Justin

Justin followed Melanie onto the elevator and stood staring blankly at the control panel. Melanie glanced sideways at him as she pressed the button, trying not to let her concern show. She’d brought his bags with her to Daphne’s – fortunately Ben had had the presence of mind to grab them before they’d followed the ambulance from Babylon. A shower and change of clothes left him feeling halfway human again and he’d seemed okay when they left the apartment. But the closer they got to the hospital the more he withdrew and he hadn’t said a word since they pulled into the parking lot. The elevator came to a stop and he blinked as the ‘B’ lit up and the doors whispered open, but he made no move to exit. Mel had to stand in the path of the doors to stop them closing again. “Come on, Justin,” she reached out and gave his arm a supportive squeeze. “This is really mostly just a formality. You’ll have a couple forms to sign once I give them the paperwork and then we can go home, okay?” Justin nodded and stepped past her, pausing once he was in the corridor.

He knew exactly where they were going – he could probably have found his way there blindfolded. During the weeks he’d spent here recovering from the bashing he wasn’t allowed to leave the building and so he’d filled up his days exploring every inch of the hospital. He knew what each floor held – medicine and physiotherapy on the ground floor, the surgical suites and intensive care on the second, maternity and pediatrics on the third. Among other things, the basement level of Allegheny General Hospital housed the hospital pharmacy, the cafeteria, a gift shop and their destination this morning, the administrative offices. Those were all to his left, their locations mapped out on the directory that faced the elevator doors.

It was what lay to his right that kept him rooted to the spot. The plain gray sliding doors offered no indication of what was beyond them; each bore only a rather innocuous ‘No Admittance - Hospital Personnel Only’ sign beneath a small, square window. He’d gone through them one afternoon when curiosity had gotten the better of him. That was the day the panic attacks had begun. Before that his fears had been confined to the night, to dreams that twisted into nightmares he couldn’t really remember yet still left him shaking and unnerved. His days had been filled with frustration and pain, but it wasn’t until he’d found himself standing on the other side of those doors that mindless panic joined the mix. He passed by several offices with doctor’s names and titles on the nameplates and then found another set of sliding doors, these ones set with larger windows. At first he thought it was an operating room – all sterile-looking steel and bright overhead lights. But the surgical suite was upstairs. And operating rooms didn’t have more than one table. Mercifully, the room was empty but the row of gleaming, stainless steel lockers along one wall left no doubt as to what it was.

It had hit him all at once – how close he’d come to being in that room himself, and why.  That someone hated him enough to want him dead; that it had been so easy for Hobbs to get to him; that he wasn’t safe at his own prom. He wasn’t safe anywhere. Certainly not here. He’d stood there trembling, overcome with a paralyzing fear – wanting to run but unable to make his legs work. He didn’t hear the orderly approach him and when the man put his hand on his shoulder he’d lost it. He didn’t remember exactly what happened – he never could. He only knew he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move and that he was going to die. The next thing he knew he was back in his room and his mom was there and she looked like she’d been crying again. Fuck.

Justin felt a tear slide down his cheek as memories of those dark days after he left the hospital filled his thoughts. The joy of finally seeing Brian again, then the terrible realization of how badly the bashing had affected him as well. Yet despite his own issues it was Brian who held him through the nightmares with a gentleness Justin doubted anyone else knew he possessed. It was Brian who was patient and understanding when he couldn’t let anyone touch him, and then tender and loving when he finally could. It was Brian who had given him back his art; refused to let him give up on himself, massaged his hand when it cramped up and his spirit when that failed him, too. And when he’d asked for more, demanded a covenant, Brian had given him that, too. Only one of them had honored it – he wondered bitterly how surprised Brian’s ‘friends’ would be to know which one of them it was.

Justin pressed his forehead to the window and swallowed the lump that rose in his throat as he faced a truth he’d never really acknowledged to the one person he should have. He’d survived the bat to the head thanks to the skill of the surgeons. But he’d lived because of Brian and he’d thanked him by leaving him for pretty words and empty promises. And now it was Brian on the other side of those doors, only this time the nightmare was real. Fuck.

“Justin? The office is this way...” When he didn’t answer her, Melanie stepped closer and looked over his shoulder and through the glass. To her it was an empty hallway like any other but it didn’t take a psychic to feel the anxiety the young man at her side exuded. He was all but vibrating with it and she knew instinctively that touching him would be disastrous. She cleared her throat softly and spoke his name again. It took a third time before he finally turned to look at her and the despair in his eyes made her question yet again the wisdom of making him do this. And once more Justin proved her wrong. He shook his head and blinked away the tears, and then turned his back on the memories – he couldn’t change the past, but he could make sure he didn’t let him down again.

~*~*~

Justin and Melanie walked down the corridor towards the administration office. Although there were no patients on the basement level, it still had the hushed quality inherent to hospitals and so they heard the commotion before they even turned the corner. A young man in casual clothes stood beside a much older, well dressed woman with steel-gray hair at the administration office reception window. She was clinging to the man’s arm as though her life depended on it; nothing about her posture suggested strength or confidence and yet she was berating the young woman behind the counter with practiced arrogance. The man cast an apologetic glance at the clerk and then tried to soothe his companion with quiet words but she waved them off and leaned across the counter and through the open window.

“I want to speak to your supervisor, right now.” The clerk disappeared into the back and immediately the older woman looked up at her friend, dabbing at her eyes with a wadded up tissue. “This is outrageous. They can’t do this.”

