Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
Rated: M
Warning(s): Slash, Incest, Non-Con, Crime, etc.

After a few days, it was determined that Brock would live. I can't say that I was thrilled about the news, because he would still be out there and it terrified me to no end to think that, even from jail, he could still mess with my head. On the other hand, I wasn't disappointed either. Even if he was an abusive bastard, he was still my brother. At the end of the day, blood is thicker than water. Family will stick by you and defend you, even in the worst of circumstances. And that fact made my father's life hell.

From what little my father could collect from Randy and I, he knew that Adam had been innocent. He didn't have any form of weapon on him, hadn't threatened Brock in any way, or anything like that. So, in a sense, I suppose that he knew that Brock was guilty. But, at the same time, a father never wants to think that his son is capable of shooting a man for no reason at all. Apparently, Dad hadn't even known that Brock owned a firearm. As it turned out, there was a lot that he didn't know about Brock…

"I feel like I haven't seen you in a month of Sundays!" Phil motioned to the chair beside his bed. I slid into it easily, thankful that I didn't have to be on my feet anymore. "How have you been? Believe me when I say that you look like shit, Johnny."

I offered an awkward smile. He certainly did know a hundred and one ways to make a man feel shitty about himself. "I've been better. This is only my second day home after a three day stay in the hospital, so…" I trailed off.

Phil's look melted into one of concern. "You were in the hospital?" I nodded. "What for?" How could I tell him? How could I tell him the truth when I couldn't even tell it to my own father?

"My boyfriend and I had tried some stuff… you know, in the bedroom… and it didn't end too well. I was out cold when I was brought to the hospital and Dad said that they wanted to run a rape kit." I lied fluidly. It was like the lie had become the truth.

"That sucks man." Phil's look of sympathy turned into one of amusement. "Since when do you have a boyfriend? I was just beginning to think that you would spend the rest of your life as an old cat lady, too!"

I raised an eyebrow. "Don't you kinda need to be a lady to be an old cat lady? It's even in the name, man." We both broke down into fits of laughter, and I was reminded of the good times, before his mania kicked in and made itself at home.

"You're close enough." Phil said with a smirk. "I mean, what with the slight build, your bubble ass, and your curves… are you sure you're not a girl and you have just been lying this whole time?"

Before I could stop it, an obnoxious chuckle left my body. "I think that I would be the first one to know, don't you?" Phil shrugged, mumbling something like 'anything is possible' under his breath.

We settled into a comfortable silence after that. I leaned back in the chair, putting my feet on the little shelf underneath Phil's bed. The objective was to take some of the pressure off of my lower back, but it didn't work too well. According to the x-rays that they took at the hospital, my lower back and hips had been most affected by Brock's brutal attack. Because of the steroids he had just taken, he was stronger and, in one of his brutal acts, had bruised my lower spine. It hurt like hell, but I didn't want Phil to see the pain that I was in.

Not that Phil would have noticed, anyhow. He had had one of the nurses go down to the cafeteria and buy him a diet Pepsi, which he now nursed as he watched the crappy daytime reality shows. There wasn't much on, after all. The hospital received four channels and most of them were news oriented. And after another gang attack in the downtown district had claimed the lives of two cops and one of the halfway decent men that had come out of my Dad's halfway house, neither of us were in the mood to watch the news.

But I wasn't really interested in the latest gossip and melodrama of his stars. Instead, I allowed my mind to wander to the conversation that I had had with Randy back at the hospital. He had all but come right out and say that his parents had ruined his life. They were addicted to illegal drugs and didn't hesitate to drag him into the mess by leaving their bodies behind for him to find. And I couldn't help but wonder if the mental abuse that Phil endured at the hands of his father wasn't unlike that.

"Hey, Phil?" John asked after several minutes of tense silence. It took Phil a minute to shake his attention away from the show, but once he did, he offered John a small smile. "Have you heard from your father recently?"

And then, that smile fell. "No. I haven't heard from him in three days or so. Why do you want to know?" He hissed darkly. John knew that the mention of Phil's father was a tentative subject. He had to tread lightly.

"I haven't heard from my father in a while, either. Granted, our circumstances are a little different. I just wanted to know for information. Don't slit my throat for it." Now, it was my turn to be the one that was insulted.

Phil turned his head and stared out the window for a moment. "No, I haven't heard from my old man. He was actually supposed to come today, but he called at the last minute and canceled. Said he had urgent business at the school."

