Midnight Whispers
QAF Brian and Justin Fanfiction

Next day – Late morning – Harrisburg General Hospital

"I'm really glad to see you," Michelle greeted Dr. Bradley at the nurse's station. "I have a very impatient young man anxiously wanting to talk to you," she explained.

"Hmmm," Andrew replied. "He wouldn't be slender, with blond hair and blue eyes, by chance?" And adorable as hell….but he wasn't about to tell HER that.

She smiled. "You got it…..he said something about wanting to get out of his prison. Surely he's not actually being discharged today?" she queried. "That man sustained a traumatic brain injury. Isn't it just a little premature….if you don't mind me asking, Doctor," she added hastily, not wanting to annoy a superior. Never mind that this superior was about 15 years younger than her.

Andrew nodded. "I know, I know….it DOES seem pretty fast. But there's really nothing else that we can do here with him as an inpatient that he can't do on an outpatient basis. He's concerned about not having proper insurance coverage and how the costs would add up. Besides, he will be closely monitored in his new environment to ensure he doesn't experience any further after affects."

"Oh? And how will that be accomplished?" The nurse normally didn't pry too much into a patient's personal details; however, in the short time her patient had been under her care, she had grown fond of Jacob, perhaps because he continued to remind her of one of her son's friends. As she looked to Dr. Bradley for an explanation, she noticed to her surprise that he seemed a little uncomfortable as he responded to her inquiry.

"Actually, he's going to be staying with me." At her inquisitive look, he explained, "You remember Don – Dr. Maxwell – my roommate?" At her affirmative nod, he continued. "Well, he took a transfer to a hospital in Philadelphia, leaving me with an extra bedroom. I told Jacob he could stay with me for a few days until he can find some other accommodations. I didn't want him winding up in a homeless shelter or worse," he answered in his own defense. Looking at the nurse, however, he had a feeling she wasn't quite buying that story when he noticed her knowing smirk.

She smiled. "Uh, huh," she said cynically. "I guess it wouldn't have anything to do with his blond hair and blue eyes now, would it? And the fact that he's cute as a button?"

The doctor actually blushed a little, embarrassed. "I'm just trying to be a Good Samaritan," he insisted, although his explanation did sound a little lame. "And before you say something about patient/doctor relationships, after I discharge him today, he won't BE my patient any longer."

"Right," she answered, smiling even wider now. She actually liked Dr. Bradley, and was always worrying about him not spending any of his time on more enjoyable pursuits. Looks like he was maybe about to change that. "Well, in either case, better get in there pretty soon, because he's chomping at the bit to leave." She winked at the doctor as he rolled his eyes and nodded at her before he turned to walk toward his patient's room.

"Finally! About fucking time," An irritated Justin greeted the doctor as he appeared in his doorway. Andrew noticed that his patient was sitting cross-legged on the bed and had already changed into the street clothes he had been found in previously: a pain of beige chinos and a long-sleeved, v-neck navy blue shirt that set off his sapphire eyes. He couldn't help noticing that Jacob's change in clothing from the drab hospital gown he had been forced to wear into more normal clothing was dramatic and very flattering on the blond.

"Well?" His rumination was interrupted by an inpatient inquiry from the bed. "When do I get to bust out of here?" He crossed his arms now to mimic his legs as he raised his eyebrows to await the doctor's response.

Andrew grinned lopsidedly. "Michelle was right – you are chomping at the bit. Looks like that theory of yours was correct, by the way."

Justin frowned. "What theory?"

About you being impatient before AND after your injury. At least I can certainly attest to the after part," he joked.

"Ha, ha – now I have a doctor who thinks he's a comedian, too. Now that we've established my type-A personality, Doctor, do I get out of here or not?"

"It's Andrew," he reminded him softly.

"Andrew?" Justin repeated.

"Yeah. That's what you call your roommate, not your doctor."

"I hope that means what I think it means," Justin replied, as he stared at the doctor hopefully.

Andrew smiled. "Yes, it does. You can leave later this morning. I should be done with rounds around noon. So you just be a good little patient until then and watch the Price is Right, and if you continue to behave yourself I'll come and pick you up then and take you to the apartment. How's that sound?"

