Toronto – Saturday Morning

"Are they still asleep?" Lindsey asked her partner as she stepped into the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee.

Mel nodded her head. "Yeah – at least they were a few minutes ago when I checked on them. I found the two of them curled up together." She took a sip of her coffee and sat down with Lindsey at the table. "I know Brian and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, but I AM glad that he's finally getting a little rest. Even I could tell he hadn't been getting much of that lately. He looked exhausted at the airport."

Lindsey absentmindedly stirred the sugar into her coffee. "Mel…do you think Brian told Gus about Justin yet? I know he was dreading that more than anything."

Mel shook her head. "I don't know, Baby. No way of knowing until we can get Brian alone and ask him. He's going to have to tell him at some point, though. He can't keep it a secret forever. Gus is a very bright child – he's going to notice that something's not right before too long."

Lindsey sighed softly. "I know. But sometimes I wish we could preserve his innocence just a little longer."

Mel reached over and gave the other woman a kiss on the cheek, briefly touching her shoulder. "I'm sure everyone wishes we could all go back in time before this ever happened. I don't think any of us realized just how much Justin had been such an important part of our lives. It's like…..I don't know." The attorney struggled for the right words. "I still remember when we first saw Justin and Brian together at our house – at least when we recalled who he was." She smiled in recollection. "The way he told Brian not to flatter himself, remember? He was like a breath of fresh air."

Lindsey returned her smile sorrowfully. "I remember. It was the first time I thought that just maybe Brian had met his match at last; turns out we were right. Only we didn't know how it was going to end years later." She tilted her head back and gazed up at the ceiling. "I still can't believe it," she murmured. "I really loved him, Mel. And I know Brian did, too…..I think more than any of us even knew."

Mel nodded. "I think you're right, Sweetie." A slight movement out of the corner of her eye made Lindsey turn to see Brian shuffling slowly into the kitchen, clad only in a pair of sweats that suddenly seemed to be a size too big for him. Thinking it was no doubt due to her friend not eating much this past week, she asked him softly, "Want some coffee?"

He finally nodded his head mutely after a few seconds and sat down with the two women in a nearby chair. As Lindsey placed a mug in front of him, she sat back down and stared at her friend sympathetically. "Did you get much sleep? Mel checked in on you two a little while ago and said you were asleep then."

Brian briefly considering answering with the standard "I'm fine," but he knew what an obvious lie that would be, especially to Lindsey. "A little," he eventually admitted. "Maybe an hour or two."

The two women exchanged a look before Lindsey spoke up. "Brian," she said softly. "Did you tell Gus?"

Brian averted his eyes. "No," he whispered finally. When he lifted his head, the pain was apparent on his face. "I couldn't do it, Lindsey. I couldn't destroy his world. He…he asked me when his," Brian tripped over the word," …..his Poppa was coming to visit, and I just couldn't fucking do it. I just couldn't do it…not yet." He said in answer to their unspoken question, "I will…..I just need more time," he implored, placing his head in his hands.

Lindsey placed a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder. "I know how hard this is for you," she replied understandingly.

"No. No, you really don't," Brian protested fiercely, his head rearing back up. "YOU look into his eyes and tell him that his Poppa will never be coming to see him again." He shook his head in disbelief. "Shit….YOU try to tell him that."

"Brian…Maybe WE should be the ones to tell him. Maybe that would be best," Mel said sensibly, even though she was dreading telling him just as much as Brian was.

"No!" Brian demanded forcefully. "I WILL tell him…But what fucking difference does it make, though, if we tell him now or two weeks from now? Huh? Tell me why it matters. He's never coming back either way!" He cried in despair.

Mel was about to protest that she could do it just as well as Brian could, when Lindsey placed a hand on her arm in a silent plea to let Brian do it his way, and in his own time. Somehow she knew it was important to him – important to Justin's legacy – that he be the one to tell his son.

Mel pursed her lips together tightly. She wasn't happy about the situation, but since Lindsey seemed to be agreeing with Brian, she decided perhaps it wouldn't make a big difference in the long run. The longer they held this information from Gus, however, the more difficult it was going to be. She nodded to the blonde to signify she would go along with Brian's request, at least for now

"Okay, Brian," Mel answered him. "Two weeks. But if you haven't told him by then, WE will. He has to know. Surely you can see that."

