Chapter 23

The last time Justin was in a hospital was after the bomb. He remembered Debbie, Ben and all the others waiting anxiously in Allegheny General Hospital for news about Michael's state. They all were anguished, but they had each other, and waiting for something like Michael's surgery with people that were sharing the same feeling made it all more bearable.

So, he found extremely difficult to remain in the hospital's waiting room as the nurse had told him to do. He was all by himself and there was no one here to share the feeling that the world was crashing down on him.

The uncomfortable plastic chairs were empty and he was left alone in a room with a television and a broken coffee machine. He couldn't remember how he had been able to stop at the reception to fill the required forms. All he could think of was that Brian was being taken away from him.

He shivered, remembering Brian's wide and scared eyes looking at him, his feverish face, every breathe looking extremely painful. Justin had called 911 immediately after having seen the blood, but by the time the paramedics arrived, Brian's lips were almost blue and he had almost passed out

Justin never let go of his hand, not even when they put him inside the ambulance. But then Brian's breathing had gotten even worse, if this was possible, and the paramedics asked him to give them some space so they could work on the brunet.

Judging by the amount of tubes and wires attached to Brian by the time they arrived at the ER, Justin didn't even want to think what would have happened if he wasn't at Britin with him when he started to cough all that blood. He shivered again, knowing that if Brian was at Britin alone when it happened, he could have died.

He had been waiting for hours now. He wanted to cry, but part of him still hoped he would wake up any moment and realize he was just having a nightmare. His back was killing him and he shifted uncomfortably on the chair, waiting for news from Brian. One of the nurses took pity on him and, once in a while came to him and told him that the doctors were still working on Brian and would give him some news about his state as soon as he was stable. Which could only mean he still wasn't.

Justin didn't have the heart to call the others. It was Christmas Eve. They already knew the blond wasn't going to the party at Debbie's house. He didn't want to be alone, but he really couldn't deal with them right now. The last thing he wanted was noise, and they would keep asking him questions, demanding explanations he couldn't give, because his own thoughts were in turmoil right now..

The door opened and the nurse came back, but this time the doctor was with her. Justin felt his heart skip a beat. The man looked tired and his face was grave. In that split second, Justin prayed like never before, that the man would tell him that Brian was alright.

"Good evening, Mr. Taylor. I'm Dr. Schneider. I'm in charge of Mr. Kinney's case."

"How is he?" was all Justin managed to say.

"He's stable now, but we had to take him to the ICU."

"Oh God," Justin whispered, paling and grabbing the nearby door for support.

"Are you alright?" the doctor asked. "Do you want to sit down?"

"I'm fine," Justin said, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "Please, tell me what happened, why is he like this?"

"Mr. Kinney has a severe Pneumonia that progressed to Septicemia, which means he has a severe generalized infection. When he was brought here, he wasn't able to breath properly, and this is very dangerous, because with low oxygen levels in the blood, the brain may be damaged. We had to perform an endotracheal intubation, that is, we put a tube in his throat to help him breath properly, and now he is heavily sedated and in artificial respiration."

Justin sat down shakily. He looked up to the doctor trying to fight the tears. "Will he be okay?"

The man looked at him hesitantly. "Well… he has an extremely low blood pressure now. This is due to the infection, so he needs some medication to help him stabilize the pressure levels. He's also dehydrated, and it contributes to the low pressure. We already started a therapy with heavy antibiotics to fight the infection, let's see if he responds to the treatment."

"What about the blood? There was blood in his mouth."

"We're still running a few tests, it's early to say. Either he had a problem with the blood's coagulation, or there is something else in his lungs other than the Pneumonia."

"But can you tell me what it is?" Justin asked, already afraid to hear the answer.

"It can be a lot of things, Mr. Taylor. It's still early to tell. We'll need some information about Mr. Kinney's medical records, if you can help us."

"I don't know much," he murmured, realizing that, indeed, he didn't know as much about Brian's past life as he would like to. "He had testicular cancer a few years ago and he smokes a lot."

"We're still running some tests to find the cause for the blood. At this point I don't want to say anything yet. Don't worry, we're doing our best to find out. You're listed as his next-of-kin, so as soon as we find something, we'll let you know."

