“Another one.” “I think you’ve had enough, son.” There’s no such thing as enough… The man looked down and clenched his eyes shut. The thought echoed in his head, intensified with every second that passed. He rubbed his head roughly and looked up at the bartender with blood-shot eyes. “Fucking give me another one.” “Alright. Alright.” A short glass was place on the bar. He sat there quietly for a moment, looking at the distorted images. All the colors swirled in the clear liquid making a beautiful blurred picture that no one could see but him. He felt something slide down his face, a trickle of liquid that molded the curve of his cheek. The colors were becoming even more blurred, mixing more and more until it was just a swirling mass of shadows, a blinding streak of light cutting through. He brought his hand up, wiping the moisture from his eyes. He lifted the glass and swallowed quickly, wincing as the alcohol burned all the way down his throat. “Another one.” The man at the bar looked at him for a moment. He could see pity in the man’s eyes and it made him angry. The bartender caught on quickly, and put another drink in front of the man - the last for the night. “You got fifteen minutes, kid.” He looked up at the man, eyes pleading with him. The man was fluent in this language and just shook his head, moving to the end of the bar. He sighed. He was going to need more than fifteen minutes tonight. It seemed that the weight of his burdens had him dragging the ground tonight. He refused any comfort anyone had tried to give him, especially the attractive older man in the corner of the bar, who had been cruising him all night. He took in the dim room through the mirror that was facing him. His gaze lingering over the various people scattered in it. He was in his element here. He let out a low chuckle before getting off the stool that he had been sitting on for the past four hours. He threw a crumpled bill on the counter and headed out into the cold. It seemed that the struggle that Justin had endured to regain consciousness paled in comparison to the one he was making to become unconscious. John had wanted to leave shortly after the doctor had left the small room, but it seemed that Justin was just too tired to leave the bed, let alone make the trip back to the apartment. Justin, for his part, had kept his eyes tightly shut, painfully aware that John’s stare had not left him after he collapsed onto the bed after the third time he had tried to get up. He refused to go back to that place at this moment. It harbored to many misjudgments and regrets. Justin had thought about his actions, had thought about his deeds. He wondered if he really was worthy of this world. If anyone judged him for his actions, they certainly didn’t have much to go by, did they? “Do you think I’m a good man, John?” Justin whispered quietly, finally opening his eyes, squinting at the vast amount of light that was coming into the small room. John, at first was shocked that Justin had spoken at all. John had assumed that for the past hour that Justin was in a state of deep sleep. Secondly, he was amazed by the question that was thrown at him. “Of course I do, Justin. How can you think that?” John gaped at him; one of his hands came flying out with the question. It seemed that whenever John said anything his hands would move right along with him, showing just how active he was in the conversation. Justin had learned this from his time spent with the man, and was reminded of how his father did the same exact thing. As an artist, hands amazed him. He loved hands with prominent joints and veins, hands that moved like they floated on water, hands with long fingers that seemed to glide. He remembered loving Brian’s hands, because they embodied all these things. He thought that hands were the physical aspect of a person’s soul. Whether they were of love or hatred, they moved with their owner’s subconscious, making a thought into a will, bending and breaking, creating and forcing. Justin looked at his own hands and couldn’t stop his gaze from going further…to the red spackled gauze wrapped around his wrists. “I don’t think I am sometimes.” Justin swallowed but resolved to continue. He didn’t think he had ever been this open…this vulnerable to John before, it frightened him to let the older man see a side of himself that, up until now, he had kept well hidden. “I think about all the mistakes I’ve made, all the stupid things I’ve done,” he raised his hands slightly, “How much I’ve really hurt the people that I love. But, it’s inevitable, you know?” He raised his head to look John in the eye. “It seems that I end up hurting anyone around me. This hurt you, didn’t it John?” He raised his wrist to meet John’s eyes; John flinched and looked toward the window, getting up to stand near it, to watch the vast parking lot below. “Yeah, it did. More than I can ever imagine…more than I’ll ever know. And…and I’m sorry that I did this-“ “Why?” Justin looked at his tense posture; John's right hand was toying with the seam of his black slacks. John looked out at the barren concrete below and wished that Justin and he were lying in the cool comfort of their bed, not having this strange conversation. Justin, now seemed more enigmatic than ever before and John was