They almost never talk about it. It's safer that way, most of the time. Sometimes the story comes up with the rest of the team, but by this time Justin has become desensitized to Medusa's barbs, and Giriko will rise to any bait that's laid in front of him. It hardly counts as a hot-button topic, in that context. Even today, when only Sid's opportune arrival prevented the use of Dominators, Justin isn't expecting to talk about it.
Maybe Medusa hit closer to home than he thought she did. Maybe Giriko is seeing the parallels with the new Inspector, and maybe it's harder to watch from a more objective remove. Maybe it's just that the other Enforcer has worked his way around to the conversation again, as he does sometimes. The reason doesn't matter, in the end, just that Justin is starting to slide over the edge into the comforting oblivion of sleep when Giriko says, apropos of nothing, "Do you regret it?"
Justin doesn't need context for this particular question, not when he's answered it dozens of times since his reassignment from Inspector to Enforcer. He also doesn't need time to come back to consciousness. The edge under the other man's voice is enough to bring him there instantly.
"I don't know," he says, honestly and clearly like he always does. "I don't know what it would be like if I hadn't done what I did." He twists sideways so he's on his back instead of his side, staring up at the blank shadows of Giriko's ceiling. "Do you?"
That's not part of it. Justin doesn't ask the questions; Giriko asks, and Justin answers, and then they both lie awake pretending to be asleep for hours. The other man stiffens at the unexpected query, and when he speaks his voice is rough and vicious with surprise. "What the hell are you asking that for? It doesn't make a difference, right?" His head comes in against Justin's bare shoulder, heavy and bruising with intentional force. Justin can feel the dig of metal against his skin from the inset piercing in Giriko's nose. "'Sides, I have what I want, right? Pretty little fuckbuddy, it doesn't matter to me if you're sane or not."
Justin wiggles his arm in under Giriko's head so he can grab at a handful of the other's hair and jerk hard enough that the older man hisses in pain. "Don't be an idiot, Giriko. I can tell the difference between your words and Medusa's, or do you think my intelligence vanished when my Coefficient rose?"
Giriko grins into Justin's skin and doesn't speak, but after a moment some of the aggressive tension fades from his shoulders and Justin lets his fistful of hair go, strokes his fingers over the other man's scalp in unusually gentle contact as if he's making up for the hurt.
"I really don't know," he says again. "I'm glad I have you, at least. I just don't know if that will make up for everything I lost, in the end."
Giriko grunts wordlessly, reaches out to hook his arm around Justin's chest and drag the other in against him by his hip like he's holding him in place, like he's holding him steady by sheer physical effort. It makes Justin smile, even though his eyes are burning with the threat of tears that only the darkness is hiding. He knows, and Giriko knows, that all the optimism in the world doesn't change the fact that Justin's Coefficient is climbing every day, only a point or two but inexorable nonetheless, that every time the subject comes up Giriko's own spikes higher, closer and closer to the edge of lethality. They are living on borrowed time, and Justin can see the timer, can watch the digits click down if he feels morbid about it.
Giriko tries to avoid it. It's better for him, that way. In the end Justin is good for him, if only as a temporary fix to an insoluble problem. He's bought the other man a few more months of survival by sacrificing his own stability, it doesn't do any good to undo that good by lingering on the negative. But Justin thinks about it, can't get away from the knowledge except briefly, through sleep or violence or sex, and in the dark like this he can see the conclusion written in the still shadows of the ceiling.
Even then, with Giriko holding onto him so tightly his fingers are leaving bruises and with wet trickling across Justin's cheeks, the blond isn't sure he regrets anything. Everybody dies, eventually, and there is something to be said for not being alone in the meantime.