"Thank you, doctor."

"The next 24 to 48 hours will be very important. He's being constantly monitored, so if there's any change, we'll tell you."

"Can I se him?"

"Uh… we have a rigid policy, visitors are allowed in the ICU only once a day, at four PM."

"Oh. Okay, then," Justin said, sighing disappointed.

Dr. Schneider shook Justin's hand and left the room, leaving Justin with the nurse.

"Why don't you go home?" she asked softly, when he covered his face with his hands.

"I can't," he said, taking a deep breath to calm himself. "I can't leave him here."

"He's being taken care of. You should rest."

"No, I can't even think of sleeping while Brian is…" his voice died.

"You need to have faith, Mr. Taylor. Dr. Schneider is very good. And Mr. Kinney is still young, he can fight this."

"He would love to hear you calling him that," he said, giving her a small smile that soon died. "God, I can't believe this is happening. What more do we have to go through?" he whispered to himself.

"Um….is he your partner?" she felt sorry for the young man but she couldn't contain her curiosity. They were both beautiful men, they must look great together.

Justin's eyes clouded and he could barely speak. "Yes, he is," he murmured.

Her heart almost broke at the look of despair in the young man's face. "Listen, I'll ask the doctor again if you can see him later, okay? It's way passed visit's time, but I promise I'll try."

He only nodded, not trusting his voice.

"My name is Helen. Let me know if you need anything." She said with a small smile, before leaving him alone in the waiting room again.

Justin sat back on the uncomfortable chair, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling like the floor had suddenly vanished. He couldn't imagine his world, his life, without Brian in it.

--

Christmas was different this year. A pale shadow of the years before.

They were all at Debbie's home. The food was excellent, there was wine and champagne. But it seemed that, if it wasn't for the kids, there would be no party at all.

Gus and Jenny Rebecca sat in the middle of the living room opening their presents, oblivious to the adult's moods. Mel and Lindsay sat nearby, smiling with affection at their children. Emmett, Drew, Hunter, Ted and Blake were standing in a corner chatting, but their voices were low. Debbie, Carl, Michael and Ben were in the kitchen, sat at the dinner table, drinking wine.

"Shouldn't we try to call Sunshine again?" Debbie asked.

"I already tried," sighed Michael. "His cell phone is on voicemail and he's not at the loft, apparently."

"Yeah, well, Jennifer told me she talked to him this morning and he said he wasn't coming," she said.

Carl held her hand. "Let the poor boy alone. If he wants to spend Christmas by himself, let him be."

"I agree," said Ben, sipping his wine. "If he wants to be alone, I think we should respect that."

"But Ben, it's Christmas," Michael argued. "I feel bad for leaving him alone."

"I don't think he wants to celebrate anything, Michael," answered Ben. "Not without Brian."

"I wonder where Brian is," Michael murmured. "I'm worried about him."

"Please, Michael, not that Ethan story again," Debbie snorted.

"Who's talking about Ethan?" Michael asked. "I'm worried because Brian hates Christmas."

"He pretty much hates every single holiday," Ben said matter-of-factly.

"But Christmas is different," Michael said almost to himself, "since that year his father broke his arm and he came running here, he – "

"Michael, honey, let's respect Brian's privacy, okay?" Debbie said, wincing as she too, remembered the scene.

"Uh, guys, the kids are hungry. Shouldn't we serve dinner?" Emmett's head popped in. "Or are we waiting for someone else?" he asked hopeful.

"No, dear, it's just us. Well, let's go. The kids need to sleep." Debbie agreed. "Thankfully Gus didn't speak about his father."

"Oh, honey, he did," Emmett said. "I was watching him opening his presents and he asked Lindz if his father was going to send him a present or if he was going to wait until he comes back to give him his Christmas present."

"Oh, poor baby," Debbie murmured. "Sometimes I fucking hate that asshole for what he's doing to him."

"Ma, please!" said Michael. When Debbie glared at him, he raised his hands in a surrender gesture. "I know! I know I always defend Brian, but it's just because I feel it's something big!"

"Me too, honey," she said. "But he's making Gus and Sunshine go through a really hard time, and I love them as my own. I can't understand him."

"Who can?" Emmett said, frowning a little.

