A/N: This chapter's for you, Gloria - thanks for the ideas and for the support. And thanks to all my faithful readers and reviewers - I appreciate that more than you probably know!:) The boys still have a ways to go, but they're slowly getting there...
Brian glanced over at the sleek, platinum-colored alarm clock on the bed's side table, noting it was 3:00 a.m.; even now after all these years, that particular time still held a special, unspoken meaning for the two of them and he always found himself automatically waking up around that time each night in some silent ritual to make sure Justin was where he should be - here with him.
As he lay there on his side, he knew he should be trying to catch some sleep, but he found that the thought gears in his mind were still too busy whirling around to even envision the thought; perhaps it had to do, also, with the man he was currently holding in his arms. Justin was lying on his side, facing him with his hands lying on his chest, right over his heart. Somehow to Brian that seemed like the perfect place for them, because his heart was threatening to overflow from what had happened tonight; even now it was beating rapidly as he recalled their lovemaking in the shower earlier.
He still couldn't quite believe the events that had occurred; not only had he arrived home to find that Justin had – finally – started painting once more, but later they had actually been able to make love again. For a long time, he had worried that it would never happen, that somehow what Prescott had done would tarnish their love and not make their eventual union as passionate or as sweet. He was so relieved to discover he had been wrong; even though it had not been here in their bed, and even though it almost seemed to be over before it begun, it had been just as wonderful than before, even more so because of how hard it had been to accomplish.
He felt his husband stir slightly in his arms and held his breath, hoping this wasn't going to be the start of another nightmare; instead, to his great relief, he heard a soft sigh escape the familiar pink lips as the blond snuggled deeper into his embrace before he finally settled back down to lie still once more. He closed his eyes and let out the breath he had been holding, relishing the feel of Justin in his arms.
He wasn't so naive to think all their issues would magically disappear because of what had happened earlier tonight, but it was definitely a start in the right direction. He hoped that Justin wouldn't balk at returning to therapy tomorrow; they still had a lot of problems to address with Dr. Anderson. For now, though, as he listened to his husband's slow, steady, untroubled breathing, he was comforted by the sound. A couple of minutes later, he rested his chin on top of Justin's soft head of hair and slowly drifted off at last to sleep.
Next Morning
The beeping of the alarm clock slowly roused Brian out of a sound sleep as he reached over almost blindly to slam his hand down on the top of it to hit the snooze button. His eyes slowly fluttered open and he turned his head to note the time: 8:30. He and Justin were due at their next counseling session at 10:00, so he knew he couldn't remain in bed much longer if they were to get there on time.
He twisted his head the other way to note his husband wasn't lying beside him; sometime during the night, Justin must have managed to disentangle himself from Brian's embrace. The loft sounded overly still; once more, Justin was not making any discernible sounds.
Brian sighed; where was he this time? Lately he felt like all they ever did was play hide and seek, and he was always the seeker.
He slowly rose from the bed and slipped on his silk robe, tying it around his chest before plodding barefooted out into the main living area of their quarters. He noticed the coffeemaker was on and was about three-quarters full. There was an empty mug and a spoon lying beside it, next to a medium-sized post-it note on the counter.
He walked over to the note and picked it up, immediately recognizing the familiar scrawl of his husband's writing. Grab a cup and meet me upstairs. J. Brian smiled, relieved that at least he knew where his elusive husband was at the moment. He was so thankful that he had decided to remodel the upstairs for Justin's anniversary present; it had been a life preserver for both of them through his horrible ordeal and seemed to be the only real place that Justin could turn to lately to feel secure.
He poured himself a cup and heaped a couple spoonfuls of sugar into the mug before walking over to the narrow stairway and walking up to the rooftop access.
The morning was warmer than usual and the sun was just peeking over the side of the rooftop. His attention, though, was focused on his husband who was standing with his back to him, staring down at the traffic below; he was wearing one of his loose-fitting pairs of chinos and his own mug of coffee was temporarily forgotten as it lay on top of the glass table under the gazebo. Observing what was going on below seemed to hold a particular fascination with Justin lately; Brian didn't know if it was because he enjoyed watching the comings and goings of their neighborhood with a relative feeling of confidence that he could not be harmed, or if he was longing to join them himself, but was still too afraid to try.
