(For Kane, and co.)

Bret watched as the Ferris Wheel turned its slow rotations. He hoisted his foot up against the control panel and used it to lean himself back in his chair, his dark eyes tilting up to take in the diamonds that winked in the night sky up above the flashing lights of the carnival. The sounds of the rides, the hollers of carnies running their games and stands, the laughter of children, it all blended into a song that was his every day life.

He looked over to one of the game stands where his cousin Roddy was drawing a crowd. The guy was one of the best, he knew how to draw, charm and woo dollars out of palms, he knew how to talk and he talked fast. His only downfall was his hot temper, and occasionally someone would accuse him of rigging his game, swindling, being a dirty carney, and a brawl would be on in the midway, down in the summer dust, and half eaten corndogs. Right now all seemed well enough, no one had provoked the hot Scot into fighting, at least not yet. Roddy looked Bret way, and winked at him. Bret gave him a small smile, and looked around the midway again.

Owen, his younger brother, was dressed up as a clown and making balloon animals for the children. Usually he ran one of the game stands as well, but he liked entertaining the children better. He had a million and one things that would make them laugh, and his eyes sparkled just as brightly as theirs did at his antics. Owen handed a blue balloon dog to a small boy who was licking at a dripping ice cream cone that was nearly larger than he was.

Then, there was Bret's personal favorite attraction. Although 'freak shows' weren't deemed politically correct anymore, and weren't as prominent at carnivals as the had been in the past, they still had a few people who traveled with them and took on that kind of a roll. They had the standard Giant, and up until the last stop they'd had a dwarf named Hornswoggle, but he got picked up on a warrant for his arrest. Sometimes family members were lost, but new ones would always show up.

Their other 'freak' went by the name of Kane. He wore a mask and preformed tricks with fire. This captivated Bret more than anything else on the midway. He spent a lot of his night quietly watching the fire dance and glow and burn brightly against the backdrop of velvet night. Something about that man interested him--not just the fire, but the man himself.

He sat in the far corner of the room, the citrusy smell of the flame retardant that he used to keep the fire from getting too close to his skin. Next to him sat his good friend, affectionately called the Giant to carnival goers but to everyone else is name was Show. He never gave his real name, and truth be told he never asked. They had a quiet friendship, they accompanied eachother and gave quiet witness to their moments when they needed to let loose.

A meaty hand clapped his shoulder and he jerked, his hair flipping wetly and catching Show in the face. The large man laughed and wiped the gooey gel away.

"Kane, you're drifting again. Second time today, you ok?"

He nodded and adjusted his glove, making sure his fingers were snug in the holes before reaching up and checking the straps on his mask. It was something that gave him comfort, the stiff leather sheilding his face from the spinning fire that earned him his pay. He hadn't always been as proficent as he was with it, and his face boasted a few burn marks from bothed catches and the leather masked helped keep those marks from view.

"Alright. It's about show time buddy. We meeting up afterwards for drinks?"

"Of course, as if we deviate from this pattern every night."

He rolled his eyes and Show crossed his, making a funny face as he got up and adjusted the strap of his unitard. Like always he started things off and then as the night swallowed out the sun he came out; his red and black outfit dancing as he twirled the lit sticks. The fire danced in his eyes as it moved, the heat a kiss to his skin as he moved it about him.

Whenever the dance ended he was left breathing heavily and his eyes would scan the crowds, falling on the same person each time; the dark headed man on the ferris wheel. He never let on that he noticed the staring but at the same time he never let it be known that he would track the smaller man's movements when they accidently crossed paths.

As the night wore on, people began to vacate the midway. The only wanderers left were riffraff, and lot lizards; those who trolled the midway looking to bed a carney and see who the real freaks were. Roddy had closed up his stand, and he was escorting two of them down the midway, one on each arm. One had a pink cowboy hat over her bleached hair, a shirt tied up to her chest showing off her pudgy middle. Her jean shorts rode dangerously low on her hips, showing off the soft skin and bountiful curve of them. Her dusty cowboy boots walked in time with Rod's step.

On his other other arm was a woman with mocha colored skin, slender and tall--taller than Roddy. She wore ripped jeans and a bikini top that didn't have much to hold. Her hair was a strawberry blond weave that fell over her shoulders in an odd kind of contrast to her pretty skin. Her make up was over done, if she was even a she at all, not that it really mattered. Rod chattered to both of them endlessly, laying on his charm and wit, both of which came natural too him. He pulled a small flask out from the pocket of his t-shirt and offered it to his lizzies.