"Let's hope he doesn't hurt them anymore than he already did." Ben added.

--

Justin's eyes were tired and his nose was running because of his allergies. They always chose to appear when he was stressed. He felt his pockets, trying to find some tissues, but he had none. He felt numb, tired and strangely detached. He couldn't understand how his life had turned to such a mess.

But Brian's face didn't leave his mind. His cold and sweaty hand grasping Justin's, as if asking for help. It was a sight he never wanted to see again. He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't notice when someone stepped inside the waiting room.

"Hey," said Claire's hesitant voice.

He looked at her and just nodded, not trusting his voice to speak right now.

"I – I went to t – the house tonight, I wanted to see if everything was fine." She showed Justin the key in her hand, explaining, "I kind of stole it. God, that blood in the kitchen…! I didn't know where to go looking for him," she said awkwardly, not meeting Justin's eyes. "I already went to Brattleboro Retreat and Central Vermont Hospital, I was so nervous that I couldn't find him." She looked around uncomfortably. "This hospital seems to be very good," she added. "But they're so rigid here, they just let me in because I'm his sister."

Justin didn't answer, just stared at her, expression blank. He wasn't in the mood for small talk.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, looking shaken.

"Don't you know?" he said finally, bitterness in his voice. "Sorry is bullshit."

"I wanted to tell you, I really did," Claire said. "But he didn't want me to. And I didn't want to betray his trust."

"That's really a lame excuse." Justin said angrily.

She was standing in front of him, and he got up from the chair, looking directly in her eyes.

"Do you know what would have happened if I haven't figured out where he was by myself? He would have fucking died!" Justin almost yelled.

"Oh God," she murmured, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Yeah, oh God." He snorted, still angry. "All because you are as full of bullshit as he is!"

"Is he going to be alright?" she asked, eyes scared.

"He's in the fucking ICU, Claire! What do you think?"

"But what did the doctors – "

"They don't know. He's breathing through a fucking tube now."

"Shit."

Justin sat down again, his outburst left him drained. "All there is to do is wait."

She looked at him, almost hesitant. "I…I'll be on my way. I understand you don't want me here. You probably want to be alone…and Peter is waiting for me. But please, tell me if anything changes?"

He didn't answer. His right hand was throbbing like it always did when he was tense. He cradled it with his left arm.

"I asked him to go see a doctor…he refused to listen. He hides his feelings so well, that…I'm sorry if I didn't…" she grabbed her purse nervously. "It's the first time he trusted me for anything, the first time he asks me a favor. You may not believe me, but I didn't want to fuck up things with him again, after all I did." She headed for the door. "I'm really sorry."

She left without another word, leaving him to his thoughts, waiting alone again in the cold and impersonal room.

--

At eleven PM Nurse Helen returned. Justin was still sat on the plastic chair, resting his head in his hands.

"Mr. Taylor, I just talked o Dr. Schneider and he allowed you to see Mr. Kinney for ten minutes."

Justin almost jumped from the chair, feeling suddenly alert.

The nurse put her hand on his shoulder. "Follow me."

She made him wash his hands, wear a mask and put on a ridiculous sterile gown over his clothes. But finally she let him in, saying she would wait outside.

Justin stepped inside the room hesitantly. His senses were instantly invaded by the antiseptic smell, the noise coming from the artificial respirator and the insistent beeping from the monitors.

And there was Brian, looking uncharacteristically small and lost on the hospital bed, surrounded by several machines and monitors, face as pale as the sheets. His eyes were closed, and there was a tube coming from his mouth and attached to the respirator. There was another tube dripping medication and disappearing somewhere near his collar bone.

Justin tried to fight the tears but it was impossible. Not even when Brian had cancer, had Justin seen him like this. Never before the possibility of loosing Brian seemed so palpable.

He moved the sheet a little so he could see Brian's left hand resting on the bed. Carefully, he held it and, bending his head, kissed the pale hand through the mask.

"Hey," he said, voice cracking. "It's me."

His hand went to Brian's hair of its own volition. "You are an asshole, did you know that?" he sniffed. "You were sick and you didn't tell me..? How could you hide something like that from me?" He started to run his hand through the chestnut hair he loved so much. "Were you afraid again that I would leave you? Or you didn't want me to give up my 'dreams' for you?"