more worried then ever. He worried over the boy and why shouldn’t he? His lover was lying in a hospital bed after trying to commit suicide. His hand involuntarily clenched inside his pocket and he bit his lip to keep from screaming at the beautiful, albeit insane blonde on the bed. “How could you do something like this, Justin? I mean - I thought we were okay. Of course, we’ve had our rough spots, everyone has. Is that why?” John turned around, anger flashing in his eyes. “Are you trying to punish me, Justin?” Justin looked at him for a moment and was torn between wanting to laugh his ass off or crying hysterically. Why did he always end up with the ones that thought that the fucking sun rose and set on them? “No, John. I didn’t do this to punish you.” “You just wanted to end it? To just give up?” Tears suddenly pooled in the young man’s eyes. He had no answer to this question. He set back any thoughts that would warrant his severe actions, afraid of what he might find out about himself. He was starting to understand Brian’s extreme ways of thinking. “Maybe…I don’t know!” He cried, frustrated. John looked at him for a moment, an expression on his face that Justin couldn’t read. “Justin.” John whispered, moving over to the boy and sitting beside him. He looked down at the boy’s wrists and fought the urge not to flinch. He caught site of the bracelet…the same bracelet that had been very noticeable on Kinney’s wrist. He fought the urge to grab the boy but, he was perceptibly calm when his hand lingered over the shells. “This can’t be comfortable, Justin. Come on… let me take it off.” His hand moved to unknot the leather ties, and Justin tried to snatch his arm away but John would not yield. “I’m fine.” John glared at him and tightened his grip on Justin’s wrist, causing the boy to wince and try to move his arm away once again. “John-” He refused to give up his grip though, pulling the boy closer to him, causing Justin to cry out in the process. John sighed and buried his face in Justin’s neck, inhaling the boy’s scent he had become so accustomed to. Justin whispered his name again, trying in vain to push the older man away from him. “It’s okay, Justin. I promise you it’ll be okay. I’ll make it okay, lovely. Okay? I’m sorry, is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry.” John fanatically whispered to Justin, letting the boy’s aching wrist go, to pull him towards John’s body. Justin let a tear slip from his eyes and allowed John to hold him, rocking them both back and forth. From the corner of Justin’s eye he could see a growing stain of red on the bandage. A ping echoed throughout the hall and Justin was amazed at how loud it sounded to him. John had him dressed in less than thirty minutes, and it was two hours before they stood in front of the nurses’ station, talking to Dr. Bryon. Well, John was. Justin was barely paying attention to him, a few words slipping into his mind to disappear again. “Bandages should be changed…Iron supplements for now…it may be depression…common among young adults…his medical history…it’s not surprising…a psychiatric evaluation…” He fought the groan that wanted to escape. John surely wouldn’t send him to a fucking shrink, would he? Justin looked up at his eyes and realized that he would. The anxiousness that John had been emitting ever since arriving had tripled with the doctor’s opinions about the young Justin Taylor. “Justin?” Justin looked up at the doctor, clipboard in his hand, ready for the next patient. “Yes.” “Take care of yourself, son.” Justin looked at him a moment, before nodding his head. John thanked the doctor and lead Justin toward the elevator. John stood by him, keeping Justin tight against him, protecting the boy even though no one else was there. After a few minutes, which felt like excruciating hours to Justin, the elevator pinged again and they moved onto the deserted first floor. Justin let a small smile splay across his face as the automatic doors opened, a rush of cool air hitting him immediately. “I think the doctor’s right, Justin.” John said as soon as he put the cell back in his pocket. They waited for the cab that John had called. The streets were deserted, and the only light that filled the area was from the large hospital looming above them, the moon hidden behind the clouds that were promising rain for tomorrow. John’s arm was still wrapped protectively around Justin, and as Justin looked up at him, he leaned in to nuzzle the boy’s neck again. Justin sighed and let John move closer to him. “I don’t want to go, John.” “You have to Justin. I don’t want this to ever happen again. You can’t do this to me again.” John broke at the end, clutching the boy still closer to him. Justin gasped and let his hands fall to his sides. “I’m sorry.” Justin whispered, and he was amazed that he actually was. He was surprised he felt anything. Not surprised, though to feel hollow inside. Empty. Maybe something had been released out of him. Something that he would never be able to get back when he held that blade to his wrists. He tried to push back the tears that were threatening to spill over. He was sick of crying, sick of feeling sorry for himself. He stopped himself in the middle of his rant; he thought that this was how he got to this point in the