Justin felt all the hairs on his neck stand up as the sound of her voice tickled something in the back of his brain. He’d only heard it once before but there was no mistaking its cold, somewhat imperious tone. Before he could think about it he tapped the woman on the shoulder. Both of them turned to face him and Justin took in the white band peeking through the collar of the man’s black shirt in the same moment he saw his face. A priest. Not just a priest, Reverend Tom. Their Reverend Tom. Justin then turned to the woman who stood beside him.

“Hello, Mrs. Kinney.”

It was obvious that she didn’t recognize him at first as she looked him up and down with an eerily familiar arched brow, and then even more obvious when she did. Her face narrowed with barely concealed disdain and she raised her chin haughtily.

“Justin, isn’t it?” He nodded, a little surprised that she remembered his name. She glanced back and forth between him and the priest, clearly trying to decide how she could explain the young blond without acknowledging her son’s abominable lifestyle. She ran a shaky hand across her eyes as if she hoped he might not be there when she opened them. But of course he was, and the priest was staring at him with open curiosity. “Reverend Butterfield this is...” she hesitated, her mouth twisting as though she had tasted something sour. She made a show of dabbing her eyes again and Justin couldn’t help notice that the tissue looked decidedly dry. He huffed out a short, scornful breath of his own and gave a slight shake of his head. He put out his hand and the priest took it automatically.

“I’m Justin Taylor, Brian’s partner.” He ignored the scowl on the old woman’s face and met Reverend Tom’s gaze evenly, no small feat considering their brief but eventful history. “I’m pretty sure we’ve met,” he said, and felt the man’s hand clench around his fingers for a heartbeat as recognition dawned in the priest’s eyes. They slid briefly to the woman at his side and then back to Justin. He hesitated for only a moment before he covered younger man’s hand with both of his own and shook it firmly.

“I’m so very sorry for your loss. Brian was a good man.”

Melanie watched the scene unfold and she couldn’t have said which of the two were more surprised by the priest’s heartfelt condolence. Justin, who had no reason to expect such respect from the man, or Joan, who seemed genuinely confused by it. Before she could question it further the door to the administration office opened and a dark-haired woman emerged. Clearly the clerk had informed her of the situation; she took in all four of them as she approached but it was Joan she spoke to first, greeting her with a sympathetic but professional smile.

“I’m Pamela Johansen, Director of Patient Services. How can I help you?”

Joan turned her back on Justin and Melanie as if they weren’t there and answered the woman sharply. “You can tell me where my son is. This... person,” she nodded at the young clerk who had resumed her place at the counter, “has been no help whatsoever.”

“First of all, Mrs. Kinney, let me offer my condolences. I know this is an extremely difficult time.” Her words elicited no response from the older woman, so she continued, “Please be assured that our only concern is to make certain that your son’s wishes are adhered to in accordance with his instructions.”

The implication of the Director’s words seemed to be lost on Joan and she went on as though she hadn’t spoken at all. “The funeral home called me and said you refused to let them pick up his...” her voice cracked with the first sign of real emotion she’d shown but she recovered quickly, her chin rising defiantly again. “This is outrageous. I want him released right now.”

The director smiled tolerantly and tried again. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kinney, but I’m afraid we can’t do that.” Joan’s eyebrows shot up and she practically sputtered.

“You most certainly will...”

“Maybe I can help clear things up,” Melanie interrupted her and it seemed to shock the older woman into silence. “I am Melanie Marcus – we spoke on the phone earlier.” She pulled a legal-sized file folder from the leather attaché slung over her shoulder and offered it to the administrator. “And this is Justin Taylor,” she added, motioning towards him. Pamela opened the folder and quickly looked over the top document, nodding. Before she could respond, Joan apparently found her voice again and grasped her by the elbow.

“Excuse me, but we were not finished speaking.” Pamela looked down at the hand on her arm and back up into the indignant woman’s eyes. Her job required her to deal with people in all sorts of emotional crises and she was a compassionate person, but she drew the line at being touched. She tucked the folder under her arm and removed the woman’s hand from her elbow.

“Mrs. Kinney, I understand you are upset,” she said patiently. She glanced at the four of them and gestured towards her office door, “Why don’t we step into my office and I will be happy to explain.” But Joan refused to be placated.

“There is nothing to be explained. He is my son and I demand that you do as I ask and let us...” her voice faltered and she looked up at Reverend Tom and then back at the administrator. Despite the dark hair Joan guessed her to be around her own age, and she had wedding rings on her hand – perhaps she was a mother, too. Perhaps she could understand the shame... “Please, there are things we need to do,” she implored, and then she cast a contemptuous look in Justin’s direction and clutched the priest’s arm again. “My son is damned. We need to pray for his soul.” Pamela scarcely had time to register her dismay before Justin spoke.

“What did you say?” Justin barely breathed the words but they drew the attention of all four of them. “What did you say?” he repeated the words carefully, his hands instinctively clenched at his side.

Joan didn’t retract her words, but she at least had the sense not to say them again. She moved closer to the priest and when he put a protective arm around her shoulder she raised her chin and huffed. “You heard what I said. And you are on the same road, young man. It’s not too late for you yet, though. You can still change. You can escape God’s punishment.”

Justin shook his head, refusing to accept what he was hearing. “He’s your son. How could you...” He threw a questioning look at Reverend Tom and found the man unwilling to meet his eyes. Joan had no such trouble.