He quietly crept up behind Justin and placed his own mug down next to the other one; the porcelain container made a slight clinking noise against the glass surface of the coffee table. He saw Justin's head turn slightly to make sure who was there before he turned back to stare out onto the street below.
Brian walked up from behind and slid his arms around Justin's chest as he nuzzled the pale flesh of his husband's neck before kissing it softly. "Hey," he whispered against his cheek. "You okay?" Last night had been such a breakthrough for them, and he was fervently hoping that Justin agreed. Was he regretting their making love in the shower last night? Surely not – to Brian, it had been one of the best moments of their lives together because it spoke of their hope for the future and their wish to put the horrible past involving Prescott behind them.
Brian allowed Justin to turn around in his arms and half-expected to see tears in Justin's eyes as he often did lately; he was exhilarated to find instead that Justin was smiling at him wistfully. It wasn't a full-blown, trademark smile, but at least his face wasn't wearing the cloak of hopelessness and anguish it normally did lately. Justin nodded. "Yeah….I mean, I feel better than I have in a long while, Brian. Not whole exactly…..but better."
Brian reached one hand up to lightly stroke the soft skin of Justin's cheek. "I'm so fucking glad to hear that," he murmured. "I came looking for you to make sure you remembered our session this morning. We have about an hour before we leave. Are you ready for it?"
Justin stared into Brian's eyes thoughtfully for a few seconds before he nodded. "I guess as ready as I'll ever be," he said softly. "You know I really don't look forward to talking to him about all this, Brian. Sometimes I think it just serves to dredge up awful memories of what happened and I question whether it's worth it or not."
Before Brian could interject his own opinion, though, he continued. "But you know….after what we were able to do last night, I realize that it IS worth it, Brian." He looked almost embarrassed as he recalled the emotions that their lovemaking had engendered in him as he whispered, "Last night meant so much to me. Do you know how fucking scared I was that we might never be able to be close like that again?"
Brian slowly stroked Justin's cheek as he stared into the expressive sapphire eyes. "Yeah….I know exactly what it meant, Justin, because I was feeling the same thing." One corner of his mouth rose as he gazed down at Justin tenderly. "Last night in the shower was worth a thousand fucks before that to me."
Justin reached up to place his hand over Brian's and answer softly, "Me, too." Almost of one accord, the two heads met halfway for a brief, emotion-filled kiss that hinted of a promise to come before Justin broke it off to lean back slightly to stare into Brian's eyes. "You know what my goal is, though?"
Any other time, Brian would have made some sort of witty retort, but he knew somehow that wasn't what Justin was looking for, and truthfully, neither was he. "What, Sunshine?" he asked simply instead, his arms lightly resting on top of Justin's shoulders.
Justin whispered, "I want us to make love in our bed – without me thinking of him instead. And what he did to me – what he did to us."
Brian leaned in until their foreheads were touching; he lightly feathered the soft hair at the back of Justin's head as he breathed in Justin's unique scent. "Me, too," he said softly. And we will – I know it."
Ninety Minutes Later
Mark Anderson watched closely as the two men walked into his office for their third session of the week. As was his custom, he made a silent observation of their body language as he greeted them politely and motioned for them to sit down on the couch. He knew their last session had not gone smoothly; Brian emotions had flared over Justin's description of Prescott's nickname for him – Angel – and the pain the man had inflicted on both of them during his relentless, dogged pursuit of Justin had been quite evident in the heated exchange that had ensued afterward. Both men had left upset, agitated, and confused over how to proceed.
Today, however, as they walked in and sat down, he watched as once again Brian almost subconsciously reached over to grasp Justin's hand as they linked their fingers together. He didn't miss the tender glance that passed between them, though, as he did so; apparently something had changed since their last session the other day. After a few seconds, the two men remembered there was someone else in the room and both turned to look at him expectantly.