Justin sighed, a little annoyed he couldn't leave NOW. "Okay," he finally said. "If that's the best you can do." Andrew smiled at him. "I'll be back in about an hour," he said, looking up to note the current time. As he turned and was about to leave, he heard the younger man huff a little before distinctly saying, "And I DON'T like the Price is Right, by the way…..at least as far as I know." Andrew chuckled under his breath and walked out.


Same Time – Pittsburgh – Kinnetik

"Brian?" The brunet looked up from his laptop to see Cynthia standing in his office doorway. He raised his eyebrows in an unspoken question to her. "What are you doing here?" she asked softly.

Noting his assistant's atypical somber attire, he surmised that she was about to leave for Justin's memorial service. The service he couldn't bring himself to attend. "I'm working," he replied somewhat shortly. "What's it look like?"

"I….I just thought you would be going….to the service," the normally glib woman stammered out, puzzled. "It starts in about an hour."

"I know when it fucking starts, Cynthia, okay?" Brian snarled. He rubbed his hands over his face before placing his head in his hands and bracing his elbows on his desk, eyes now averted downward on the smooth surface. In a quieter tone, he added, "Just go, okay? Leave me alone."

Cynthia bit her lip in uncertainty. She didn't feel it was wise to leave Brian alone with just his thoughts for company at the moment. She could only imagine what types of thoughts he was processing right now, certainly none of them pleasant. After all, if she couldn't get the picture of Justin dying in that awful train crash, she was sure Brian must be imagining absolutely horrible scenarios as well.

Tentatively, she asked softly, "Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" She really wanted to attend the service for Justin to honor his memory, but she would stay with Brian if he needed her to. She was well aware of the deep love the two of them had shared, and the exquisite pain that her boss was now surely going through since their bond had been abruptly and cruelly severed.

Brian sighed; he fought the tears that had unexpectedly appeared in his eyes at the sound of his assistant's compassion. He knew Cynthia was only trying to help him; the only problem was, no one could help him with the one thing he needed, unless they had somehow invented a way to go back in time and undo these horrendous past few days and return the only thing, the only one, he so desperately needed right now.

"Brian?" she called out softly when he didn't seem to respond to her. He finally looked up through haunted, red-rimmed eyes and shook his head, saying, "No, Cynthia. You go on. I just want to be alone." At her look of deep concern, he reassured her. "Don't worry – I won't hang myself until you get back. Go," he urged her. She turned one side of her mouth up in an expression of indecision before finally saying, "Okay. I'll be back as soon as it's over. Call me on my cell phone if you need anything in the meantime. Okay?" she repeated. At Brian's nod of acknowledgement, she quietly walked out and headed down the hallway, leaving the entire office cloaked in an eerie, mid-morning silence.

As soon as he was assured everyone had left, he raised his head only to be met with a recent photo of Gus and Justin that had taken an honorary place on the corner of his desk. It had been taken last Christmas, when Justin had talked him into flying to Canada to visit Gus and the Munchers. Justin and Gus were both wearing matching goofy, red and white Santa hats along with goofy grins, arms wrapped around each other and surrounded by tons of shredded, festive holiday wrapping paper that Gus had frantically torn to reach the gifts that he had opened to shrieks of delight. It was a wonder that he could get the two of them to stay still long enough for him to take the picture, but somehow they miraculously had. In the photo, the love between the two of them was so apparent; over the years, Gus had grown to love Justin just as much as he loved his father. Hell, he had thought of both of them as his dads. Oh, God – what was he going to tell GUS? The glass from the picture frame shattered into a tiny million pieces as it violently hit the far wall, just before Brian dropped his head into his folded arms on the desk and wept.


Gay and Lesbian Center – Liberty Avenue

Daphne carefully looked over the collage of photos that had been assembled on the large piece of foam board near the back of the room. Some of the photos, taken during Justin's high school years, were familiar to her. But the older, faded photos of her best friend taken in grade school were all new to her. She was especially taken aback to see a small, 4 X 6 photo of her friend sitting at a standard-size piano, apparently playing a tune.