“I tried to tell him, to help him understand. God gave him a second chance and he threw it in His face.” Her voice faltered then, full of unshed tears, not for her son’s life, but for her own disgrace. “He condemned himself to the fires and added eternity after eternity to his sentence with his sinful ways.”

“You can’t really believe that?” Melanie said incredulously. She knew Brian’s mother disapproved of him but she never imagined she could be this... monstrous. Justin looked as though he might actually strike the woman and she moved to his side just in case. Joan turned to Melanie as though she had just noticed her presence.

“I believe in God’s holy word. You have no right to question it, or me, Miss...” she narrowed her eyes and assessed the younger woman, “who are you, exactly?”

“Actually, I have every right – or rather, Justin does.” Melanie leveled her most menacing, don’t-fuck-with-me stare at her. “I am Brian’s attorney, and that,” she said, pointing at the file that Pamela held, “is all the documentation necessary to make sure that you don’t go anywhere near him.” In a different situation she would have enjoyed the look of shocked indignation on the old woman’s face, but as it was she felt only a deep sadness that any mother could possibly value religious dogma over the life of her child. Still, the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly as she drove the message home. “Unless of course, Justin allows it.”

“That is ridiculous,” Joan spat the words at her, waving her hand dismissively. “Of course I don’t need this... boy’s permission to see my son.” She glared at Mel in a vain attempt to stare the younger woman down and for a moment Melanie caught a glimpse of Brian in the arrogant set of her jaw. She glared right back and was struck by the eerie familiarity of the exchange. How many times had she and Brian faced off just like this? But this time, unlike pretty much every single one of those times, the Kinney side of the equation blinked first. Joan turned to the administrator, fully expecting validation of her rights as Brian’s mother, but found the woman shaking her head.

“I’m afraid Ms. Marcus is correct.” A cursory glance at the paperwork confirmed what Melanie had already told her on the phone. Though they were only a few weeks old, all the documents were in order giving Justin the authority the lawyer had just asserted. Her job required her to be impassive but it was difficult not to feel a little relief that she would not have to accede to this woman. All too often she’d seen the cruel treatment of bereaved partners at the hands of a homophobic parent simply because they hadn’t had the foresight to put their wishes in writing. Try as she might, Pamela couldn’t quite keep the contempt out of her voice as she tried once again to explain the situation to her. “Mr. Taylor has the legal authority here. He...”

“Don’t tell me about legal authority,” Joan cut her off. “What about moral authority? God’s authority?” She clung to Reverend Tom again, her voice growing more shrill by the moment. “Ms. Johansen, surely you must see what is at stake here? We need to pray for his soul – for God’s mercy.”

“Joan, please...” Reverend Tom tried to calm her but she wouldn’t be silenced. She cast a hard look at Justin.

“The Bible is quite clear. Men lying with men is an abomination. My son died without repenting his sins. He is going to Hell.”

Melanie gasped, Ms. Johansen said something about legal rights and obligations, even the good Reverend seemed taken aback, but none of it registered for Justin. All he could hear were the hateful words being spewed by the person who should have loved Brian more than anyone else, and it was all he could do to control the fury he felt clawing at his chest.

“You have no idea,” he said through his teeth. Joan raised a questioning eyebrow at him but wisely said nothing. “You have no idea how Brian... died,” he nearly choked on the word but anger fueled his resolve and he took a step toward the older woman, close enough to smell the stale alcohol on her beneath a cloud of expensive perfume. “You have the gall to stand there and talk about morality? Brian was a good man, an honorable man. He was...he was the best man I’ve ever known. He worked hard and he supported his friends,” he paused and glanced at Melanie, his voice softening a little, “and he loved his family... He loved me, and he died...”

Justin's voice failed him as Brian’s last moments flashed in his mind. He wasn’t ready to share what Brian had gone through. Not yet, and maybe not ever. Certainly never with these people. He doubted even knowing that her son died wondering if his own son would remember him would be enough to get through to her. He thought of all the times he’d harangued Brian for not telling her about Gus and he felt an odd mixture of guilt and respect. As always, Brian had known what he was doing keeping his son far, far away from her. He recalled the photo of Brian and Gus he carried in his wallet and it was all he could do not to take it out and shove it down the old woman’s throat – make her see just what her God had taken away from them. As much as he wanted to do it, he knew he could never betray Brian that way. His voice was thick with emotion but he refused to let this woman see him cry. He drew in a ragged breath and took another step forward until there was barely a foot between them.

“He died...no...” Justin shook his head, “no, he was killed because someone… someone like you believed someone like him, someone like me didn’t deserve to live. He died knowing that. How can you possibly believe that was God’s will?” He turned baleful eyes on the priest. “How can you?” The man had the grace to look ashamed, but still he remained silent and dropped his eyes. Justin shook his head at the both of them, his voice filled with loathing, “You want to pray for something? You should both pray that God forgives you.”

For a brief moment something flickered across the old woman’s face. Remorse? Regret? Her pinched mouth trembled and a sheen of tears wet her eyes and Justin had a wild hope that maybe he’d actually gotten through to her. And then it was gone. She sniffed and squared her shoulders as if shaking off the momentary weakness and then cleared her throat. Her voice was somewhat more subdued, but the invective was the same.

“Yes, well, God has already passed judgment, hasn’t he. All we can do is pray that He has mercy on his soul.” She raised her chin defiantly and Justin knew a moment of pure hatred so powerful it made him recoil as if she’d slapped him. It took several deep breaths before he trusted himself to speak.