The tears that took so long to come started to run freely down his cheeks. "Don't you know there's no 'me' without you?" His heart ached so much that even breathing was difficult. "You're everything to me. I thought you had already understood that by now."

He lost track of the time while he stood there, looking at the sleeping man and the ten minutes passed too fast. The nurse knocked softly on the door and came inside the room.

"Hey, it's time," she said.

Justin nodded at her. Bending his head, he kissed Brian's hand again. "You won't push me away again, okay?" he said, still crying. "This time I'm staying for good. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. But please…don't go anywhere I can't go with you."

--

Justin ended up calling Michael and the others around five AM, because the nurse told him that Brian's blood pressure was even lower, and Justin feared the worst. In less than one hour they were all there with him in the waiting room, demanding to know about Brian's state and asking why he hadn't called them before. Except for Melanie, who had to stay home with the children, all the extended family was here. Even Jennifer, whom Debbie hadn't forgot to call.

Michael stormed in the waiting room and went straight to Justin, asking, "How the hell something like that happened?"

Justin just shook his head sadly. He didn't have any answers to give them; he didn't have any answers himself. After a while, he became tired of giving explanations and telling exactly what had happened, how he had found out where Brian was. But even so, he felt better to have them with him. It had been one of the hardest nights of his life, and being alone without is friends had definitely made it worse.

He could tell that Michael was a little angry with him because he hadn't call before, but when the visiting time came, at eleven AM, Justin told him that he could go in his place. Only two visitors were allowed, and each one had fifteen minutes to stay in the ICU. So Justin told Michael and Debbie that they could go. They were Brian's family, after all.

Debbie went first, and when she got out of the ICU, her eyes were red and puffy. For once, she was left without words and held Lindsay quietly. When Michael left the ICU, he was crying. Without a word he stopped in front of Justin and held the blond. At first Justin let himself be held, but after a while he held Michael back, and the two stayed there, holding each other as tears went down their faces.

No one left Justin's side the whole afternoon. Emmett, Ted and Ben insisted that he and Michael ate something, but Justin felt as if his throat was closed. He could barely speak, let alone eat. Michael didn't want to eat either, not even Debbie's threats could make him.

Doctor Schneider came around four PM and insisted on talking with Justin alone. He explained that Brian's blood pressure was better, although still dependant of the medication. And they had found out hat his coagulation was normal, which was a good sign. But they were still running some tests to explain the blood.

In the second visiting time, Lindsay went first and when she left her eyes were dry but scared. Justin had been in the hospital without any sleep for more than twenty-four hours, but he wouldn't pass the opportunity to see Brian again.

The familiar beeping machine greeted him, and Brian's pale face hadn't changed. He just stood there, holding the brunet's hand between his, not daring to take his eyes off his face. He could feel an icy hand gripping is heart and squeezing it every time he looked at Brian, but he didn't look away not even for a moment

"What do we have with hospitals, uh?" he murmured, absent mindedly caressing Brian's arm. "It seems one of us always ends up in one of these places." Sighing, he looked at his watch. "I have to go, but I'll be just outside, okay?" It seemed a little foolish to speak to Brian, the doctor had assured him Brian was sedated and couldn't hear him, but Justin couldn't help. "I'm not letting you give up, do you hear me? Don't you dare to leave me alone."

……………………………………….

They insisted he should go home to take a shower and rest a little. He didn't want to, but Michael promised him to stay and call him if there was any change.

Justin didn't have the energy to go back to Pittsburgh. He decided to go to Britin, his mother had brought him some clothes, and it was a lot closer to the hospital. He didn't want to leave Brian too long.

As soon as he stepped inside the house he heard a noise. Someone was in the kitchen. As silently as he could, he went further inside, and stopped. Claire Kinney was kneeling on the floor, a brush and some soap in her hands, furiously cleaning the blood from the floor. Brian's blood.

"You don't have to do that," he said. He didn't know why, but he wasn't surprised to find her there.

She didn't turn around to face him, not even a little bit surprised that he was there too. "Yes, I do," she answered. "The cleaning lady went home for the holidays, and I just couldn't leave all this…" she hesitated, gesturing to the blood, "here."

