Disclaimer : Whee. I don't own Cabaret. Whee.
A/N: Why doesn't anyone read my story??? ::sad::
Shortly after leaving Jonathan's house, it occurred to Brian that he really didn't know where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away. Away from Jonathan, away from that house, the house where Sally's body would remain until the doctor came for her in the morning. Morning, Brian realized, was only a few hours away by now. But it was still pitch-black outside, and freezing, freezing cold. After just sort of wandering for a while, he finally gave up and decided to just go home. There was really nowhere else to go. It was three o'clock in the morning and everything had been closed for hours.
Brian had not spent much time, if any at all, at his own house lately. The last day he had really been there for any length of time was the day Sally had come to talk to him...the day she had gotten sick. He thought back to that day…two weeks ago. It had only been two weeks ago when this all started, and now it was over. It felt strange to Brian to walk through the front door of his house, knowing that the last time he was there Sally was there too, and now she was gone and would never, ever be there again. God, he was mad at Jonathan. He knew he was being irrational, but he couldn't help feeling like Jonathan was to blame for all of this somehow, he just hadn't figured out how yet. And Jonathan's yelling at him hadn't helped either. Exasperated, Brian threw his coat over a chair in the living room and walked down the hall to his bedroom.
He stretched out on his bed and tried not to think, tried to just clear his mind of everything, but it didn't work. All he could think about was Sally. He kept remembering things--little things, like the way her hand felt in his, and how she always took all of the covers in bed. The first time they had kissed...the day they had spent walking in the park and eating ice cream...him sneaking backstage at the Club just to surprise her...everything.
Brian thought back to the day at the train station...he had seen Jonathan first, and he remembered wondering why he was carrying so many suitcases, certainly he had more than he left with. And then he had seen her. Sally, walking alongside Jonathan with her arm hooked through his, looking just as radiant as ever in that black mink coat. That coat...she had been wearing that coat the day she had come to talk to him. Why hadn't he suspected something was wrong that day...she had looked awful; pale and thin and worn. He had been too angry to pay any attention, but in retrospect he realized he should have noticed something, anything. Maybe then he wouldn't have yelled at her, wouldn't have said such awful things. Not like it mattered anyway. Nothing could have saved her. Not Brian, not Jonathan, not anything or anyone.
Brian could not think of a valid reason for why he was so angry with Jonathan, but he knew that he definitely was. He sat up and reached for the phone with the intent to call and apologize, but quickly put it down. What exactly was he going to apologize for? For loving Sally so much that he couldn't help but wish that Jonathan had never met her? He didn't have anything to say to Jonathan anymore. He said that Sally wanted them to be friends...that could never happen again. Not in Brian's opinion, anyway. He felt terrible about it, because he didn't want to go against what had been Sally's last wishes, but...it just was not possible. They would never be able to trust each other again, not after all that had happened between them.
********
Jonathan was sitting outside of Sally's room—well, the room that Sally's body was in—leaning against the door. He realized he didn't have anyone anymore, and he cried—he cried for Sally, he cried for Brian, he cried for himself. Sally's dying request would never be met; Jonathan and Brian would probably never even speak again. She would have been so mad at them for being so immature, for fighting over her like schoolboys. But that was what it had come down to, them fighting over her and Brian had finally just given up. Jonathan wanted nothing more than to work things out, to forgive and forget and to give their friendship a second chance, but he knew Brian would never stoop to that. He was too angry, too proud to admit he was being childish. They both were. Jonathan knew that and was willing to just let it go.
He looked at the clock on the wall across from him. Nearly four in the morning. He might as well forget about trying to get any sleep now; the doctor was coming for Sally's body in a few hours anyway. Jonathan stood up and put his hand on the doorknob. He hadn't been in the room yet, but he knew it couldn't be avoided. He needed to see her. Taking a deep breath, he slowly turned the knob. He stood there with the door open, closing his eyes, not able to bring himself to either walk into the room or to look at her. A few minutes passed, and then he opened his eyes. He realized he was shaking as he walked toward the bed, averting his eyes from the tiny figure lying there. When he was about two feet away, he forced himself to look at her.
"Sally…" Her name escaped his lips without him even realizing that he had said anything. She was lying there exactly as she had been when he had left the room that last time, telling her he would be back and that he loved her…except now, her eyes were closed forever. He knelt at the side of the bed, unable to do anything else, and placed his hand on top of hers. Her hand was cold…so cold. Jonathan kept watching her face, half-expecting her to open her eyes and say his name. He took his hand away and sank down to the floor in a crumpled heap, crying. He had reached his limit; he didn't know what to do anymore. The woman he loved was dead, his best friend had deserted him. There was nothing he could do about Sally, he knew that, but he could do something about the situation with Brian. Brian, however, would not concede to trying to resolve anything, and Jonathan found himself at a standstill. He kept telling himself that Sally would have wanted him to move on, but how could he move on when he literally couldn't lift himself up off the floor?
He lay there for the next few hours, unable to do anything but think and cry. At seven o'clock, Jonathan forced himself to get up and at least change clothes. Doctor Warren would be coming to pick up Sally soon…