“You hateful, ignorant woman,” he seethed, “you don’t deserve to call yourself his mother.” He was shaking and had to shove his hands deep into his pockets to keep himself from doing something he would regret. He felt Mel’s arm go around him and pull him gently away from the woman, but he couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. “You have no idea who your son was, how much he meant to me... to all of us...” He felt the tears begin to slide down his face and he let them fall. “You’re despicable and the worst part is you don’t even know how pathetic you really are.” He pulled his hand from his pocket to wipe his eyes and Joan actually flinched as though she expected a blow. Reverend Tom placed himself between them and took Justin’s arm.

“Justin, we are all trying to cope with this tragedy in our own way.”

“Take your hand off me,” Justin bit the words off one by one, and though the priest was several inches taller and quite a bit more solid than the younger man, he dropped his hand and stepped back.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”

“Didn’t mean to what, Reverend Butterfield. Didn’t mean to let her talk about him like he was some worthless piece of shit? Didn’t mean to stand here in silence while she reduces her son’s life to nothing more than his sexual orientation? Didn’t mean to be a complete and total fucking hypocrite?” He saw the priest’s face narrow with fear and somehow, instead of making him angrier, it just made him sad. He blew out a short, disgusted breath and shook his head, leaning closer. Fully aware that Joan could still hear every word, he hissed directly into the priest’s ear. “You’re worse than she is.” The good reverend could explain that to her any way he saw fit.

He turned his back on them and scrubbed his hand over his face, wiping away the evidence of their effect on him. He took a moment to recoup, and then he spoke to Ms. Johansen for the first time. “You have something for me to sign?” She nodded wordlessly and went to the counter where the young clerk stood with a folder in her hand. She drew out a set of documents, some insurance forms and the release papers and indicated where he should sign. Melanie had explained what they all were on their way over, and so he scrawled his name in the appropriate places and pushed them back across the counter to her. Later, he would think about the import of what, exactly, he had just done but for the moment the simple act seemed to calm him, to deepen his resolve to make absolutely sure that Brian’s faith in him was justified. He turned and faced Joan again, this time with an icy dignity that would have made Brian proud.

“Brian didn’t want a funeral – no visitations, no service. He’s going to be buried privately at Union Dale the day after tomorrow, so if you or Claire want to pay your respects, you can do it there.” Joan started to protest and Justin cut her off before she could get a word out. “But know this: if either of you so much as open your mouths to denigrate him in any way I will personally throw you out. So if you don’t think you can control yourself then I suggest you just stay away.” Joan retreated to the priest’s side again, clearly winding up to have another go at the administrator, but Justin stopped her cold, turning to the woman himself.

“I want to thank you for your help, Ms. Johansen,” he said sincerely. She had been more than kind and he sensed that she was on his side, but looking around he realized that they had drawn the attention of most of the people in the administration office, and not all of them held the same expression of sympathy that the Director did. At least not for him. So he hoped that she understood his warning was for their benefit, not hers. “Just so we’re clear, we have made arrangements for Mr. Kinney...” he bit down hard on his lip for a second before he could go on, “for Mr. Kinney’s body to be picked up later this morning. If either of these people are allowed anywhere near him before then, I will own this hospital by the time I’m finished.”

Pamela nodded her understanding, quietly impressed at his composure. She wasn’t sure she could have handled what he’d just gone through with such grace at his age, or even now for that matter. The Director smiled softly and extended her hand to him. “Of course, Mr. Taylor. And once again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

Justin turned and walked away without looking back and Melanie followed him in stunned silence, still trying to absorb what she had just witnessed. Until the moment Joan had provoked him into speaking about it, she hadn’t really considered that fact that Justin had actually had to watch the love of his life die. Watching his face as that memory engulfed him was like looking at an open wound – raw and bleeding with no means of stopping the pain. But he had taken that pain and channeled it into one of the most powerful displays of courage and loyalty she had ever seen. She found herself slightly in awe of the depth of the love that inspired it and to her dismay, she realized that just maybe the man she’d spent so many years reviling was actually worthy of it.

Only someone who knew Justin well would have known just how little it would have taken to shatter the thin veneer of bravado that had carried him through these last few minutes. He managed to get all the way to the parking lot before it abandoned him. By the time they reached the car he was shaking too hard to open the door. He leaned heavily against it instead and wrapped his arms around his own body in an attempt to keep himself together.

“Fuck. What did I just do?” he breathed as the tears spilled over. Mel threw her bag into the car and put her hands on his shoulders, leaning down until he was forced to look her in the face.

“You did one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen, Justin. I’m proud of you.”

“How could she, Mel? His own fucking mother. God, she makes me sick.” He ran his hands back through his hair and clasped them behind his neck. “I wanted to... Jesus... I could have killed her for the things she said.” He blew out a shaky breath. “What kind of person does that make me?”

“It makes you human, Justin. Nobody should have to listen to the things you did about someone they love.”

Justin hunched his shoulders and nodded, “I know. But it scares me to be that angry, Mel.”

Mel cupped his cheek and made him look at her again. “Let me tell you something, kiddo – I wanted to kill the sorry excuse for a woman and I didn’t even like the asshole,” she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. It took a moment but then a tentative smile curved his lips and he actually laughed softly, low in his throat. She pinched the cheek under her palm and then tapped it gently. “Don’t let the fuckers get you down, Justin.”

Justin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling loudly. “You’ve been hanging around Deb too long.”

She shrugged and returned the smile. “Yeah, well... sometimes Deb can be pretty fucking wise.” She opened the car door for him, then went around and got in behind the wheel.