"He was quite good at it," she heard his mother say softly behind her. She turned to see Jennifer smiling wistfully at the photo. As Daphne looked at her, puzzled, she explained, "He took piano lessons when he turned 7 years old, and was actually pretty faithful with them until he turned 11. That's when he discovered his real passion – art. His favorite uncle gave him a sketch pad and some colored pencils at Christmas that year, and once he started drawing, there was no turning back. The only thing the piano was touched by after that was dust." She smiled in memory of how excited her son was when he became absorbed in drawing something that captured his fascination, whether it was a still life of fruit, a person walking nearby, or an old, quirky-looking building. Of course, over the past few years, there had been only one major source of his inspiration. As she walked a few steps over to a large, rectangular-shaped table adorned with various framed pieces of artwork and drawings that her son had painted or sketched, she stopped in front of one pencil drawing in particular – a black and white composition of the person that had almost single-handedly inspired her son's work for the past several years. The man in the sketch was standing in silhouette next to a large, floor-to-ceiling window, his lean body cast completely in shadow against the moonlight pouring in from the full moon outside.

"He's not coming, you know," Jennifer said to her softly. "He…..he told me to do what I needed to do….for Justin. But I guess he just couldn't handle it. The finality. He has to handle it in his own way; I respect that. I worry about him, though, you know?" She laughed softly when she turned to Daphne to say, "That's really ironic, because you know how I felt about him initially." Daphne smiled and nodded. "I thought he was going to totally corrupt my son. Use him for his own brand of perverted pleasure and then move on to his next big conquest. And maybe that's what he had in mind to begin with. But a strange thing happened, both to Brian and to me. My son could be very persistent when he wanted to be," she smiled again at the memory, tears forming in her eyes. It was so hard to talk about Justin in the past tense. "And I think he just wore poor, old Brian down. And before he knew what hit him, my son had lassoed his heart. And somewhere along the line, my opinion of the man changed." She shook her head, almost in disbelief, and she reached down into her pocket to snatch a worn-out Kleenex and dab her eyes with it. "I told him I would still think of him as my son-in-law, even though it was never legal. That's just the way I feel about him. It was so obvious how much they loved each other. You only find love like that once in a lifetime. I could feel it with them." She pressed the soaked Kleenex to her eyes to try and stem the tide of tears that was falling anew. "I'll never understand it," she said to Daphne, whose tear-filled eyes matched the older woman's. "I know," Daphne whispered, as they both reached to embrace each other, their two sets of arms tightly wrapped together into a cocoon of comfort.


Calhoun Street, Harrisburg

"Well, what do you think?" Andrew looked over at Justin carefully, trying to appear nonchalant as he secretly looked for any signs of fatigue or discomfort in his newly-acquired roommate. The blond had chosen an overstuffed, dark gray corduroy chair to perch on as soon as they walked into the apartment.

"It's very nice," Justin decided, looking around the living area filled with bookshelves, a medium-size flat screen t.v., a matching dark gray couch and two corduroy chairs. The apartment was actually an entire second floor of an old Victorian house and was quite spacious. The walls were at least 12 feet high, and the windows were large and rectangular, letting in a great deal of the early-afternoon sunlight that was currently pouring in.

"Oh, uh," Andrew remarked. "It's nice?" he repeated. "That's usually what a person says when they get something like a fruitcake for a gift. That's nice." he repeated in a falsetto voice, which actually made Justin laugh.

"No," he assured the other man. "It really IS nice. I like all the light that comes in. And I think the older houses are more interesting than the cookie-cutter ones you usually see nowadays. And I bet all the rooms are big, just like the living room." He tried to look around to view more of his surroundings, when he suddenly felt a sharp pain in the side of his head, near his injury. "Ow," he cried out softly.

Andrew immediately rushed over to him, kneeling down in front of the younger man so they were fairly eye to eye. "What is it, Jacob?" he asked the blond with concern. He had to fight the strong impulse he suddenly had to take the other man's hands in his; instead, he curled his own hands into a fist and dropped them to either side while he waited for the other man to respond.

Justin smiled slightly in reassurance. "It was just a little twinge of pain when I tried to turn my head, that's all," he said lightly.

"Where was it?" Andrew asked, eyes soft with worry. "Show me."

Justin hesitated for a few seconds; he didn't want Andrew to start playing mother hen/doctor all of a sudden, but that was actually part of the reason why he had been released so early. The alternative of going back into the hospital was more unpleasant than being truthful with this man. He slowly raised his hand to place it near the recent impact point on his head. "Here," he said simply as he held it against his blond hair.