He just stared at the kitchen's floor, trying his best not to remember the horror he felt when he saw the blood coming from Brian's mouth.

"Don't worry, I'll be on my way out as soon as I finish here," she continued, pointing to the key over the table. "I forgot to give it back to you yesterday, but I'll leave it here."

He looked at her frowning. It was surreal to have Claire at Britin cleaning Brian's blood, of all things, from the kitchen's floor. With a dull ache and a pang of regret, he noticed that she was almost familiar with the house, a house he should have lived in but barely knew.

"I'm gonna…take a shower," he murmured.

"Uh…Justin…can I talk to you for a bit?"

"Really, Claire, I'm tired, I need a shower," he said, trying to get away.

"Please," she said, getting up and going to wash her hands in the kitchen sink.

Justin looked at the floor. It was clean now. "You didn't ask about him," Justin said opening the fridge and grabbing an apple. It wasn't supposed to sound like an accusation, but it did.

"I was already there today. You were in the ICU with him. I talked to Doctor Schneider."

"Oh," was all he said, sitting down at a chair and looking at her, silently telling her that he was waiting for her say what she wanted.

She hesitated, wiping her hands on her pants and approaching the table with uncertain steps. She couldn't explain the sudden need to make this young man understand her, but then again, she couldn't explain a lot of things that were happening with her lately. The mere thought that Brian could have died because she had kept the secret to his whereabouts filled her with fear.

"I had my reasons," was all she managed to say.

"Are we going back to that?" he said sarcastically. "You told me that before and frankly, I couldn't see said reasons. All I know is that if I hadn't been here by the time he…oh God, I don't even want to say what…"

"You don't understand, Justin," she said.

He looked at her coldly. "Make me understand," he said simply.

"Uh?" she asked astonished.

"Make me understand," he repeated. "I can see that, apparently, you understand the fucked up notion that Brian has, that he can do everything he wants and he'll be forgiven in the blink of an eye. Tell me how long has he been hiding this disease thing, because it clearly didn't happen overnight, and especially, why the fuck he hid it. Make me understand, because I don't."

Claire sat down across from him, at the kitchen table. "I…I don't know."

"Then there's nothing you have to say that will interest me," he said, starting to get up.

"Wait!" her hand automatically went to his wrist. He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Sorry," she said, removing her hand. "I…he got in contact with me a few days before the show. When I was at the loft I really didn't know where he was."

Justin sat down again, looking at her, trying to control his annoyance. "So it was really him at the show."

Claire closed her yes and nodded. "He asked me to take him, he didn't trust himself to drive to Pittsburgh. He just wanted to see you from a distance, make sure you were okay."

"I don't believe he told you that," he muttered.

"He didn't. I figured it out for myself."

"God!" Justin covered his face with his hands. "And why the hell you didn't call me, for Christ's sake"

"I told you, I didn't want to betray the trust he put in me."

"That's really a fucked up notion of betrayal," Justin said.

"No, it's not," she said. "It's been a long time, a very long time, since he trusted me for anything. When John…stole his money," she said, looking at her own hands, "I…accused him of…and mother agreed with me…"

"I remember that perfectly" Justin said coldly.

Claire nodded, still unable to look directly at him. "After you went there with that policeman to…retrieve the bracelet, I thought…this is it, I'm never going to talk with my faggot asshole of a brother again."

He looked sharply at her, but she just went on. "It was alright, we weren't exactly close before that…but I don't know how I could imagine that he would have…that he and John…"

"And yet you did," he said accusingly. "You did a lot more that imagine, Claire. You accused your own brother."

Claire sighed. "I know." She started to play with the table cloth. "Practically all my adult life I…resented him…for being beautiful, successful and completely sure of himself. Things I never was."

"Oh, that's really lame." He said, still unable to forget Carl telling him that Brian was in trouble with the police because of Claire. "I can't believe you accused him out of envy."

'It's not that simple," Claire murmured.

"Yeah, right," Justin snorted.

"Really, it's far more complex than that," she sighed. "When I was sick, he was the only one who helped me. You can say it was only money, but that money probably saved my life. I'm…not sure he would have given me any money. Especially after what happened with John…"

"But he did," Justin said . "That surprised even me."