Justin let out a bone-weary sigh as they pulled out of the parking lot. As bad as the encounter with Brian’s mother was, at least it was over. He felt as though if he could deal with that and come out the other side relatively sane, he could deal with anything.

Later, he would wonder how he could possibly have been so naïve.

~*~*~

Author's note: If you've never seen Finding Nemo, some parts of this won't make much sense. I apologize in advance (but do yourself a favor and watch it some time. It's a wonderful movie. Dory speaks whale. *g* Okay, on with the story...

Justin

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Daphne eyed Justin doubtfully as they stood in front of the ridiculously bright red door that could only belong to one person. He looked pale and drawn even though she’d convinced him to lay down for a while after Mel brought him back to her apartment. He’d already given up on the idea of ever sleeping again when Ben called to tell him the family was gathering at Deb’s. The thought of the controlled chaos of the Novotny house was vaguely disturbing, but Daphne’s place was quiet, and right now the quiet was not his friend.

“Nobody’s ever really ready for Deb,” Justin shrugged with a resigned half-smile and reached for the handle.

He was struck by a keen sense of déjà vu as they stepped into the living room. For the most part, the memories of his time in this house were good ones – warmth; laughter; acceptance. Home. There was one day though, not so very long ago, when it had felt a lot like this. When the lights were dim and the air was heavy with the sadness of a life ended too soon. But that day, although Brian had been the only one callous enough to say it out loud, there’d been a sense of inevitability; though Vic’s passing was equally sudden, it wasn’t inconceivable. Today was inexplicable, incomprehensible. Impossible.

The low hum of quiet conversation blended with the sounds coming from the television. Justin recognized the scene on the small screen – he and Gus had watched Finding Nemo at least a dozen times while Brian pretended to work on his laptop and Justin pretended he didn’t know that Brian knew all the words to ‘Beyond the Sea’. Gus was curled into Debbie’s side on the sofa, giggling madly at Dory’s attempts to have a conversation with a whale. Mel sat in one of the recliners feeding J.R. and speaking softly to Lindsay who was perched on the arm. Ben was in the other chair and Michael sat cross legged on the floor in front of him while the big man massaged his shoulders. Ted was leaning against the counter watching Emmett flutter around the kitchen, unpacking bags of food sent over from the diner. One by one they fell silent as they noticed Justin and Daphne’s arrival. Gus popped his head up and squealed with delight.

“Justin!” The boy bounced off the sofa and launched himself into the blond’s outstretched arms.

“Hey, Gus.” Justin lifted him up and hugged him close, pressing a kiss on top of his head. He held him like that for a long moment until Gus squirmed slightly and Justin set him down and ruffled the soft, brown hair.

“I missed you, Jus.”

Justin swallowed the lump that leapt into his throat as Brian’s son looked up at him. He felt the reproach in the guileless eyes; the boy was right – it had been too long. He hadn’t seen him since before he’d left... damn. “I missed you too, Gus,” he answered truthfully. And then Gus looked around his legs at Daphne and then back up at Justin before his little eyebrows knit together.

“Where’s my Daddy?” Daphne’s soft gasp behind them echoed his own as Justin stared down at the boy, open-mouthed. Before he could process the question, Gus piped up again. “Did you bring him with you?” He looked up at Justin expectantly.

“No, Gus, I...” he swallowed hard, completely at a loss. Ben said they’d told him already... He locked eyes with Lindsay, pleading silently for some kind of help but found her looking as dumbfounded as he felt. Either she hadn’t done a very good job of explaining or Gus simply hadn’t accepted it. Neither option changed the fact that Gus was tugging on his jacket and waiting for an answer. All eyes focused on the two of them and Gus went on as though Justin hadn’t spoken at all.

“Mama said that Daddy got hurt and you an’ Mommy went to the hospital to take care of him.” He was sad when Mommy came home by herself, but now Jus was here and Jus was always with Daddy. “Didn’t you bring my Daddy with you?” Gus asked again, and this time the question spurred Lindsay to her feet. She came and kneeled down beside her son and took him by the arms.

“Sweetheart, I told you, Daddy can’t come see you anymore...” Lindsay said gently.

Gus shook his head adamantly. “But you said Mommy and Jus were going to take care of him,” he insisted. Lindsay caressed the thin arms and tried again.

“No, sweetie, I said they had to go and take care of some things. I’m sorry, baby...” her voice was rough and she was on the verge of tears, but Gus wasn’t having it. He pulled away from her and flung his arms around Justin’s legs with a defiant ‘No!’

“Where’s my Daddy?” Gus demanded, his bottom lip quivering now as tears welled in the soft brown eyes that had gone from curious to frightened with alarming speed.

Lindsay reached for him, but Justin scooped the small boy up into his arms and mouthed ‘let me’ to the distraught mother. He carried him around to the sofa and sat down beside Debbie, settling Gus onto his lap. He felt Deb’s arm go around him and warm lips pressed a kiss into his hair. He turned to the woman who was essentially a surrogate mother to him and felt a quick stab of fear in his belly as he saw the deep purple bruise that blossomed from just above her left temple and disappeared under the bright red wig.

He hoped the shock he felt didn’t show on his face. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he’d sat across from her at the diner, holding his future in his hands, and it looked like she had aged twenty years. A whispered ‘Jesus Christ, Deb,’ was all he could manage. Her arm tightened around his shoulder and she offered a weak smile.

