It is the sound of broken glass being crushed by someone's shoes that forces Justin to open his eyes. He stares at the ceilinig, disorientated.

"If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."

Squinting, Justin tries to focus his eyes, but everything feels too bright. He wasn't sure how long he had been unconscious for, not that it mattered to him. His body vibrated with pain. Slowly turning his head to the direction of the new voice, he stares at the murky image in front of him. The room continues to spin around him, and yet the pain was beginning to subside into a cold numbness. I'm dying.

"Don't take this personally Justin," the man explains, pulling out his gun, "Brian took away someone very special from me. I'm simply returning the favor."

Justin closes his eyes. He couldn't fight. He was done. It was over. Goodbye, Brian. He can feel the darkness overpower his mind as he slowly floats away from consciousness.

The man takes a step forward, aiming his gun towards Justin's dying body.

"Put down the fuckin' gun."

Nick, Sr. smiles, "You're back sooner than I had expected."

Brian keeps his gun steady and pointed behind Nick, Sr.'s head. As soon as he had tried to call Justin almost two hours ago, he knew something was wrong. Even sleeping, Justin always woke up when the phone rang. Brian had even tried calling his cell phone only to find out it was turned off. So when he tried the home number a second time, he knew Justin was in trouble. "Put the fuckin' gun down."

Nick, Sr. doesn't move. "This is business, Brian, you should understand that."

"I said," Brian repeats through clenched teeth, "put your goddamn, fuckin' gun down before I put a bullet in your head."

Nick, Sr. chuckles softly, but doesn't move. "You're too late, Brian. He's already dying. I'm just finishing the job: taking him out of the misery you've put him in."

Brian tightens his grip on the gun. Returning home, he had come to the realization that this was all a trap. If Nick, Sr. really didn't want Brian to know about a meeting between him and Dominic, then Brian would probably have never found out. It was too easy. Collin found out too quickly and notified Brian too easily for it to be true. Brian had been played. "What happened to Dominic?"

Nick, Sr. laughs, "Dominic has been dead for the past three months."

Brian tries to keep his composure. "What_the_fuck?"

"He's dead. Boulder was all I had left, and then you took that away from me."

"Boulder," Brian explains, his body vibrating with anger, "was business. What you're wanting to do is fucked up."

"You killed him. I kill Justin. It's all business. Life is fuckin' business." He removes the safety. "Any last words to him?"

Brian presses his gun roughly against Nick, Sr.'s head. "I'll fuckin' kill you, you fuckin' asshole."

He laughs, "I taught you well, but I know you won't kill me. That's where you're lacking."

"The fuck I won't." Brian pushes harder to make his point.

Nick, Sr. doesn't move. Instead, he reasons, "Shooting me will simply make my gun go off, Brian. Kill me and Justin dies."

"Looks like he'll be dying either way. Might as well be along with you."

Nick, Sr. is silent.

Brian exhales slowly, refusing to look at Justin's bloodied body across from him. He knew that he wouldn't be able to even speak if he saw him. Brian needed to remain focused. He obviously had Nick, Sr.'s attention now. "But you don't want to do, do you?"

Nick, Sr. smiles, "I've made some plans."

"Sounds big for an old man like you," Brian states bitterly.

He laughs, however it sounds more like crackled paper than content to Brian, "I'm coming out of retirement, Brian. I'm taking back my city."

Brian sees red, yet forces his voice to remain calm, "This is my city, old man."

"Not for long. You choice: Would you rather I shoot Justin between the eyes, or aim for his heart?"

Impatiently, Brian demands, "Put down the fuckin' gun. You want this city? Well you can't fuckin' run it when you're six feet under. Put your fuckin' gun down."

Nick, Sr. smiles, amused, "You're not going to kill me, Brian. It's not in you. You've always been too soft, which is why I'm taking my city back."

"The fuck you are."

"Remember that time my wife and I took you and Nicky to Maine with us?"

"Stop fuckin' talking and drop the gun, asshole."

"I took you two boys out with me for some drinks."

"I'm losing my patience." Brian's jaw is clenched so tightly, he's sure his teeth must be at their breaking point.

"You got so drunk that night you called me 'Dad.'"

"I know where you're going with this, Nick., and it ain't working, so put the fuckin' gun down before I blow your fuckin' head off."

"Is that before or while I'm killing your dear Justin?"

Either way, Justin is going to get shot. I know this. I just have to make sure the bullet isn't going to kill him. Brian swallows hard, forcing himself to look over where Justin lay. Oh fuck.

Justin's pale skin is splattered with blood, though Brian is sure not all of it belongs to his lover. His eyes are closed and mildly swollen. Bruises have taken shape underneath his eyes and his nose is crusted with blood. One of his cheeks is badly bruised as is the side of his throat. Justin's bare arms are spotted with bruises and dabs of splattered blood...but the majority of the blood rests on Justin's stomach. Brian knew that a knife wound in itself to the stomach generally would not kill a person...but left unattended, the victim would surely bleed to death. Brian knew this because he'd seen it happen. This will not be happening to Justin.

"Head or heart, Son?" Nick, Sr. asks with mocked sincerity.

Brian narrows his eyes, the anger within him burned to the brink of implosion. "You want my city? Try to take it, old man." Brian immediately kicks the backside of Nick, Sr.'s knee, causing him to lose hiss balance. The gun goes off as Nick, Sr. bends forward. Seeing this as his chance, Brian tackles his former mentor to the ground, slamming the butt of his gun against the older man's head.

Nick, Sr. grunts, pushing up and nearly throwing Brian off him. For a man in his late 50's, Nick, Sr. was stronger than most thirty year olds Brian knew, but that meant nothing to Brian as he threw himself against the older man once again, slamming his straightened fingers against Nick, Sr.'s throat. The older man gasps, grabbing Brian by his hair and quickly retrieving his gun from the floor.

"I don't fuckin' think so, asshole." Taking the gun he kept in his jacket, Brian presses the pistol against Nick. Sr.'s neck.

Nick, Sr. closes his eyes, still recovering from the last attack to his throat. He gruffly chuckles, "You won't do it. You'll never be able to live with yourself. Justin's dead, Brian. Give it up."

"Fuck_You." Staring him dead in the eyes, Brian presses down on the trigger.

The sound of the released bullet echoes through the loft, pulsating past Brian's ears and shaking his entire body. The hot blood sprays across Brian's face as he instinctively closes his eyes. Re-opening them, Nick, Sr.'s body lies against Brian's, his head practically blown off, blood and damaged tissues mixed in with silver hair is left in Brian's hand.

He lets the body drop to the floor. Forcing his legs to move, Brian stands up and shakily makes his way to Justin. Please be alive...fuck, please...be alive, Baby, just be alive.

Fresh blood pours out of Justin's side, directly below his ribcage. Brian gently touches his lover's face, calling, "Justin, Baby, can you hear me?" He presses his finger against his Justin's throat, straining to feel a pulse. "Come on, Justin, come on...don't fuckin' do this to me." Closing his eyes, he tries to listen, tries to feel something. After a few moments, a light pulse can be felt. The pulse is so faint that Brian isn't sure if it's really there or just his own hopefullness. Taking his phone, he calls for an ambulance. "Come on, Baby, just a little longer...stay with me, Justin...stay with me."