Anderson smiled at them politely, deciding it was time to get started. "Gentlemen….You seem different than the other day – more relaxed, I guess would be the right word I'm looking for. Let's just say you didn't exactly leave on the best of terms the other day. Has something changed since then?"
He noticed what appeared to be a tinge of pink appearing on Justin's cheeks in response to his query. "Justin?" he asked curiously, peering above his glasses he had perched low on the bridge of his nose. He swore he could actually see just the hint of a smile on the younger man's face as he waited for an answer.
"We…Brian and I…We were able to, um, in the shower," was the almost unintelligible reply.
Mark's eyebrows rose as he tried to infer what he assumed Justin was trying to say; he quickly found, however, that there wasn't any need for clarification as Brian spoke up.
"We fucked," Brian said succinctly, almost proudly, as Justin covered his face with his free hand in embarrassment. "And it was fantastic," he added with a smile as he curled his lips under. Anderson watched as the brunet reached over and gently removed Justin's hand from his face. "It was fantastic," he whispered once more as Justin looked into his eyes with his own blue orbs that were suddenly shining with unshed tears over Brian's quiet, heartfelt statement.
"You're not just talking about Justin giving you another blowjob….are you?" Mark asked. He knew Justin had been able to provide pleasure to his husband the other day, but he also knew Justin continued to be quite upset over the fact that he and his partner had been unable to make love together; he could tell just from the relatively short time the two men had been coming to counseling that this was an extremely important part of their lives. If they had, indeed, been able to consummate their sexual relationship completely after Justin's inability to do so, it was a huge step in the right direction for them.
"No," Justin confirmed for both of them, finding comfort in Brian's touch and the feeling of, yes, joy, in his husband's voice over what they had been able to accomplish last night. "We made love in the shower last night," he verified for the doctor. "And Brian was right – it was fantastic." He smiled over at Brian warmly at the recollection of what a wondrous feeling that had been – it had made him feel powerful, triumphant, and vindicated all at once.
Not for the first time, Anderson silently wished that he could experience even once the love that poured forth from these two men, despite the troubles they had had to endure for the past several months. The depth of emotion between them was almost palpable, and he surprisingly found himself envious of what they still had, despite what they had experienced. "That's quite a big step for you two," he commented. "And it's a definite step toward normalcy for you. Being able to be intimate again is critical in a relationship after a sexual assault." He eyed the two men closely; both seemed pleased with their accomplishment, but as a trained professional, Anderson had learned to look behind the façade.
"You mentioned you made love in the shower last night, Justin," he said, noticing his patient nod in confirmation. "What precipitated it? I mean, what do you think was different that allowed you to be intimate with Brian again for the first time since the rape? " He noticed Justin's look of happiness cloud over somewhat at the mention of the distasteful word, but he was never one to gloss over what the situation was. It wasn't an 'unfortunate encounter.' It wasn't a 'temporary setback.' It was more than a 'non-consensual contact.' It was a rape, pure and simple, and to heal he knew the two men facing him had to acknowledge it openly as such.
Brian looked at Justin a little anxiously, almost feeling him tense up at the query. He squeezed the blond's hand a little tighter as Justin glanced over at him before explaining. "My mom came to visit me and we had a long talk."
"About what?" the doctor asked quietly.
"About….guilt."
"Guilt? Whose guilt, Justin?"
Justin glanced over at Brian, who was noticeably quiet. He knew the subject was a touchy one with his husband, even if his guilt was misplaced. "Well….mine, Brian's, and my mother's."
"Why your mother? What could she possibly be guilty about?" Justin's mother was the last person he had expected his patient to mention.
"My mom's a real estate agent, and it winds up that she was the one who sold the house to Prescott. Isn't that the most fucking ironic thing you've ever heard?" he said with a sardonic snort. "My own mother sold a house to a maniac who wound up imprisoning both Brian and me."
"Wow," Anderson couldn't help exclaiming softly; he noticed Brian looking noticeably uncomfortable as he asked, "Did she know who the buyer was at the time?"