“I know, Sunshine,” she said quietly, ruffling the blond head much as he’d done to Gus moments before. She wrapped her arms around the both of them and pulled them close. “I’m okay, baby.” Her voice was subdued, devoid of the brassiness that was practically her trademark. She sounded almost… defeated. That alone scared him nearly as much as anything else that had happened. “It’s all gonna be okay.” She held them that way for a moment and then let go, and Justin turned the crying child on his lap around to face him.

Gus had his bottom lip pulled into his teeth and was frowning as he looked up at Justin from under his long lashes. The look was so ‘Brian’ that Justin was lost in it for a moment before Gus’s small voice brought him back to the room with a painful jolt. “Did I do something bad, Jus? Is Daddy mad at me?” He sniffled softly, “is that why he didn’t come with you?” The genuine sorrow in the boy’s questions pierced Justin’s heart but it was another voice that threatened to undo him. ‘Look out for him for me.’

“Oh, no.” Justin took the small face in his hands. “No, you should never, ever think that.” He kissed his forehead and hugged him again before pulling back so Gus could see his face. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Gus. Your Daddy loved you more than anything else in the world.” Justin saw the doubt in Gus’ eyes and he took an unsteady breath as he searched for the words to help the boy understand what he barely understood himself.

“Gus, do you know what an accident is?”

The boy eyed him warily. “Uh huh. My friend Adam fell off the slide in the park and he hadda have a operation on his arm,” he said thoughtfully. “It was gross,” he added with a grimace, and then wiped his runny nose on his shirtsleeve.

“That’s right,” Justin nodded. “Your dad had an accident too, Gus. He had a very bad accident, and that’s why he can’t come see you any more, not because of anything you did.”

“But Adam had a operation and then he came home,” Gus reasoned. “Can’t Daddy have a operation, too?” Justin looked up at Lindsay for some direction before he answered; she had moved back to the armchair beside Mel and both women nodded their encouragement. He looked down into the trusting eyes of Brian’s child and felt his heart break a little more. Despite his best efforts, tears spilled down his cheeks as he answered the question.

“No, kiddo,” he said huskily, “he was hurt too badly for the doctors to fix him. They tried really hard, but he died, Gus.”

The room was very still as they all waited for Gus to process what Justin had just told him. The television made the only sounds until Michael coughed softly and got up, hurrying past them toward the back door. Ben followed quickly behind him with an apologetic glance in Justin’s direction. Gus looked back and forth between the tv and Justin and he worried his bottom lip again.

“He...died?” the boy repeated the words cautiously. Justin nodded. “Like Nemo’s mommy?” Justin swiped the back of his hand across his eyes and nodded again.

“Yeah, like Nemo’s mommy.” He watched the small face crumple and Gus fell against his chest with a sob.

“But I want him to be here, Jus. I don’t want Daddy to be died.”

Justin gathered him in and held him as he wept, lightly stroking the still baby-soft hair. “I know, Gus, I don’t either... I don’t either.” He rocked him gently and after a few minutes his sobbing calmed and the small body relaxed in his arms. Gus looked up at Justin through heavy-lidded eyes and reached up and touched his wet cheek curiously.

“Are you sad, Jus?”

“Uh huh,” Justin answered him honestly.

“Me too.”

“I know, kiddo.”

The boy seemed to consider this for a minute and then nodded gravely. “Mama, too,” he said matter-of-factly. “An’ Uncle Mikey. He was crying.”

“It’s okay to be sad, Gus,” Justin reassured the boy.

“It is?”

“Uh huh,” Justin nodded, “We’re all a little sad right now,” he said, “but you know what?”

“What?” Gus perked up a little and sat up in Justin’s lap.

“It’s okay to be happy, too.” Justin wiped away the traces of tears from the young boy’s face with his thumbs. “Your daddy loved you very much, Gus, and he always wanted you to be happy.”

“He did?” The small voice was uncertain but a ghost of a smile played around his mouth.

“Uh huh. And you know what else?” Gus narrowed his eyes a little and Justin smiled in spite of himself – he would have sworn on a stack of bibles that he saw one eyebrow lift.

“What?”

Justin poked his fingers into Gus’s ribs where he knew the boy was most ticklish. “Iiiiii doooooo tooooooooo,” Justin deepened his voice, letting it rise and fall in what he hoped was his very best imitation of Dory speaking whale. Gus squealed, trying to escape the tickle and Justin kept on making his face stretch into crazy shapes as Gus giggled and gasped. “Iiii loooooooooove youuuuuuuuuuuu Guuuuuuuuuusss,” he groaned, and let the boy go, laughing himself now. He did have to squeeze his eyes shut for just a moment though when Gus grasped his face with both small hands and answered in his own version of whale-speak.

“Iiiii loooooove youuuu tooooooo Juuussssstiiiiinnn.” Gus wrapped his arms around the blond’s neck and squeezed hard and then wriggled away when Justin threatened to tickle again. He skittered down off the sofa and ran to where Lindsay sat - safely out of tickle range and panting, but grinning again. “Want to see what I drawed today, Jus?”

“See what you drew,” Lindsay corrected him, but smiled gratefully over the boy’s head at Justin. Gus rolled his eyes and Justin blinked hard again and nodded.

“You bet, kiddo.”

While Gus searched through his backpack for his drawings, Justin leaned back into the cushions and scrubbed his hands over his face. He allowed himself a couple deep breaths before he let them fall into his lap again with a shaky sigh. His eyes slid sideways and found Debbie staring hard at him, her lips pinched together in a thin line and her head tilted as though studying him. She took his chin in her fingers and turned his face towards her, shaking her head slightly. Her eyes were shiny and when she tried to smile, her mouth quivered tellingly.