Brian looked away, lost in thought and memories. Sighing, he agreed. "Yeah. Okay. I'll be back in a couple of weeks, and I'll tell him then. I have no fucking idea how I'll do it, but I will." As he gulped down the last of his coffee, he stood up and informed them, "I'm going to go see if Gus is awake. I want to spend as much time with him this weekend as I can before I have to go back home." This past week had made him realize more than ever that time was too precious to squander on less important things. He was never going to get back what time he had lost being without Justin, but he sure as hell could start rectifying that deficit with his son.

Pittsburgh – Saturday morning

"Teddy? Where are you? I can barely hear what you're saying. It sounds like you're at a bus terminal or something." He could hear a raucous cacophony of sounds erupting in the background.

"I wish," his boyfriend replied testily. He cupped his hand over his ear as he strained to hear what Blake was trying to say. "I'm at Babylon," he virtually yelled. "Brian wants all the reconstruction finished by the time he gets back Monday morning, and of course, everything's off schedule. He promised the workers a big, fat bonus if they get done on time, so they're all scrambling around like mice with cheese to get it done. And unfortunately, since he put lucky me in charge, I can't go anywhere in case they have a crisis come up. Looks like I'm stuck here until Monday. If you need me, I'll be the petrified skeleton strung out on the VIP couch in the back," he retorted.

Blake chuckled. "My poor baby," he commiserated. "I'll tell you what. I'll come by around lunch time and bring you a takeout from the diner with all your favorite foods. You might even get a tasty desert," he purred.

"What's that?" Ted answered. "I could have sworn you were offering to keep me company here in the dungeon."

Blake smiled. "That's exactly what I'm offering, Teddy. Is the door unlocked?"

"Are you kidding me?" Ted retorted. "The man's so paranoid about the competition stealing his ideas during the renovation he made me give all the workers a special key card to get in or out. If you don't have one, you don't get in. Give me a call when you're here and I'll let you in," he advised, almost having to shout now. "Oh, and by the way, you have to come around to the delivery entrance around back. The main door in the front is locked until the club reopens next week and it's so loud in here I couldn't hear you anyway…I'll be looking forward to seeing you, though. Come and rescue me, will you?" he joked.

Ted smiled to himself as Blake answered, "I'll be there around 1:00. Be ready for me."

"Don't worry," the other man assured him. "I'll be MORE than ready." If I don't kill myself before then, he thought.

Saturday Morning – Harrisburg

Justin sat on the couch, nervously wringing his hands impatiently. It was barely 8:00, but he was already a bundle of nervous energy. Andrew was still getting dressed; he had heard him emerging from the shower a few minutes ago, so hopefully he would be ready to leave soon. Despite the mild sedative Andrew had given him, Justin still hadn't slept well last night; at least this time, however, it wasn't due to a nightmare. He had been so wound up about his trip today, and what little sleep he did manage to get was consumed by thoughts of Brian, the man who always seemed to be both the focus of his dreams at night and his artistic visions by day.

He was so lost in thought, he didn't hear the other man quietly open his bedroom door and walk out, freshly-shampooed hair still damp from the shower. He knew Jacob was extremely anxious to get going, so he hadn't even bothered to dry it completely. "Jacob?" he called softly, trying not to startle the other man. "You ready to go?"

Justin turned to observe his friend standing unobtrusively nearby. He let out a nervous breath as he confirmed, "Yeah. I'm as ready as I'll ever be." Standing up to join the other man, he said softly, "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Andrew. I know this was a lot more than you bargained for when you went in for rounds this week," he said, a little awkwardly.

Andrew laughed to try and put his mind at ease. "I'd have to agree with you on that one," he concurred. "But at least I can't say this week's been boring."

Justin smirked. "I'm glad I could provide you with your entertainment for the week."

Andrew grinned. "Well, at least I got a trade off, then." He nodded his head in the direction of the door as he added, "Let's get going. Did you remember to bring the address of the club with you?"

Justin reached in his pants pocket. "Right here," he confirmed.

Andrew nodded. "Good. I'll program it into the GPS. Ready?"

"Ready," Justin verified, as he following Andrew out the door to his car.