"Be still," Andrew commanded in a soft but firm voice. Justin felt warm, soft hands gently probing around the impact area. "Does any of that feel painful or tender?" he asked the other man, his hazel eyes practically boring into the sapphire blue ones. Just like yesterday, the two men found themselves close enough to feel each other's breath on their faces. And just like yesterday, Andrew found himself almost holding his breath as he felt an unmistakable attraction toward this vulnerable but beautiful man.

He forced himself to pull back a little so he wasn't so close to the inviting, full lips and concentrated instead of feeling for anything that seemed unusual or worrisome. His voice took on a professional persona as he asked Justin, "Are you still feeling any pain? Anywhere?" He looked over intently at the blond, waiting for his answer.

"No," Justin assured him firmly. "It was only that one, momentary twinge. I'm fine," he declared. "Really." As Andrew gave him that don't lie to me look, Justin sheepishly admitted, "I'm just a little tired, I guess."

"Mm hmm," Andrew murmured. "You need to go lie down, Mr. Martin," he determined. "Up," he commanded. "I'll show you where the spare bedroom is. Come on," he urged him, as he stood up facing the other man. He gently grasped the other man's sleeve to help encourage him to rise from the chair, and then wisely decided he'd better release him; he had already played with fire enough yesterday. "This way," he instructed his roommate, nodding his head over toward a side door.

"You doctors sure are pushy," Justin grumbled, as Andrew chuckled.

"Never mind that," Andrew retorted. "Sleep now, witty repartee later." He opened the tall, heavy wooden door with a glass, art-deco design doorknob and stood to the side to get the other man's impression. He watched as Jacob's eyes lit up when he noted the antique, intricately designed mahogany desk and the matching, solid wood dresser and bed. The room was decidedly masculine, with its bold, dark navy striped duvet and matching heavy drapes pulled back to allow some more of the bright light to invade the room. "This is great," Justin declared softly, a small smile on his lips.

"Well, that's somewhat better than nice," Andrew teased. "Do you think you can climb into the bed or will you need a step stool?" he asked the other man, grinning. The bed frame was rather imposing, and the thick, extra deep mattress didn't help to make it any easier to access.

Justin smirked. "Very funny," he replied, not being to keep a small smile from appearing in reaction to the other man's joke. "I think I can manage," he advised the other man solemnly.

Andrew noticed his hesitation, however. "Well?"

"I can get into the bed…I just don't WANT to," Justin said. After all, that was pretty all he had done since arriving at the hospital yesterday. The last thing he really wanted to do was sleep some more, but he also knew he was dead on his feet all of a sudden.

Andrew huffed. "Patients….always uncooperative whether they're in the hospital or not. That was not a request, Mr. Martin. I may not be your doctor officially any longer, but I'm the person keeping you out of a hospital bed. And as your new roommate and former doctor, I am instructing you to get in that bed….now." Andrew didn't dare think about the dream he had had last night when he had ironically said something similar to Jacob, only he wasn't trying to get him into bed for sleep. Don't go there, Bradley, he warned himself.

Justin sighed in resignation. He knew the man was right – he WAS tired and he knew his body needed to rest and heal. "Okay. I'll get some sleep. But only for a little while….I'm actually kind of hungry, too," he remarked abruptly as his stomach emitted a loud growling noise.

Andrew chuckled again. "Something tells me you're going to be a high maintenance roommate. Go," he demanded again. Justin shook his head but shuffled slowly over to the bed. He surprised Andrew by adeptly climbing up and into the bed, the covers already drawn back invitingly. As he slowly lay down, he turned his head gradually until he was staring back at Andrew, who continued to gaze at him with an unreadable expression.

"Sleep," was all Andrew said, as he turned to leave. "I'll be right outside if you need something. But NO sudden movements, understand?"

"Yes, Doctor," Justin dutifully replied. "What time is dinner?"

Andrew snorted. "I think high maintenance doesn't quite describe it," he muttered, loud enough, however, to be overheard by a certain blond. "How about 5?" he asked his new roommate good naturedly.

Just before he left the room, he heard Jacob's voice softly mumble, "Just ring me, James," before he quickly fell asleep. Andrew laughed softly and risked a quick, tender glance over at the other man before he returned to the living room.

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