“How’d you get to be so fuckin’ smart, huh?”

Justin gave a small shrug. “Guess I had some pretty good teachers...” For a minute he wasn’t sure if she was going to hit him or burst into tears. Somehow he wasn’t surprised when she did both. She squeezed his chin and smacked him affectionately on the cheek before pulling him to her. She held him tight enough to force the air out of his lungs, but for once he was grateful for the comfort of one of her bone-crushing hugs.

“Little shit,” she breathed into his hair. Her voice was gruff again, more familiar, but the wet warmth soaking into Justin’s collar belied her brave front. “You doing okay, Sunshine?” she murmured after a long moment.

He didn’t have the energy or the inclination to lie. “Fuck no,” he huffed into the older woman’s neck.

Debbie just hugged him that much tighter and held on. “Yeah. Me neither.”

*~*~*

Michael stood in the middle of the tiny backyard and tried to breathe. The door had barely closed behind him when he heard the metallic creak of the hinges again, and then felt strong arms encircle him. Ben didn’t say anything, just pulled him close and let his chin rest on Michael’s shoulder, almost surprised to feel the wetness as he pressed his cheek against the smaller man’s. After holding him most of the night, he wondered how it was possible Michael still had any tears left in him. “It’ll be all right, baby,” he said, for what felt like the hundredth time. Michael’s chin dropped to his chest and he shook his head, silently acknowledging what they were both thinking: He could say it a hundred times more. A thousand. A million. He still couldn’t make it be true.

They stood like that for a long moment; the afternoon sun was warm on their faces but the air was cold enough to see their breath. Ben felt Michael trembling through the thin sweater he wore and rubbed his hands up and down his arms. “You’re cold. Let’s go inside.”

“You go ahead, I’m fine,” Michael said without turning around.

“Michael, there’s no sense...”

“Jesus, Ben, I said I’m fine,” Michael snapped, and then bit down hard on his lips when he felt Ben’s body tense behind him. “Shit.” Michael turned around, still in the circle of Ben’s arms. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” Michael hunched his shoulders and let them fall again as he lay his head against the bigger man’s chest. “I just need a few minutes... please...” he said, hoping he didn’t sound as desperate as he felt. Just five minutes. Five quiet minutes. Five minutes without anybody asking if he was okay. Without hearing anybody crying. Without hearing... anything.

“Just because we’ve been friends our whole lives doesn’t mean we have to stay friends.”

“You’re my best friend, and I need you.”

“They tried really hard, but he died, Gus.”

“He died, Gus.”

“He died.”

“I love you, Michael.” Ben stroked his back and murmured into his hair, and Michael sighed. He loved Ben completely; the words should have been soothing, a balm on his wounded soul. Instead, they left him aching for more, for the only words that could make a difference now. Words that would remain forever unspoken. Always have, always will. Michael reached up and caressed his husband’s cheek and prayed he couldn’t see the truth.

“Please, Ben... just go inside.”

~*~*~

“Deb... Deb! I can’t breathe,” Justin groaned out the words with the little air he had left in his lungs. Debbie reluctantly let him go with an unconvincing apology.

“Sorry, Sunshine.”

Justin gave her a watery smile and squeezed her hand, only letting go when Gus bounded back over and wedged himself between them. He carefully spread his drawing out over his lap and proudly pointed out the big gold star in the corner. “See, Jus? I got a star and everything!” Justin was appropriately impressed and within a minute or two, Gus was curled into Deb’s side again, totally engrossed in the joyous underwater reunion on the tv screen.

“Come and get it, everybody,” Emmett chirped from the kitchen.

“Em honey, let me help with that,” Debbie called over to Emmett as he set a large plate of lemon squares down on the table, already overflowing with platters of food. Betty had dropped off enough to feed a small army, along with a standing offer from Leo for anything else they needed. She made to get up but Emmett was in front of her in flash, hands on hips and a determined set to his jaw.

“You’ll do no such thing,” he scolded. “You sit right there and I’ll bring you a plate.”

“But...”

“But nothing,” he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her gently back against the cushions. “The doctor only agreed to let you come home because I promised I would look after you.” Debbie started to protest again and Emmett leaned down until he was face to face with the older woman. “You wouldn’t want to make a liar of me, would you?” he said sweetly. Justin was mildly surprised at Debbie’s acquiescence – until Emmett turned his attention to him. His smile could’ve melted butter, but there was pure steel magnolia behind it. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you something to eat.” Justin didn’t even consider refusing. He got up and followed Em to the kitchen without a word. Daphne was already there leaning against the counter and sipping on a soda. Ted sat at the table staring into the cup of coffee he was stirring as though the answers to life’s great mysteries were in the bottom of the cup.

“Hey, Ted.”

“Justin.”

Justin noticed Ted wince as he rose from his chair. His large doe-eyes were bleary and his complexion decidedly gray and Justin embraced the older man gingerly - he knew Ted had suffered some smoke inhalation but Emmett never mentioned any injuries.

“How are you?”

Ted coughed lightly. “The docs said there might be some residual tissue damage from the smoke.” He shrugged but his voice sounded painfully hoarse and his mouth twisted into a wry half-smile. “It only hurts when I breathe,” he said dryly. “They say I’ll live.”

Justin saw Daphne’s eyes go wide and Emmett gasped audibly but neither of them said a word.