first place. “You’re right John, I should go.” And John hugged him even tighter. When the two men returned to their building, Justin felt a heat begin to sneak up his face. He could feel the piercing glances of the people that littered the lobby. Anxiety crawled into his veins and he buried himself deeper in John. Anger soon followed he embarrassment he was feeling, this wasn’t anybody’s business but his own, his mind screamed at him. But, the anger was directed at himself more than anyone else. He was stunned at how much he had truly changed after all this time. Wondered when he had stopped acting like himself, and when he had truly given up. He closed his eyes as they entered yet another elevator. It was when he took his first fateful steps into this building to meet the man that was holding him tightly in his arms. The first time he gave his money to John Bonheim, he had lost a little of his soul. And eventually he lost all of it to him. The man holding him owned him, because Justin refused to fight. Because, Justin had given up on the struggle that was his life. He was tired of climbing uphill, so he let the mountain win. He was tired of fighting the waves, so he relaxed into them. And they crashed down on him, pushing him into their deep murky depths. That was when Justin Taylor truly became something else. Something he no longer recognized. “Justin, we’re here.” John whispered softly, stirring him from his trance. Justin nodded and moved out of the elevator, never glancing at the boy that was looking intensely at him or at John who was glaring at the boy. John tried to unlock the door with one hand because he didn’t want to remove his other one from the small of Justin’s back. He was afraid that the boy would simply float away. Justin had been silent ever since they left the hospital and that worried John a great deal. He knew Justin was never talkative but, something didn’t feel right with this silence. It was almost like the boy was somewhere else. John sighed; if they ever wanted to get inside he would have to let Justin go. As soon as the key was in the lock, John pulled Justin to him. Their noses were immediately assaulted with a harsh chemical scent that plagued the entire apartment. John sighed and took off his overcoat, placing it across the back of a chair. Justin immediately headed to the bedroom, sneaking a glance towards the open bathroom. It was like it never happened at all, and that thought bothered Justin more than anything. “That maid works pretty fast, huh?" John nodded, silently looking in the direction of at the bathroom with him. He put his hands on Justin’s shoulders, pulling him away from the violent scene. “John?” John could see Justin’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. He could see his boy, the frown that marred his face, his eyes shooting nervously around the room. “Yeah, Justin.” John looked at him intently for another moment, and at once Justin shut his eyes. “Let’s go to sleep.” Justin nodded to himself, before he let John lead him to the bed. It was two days after they left the hospital that Justin had his first visit with Dr. Brendan Cicero. John had known Brendan from the short time he had worked for his uncle. What he didn’t tell Justin was that the short time was long enough for a small tryst between the two then young men. His uncle had eventually found out about it, as Kane had always known about John’s life. It didn’t end badly, too quick for any hurt feelings to get in the way, and Brendan was given a transfer. They had liked each other well enough to remain acquaintances and when John had called Brendan for a small favor, the doctor didn’t deny him. It seemed that everything in this world had a price, at least for John it did. John took care of the few prescriptions that Justin was given after his first visit and also the ones after his second visit. The dear doc immediately put him on anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, and a variety of anti- others. And after barely two visits, Justin wanted to stop going to the good doctor and John had allowed him to quit. Dr. Cicero gave him a number to call whenever he needed to talk and Justin threw it away the moment he got near a trashcan. He wanted to be angry with John, who was obviously setting him up, but he wasn’t. The drugs weren’t that bad. They kept him sane and kept the thoughts that he dreaded having. But, he soon found out that he would have to face them. His mother…and Debbie had somehow found John’s unlisted number and they left a very interesting message on the machine. He was now standing on the edge of the small porch, a single light shining a few feet from his head. The yellow bulb needed replacing, it was beginning to fade with all the changes that the weather had slung at it. He couldn’t tell how long he had been standing there but, it seemed like forever. He just couldn’t summon the strength for the simple task of going to the door, lifting his hand and knocking. He could, however, reach inside his cold tan jacket and grab the pack of cigarettes. It was a habit that he had picked up from Brian, to keep at least one small joint tucked in the pack. He chose it to light, because he was going to need it before tonight ended. He reasoned that if he started with