Summary: It has been 3 months since a terrible hate crime ruined Ryan's life, but now the trial's beginning lawyers and cops are stirring up painful memories that Ryan has been desperately trying to forget. In the midst of all this chaos Ryan meets Michael another victim of a hate crime. They bond over a terrible shared experience and help each other understand and overcome their pain and fear.

Title will probably change multiple times because I am extremely indecisive.

The club in this fic is called Babylon and is shamelessly stolen from Showtime's "Queer as Folk" because I could not think of a better club name. So if you have seen QAF think of that Babylon and if not, use your imagination.

Also this chapter seems to be a bit harsh on the police. I mean no disrespect toward police officers.

And I know I have a terrible track record of finishing… well anything, but this story will not end up being too long and it is already laid out and everything, so I have a good feeling about this one!

The light in the police station flickered making his mouth twitch in agitation. Ryan sat in an uncomfortable wooden chair in the corner. He watched as uniformed men bustled about, somehow saving the city behind the stacks of folders and paper work.

Ryan snorted as he saw a number of cops standing idly in the corner drinking coffee and laughing over some dumb joke another had told. If those cops were actually out on the streets doing their job they might have been able to save Ryan on that terrible night. It was the night that his life changed, taking a terrible turn for the worse. That is why Ryan hated the police. Because they did not save him. Or the others.

Today he was meeting with the detectives. Why they could not have come to the hospital where he had been for the last two weeks, like that had done previously was beyond him. But here he was, surrounded by cops, forcing him back into his memory, to a place that he never wanted to return.

There were a total of six attacks over a span of five weeks. All the attacks targeted gay men. Thankfully no one died, but one of them still hasn't woken up.

The dickweeds who led the string of hate crimes were Oscar and Morris Delancey. They were arrested a little over a week ago, literally caught red handed. They were in the process of beating the shit out of some twink. Their hands covered in blood.

"Ryan! Good to see you again! How are you doing?" exclaimed a well-dressed detective as he bustled his way across the station to him.

Ryan nodded numbly as he stood extending his hand to the blonde mans out stretched one. The detective was wearing a large smile on his face that did not quite reach his eyes. He tried to look friendly but if you looked closely you could tell the man was tired and overwhelmed. Which was a combination that Ryan knew very well.

Ryan liked detective Brian Denton, as much as anyone could like a detective. Denton was in his late thirties and was one of the few cops who did not, at least to his face, disapprove or judge him because of his orientation. Instead Denton treated him as an equal and referred to him by his name instead of the ever-popular "faggot" or the creative reintroduction of "ass pirate" (because of his new medically ordered eye patch). Denton also referred to the incident as a "hate crime" not a "queer bashing" as the others did. The others trivialized the beatings turning them into jokes; they did not understand the severity behind them. They were assholes. Except Denton, he was okay.

"Well if you don't mind, just follow me they have cleared out a conference room for us to chat in." Denton motioned for him to follow. Ryan did.

Denton led the way into a small room with worn chairs around an ancient square table.

"I am sure you are aware that the men who are responsible were arrested last week."

"Yeah I heard."

It was impossible not to have heard about the Delaney Brothers, the city hasn't had a human-interest story of this magnitude in ages. And it did not hurt that the author of most of the articles were written by David "the Mouth" Jacobs. Jacobs was an open and proud homosexual who has sort of become the liaison for the gay community. Unsurprisingly Jacobs was horrified about the attacks and did his best to make sure the entire city was just as shocked. Jacobs ensured that the hate crimes were receiving plenty of press to progress GLBT rights and to show the city's demand for justice. Anyways Jacobs officially succeeded in making the hate crimes front-page news. Coverage wise these attacks were basically equivalent to the coverage of the Watergate Scandal.

Denton stared intently at Ryan as if waiting for a sigh of relief or something, surely not the look of dull boredom that was displayed openly on his face.

Ryan was not sure what he was supposed to feel. The doctors told him he was likely to experience strong feelings of anger, fear, sadness and confusion. But they never mentioned complete and utter apathy.

Life had turned into an emotionless haze. Ryan simply did not feel anything. At all. Except at night. His dreams escalated into fully-fledged nightmares. The nightmares seemed to be compensating for the lack of emotion during the living hours.

"This is good news right?"

"Yeah of course. Just still in shock. Ya' know?"

"Yeah. I am sure this is a very confusing time for you. We just would like to ask you some questions and go over your story."

"Why? I gave all this to you before in the hospital? Am I guilty of something?"

"No of course not! I am sorry to make you relive this again. But the lawyers want a complete recount of events, starting at the very beginning. They are hoping that during your recovery in the hospital you might have remembered something new."

"Whatever." At least the bastards were caught. Although cops in the next district made technically the arrest. Ryan still maintained that this districts cops were fairly useless.

Denton flipped the switch on the recorder.

"Start at the beginning. Start by stating your name for the record."

"My name is Ryan O'Keefe…"

Review please. Feel more than free to make suggestions.