“Shit, Justin, I... I...” Ted sat back down heavily, stricken by his own thoughtlessness. “I didn’t mean to...” he stammered, then looked back up at Justin miserably. “I still can’t believe it... I’m so sorry, Justin.”

Justin regarded Ted thoughtfully. If you were picking out the people least likely to be friends with Brian Kinney, Ted Schmidt would be right at the top of most lists. On the surface, he was the antithesis of Brian – self-deprecating, timid, insecure. Pretty much everything Brian despised in a person. But he was also trustworthy and smart, and against all logic, Brian had taken a chance on him. Ted more than justified Brian’s faith in him - he became not just an invaluable employee, but a loyal and trusted friend. Justin didn’t doubt for a minute that the grief in the older man’s eyes was genuine and profound. He put an unsteady hand on Ted’s shoulder and squeezed. “Me too.” There really wasn’t anything else to say.

Justin heard the soft whine of the hinges as the back door opened and Ben came back into the house. The door banged shut behind him with more force than the ancient spring on the closer could justify, the sound magnified by the unnatural quiet of the room. Emmett nearly dropped the plate he was fixing for Debbie, and Justin felt Ted flinch under his hand.

“Jesus fucking Mary and Joseph!” Emmett squeaked, clutching his chest in true high drama-queen fashion.

“Sorry...” Ben muttered and disappeared back into the mud-room. Justin followed and found him leaning up against the washing machine with arms folded across his chest and his head low. He stood that way for a long time before he scrubbed his large hands over his face and let out a long sigh between his fingers. He spoke without looking up. “I’m scared, Justin.”

Justin pulled back the curtain on the door and looked out at the solitary figure huddled in the yard, trying to hold himself together. “Me too.”

*~*~*

Justin gathered his jacket more closely around himself as he opened the door. All the warmth was gone from the afternoon sun, leaving only a pale, cool light behind and he shivered slightly. He looked at Michael, hunched over and holding his head in his hands. Even from here Justin could tell he was crying – his whole body shook with it and Justin briefly considered walking away. But he’d been doing that for too long now. It was time to keep his promise. He closed the door of the SUV and jogged across the narrow road to where Michael sat, cross legged in front of Brian’s headstone. It was quiet in the way that only cemeteries can be and even Justin’s footsteps on the soft grass seemed loud to his ears. He called out his name as he approached him, but Michael seemed oblivious. It wasn’t until he was right behind him that Justin realized why. Michael reached for the nearly empty bottle of Jim Beam at his side and took a long swallow off it, then picked up the cell phone from the grass in front of him and fumbled with the buttons until a voice emanated from the speaker.

“Fuck you, Michael. The point of having a cell phone is to answer the fucking thing. I am on my way to my office – you have five minutes before I’m out of here.”

“Michael?” Justin touched him on the shoulder, but Michael shrugged it off and pushed the buttons again, sniffling loudly. Justin let it play through one last time and then reached down and took the phone out of Michael’s hand. “That’s enough, Michael,” he said quietly.

“Fuck off.. that’s mine!” Michael made a feeble attempt to lunge after it, but only managed to topple over onto the grass and he laid where he fell, still weeping softly. “Fuck you, Justin. Itsmiine...” he slurred.

Justin sat down beside him, cursing as he felt the dampness seeping through the fine Armani wool. He fidgeted with the cellphone, turning it over and over in his hands while he considered Brian’s oldest friend, sprawled out on the ground beside his grave and tried to figure out how the fuck they got here, today of all days. “You should be there tonight,” he said finally.

Michael folded his arm up and let it rest across his forehead, shielding his eyes from the light. “I can’t...” he whispered. “Brian wouldn’t want me there.”

“You can, Michael. You will.” Justin picked up the bottle of Beam and screwed the cap back on it. “And Brian would kick your ass if he could see you here like this.”

“I can’t. I’m not.. Why would you want me there?” Michael sat up and grabbed Justin by the arms. “Why Justin? Why...” he dropped his chin to his chest and sobbed. “Why don’t you hate me? Don’t you get it? You should fucking hate me.” But Justin just shook his head as Michael frantically searched the wide blue eyes for affirmation. He snatched the phone from Justin’s hands and pushed at the buttons until Brian’s admonition filled the air again. “Listen to him. Don’t you fucking get it? It’s my fault Brian was there. If I had just... if I... shit...” Michael pushed the balls of his hands into his eyes and groaned miserably. “It’s my fault Brian is dead, Justin. My fault.”

“No, it isn’t,” Justin said quietly as he turned back to the headstone again and ran his hand over the name and dates carved into the lustrous black marble. His fingers mapped each letter of the words beneath them. Nunc scio quid sit amor.

It seemed so long ago that he’d chosen them; the monument had been in place for nearly two years now and this was the first time he had seen the words, etched as deeply and indelibly into the stone as they were in his heart. Two years since his life had changed forever, standing right here in this very spot.

He could still hear the voices, the crying, the whispers. The screams. ‘Justin, no!’ ‘Stop!’ ‘Get him out of here, now!’ His right hand clenched involuntarily and he looked down at it as though it weren’t his own, as if he didn’t recognize the faint, white scars that zig-zagged across his knuckles or remember the sickening crunch of bone meeting bone. Most of that day was a blur to him, but there were some things that he would never forget. No matter how hard he tried. He rubbed absently at the cramp in his hand and shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault that Brian died, Michael. It was mine.”

*~*~*

TBC