a pretty good buzz, he'd be calm enough to not have a complete emotional breakdown in front of everyone. He inhaled deeply and watched the smoke trail off into the night. While he was standing there, berating himself for not being able to do this easy task, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder and looked up at the man who now stood beside him. “I didn’t really think you would show.” He sighed quietly, passing the joint to Brian, who gratefully accepted. “I told you I would.” Justin nodded at him. Brian inhaled again and looked at him through the smoke. “How long have you been standing here?” He saw a small smile lift the corner of Justin’s lips as he tried to take the joint back. “Too long.” It was Brian’s turn to nod. He looked closely at the blonde as he put the joint up to his lips, smiling at the toke the boy took. “You know, we can’t hide out here forever.” Brian smirked, looking at the joint before stubbing it out in one of the convenient ashtrays that Debbie had scattered around her porch. The young man sobered up instantly, smoothing down non-existent wrinkles in his attire. Brian stood back and looked at the blonde. Smooth black silk pants, Italian boots, an un-tucked russet button up and a, by the look of it, outrageously expensive tan jacket. And Brian could regretfully see a strip of white where Justin’s sleeve had ridden up. “Why didn’t you dress this well when you where with me?” Justin looked up, surprised and let out a small huff of laughter, embarrassed at being caught of guard. He shook his head and smiled. “Alright, moving past my new found fashion sense…are you ready for this?” Brian looked at him, a small grin still spread across his face. “Come on.” He gently took Justin’s hand into his own and moved to the door. They could hear muffled talking coming from inside that seemed to stop as soon as their shadows fell on the door. Brian gave him one last quick look before turning the knob. Surprisingly, the impromptu meeting had not turned out as bad as Justin had feared but, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park either. Brian had stood by him though, which shocked Justin. He had earlier called the people Justin wanted there, but in the end, they had all shown up. Justin was sure that the older man had wished that he were anywhere other than here. Justin wished the same thing; he would rather be anywhere else than face the firing squad inside. He knew that they loved him despite all of his imperfections and he loved them. He was afraid and unsure, to the reception he would receive. But, Brian stood there, in front of Justin, shielding him and keeping him safe from the attack of his very angry family. They were like vengeful angels and they all took a turn to tell the young man just what he was missing, why he was so foolish, and a you know we love you thrown in at the end to make sure he really would understand this time. Justin stood up straight and accepted it all, even the grilling he got from his mother and Deb. He had imagined the moment while he stood on the porch, but the actual event had Justin cowering behind Brian. Brian had a smirk set firmly on his face up until the end, when their way-ward group headed out the door, all of them sated with the advice they had bestowed upon Justin. His smirk was still in place until the eventual moment where Justin had to tell his mother what he had done. That was when things really hit the fan. His mother had become quite hysterical and screamed that Justin was never going to leave her sight again. A somber Deb gave him a look that he was sure would haunt him the rest of his life before coming to hug him, whispering words of comfort. The only comfort she could give him in that moment. He was one of her boys, her one and only Sunshine. He could still hear her whispering this to him. He had looked around him at that moment, beyond Deb who was trying to console his mother, beyond Brian, seated on the couch, his feet unable to support him any longer, a stricken look painted on his face. Beyond all of that, he saw Vic sitting in one of the cheap vinyl chairs in the kitchen, his eyes trained on Justin. Vic had not said a word to him the entire time. Justin ached to speak to the man that had become more that just a fill-in father. Vic was irreplaceable to him. He was a figure in his life that he had missed terribly. Justin was just now realizing how much of an impact Vic had on him. The wisdom and advice Vic had given him. The night trudged on and Justin had to move upstairs so that his mother could calm down. She demanded to know what the hell he was thinking, if he was even thinking at all. Justin had read off the right responses, had given her all the right apologetic and embarrassed looks, at all the right moments. And it seemed to Justin that she had been somewhat satisfied with his answers. He looked up at her, tears brimming in his eyes and wondered how she could look at him and not see the vast amount of unhappiness inside him. Weren’t mothers supposed to know these kinds of things? Inherently know when their son had drifted away from reality, when he had given up? Couldn’t she look into his eyes and see this? But, she wouldn’t look into his eyes anymore, hadn’t really all night. He knew she was scared