Pittsburgh – Late Saturday Morning

The sun had already risen almost directly overhead by the time Justin and Andrew arrived in the heart of the city. As they got closer to their destination, Justin's heart beat faster at the thought that perhaps finally at least some of the keys to his memory would surface. As Andrew navigated the labyrinthine streets, Justin spent his time constantly looking out the side window, hoping that something or someone, somewhere, would trigger his memories. He let out a large sigh as nothing seemed to appear familiar yet.

"What is it?" Andrew asked concerned. "You're not having any problems, are you?"

At Justin's puzzled glance, he explained, "Dizziness, headaches, light-headedness?"

Justin shook his head. "No, nothing yet," he assured him.

"Then what is it, Jacob?"

Justin sighed again, this time more softly, as he turned to look at the older man. "I…..I was so sure that once we got to Pittsburgh, something would look familiar at least. Something would click. So far, there's been nothing, absolutely fucking nothing," he admitted, clearly frustrated, as he continued to peer intently out the window in hopes that a flash of familiarity would suddenly appear.

"There's that impatience again, Mr. Martin," Andrew chided gently. "We just got here. We haven't even arrived at Babylon yet. Give it time," he counseled soothingly.

Justin snorted. "Time…..I HATE that word."

Andrew grinned. "Yeah, that doesn't surprise me, coming from the King of Impatience." Before Justin had an opportunity to reply with some type of witty comeback, Andrew pointed out, "We're coming up on the address for Babylon. Keep your eyes peeled."

Justin didn't have to be told twice; he quickly turned and craned his neck to look out the windshield as Andrew turned down a fairly narrow street, almost an alley, and slowed down as the GPS indicated they were within a few hundred feet of their destination.

As the car crawled to an eventual stop, Justin noticed an odd lack of activity. He figured these types of clubs wouldn't open until late at night, but the absolute silence was almost eerie. The street was completely devoid of any pedestrian traffic, with only the occasional car passing by. Without asking the other man his intentions, Justin opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He stood for several seconds by the car, looking around intently for something, anything, to jolt his memory into focus. Except for the club nearby, the rest of the street was composed of what appeared to be mainly office and warehouse space. He surmised that mainly due to the weekend, the foot traffic would normally be very light, but he was surprised, as well as disappointed, to not see anyone at the moment.

As he emerged from the driver's side to stand by Justin, Andrew looked over at the other man, curious to see if any flicker of recognition was apparent on the pale face. "Jacob? Anything?" he asked softly. The only response from the blond was a slight negative shake of his head before Justin resolutely started across the street toward the club.

As he neared the entrance, he peered up at the neon sign that looked so nondescript in the bright sunlight; it was difficult to imagine the image at night when it would undoubtedly be lit up like a spotlight. He was startled, however, to notice that the name of the club wasn't Babylon; it was Pulse.

"Pulse." Justin said the word softly to himself, confused, as Andrew moved to join him. "I don't understand. I'm sure this was the right address. What…what's going on?" he asked, whether it was to himself or Andrew he wasn't sure.

"Look," Andrew noted, pointing out a sign posted on the door. "It says the club is closed temporarily for remodeling."

"Look for our new and improved club opening soon. We apologize for the inconvenience," Justin read. "Inconvenience? Inconvenience?" he cried angrily, his voice rising. "INCONVENIENCE! My whole fucking memory is gone and they call it an inconvenience? Fuck!" He began to pace furiously, looking for something, anything, to vent his utter frustration against, impetuously choosing the closest target.

"Jacob, NO!" Andrew shouted immediately. But he was too late to prevent the other man from taking his hand and punching it violently against the club's impenetrable, heavy metal entrance door. As Justin reeled back in shock and pain, Andrew grabbed him around the waist and aggressively pulled him away from the door to prevent any further damage. "Jacob! This isn't going to help!"

"Let me GO!" Justin protested crossly, tears of defeat and frustration springing to his eyes.

Andrew instead tightened his hold on the other man even more, as Justin struggled to free himself. Even though he was no match for the other man's strength, his agitation continued to build as nearly a week's worth of dead ends and dashed hopes came crashing down on him. "I want my fucking LIFE back!" he cried out to no one in particular – Andrew, the entire city of Pittsburgh, God himself, he wasn't sure. "Do you hear me?" he yelled. "I want my LIFE BACK!" He screamed, as he continued to struggle violently against the other man.