She smiled a little. "I went to Kinnetik to talk to him...to thank him. It was a…difficult conversation. But after that, he got me a job, in a place he usually goes…I thought that if he didn't want to see me again, he would get me a job in Timbuktu."

Justin nodded, thinking that it was not unusual to Brian to say one thing and then do something completely opposite. "It's still new to me, this sudden 'friendship' between you two."

"I wouldn't call that. We're…tiptoeing around each other." She sighed, looking at him. "After the cancer I was surprised with the realization that I wanted to change everything about my life. I – I wanted to rescue my life. Somewhere…along all these years I lost Claire Kinney. I wanted to find her again. And rescuing the…the relationship I had with Brian is part of that."

"Rescuing?" Justin asked. "I thought you and him had always hated each other."

"No, it wasn't always like that," she said sadly. "We…when we were kids…things were a lot different. That was before our father started to…" Claire frowned and took a deep breath, as if she wanted to send some memories away. After a few seconds she looked at Justin again, a faraway expression in her face, a half-smile. "Did you know I was funny? When Brian was a baby he followed me everywhere. We were always playing and laughing. I used to tell him stories, because mom and dad never did, and I made all the voices of the characters and he laughed so much…"

"It's a little hard to imagine that," Justin said.

"Yeah. Even when I think about that myself, it feels like it happened to another me."

"So you were close when you were kids," asked Justin, interested in Claire's story, because it was Brian's story too. And he doubted Brian would ever tell him something like that. Brian avoided any mention of his family like the plague.

Claire frowned, pondering if she should tell her private memories to this young man, whom she barely knew. But these were not typical days, and it felt good to have someone with whom she could talk about that. She certainly couldn't talk with her mother. Peter was too young and she doubted she would ever tell him something like that. The only one who would understand her was her brother, but Brian was…

She shuddered, not wanting to think about that. "We were close, but…just until my father lost his job. I was twelve and Brian was six." Claire started to twist her hands, a gesture that showed how uncomfortable she was. "That's –that's when dad started to take his… anger and frustration on us. E–especially on Brian, because he was smaller and too proud for his own good. He never cried, only when it was too much. I made much more noise, and it annoyed dad, so he sometimes left me alone."

Justin cringed, trying to imagine how hard it was for a little child to be the target of a drunken man's anger. "He never talks about it."

"It's hard, you know?" she said, voice trembling a little.

Since he knew Brian and his friends, Justin knew about his childhood. No one told him directly, maybe because they didn't know themselves. It was between the lines, in comments Lindsay, Michael and Debbie made. Especially in the way they always ended up forgiving Brian's actions. Justin was good at reading between the lines, so he always knew there was something there. But no one had ever told him how bad things were. Until now.

"But …you turned out being completely different, the two of you. You seemed…close to your parents."

"I was older when...things started to…change. I think this made a difference, because I could always run to my friend's place when dad arrived home." She looked everywhere but the blond, trying to avoid his eyes. "Brian couldn't. He was so…dependant, so…small and thin when he was a boy; sometimes I don't understand how he turned up to be so handsome."

Justin smiled a little, wanting to encourage her.

"My therapist – did I tell you I'm seeing a shrink?" When he shook his head no she went on. "She says I stayed close to them because I was scared to let go, that I felt so incapable of doing anything by myself that I stayed trapped in that life, until I got married. Then I changed from one prison to the other."

She didn't wait for him to comment, and frankly, he couldn't think of anything to say.

"Brian, on the other had, ran away. He tried to run away from home several times…one of them on Christmas Eve…I think he was fifteen. Dad was so mad that he broke his left arm."

"Oh my God," Justin said, astonished.

"When he was eighteen he went to college and never came back, not even during the summer, he always found a job somewhere far from home." Claire sighed. "And I stayed. I was twenty six, and I never liked studying a lot."

Justin nodded, unable to think how they got through that kind of life. Craig Taylor was an asshole when his so came out, but Justin had wonderful memories of his own childhood.

"My mother never helped us. Dad used to-to beat her too." Claire was taking deep breaths now, and Justin suspected she was doing this to avoid unwanted tears. "Not that dad was loving and caring before that, it only got worse."

