bother with the peep-hole at all. Instead he opened the dead-bolt and slid the chain out of the way, flinging the door open.

"Father!" he exclaimed excitedly.

Father Peter embraced Brian in the doorway. But it seemed to him that Brian collapsed on him with relief, more than just wanting to say hello.

"Can I come in?" the priest quizzed as he patted Brian on the back to signal the end of the hug.

"Of course." Brian fumbled out, backing away awkwardly, "Please, make yourself at… uh, hotel."

Peter nodded. "Thanks, Brian." He looked around into the darkness and a sad expression came over his face. The room lights came up as Brian flicked a switch near the door and the the saddened expression on the priest's face scurried away like cockroaches from the light. He turned to face Brian.

"How are you?"

"How am I? How are you? What are you doing here?" Brian responded.

"I needed to come and take care of one of my parishioners, that's all. The flight was okay, and customs here are amazing! I wish there were this efficient at home."

"Yeah."

"So, Brian, how's the trip been. I haven't spoken to you in a couple of weeks. What's new? How are things with the Partnership?"

"Fine, they're fine. I'm making strides."

"Brian, half your life is lived on television now. It makes i harder to hide things from me. I know what Devin Shakur's got you doing. Running around taking care of the boss's dirty work. More of the same. You can't fall back into this trap, Brian. This isn't why I turned you on to PRIME."

"That's easy to say from the outside looking in, Father. But when you're in my shoes the decisions aren't quite so black and white. If you've been watching then you saw that Hessian nearly killed me and as a result I have ongoing concussive symptoms that could easily keep me out of the ring. If I lose this shot I've got nothing."

"What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, but lose his soul?" said the priest, looking Brian squarely in the eyes.

"Mark 8:36." Brian replied. "I know, father, but what should I do I'm jammed up between rock and a hard place here. I can't see any obvious way out."

"What about the Toccos?"

"It's complicated, Father, I'm trying to get out, but they're not gonna let me go. I know too much, and I've been too close to Jack. The only way I'm getting out is in a body bag."

"Maybe we can make that happen."

"What?"

"Let me take you out for a beer, Brian. We'll talk about it."
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