Disclaimer – Surprise, surprise, I am not Daniel Lipman nor Ron Cowen nor Showtime. That means that I have no rights to the characters in this story. No money was made from this story and it was created only as a means of entertainment.

Title – Righted Wrongs

Rating – R (language and mild slash)

Summary – Revisions of scenes from season two leading up the finale.

Author's Note: As the summery explains, this story is really a collection of vignettes which depict the way I wished certain scenes in season two would have gone. However, some parts were entirely invented because I feel as viewers we were cheated out of seeing them.

Righted Wrongs

*~Shell Shock~*

The look. The feel. The air. The smell. Brian hated every aspect of hospitals. It only made it worse when he acknowledged to himself that the reason he was there was a broken 18-year-old boy who was lying comatose because of him. Every molecule in his body was screaming at him to turn and run, but something beyond his physical control was keeping his legs moving towards room 301. He'd had to work out an arrangement with the nurse for her to allow him to see Justin after hours. The thought of running into someone close him or to the damaged teenager made his knees tremble. Thankfully, she was willing to comply with little resistance.

"Mr. Kinney?"

Looking up, Brian realized that he had neared the room and the sweet-looking nurse was standing by the door questioning him.

"Yeah."

Taking a step towards him she extended her hand.

"You're late."

Brian reached for her hand and lightly clasped it.

"Sorry."

Smiling she gently released him.

"It's all right," she said. "My name's Janet, I'm one of the nurses who's been working with him."

Struggling to keep his emotions under control, Brian allowed the woman to direct him towards the door of the room with the tiny window partly covered by half-open blinds.

"Not much has changed since he arrived about a week ago," she explained softly. "He's no longer in critical condition but . . ."

The nurse paused as if to give him time to comprehend.

"There is the chance that he won't wake from the coma. But his signs are good. His blood pressure and heart beat remain steady."

As her slim hand moved to twist the doorknob she looked up to Brain who remained standing with his eyes downcast beside her.

"I can only give you about 10 minutes," she softly added.

Nodding once, Brian moved passed her and into the dimly lit room, barely noticing when the door closed softly behind him. There lying on the white bed under pale sheets was a little boy who's complexion reminded him painfully of his stark surroundings. Breathing in, Brian walked around to the side of the bed and sat in a nearby chair. The steady beeping of the machine assured him that the young man lying prone beside him was alive. He felt a lump rising in his throat and, as he forced it into submission, he looked into the calm, sleeping face that appeared normal except for the small plastic tube running under his nose and the bandage at his top right temple. When he could no longer simply look at his limp body Brain leaned in and covered the still left hand with his right. Feeling the warmth only saddened him further rather than bringing him comfort.

"Justin," he whispered.

For a long time he waited. For a mumbled response, for a movement of the hand under his, for a sharp intake of breath, for an increase in heartbeat. Anything.

Nothing.

Slowly Brian moved his thumb over the teenager's wan skin.

"Justin," he repeated ignoring the cracking in his voice. "Justin, Justin, Justin. . ."

The older man repeated his name as if he couldn't stop.

". . .Justin. . . Christ, I'm sorry."

His vision blurred and as he blinked to clear it Brian felt the tear slide down his cheek. As soon as that little drop fell from his eye he knew he was in danger of loosing control. Indeed, as he tried again to speak he instead felt his shoulder began to tremble and after a few moments of resistance he lowered his lips to Justin's hand and gave into his emotions. Brian had no idea how long he remained like that, crying silently against his fallen angel, before he was able to raise his head and look at him again.

"God, Justin I never meant for this to happen," he whispered desperately. "I never should have come. I should have left you alone. I never should have taken you home that night."

Reaching up he brushed a strand of blond hair from his forehead and cringed when he saw the stains of deep scarlet on the bandage.

"This wouldn't have happened; he wouldn't' have come after you. You should be safe and happy getting ready to go the IFA but you're not. You're here because of me. And you may never open your eyes again."

Looking hard into his placid face he felt another tear escape his emotional eyes.

"You can't stay like this," he continued. "You can't stay here forever, you can't die. Justin, you can't give that to them. You can't let them win now that you've come so far and proved them all wrong."

Pausing for a moment Brian tightened his grip on the motionless hand.

"Can you hear me?" he asked like a man would trying to rouse his lover. "Can you understand what I'm telling you? Justin, you can't let this beat you. You're so much stronger than this. You have to prove it to me, to them."

"Mr. Kinney?"

Sniffing, Brian cleared his eyes and looked up at the nurse who had returned. Giving him a sympathetic look she nodded her head, letting him know that it was time to go. Giving his hand a tight squeeze he stood and after casting one more look on him, walked away from the bed and towards the woman who guided him out of the room with a gentle hand on his back. As the door delicately closed, the moving green line on the machine next to Justin showed a slight increase in heartbeat before it once again returned to normal.