"God, it must have been hard," he said with sympathy.

"It was," she whispered, lost in her own thoughts. "I…I think that Brian probably resented me for not defending him. But I was scared too. And I said to myself that was mom's job, not mine. I…I was so relieved whenever dad didn't pick me…so…so relieved." Claire was looking at Justin's face now, but not really seeing him.

She stopped talking, looking at nothing, lost in the terrible memories inside her mind. Silent tears started to fall, and Claire wiped them angrily from her face, but didn't speak.

Justin didn't know what to do. He wanted to help but didn't know how. "I'll make some coffee," he said, getting up from the chair. He hadn't opened the cupboard yet when he heard her voice, so small and quiet that he wasn't sure if she was talking to him or to herself.

"That wasn't the… worse part, you know," she murmured. "The worst of all was the way they had to make us feel…small…unworthy…unwanted. Mom even told Brian that…that dad wanted her to have an abortion when she found out she was pregnant with him."

"Shit," Justin murmured from the counter. "Why did she tell him something like that? She's his mother, for Christ sake!"

"That is Joan Kinney," was all the explanation she gave.

"That's really fucked up. I can't imagine my mother doing that to me."

"You're lucky," she said softly. "Anyway…Brian started avoiding me, and I was pretty much content if no one disturbed me in my room. After that…we just became strangers, and that was it."

"That's a sad story," Justin murmured, thinking he would probably had gone mad if he had to live in a place like that.

"So…you see why I couldn't tell you? He…Brian would hate me again. I didn't want that. I really felt guilty for not telling you, but I was hoping I would get him to see a doctor."

"I think I understand. I…can't say I think it was the best thing to do, but it was what he wanted."

"When I saw all that blood on the floor…oh God, I realized what had happened, and it was all my fault…"

"Wait, wait, wait: your fault?" Justin asked with disbelief.

"I could have done something. He–he was here alone…if that had happened at night…God, he could be dead." She shuddered again.

Justin felt that icy grip in his heart again, but he tried to ignore it. "It wasn't your fault, Claire. I was…mad at you, I won't lie, but it wasn't your fault. If it was anyone's fault, it was Brian's."

"But I should have –"

"What is the problem with the Kinneys and guilt? I can see some similarities here. Brian loves to feel guilty, it's his specialty. It. Was. Not. Your fault."

She got up from the chair, grabbing her purse, physically and emotionally drained. "I'm going home…Peter must be waiting."

"Gus doesn't stop talking about his cousin," Justin said to lighten the mood.

"Peter liked him too. He and John were never too close, they are completely different. Peter and Gus have the same age difference that Brian and I have," she said with a sad smile.

Claire headed for the door, Justin behind her. "Can you call me if there's any change with him?" she asked. "I need to work tomorrow, I'm not sure I'll be able to go to the hospital."

"Sure," he said.

Claire nodded and smiled sadly again. "Thank you," she whispered, and left.

Justin headed upstairs. He was tired but there was no way he would be able to sleep, not with all the uncertainty about Brian's life. He went straight to the master bedroom, trying to ignore the messy covers on the bed. In the bathroom, he entertained the idea of filling the bathtub with warm water and just let his stiff muscles relax, but he didn't want to be away from the hospital for too long.

The shower was a quick one, but it helped a lot, the water soothed his body a little. His stomach growled, but he couldn't think of eating. He put on his clean clothes and went down the stairs. Looking at his watch, he knew he still had one or two hours to go back, so he went to the living room.

Memories of a happier time danced in his head and before his eyes. "Yes, I will marry you," he had said. And that had never happened. He couldn't stop thinking that his life would have been much easier and happier if they had married as planned. Maybe not so easy, I fact, but it certainly wouldn't be like this, a never ending roller coaster that left him gasping for air.

Justin lit the fireplace and sat on the comfortable sofa. He wasn't gong to sleep, only rest a little. But as he stared at the yellow flames, his eyes started to close on their own volition, his mind diving in the comfortable sea of sleep. He dreamed with Craig, playing baseball with him in the backyard of the house in which Justin spent all his childhood, and unaware of it, a small smile played on is lips.