"No, of course not!" Justin shook his head firmly. "She had no idea – it was sold to some LLC. That's why I told her she couldn't possibly feel guilty about what happened. She couldn't have known. In fact, she helped find the house based on Brian's description of the interior. In a way, she probably helped save my life…..along with Brian," he added as he looked over gratefully at his husband, who actually looked away from his stare. Anderson noted the hurt look on Justin's face as Brian averted his gaze.
Anderson didn't miss the brunet's reaction; he suspected there was still a lot of pent-up guilt to go around for all parties. "You said the two of you discussed guilt, not only from your mother's standpoint but Brian and you as well." The doctor decided to address Brian directly in an attempt to redirect him back into the conversation; yes, Justin had been the actual victim, but his husband was just as deeply entrenched in what had happened, too, and it was joint counseling. He didn't want either man to lose sight of that fact. When there were two partners as close as these two seemed to be, rape never involved just one victim.
"Brian? Justin mentioned your feelings of guilt. He doesn't think that's a fair assessment. What do you feel guilty about?"
Brian huffed, incredulous. "You're shitting me, right?" he growled. "You want me to make you a fucking list, Doc?"
"Brian," Justin murmured in embarrassment at his brusqueness. "Please….." He gave Brian's hand a squeeze now, but Brian pulled away from his grasp.
"Let's start from the beginning, okay Doc?" Brian announced angrily, his eyes flashing with both pain and regret as he faced down the man staring back at him. "Let me spell them out for you. First, I couldn't commit to Justin and he felt compelled to leave in search of a stable relationship. Then, when that fucker showed up at the benefit, I did nothing to prevent him from meeting with him, which eventually led to the man developing an ongoing obsession with him for the past couple years, which made Justin's life a living hell, including drugging him and kidnapping him. How's that for a start?"
"Brian…" Justin reached over to gently but firmly grab Brian's wrist to get him to stop, but it was like a dam had broken as Brian pulled his arm away without missing a beat.
"…And then my attempts at security to keep Justin safe went south when the fucker found someone who could impersonate my assistant and provide the security firm with the cancellation code – after he had managed to wiretap my phone. Oh, and let's not forget Matheson, the employee who worked for me and managed to set me up with one of Prescott's goons for lunch so I could conveniently be drugged and used as bait for Justin to be lured right into the fucker's trap." He shook his head angrily. "And you want to know why I've been feeling guilty?" He let out a shaky breath. "Is that enough for you, Doc? I can go on if you like…."
"Brian, that's enough!" Justin growled abruptly, his eyes flashing with frustration; how did such good news suddenly turn into a guilt-laden trip once more? "Stop it! We have been down this road so many times before! Shit! If there's any blame to go around, we both own a piece of it!"
Brian looked at his partner incredulous. "What the fuck, Justin? How could you be guilty of anything? The man raped you! He stalked you for two years! He wouldn't leave you alone! What part of that do you deserve blame for?"
Justin sighed heavily. Hadn't they hashed this over and over before? "Doctor," he said, directing his question to the other man, "I came in here actually feeling good about what happened last night, and now thanks to you I feel like shit again. Why do we have to go over this again and again?"
"Justin….Why do you think you and Brian made love in the shower?"
"What the…?" Justin said, shaking his head in aggravation. "What do you mean, why did we? We love each other! We've wanted to be…be close again ever since this happened!"
"No, that's not what I mean, Justin. What I mean is, why the shower? Why not in bed?"
Justin looked at him awkwardly as he almost mumbled. "That's just where it happened."
"The two of you went to bed together afterward? You slept in the same bed?"
"Doc, where are you going with this line of questioning?" Brian snarled like some protective lion guarding his cub. "Of course we slept in the same bed! We've BEEN sleeping in the same bed ever since we got back!"
"That's my point, Brian," Dr. Anderson stated. "You told me the other day that the two of you are used to being intimate what, 3, 4 times a day? Correct?"
"Yes, that's what we said," Brian told him, his voice clipped and curt. "So?"