Bret passed Owen, who was wiping the rest of the clown paint away. Most of it had already melted away with sweat, making some of the color dye into his blond bangs.

"Heya Bret!"

"Hey clown." Bret replied, smiling at his brother as he passed.

Owen finished wiping off his paint, and headed back towards the bunkhouse. He stopped to knock at Show's door, having been stopped outside by a young woman who was looking for him.

"Show, are ya in there?"

His room was small so he just reached out and pushed open the door, smiling widely at the smaller blonde.

"Where else would I be O? You act like i go anywhere in this world after the gens. go off."

He was sitting in a pair of jeans; his chest bare as he rubbed at hair with a towel; the dripping tendrils frizzing on him. He'd always showered after his show, the sweat and grim that always seemed to cake to him as he paraded around acting like the missing link never failing to surprise him.

He seen the young lady next to Owen and smiled gently. "Who's your friend there O?"

"She was askin' for ya." He glanced over at the woman, who was barely able to stand. "But I think she's less than three sheets to the..." He got a good wiff of her breath, and coughed. "Oh--whew--yeah...wow. That's strong. Anyway she was askin' for ya, sayin' she wanted to see the--"

"See the Giants maaaaaain attrack-ti-shuns." The woman slurred.

"I told her ya didn't have any attraction." Owen smirked a little at Show. "But hell, she wanted to see ya anyway."

Owen's eyes grew wide as she wobbled, he reached out to catch her as she slumped, passed out. Owen looked down at the woman, and then back up to show.

"Jeez...I didn't think my joke was "that[ bad."

He climbed from his bunk and helped Owen pick her up and move her into his bunk, laying her on the sheets and turning her so that if she got sick she wouldn't endanger herself. With a playful shove to Owen he laughed. "She gets to sleep on my clean sheets before I do."

He patted the shorter blond on the back and making some off handed remark about the seeming rise in Lizards that were on the lot when he seen Rod making his way back.

"That man is going to put us all to shame O, I've never seen anyone with as many lizzies on his arm as Rod."

"Well he knows how to talk, that's for sure. I think he could sell shoes to a worm." Owen sat down on the bed next to Show. "Man...how do you keep sane in this cramped up room? It's small enough to bug me sometimes, but it must be horrible for you. You're...just a little taller than me, last time I looked." He looked up at Show, smiling. "But Bret says I'm a giant too...a giant dork."

He poked at the woman's foot.

"Hope she doesn't snore."

He laughed as he ruffled Owen's hair. "If she snores I'm kicking Kane out of his room...not that he's there most of the time." He chews his cheek, wondering about how the quiet man spent most of his time.

He looks around the small room, Owen was right, it was hard on him. His room was barely wide enough for him to turn around in and he was almost always slouched. When he could he sprung for a hotel room so he didn't have to sleep scrunched up on his bed. The room itself was sparsely furnished, a tiny tv with an antique vcr on one wall and a few girly pics on the other. His clothes were boxed up in slide under the bed plastic totes and any other special things neatly packed away. He laughs a bit as he looks back at Owen.

"You say that O as if I was sane in the first place. You to be sane to stay sane...but it is hard, sometimes I just want to get away from it all, go back home and pick up where I left off. But I can't see myself as a mechanic. I wasn't cut out for that life O, so I guess for now you're stuck with me."

He laughs and then jumps as the drunken girls hand creeps out and touches his thigh. With a scrunch of his nose he moves the hand away and gets up, exiting the bunkhouse and shaking his head.

"I think we should get some fresh air O before you're next."

Owen followed Show outside, passing Bret on the way. He was trying to lay the moves on pretty girl with dark skin and eyes that glittered in the night.

"I've got the biggest ride on the midway, and everybody wants a ride." Bret said, leaning close to her, flashing her his smirk. "And in case ya didn't get that...I'm not talkin' about the Ferris Wheel."

She was about to reply to him when he was distracted, thinking he caught a pair of mismatched eyes in the dark.

He liked the night, it was comforting to him; wrapping him in the shadows and making him nearly invisible. He hadn't changed from his outfit, the leather interspersed with see through pannels of mesh here and there so when the air blew he was kept pretty cool. The only change had been the loss of his gloves and his mask. He felt at odds without the concealing leather accessory but like Show liked to point out it didn't do any good to hide; if people couldn't accept him scars and all then they weren't worth consorting with.

All around him the yells of the various other carnies melded and he shook his head as the loose girls from the town converged. He'd had his fair share of offers that night but he was more worried about their ages than what they so willingly wanted to give to him. His stomach growled loudly and he grinned to himself as he started across the bunkhouse lot to go walking and find the nearest open food stop in the tiny town.