Immediately calming down, I touched a hand to his shoulder. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Phil. Nobody deserves that." I told him tenderly. "Is there… um… anything that I can do?" I didn't want to send him into another suicidal rant.

Phil shook his head, forcing a small smile. "Nah. Just showing up is enough." The smile turned more sincere as he turned back to the TV.

I had thought that the conversation would end there. Hell, I prayed that the conversation would end there. But it didn't. Knowing Phil, I don't know why I ever hoped that the conversation would be as simple as that. Phil's eyes lowered from the television screen and stared down at the tatters of the blanket draped over his still-recovering body. He had told me over the phone that he could expect to be in the hospital for another two to three weeks so that they could monitor how fast he was healing, if he was healing at all.

It was times like these when a kid really needed his father. But, like always, Phil's father was off doing things that were, in his eyes, more important than his own son. Really, I didn't understand why he put up with it. And then I realized that it was like me putting up with Brock, or Randy still loving his parents, even after they had practically killed themselves in front of him. You loved them because you didn't have a choice. They were family, and blood would always be thicker than water.

"So," Phil started after another minute of silence. "You didn't tell me what rock your father crawled under."

"Oh," I shifted awkwardly in my seat. "He's been locked in his study for the last three days. He won't come to the kitchen for any of the meals. He hasn't said a word to any of the residents. Or me." I added as an afterthought. "I'm really worried about him."

Phil nodded, telling me without words that my fear was totally justified. Dad had never acted like this before, at least that I could remember. "Why don't you ask Adam about it? Doesn't he usually hang off of your father like a second skin?"

Tears bubbled in my eyes, but I refused to allow him to see them. "I… I can't. I haven't heard from Adam either."

The other boy looked confused now. "Why? Did they have a fight or something?"

"No. Adam was… he was shot. I haven't seen him since he was carried out by the EMTs."

"Well, I would say that that is the best place to start." Phil offered. "Go and talk with him, if he's in any condition to talk. See what he can tell you." He said.

I nodded, wondering why I hadn't thought of that myself. "Okay." I carefully rose out of the chair. My body was still incredibly battered. "You take care of yourself, okay? Your Dad will come around." But I sincerely doubted that he would.

"I will." He waved half-heartedly. "Bye."

"Bye." I said, before I closed the door.

I finally arrived at Adam's flat two hours later. He lived in the better part of town, away from all of the gang fights, drug outlets, and shoot outs. And yet, for some reason, he still managed to make his daily voyages to the halfway house to visit with my father and the other residents. I used to think that it was because he was lonely, what with the fact that his husband was overseas and all. But then, when I saw the way that Adam looked at my father, I knew the real reason behind it. It was because he loved him, and he loved me too.

That was why I knew that I owed this to him. I don't know how many times Adam had nursed me back to health after I had been attacked, or, more importantly than that, kept the secret for me. If it weren't for Adam, I could very well be dead today. I knocked on the door. There was no answer. Testing the knob, I found that it was unlocked. I knew that Adam wouldn't mind if I let myself inside, so I slid into the warmth of the apartment, toed off my shoes, and closed the door softly behind me.

The sight that I saw shocked me to no end. Adam was curled on the couch in his pajamas, his long blond hair fanning over his shoulders and sticking to his face where the tears had acted like glue. There was a pillow clutched to his chest, with dots of blood on it from where he had crushed it against his wounds. He didn't even seem to notice the pain, however. The manic look in his eyes told of mental anguish as he sobbed, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the letter on the floor next to the couch.

"Adam?" I knew that I had to tread tentatively. Adam had one hell of a wicked arm and, even with a bullet hole in his chest, could knock me out with one clean shot. "It's me, Johnny. Are you okay?"

Adam forced a little smile and tried to calm his breathing, but it only made him sound as if he were on the brink of hyperventilation. "Oh, hey Johnny. What brings you here? Shouldn't you be in school?"

I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was Saturday. He seemed so delicate right now. "I wanted to come see you. Dad told me that they had released you from the hospital yesterday. I wanted to make sure that you were okay."

Adam scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. "Oh, yeah, I'm just fucking peachy." And then his eyes widened. "Sorry about the language, kid." He sniffled and stared back into oblivion.

"It's okay. I've heard worse." I said. "Where's your daughter?"