"So if the two of you made love in the shower, why not the bed later? You are healed physically now, correct Justin?"
"Yes," the blond answered hesitatingly, suddenly not very pleased with the direction their conversation was heading.
"So normally it wouldn't be unusual for the two of you to continue your activities afterward?" He eyed both men, noticing that Justin was becoming very agitated; it was easy to tell from his body language. He hands were clenched together and gripping his upper legs tightly as he sat forward on the edge of the couch and his lips were pursed tightly together.
"I guess so," Justin answered uncomfortably.
"So why didn't you?" the doctor probed, realizing he was about to hit a sore spot.
"Maybe because he's just gotten over his injury?" Brian said sarcastically, resenting the line of questioning the doctor was insisting on continuing. "What is your fucking point? The point is we DID – what difference does it make where we fucked?"
"Justin? If Brian wanted to make love with you in your bed, would you be able to do it now?"
Brian's patience was about to wear out; as he looked over at Justin, however, he noticed he was on the verge of tears and his heart dropped. His husband really didn't have to say a word – the answer was written all over his face. "Justin?" he whispered to him.
Justin hung his head and didn't answer for a few seconds. Finally, his voice barely above a whisper, he responded with a single word. "No."
"Do you know why?"
Justin turned his head to stare over at the bookshelves; somehow not looking at Brian made it just a little easier to answer. "Because…..because every time I'm in bed and I think about me and Brian making love…..I think of him."
Brian closed his eyes as the pain washed over him. Were they destined to have this problem forever? Yes, they had been able to finally make love last night, and for what it was, it was glorious. It felt so good to be reunited again, their bodies in harmony together. They always instinctively knew how to please each other, to bring each other to euphoric heights and express their deep love for each other without saying a word. But he still missed their times in bed, where they could touch, fuck, suck, lick, and kiss all night long. Where he could go to bed with Justin cradled in his arms and wake up to the same thing. God, he missed that so much. He was selfish – he wanted more. He wanted all of Justin back.
Justin's eyes threatened to overfill with his tears. "I'm so sorry, Brian," he whispered to his husband. "I'm so sorry."
"Justin….don't. God, please don't do that," Brian beseeched him, reaching over to put his arm around his shoulders and pull him close. "Don't you dare go blaming yourself for this."
But it was too late; days of 'what if's welled inside of him as he whispered, "I should have been stronger, Brian. I should have fought back. I could have done something to prevent all of this."
Anderson observed the exchange between his two patients; it seemed the guilt-laden emotions were not yet vanquished after all, not that he had realistically expected them to be. "Why do you say that, Justin? You were the victim here. What do you think you could have done?"
"I could have resisted him."
The words were out of Brian's mouth before he could stop them; all along Brian had assumed he had. "Why didn't you?" He asked, stunned by the revelation.
He shook Justin's shoulders slightly when there was no reply. "Justin? Tell me – what did he do to you? He threatened you with that gun, didn't he?" It could be the only logical explanation – his normally feisty, fiery, passionate husband would never just lie there and permit another man to rape him willingly; he would have fought with every bone in his body instead.
"Brian….." This was the last thing Justin wanted to tell him because he knew the river of guilt would begin to flow once more. "Please…."
"Justin….I have to know," Brian insisted. If it was due to threat of bodily harm, which would be understandable coming from that monster, why was Justin hesitating so much?
"Justin, I want to make it clear that you are no way to blame for what happened. But I think it's important you answer Brian's question," Anderson softly pressed him from his chair. "Why didn't you feel like you could resist?"
Justin shrugged out of Brian's embrace and stood up, suddenly feeling like the walls were closing in and he was about to choke. He roughly brushed one hand through his hair as he walked a few feet away, trying to escape what he knew had to be his husband's green eyes boring into his back.
Brian's mind was whirling with frantic possibilities, none of which were good. Just what sort of hold had that fucker had over Justin to make him so compliant to his demands? He wasn't worried about the depth of Justin's love and devotion to him – he was sure of that. Just what had Prescott done to keep him from struggling against his demands? Just the thought once more of what that man had done to his husband made his blood boil with rage. Just one hour with you, Prescott. That's all I want. Just one fucking hour, and Hell would seem like paradise to you….