As he was moving through the last of rows of bunks he heard the rich voice of the operator of the ferris wheel. He stopped for a moment and watched as the dark haired man spoke, weaving his tale and laying it on pretty thick. With an almost sad head shake he moved on, leaving him to his persuits of the evening, his stomach driving him to find food.

Bret's took his conquest into his room in the bunkhouse, where she immediately went to her knees and took care of him. Things came to a halt after they had frantically undressed each other, hot skin to hot skin, and then he noticed her sores. She claimed it was nothing contagious but Bret was taking no chances, his junk was too important to him, and the last thing he needed was for some whore to give him something nasty. His stomach turned and he shoved her clothing at her, barely allowing her to get dressed before expelling her from his room. He felt disgusting and dirty, even without having been inside of her.

He left his room and went down to the last room, where the shower was. He was thankful it was unoccupied. He took his time washing, wanting to get the smell and feel of her off of his skin. When he was finished he dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a shirt with the carnival company logo on it. He tied his wet curls back into a sloppy ponytail, and decided to head into the small town and find someplace to eat.

He found himself in a dive, where all the waitresses looked tired, and the food probably gave you indigestion for a week. It was perfect. He sat down in one of the booths, and then noticed that he wasn't the only carny who had wandered in. Kane was there too, and something compelled Bret to move over towards his booth. He stood in front of the table, and motioned towards the empty seat across from Kane. Despite traveling together and working for the same company, they hadn't ever really taken time to know each other, or to even hold an actual conversation.

"Um...hey. Mind if I sit here?"

Kane jerked in surprise, his loose curls whipping at the movement. He wasn't used to anyone willingly wanting to sit with him other than Show so for a moment all he could do was stare; any words he might have had quelled on his tongue. With a head shake he nodded, making sure to keep his head bowed just slightly to keep his curls in his face to hide the light burn marks from his trade.

"The food is covered in gravy....at least I think it's gravy." He mumbled quietly as he poked at what the waitress had said was an open face roastbeef sandwich.

He fell silent again, feeling out his league with the dark haired man. He'd heard about him around the midway, knew his family that worked there but never once had he really had any dealings with Bret. Rod he was fond of, the loveable loud man had taken him under his wing when he was brought on board, making him feel at ease depsite the wealth of unknown faces around him. Owen, he liked the smilely young man but sometimes it was too much and he dreaded the day that Owen decided that he needed a prank done; he'd really feel bad for punching him.

Clearing his throat he put his fork down and extended his hand, speaking quietly. "My name is Kane."

Bret smiled a little at the man across from him. He had a nice, pleasant deep voice, and pretty auburn curls. He almost wanted to touch them, but of course he didn't. He kept his hands in his lap, removing them only when the waitress placed his order in front of him. He'd ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of chili. He laughed a little as he looked down at the poor sandwich, picked it up, and scraped at the burned, ash looking bread with his knife.

"I'm Bret. You didn't make this grilled cheese, did ya? It looks like it had a run-in with your performance."

He smiled and shook his head. "No, I promise I didn't. The poor bread didn't do anything to me." He chuckled and looked back down at his sandwich, prodding it with his fork again as he spoke quietly "You've watched my preformance?"

Kane snuck looks at Bret from between his curls as he took a bite of his meal, his mind whirling as he tried to find a reason as to why the proud man would want to sit with him and share a meal. He'd never been the most self confident in the world so when some one took an interest in him outside of those he let get close he was normally on edge for any underlying motives.

The fresh scent of bodywash and shampoo tickled his nose and he suddenly very aware of the fact that he still had the smell of his flame retardent clinging to his body and that his arms and probably his face were smeared with soot. He'd accidently gotten the flaming baton he'd been working too close so there was also a slight burn to his left cheek and it was coated in a sickly yellowish burn cream that Show had slathered on him.

Out of self consciousness he slouched down in his seat, trying to appear smaller so that maybe Bret wouldn't notice his appearance as much.

Bret dipped the corner of his sandwich into his chili and took a bit of it. He figured the spiciness would help to cover up the ashy taste. It really wasn't too bad. His family had some hard times when he was growing up. Feeding twelve hungry mouths was hard enough when the income was stable, and sometimes near impossible during the poor times. The Hart kids were glad for what they got, burned or not.

"Mhm..." Bret grabbed a napkin and wiped his mouth off. "Yup. I like watchin' you--eh, the show I mean. The fire. Pretty cool, I'd be too chicken to try somethin' like that. I'd probably catch my hair on fire."