"She's over with Lita. She agreed to watch her while I heal. I can't handle a three-year-old like this." Adam confessed.

I watched him warily. "What's on the letter, Adam?"

Adam bit down on his lower lip, which was crusted with dried blood. He looked away nervously. "Nothing."

"Is it the reason that you're so upset?" I asked.

He choked back a sob and buried his face in the pillow. I knew that he didn't want me to view him as weak, but this was important. If it had him this upset, then it could be detrimental to his health. "Y-Yes." He sobbed out.

"Then it isn't 'nothing'."

Dear Adam,

This is, quite possibly, the last letter than you will receive from me. The doctor was unable to remove the bullet from my lung, and they attempt to make me more comfortable as I wait for the end. When asked if I could come home and spend my final hours with you, they said that I wouldn't survive the trip. So, this is the closest that I have to that final wish. Each breath that I draw is a painful struggle. But I am determined to finish this letter, as these may be the last words that I'm ever able to say to you.

I miss the two of you so much. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't think of your beautiful faces. But I rest comfortably in the knowledge that you'll find someone else to take care of you. Never doubt that I loved you, Adam. Never doubt that I always will. But you deserve to find someone to make you happy. If you mourn me forever, you'll strip yourself of the right to be happy. And I don't want that for you, Adam. All I've ever wanted was to put a smile on your face. Please, find someone who can do that for you.

And as for our precious baby, please remind her every day how much I love her. I'll always be there to watch over the both of you, but maybe in a different form this time. It's getting too painful to write now. I can feel the blood filling my lung. I need to sleep now, and I don't know if I'll awaken. So, I'll leave you with this. I love you, Adam. I always have. I didn't believe in love at first sight until I met you. And if you're the last face I see, you and our precious baby girl, then I'm okay with that…

I love you,

Jeff

"The… the soldier came this morning… to tell me that he had died yesterday. He had said that he would have wanted me to have… the letter." Adam broke down into another fit of sobs, blood seeping into his shirt from his chest.

Immediately, I was down at his side. He didn't need to lose any more blood. "Shh, calm down. It's okay, Addy. Take a deep breath, no more tears, okay? If you keep on like this, you'll bleed out. And your daughter needs you."

"I don't want to find someone else! I want Jeff back!" Adam screamed, about to hit himself in the chest and totally destroy his stitches.

Not knowing what else to do, I slapped his across the face. "Adam! Would you shut the hell up and listen to me for a second?"

Adam's sobs ceased and he stared at me in bewildered wonder. "You… You just hit me." He said slowly.

"Yes. I did. I'm not happy about it, but it was the only way that I could get you to listen to me." I hissed. "Now, Jeff loved you just as much as you loved him. He wouldn't want you to sit here and kill yourself by tearing out your stitches and bleeding to death."

Adam let out a choked sob, but calmed down a little bit. "What… What do I do now?"

I hated the look of absolute hopelessness in his eyes. "Well, first, you let me clean your bandages. You look like shit, man."

Adam offered a wry smile. "Thanks for that."

I chuckled. "No problem."

I washed my hands and slid on a clean pair of gloves, before I took the medical supplies back into the living room. I had to cut off his shirt, because it was soaked in blood and stuck to his skin and he didn't have the range of motion required to remove it otherwise. Carefully, I peeled off the gauze that covered his stiches and threw it into the trashcan. He was incredibly bloody, so I cleaned him with a cotton ball that was wet with alcohol. Once the area was clean, I taped a fresh bandage onto his chest.

He seemed a little cold, so I brought him down a fresh shirt. He had calmed down considerably, so I was pretty sure he wasn't gonna inflict anymore pain on himself. While I may not know exactly how he felt, I knew what it meant to lose someone close to you. He was extremely grateful and even had a small smile on his face at the end of it all. When I asked him if he needed anything, he said no. But at the same time, he was extremely reluctant for me to leave. I could clearly see that he was lonely.

"How about this? As soon as I'm back on speaking terms with my father, I'll send him out here and you two can have some 'man time', or whatever it is that you call it?" I offered.

Adam looked concerned. "You had a falling out with your father?" He asked. My heart sank. I really didn't want to talk about this again. "What happened?" He continued on.

I shook my head. "It's a long story. I'll tell you later. But does that sound like a plan?"

Reluctantly, he nodded. I could tell that he still wanted the rest of the story. "Yeah. I'd like that."