"Justin?" Mark called out softly; he could see Brian barely being able to contain himself as they waited for the blond to reply. He could tell this line of questioning was upsetting both men terribly, but he also knew it was a necessary part of the healing process.
After several seconds of silence, Justin finally turned around to face Brian. He knew this was going to hurt his husband, but he also knew he had to be honest with him. "When I was being held at that mansion, I didn't if you were dead or alive or hurt somewhere. Prescott kept reminding me that one of his men still had you under guard."
"But, Justin….." Brian had never been in real danger once he had been released by the side of the road, but he realized now that his husband had had no way of knowing that at the time...
The blond held up his hand, knowing if Brian said something right now he wouldn't be able to finish what he had to say. He bit his lip to try and keep his tears from falling; he didn't want to break down in front of Brian and make it worse than it was already going to be. "He…..he threatened to hurt – or kill you – if I didn't do what he wanted."
"That son of a bitch!" Brian snarled as he rose to his feet in fury. "That rotten, fucking son of a BITCH!" It made perfect sense; it was the only explanation for why Justin would submit to something so humiliating willingly; he wasn't doing it out of fear for his own safety. He was doing it out of fear over HIM. He wanted desperately to pound the living shit out of Prescott, to make him suffer excruciating pain, to rip every tooth from his mealy-mouthed smile, to inflict torture on him forever. But that chance had been blown away at the end of Matthews' gun. That chance for retribution had been irrevocably lost. Now all that was left was to somehow deal with Justin's residual pain and his own guilt, which was flaring up even worse than before.
He glanced over at Justin, where a river of tears was freely flowing down his beautiful face. How could anyone have caused so much misery to someone so undeserving? And the fact that Prescott had used his love for him as a weapon made him want to break somebody – something – in response. Without thinking, he turned to pick up a framed picture of Dr. Anderson propped up on the nearby side table and he flung it violently across the room; Justin jumped as it shattered into a million tiny pieces, much like how Brian's heart felt at the moment over his not being able to prevent Justin's rape.
He immediately regretted his action as he watched Justin cringe in response; he quickly walked over and prayed that his overtures at comforting his husband wouldn't be rebuffed. "Justin…." he murmured softly as he held his arms out and swept him into his embrace. "Justin…..God. I'm so sorry…..so sorry," he continued in a mournful mantra. Yeah, sorry was bullshit, he used to say. But not now…..not this time…..
Justin slid his arms around Brian's back. "Shh," he whispered soothingly as his hands lightly caressed the strong, muscular skin. "Don't, Brian, please don't. It doesn't matter now – we're together. And we're going to stay together." Both of them knew they were always stronger together than apart, just like two halves of a whole.
Dr. Anderson watched their interaction intently; he knew merely being able to consummate their love physically again was a good step in the right direction, and every day he observed them together the strong connection between them was further reinforced. Clearly, these two loved each other deeply and neither blamed each other for what had happened. But his main focus was definitely going to be how to get each of them to forgive themselves and move on. "Brian, Justin?" he called quietly, not wanting to interrupt their conversation but regretfully realizing his next patient was due to arrive soon. "I'm sorry, but we will have to resume this at our next session on Monday."
The two men pulled back to gaze into each other's faces; both were unwilling to completely sever their physical bond just yet. "Brian?" Justin whispered, trying to smile tenderly at his husband through his tears. It had felt cathartic in a way to tell Brian what sort of hold Prescott had had over him, but at the same time, he knew Brian was experiencing renewed feelings of guilt that would have to be dealt with. "You know I don't blame you – don't you?"
Brian stared into the red, blotchy face, still beautiful – always beautiful – to him. "Yes," he whispered back. "But I still do."
Justin shook his head slightly as if to tell Brian how crazy that was. He knew he couldn't just assuage his guilt that easily, though; he knew it would take time. But if it took the rest of their lives, he would do it. This man was worth it to him – he was his life. "Well, I'm going to work on changing that, Mr. Kinney," he vowed softly.