of what she might find there within their deep blue depths. A tear slipped from his eye before he hastily wiped it away, not wanting his mother to see him this way. He wanted her to know that he was trying to be strong, trying to be the man that she wanted him to be. He had to be strong for her, at least to her face. At the end of it all, she gave him one last look, her face a mixture of pain and suffering. He sighed and reached for her hand, and she clasped it within her own. He didn’t want her to let go of him, but she let her hand slip out and she stepped away, a small smile on her lips. She made him promise to call her. While he had been upstairs with his mother, Debbie had slipped off to her own room, and when he walked down the stairs behind his mother, the house felt even more melancholy than it had before. Standing in front of the door, his mother hugged him tightly, running her hand up and down his back like she had done when he was a child. She sniffled one last time before turning to go. He watched her receding form through the gauzy curtains on the window until she vanished from his sight entirely. He closed his eyes and laid his head on the cool pane of glass. His hands unconsciously clenched into tight fists, as he thought about the unending amount of pain that he had brought to these people. He knew he had something right in that hospital, knew that he had the ability to harm anyone that had ever cared about him. He wondered what made him do these things. Why he couldn’t just grow up…he tried to think back to a time long before Liberty Avenue but, he couldn’t. He couldn’t remember the life that he had led before he had decided to make his own path, maybe that was a lie too. When had Justin ever actually been himself? “Are you done feeling sorry for yourself? Or are you going to stand there all night?” He whirled around and stared at the speaker. “Vic-“ Vic’s hand came up, silencing Justin's reply. “Cut the bullshit Justin. You don’t have to give me that.” Justin took tentative steps towards the kitchen, towards the table where Vic sat, a cooling cup of coffee between his hands. Justin’s eyes widened and took in the other occupant in the room. In a far corner, Brian was seated quietly on a wooden chair. His elbows were leaning on his knees, his hands clasped together, and his eyes on the boy that had just entered the room. “What do you want me to give you?” Justin said quietly, pulling out one of the chairs to sit across from Vic with Brian well within his sight. “What makes you think we want anything?” Brian said, matching Justin’s quietness. “Everyone wants something, Brian.” Justin looked pointedly at Brian. It was one of the first lessons that Brian had taught him, and he had not forgotten it. He blatantly tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t fight it anymore. There it was, out in the open now and Justin would never try to struggle with it again. Brian looked at the boy…man…seated in the small low-lit kitchen. How Justin had changed. This was not the boy that he had once known, that boy was gone, deeply buried by the man that was in his place. Brian felt a surge of anger curse through him. He had learned very early on, that life was un-fair and, had almost always been un-fair to him. He didn’t think he wanted that for Justin but, looking back on all that he had said and done to the boy, he realized that he was one of the factors that served as a wake up call to Justin Taylor’s small, confused fantastic life. He had taught the boy so much, so much he now wished that Justin didn’t know. He had taught Justin the valuable lesson of pushing his emotions aside…to live, to breathe without hurting. But, Justin used the skill to stop himself from feeling anything good. His life was wound around pain and hurt…he didn’t need love when he had those to keep him up at night. Brian looked at Justin under lowered lashes and wondered how huge a miracle he would need to get the boy back to what he once was. Vic watched the two men interact and shook his head. He knew he would say nothing to Justin tonight, too mad to try to talk some sense into his head. Vic knew that the boy was going through something, something painful and humiliating and confusing and tiring. He could understand that. He could almost understand Justin’s suicide attempt…almost. He was such a beautiful young creature. Too beautiful to be this haunted. He watched Justin’s face and was reminded of a time when a bleeding brunette was sitting there, his eyes as cold and hard as Justin’s were right now. Justin was destroying himself from the inside out…or maybe from the outside in, it really didn’t matter in the end, did it? Vic smiled at the boy suddenly, upsetting Justin from his current disposition. “You should go Justin. John’s probably very worried about you by now.” Vic moved his hand over to place it atop Justin’s, the blond’s hands cold underneath his. Justin looked up at the clock in the kitchen and almost gasped at the amount of time that had past. He sighed and shook his head; he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle John tonight. Vic watched the boy’s face closely and when Justin’s eyes met his, Vic silently promised to talk to him soon but, not tonight. Justin swallowed and nodded, his