"Jacob, STOP!" Andrew again demanded. He was actually at a loss, though, as to what to say to his friend to mollify him. Things will get better? His memory will return in time? Both might or might not be true. What could he say? Truthfully, there was nothing he could say right now that would really reassure his friend. But somehow he knew he had to get him calmed down. "Jacob," he stated urgently. "Listen to me. This isn't the way to handle things," he said into the other man's ear in hopes he would heed what he was saying. For a few seconds, he thought he might actually be getting through to the other man, because he abruptly stopped struggling against him. But when he looked down at Jacob, he was horrified to see that the other man had ceased his fighting because he had placed his undamaged hand on the side of his head – the side that had been injured just a few days ago.

Andrew turned Jacob around and noticed with fear how pale the other man's face was as he grimaced, apparently in pain. "Jacob? What IS it?" he asked, his face full of worry.

"My head," was all that the other man could manage to say in a whisper, as Andrew loosened his hold on the other man just as he slowly slunk down to sit on the ground, his back propped against the securely-closed club door.

Andrew was both extremely concerned as well as angry; very concerned over his friend's condition, but also furious with himself for allowing Jacob to talk him into this determined stroll down what the blond no doubt had hoped would be Memory Lane. Instead, it appeared to have simply exacerbated the man's already tenuous medical condition, or possibly worsened it.

Remembering the promise he had pried from Jacob earlier, he stooped down next to the other man and reached out his hands to gently remove the slender one from the blond's head. "Jacob? Your head's hurting?" he asked clinically now, his doctor training automatically taking over. He received only a slight affirmative shake in reply. "Let me see," he requested sternly, leaving no question that he meant business.

Justin closed his eyes as both his head and his hand continued to throb in pain. He felt Andrew's hands gently probing his head where the injury had occurred. He finally heard the other man sigh, not completely sure why – whether in sympathy, consternation, or both.

"That's it, Jacob," Andrew decided. Justin opened his eyes, about to issue a vehement protest, when a fresh wave of pain hit his hand where he had rashly and unwisely punched the door. "Fuck!" His face contorted in agony as both his head and hand pulsated with sharp, aching sensations. "NO arguments," Andrew growled. "You're going to be checked out – NOW. Get up – we're going."

Justin opened his mouth to complain, but the determined, no-nonsense look in his friend's eyes quickly dissuaded him from doing so. He grudgingly accepted the outstretched hand of his friend and allowed himself to slowly be pulled up onto his feet by his undamaged hand. "Andrew….." he tried to begin again.

"No, Jacob," was the prompt and firm reply. "I'M the doctor here, and what I say goes…you got it? You promised," Andrew reminded him, somewhat irritated. "I'm sure you remember that."

Justin was in no mood at the moment to issue a snappy reply; his head and hand were both throbbing too much. Shaking his head a little in disgust, he muttered, "Yeah…..I seem to recall that vividly. Too bad that's ALL I fucking remember at the moment."

Andrew's anger dissipated as he looked at the forlorn, disappointed face of his friend. He sighed and let out a slow breath as he gently squeezed Justin's undamaged hand. "Come on, then. This isn't the end, Jacob," he softly reassured him. "We can come back. But I think this is enough for now. You need to have your head and that hand looked at. At least it's not your right hand," he observed, remembering that Jacob had mainly used his right hand to draw or paint.

"Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better," Justin retorted testily, as he slowly followed the other man back to the car under the brunet's watchful eyes. Andrew opened the car door for Justin and waited for him to get in. As soon as he had joined him in the driver's seat, he quickly punched an inquiry for the nearest urgent care center into the GPS and pulled away promptly, crossing his fingers mentally that Jacob had not done any serious harm to his hand or any further damage to his previous head injury.

As their car drove off, however, their departure was followed closely by a blond-haired man standing a few hundred feet away, holding a large carryout bag in his hand. The commotion raised by Justin's tirade had not gone totally unnoticed by everyone. As Blake stood there at a nearby corner, his mouth fell open and his eyes narrowed in confusion. What the fuck? He made a mental note to ask Teddy about what he had just observed as soon as he joined him for lunch.