They reluctantly slipped from each other's embrace to face the doctor, who was unable to completely hide his sympathy from them. Anderson always tried hard to remain neutral and impartial with his patients, but this time he found he was having a difficult time doing that. He silently vowed to do whatever it took to help these two men who loved each other so deeply recover what they had lost. Even with their present handicap, however, he thought they had a lot more blessings than most others, and that would put them in good stead to not only triumph over what had happened, but actually surpass it.
"Before you go, I want you to promise me that you will continue to talk over your feelings of misplaced guilt and blame over what happened," he said. "These sessions are meant to be a jumping off point – you need to continue discussing whatever topics are brought up here in private. But I want you both to know that from a professional standpoint, feelings of guilt over a rape are extremely common – as well as misguided. Neither of you are culpable in what happened – that is all on the shoulders of Prescott. And I think deep down you both realize that. Never lose sight of that fact."
Justin nodded, but Brian refused to acknowledge that statement; he was still trying to digest being used as a pawn to get Justin to surrender to his assault. "Doctor, can I ask you one more thing before we go?"
"Mark," the doctor said with a slight smile. "Please."
Justin nodded again. "Mark, then. How do we get past my problems in bed? I want to enjoy being with Brian again – in every sense of the word," he said softly, his meaning perfectly clear. "How do I get past the fear? How do I learn not to think of him then? Because as soon as I close my eyes, that's what I see." He looked at Brian regretfully; the brunet reached to put his arm around Justin's slender waist silently in a show of support. He, too, wanted that so badly.
Anderson nodded. "It's only been two, three weeks, Justin. That's perfectly understandable. It will be gradual – it won't happen overnight. If you two do try to make love in your bed again, try to concentrate on Brian's touch, his smell, his voice, his kiss; try to remember all those familiar things that you fell in love with at the beginning. Try to focus on who you're with – look at him, really look at him, as you make love. And Brian, it's important for you to talk to Justin, to reassure him that's it really you there, and try to banish the other ugly thoughts aside. That is what will eventually help you both to overcome these problems, along with simply the passage of time. I have every confidence that you will be able to, okay? You've already taken a big step last night," he reminded them.
Justin nodded, as he slid his own arm around Brian's waist and silently nudged him toward the door. "Come on, Brian," he whispered. "Let's go home, okay?"
Brian turned to stare into the intense blue eyes, so full of love for him, and it helped at least slightly to push some of the guilt away, if just temporarily. He nodded finally as he tightened his hold on Justin's waist and together the two left Anderson's inner chambers.
The doctor stared after them for a few seconds, silently wishing them luck, before turning to flip open the folder on his next arriving patient.
Red Cape Comics – Two Hours Later
"Ben? You're early," Michael remarked with a smile, his back to the door as he heard the familiar ring of the overhead bell. His husband had told him he would be over right after his class to pick him up to go to dinner. The two men were taking advantage of Hunter being at a movie to enjoy a little down alone together. "You must be the hungry one this time." He turned around, expecting to see the familiar face of his husband, and his face dropped at the sight of his best friend, standing there with his shoulders drooped and his face unexpectedly tear-stained and ashen. "God, what happened?" he asked in alarm, rushing over to the door. "Brian? Shit! Talk to me! What is it?"
Brian angrily brushed some moisture from his cheek with his shirt sleeve; he was a mess. His shirt was opened at the neck, the tails hanging out, his sleeves were unbuttoned, and his hair was unkempt. This was not the Brian Michael knew, at least not normally; the last time he had seen Brian this bad was when his father had died. He grabbed onto Brian's shirt with one hand as his other hand came up to cup the wet cheek. "Brian?" he pressed with great concern. Tell me what's going on!" he demanded.
Brian stared into his friend's eyes, so full of compassion, and he found the sympathetic ear he so desperately needed to find. "I need to talk to you, Mikey," he sputtered out before he promptly fell into his friend's arms and softly sobbed. "It's about Justin."