eyes straying to Brian’s. The man’s head hung heavy and he didn’t raise it until he heard the door close. “He needs help, Brian.” Vic said, his eyes going blurry from staring at Justin’s diminishing form. “I know…but…Vic, what the hell am I going to do for the kid? Look where he is! With a sick bastard who can’t stand for him to be out of his sight for more than a few hours at a time. No wonder Justin’s going crazy!” He stood up suddenly, stepping over to where Justin had been, his hand on the back of the chair to steady himself. “Brian,” Vic looked up at him, his eyes watering enough for unwanted tears to splash onto his cheeks. “This Justin, he’s as broken as they come. He might never be mended again, and that man he is staying with is not helping the situation any. Hell, he’s probably got him on enough drugs to put him in a coma! Jesus…what happened to him…” Vic looked off for minute, memories that he had buried deeply resurfacing from the sight of the young man that had left. “But, I know the Justin that we all love is in there, deep within himself. You saw him, Brian. You saw how unhappy he is! His own damn mother can’t do anything for him. She’s afraid to let him go, afraid to touch him because she thinks he’ll crumble into a million pieces. He’s not fighting anymore, he’s just…he’s just given up.” Vic lowered his head and sucked in a deep breath. He couldn’t let Justin do that to himself, let other people do that to him. He had been there, had felt the delicious agony of letting go, of just going through the motions of living every hour, every day. He had woken up from that and he hoped that Justin would, too. He had to. “I know Vic, I know.” Vic looked up at Brian. They both knew…too well. “You want to go where?” Justin asked him again for the third time, because honestly, he didn’t think that he had heard him correctly the other two times. Maybe all that time at Deb’s had rattled his brain somehow. They were in their bedroom, standing on either side of the bed. Justin looked down at the small table that was littered with various bottles of pills. Pink, purple, white, yellow … Justin thought that every shade in the rainbow was represented on his nightstand. Justin sighed, knowing what John was doing, and he just wondered if John knew that he knew. “Vermont. It’s really nice this time of the year, you know? We could go and … relax. They have fantastic bed and breakfast’s. It’ll be…nice.” John smiled shyly and looked hopefully up at him from the other side of the bed. Justin still looked skeptical, but John’s grin widened when Justin let a small smile lift the corners of his lips. “I don’t know, John.” John’s smile didn’t falter. He rushed over to the other side of the bed, hugging Justin from behind. He pulled Justin to him tightly, lightly stroking the bandages on Justin’s wrists. John was trying to get used to them over the past week. To try to see past them in the morning when he woke up and in the wee hours of the night when he finally made it to bed. He tried to not wince as Justin changed the bandages after emerging from the shower, his skin so red and raw like he had blasted a layer from it. That was why he still hated them with every fiber of his being; every part of him loathed that white gauze that represented something he couldn’t stop. Maybe even had a hand in, and no matter how much he tried to banish those thoughts from his head, he couldn’t. “Come on, it’ll be great. We could get out and leave the dreaded Pitts behind us.” John turned the boy around so that Justin was facing him. “We could take in the sites, get shit face and waste away…” Justin smiled at him. “I thought we were already doing that.” John smirked at him, pulling him away from the bed and into the larger space that was there. There was soft music coming from the stereo in the corner, something that John had put on just a few minutes earlier. It was a slow ballad, a sweet rhythm that made Justin smile tenderly at him. The man’s voice floated through the apartment, resonating against the walls. It was like silk to Justin’s ears, his beautiful voice … his slow murmurs. John clutched the boy even tighter to him, moving in slow circles on the hardwood floor. It was nice to have him finally home, he had ordered that they both go to bed once Justin opened the door and John had gotten a good look at him. He looked just as wary and worn as he had when they had first come home to the hospital. “We are, lovely. But, a change of scenery would be nice.” John whispered in his ear. John’s eyes had drifted shut and he inhaled the enchanting scent of the man before him, drowning his senses. John could smell himself on Justin and it made him desire the boy that much more. John’s intrinsic response to Justin’s body was the pride of ownership…the carnal sense of want for the blond. And also, a feeling of warmth that moved throughout his body whenever the boy was near. He didn’t want to loose that sense of finally belonging. “Justin?” The blond nodded his head and said something. John could make a ‘sleepy’ out of the mumbled reply and smiled softly, leading the boy back to the bed. “Rest. We’ll see about Vermont tomorrow.” There was no response to his statement … Justin was fast asleep and John had already decide which air carrier to use.