I. Melanie

Upon hearing the explosion, Melanie was torn between turning around and running away. She let her feet carry her back to the car, where she grabbed her cell phone, and unthinkingly headed back. She didn't know if she was the first to call 911, but she made the call anyway, telling the dispatcher what happened, not that she actually knew much. She didn't even know what she was saying, or if she was making any sense, because by now she was realizing that Lindsay was still there, because Lindsay was inside and Melanie's legs were starting to shake as she picked up the pace.

She almost cried when she saw Lindsay standing outside, kind of on the edges of a group that was struggling to get out. Melanie didn't even notice when she dropped the phone to run to Lindsay, to hug her and hold her and feel her shaking. "You didn't go inside," Melanie said, choking back a sob.

"I waited for you," Lindsay managed, looking more shell-shocked than anything. "Oh my God... Mel... I was waiting for you and then there was... And then everyone came outside..."

Melanie held her tighter as sirens announced the arrival of help.

II. Debbie

Debbie didn't think she'd ever seen Brian this silent for so long. She'd barely gotten the seat belt on when he took off chasing the ambulance that was carrying Michael to Allegheny General. They knew exactly where the hospital was, but Brian was trying very hard to make sure they got there right behind them.

She couldn't believe how bad Michael looked. She hadn't recognized him at first. She hadn't wanted to believe that her little boy could ever get that hurt. She'd taken care of cuts and bruises, scraped knees, a black eye or split lip in her time, but never again did she want to see that much of Michael's blood. Fucking blood was fucking supposed to fucking stay on the fucking inside.

"Fuck," she murmured, resting her head against the back of the seat.

Brian glanced over at her, but didn't say anything.

Debbie couldn't stop the worst thoughts from entering her mind, like what if Michael died en route? What if they got out of the car and they wheeled him away, leaving Ben to tell them that there wasn't a heartbeat? What if, what if, what if.

"Shit," she grumbled.

"He'll be fine," Brian finally said.

Debbie wanted to snap at him that he didn't fucking know that, so don't go saying things he didn't fucking know, but she saw the look on his face and bit her tongue, and settled for nodding.

III. Jennifer

The second Justin stepped out of what remained of Babylon, Jennifer thought she might cry, or pass out from relief, or something equally embarrassing. Instead she held it together and ran to hug her son with every ounce of strength she had. Justin reacted about the same way.

"Oh my God," she breathed, looking him over for injuries. "Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?"

"No, I'm fine. You?" Justin asked.

Jennifer waved the question away. She and Tuck hadn't been far from the exit when the explosion happened. They'd been some of the first people out, and then she'd gotten her bearings back and realized that Justin hadn't come out of the building. By that time, it had been nearly impossible to get back inside. "I saw Michael," she said.

"How bad?"

"I couldn't get a good look. They had him on a stretcher, putting him in ambulance." Jennifer had seen Debbie for a second, worried and scared but still functioning. While Jennifer wanted to over and see if she could do something to help, she also was relieved it wasn't Justin. "We should go," she said.

"You go," Justin said, glancing at Tuck and not rolling his eyes for once. "I'm going to stay here. They're got to be something I can do."

What she wanted to do was take him home, take care of his scratches and bruises and set him up in bed where she knew he was safe. But... Justin didn't need it. The scared bashing victim who reacted with violence and anger and wouldn't get anyone was near him was gone, and now he wanted to help. And Jennifer couldn't be prouder.

IV. Lindsay

They didn't talk in the car on the way home, because words felt stupid now. Despite everything they'd gone through with Michael and the custody battle, he was still JR's father. He was still their friend, and this was all too surreal to be true.

No, actually, it wasn't surreal. It was more real than anything had ever been.

Lindsay looked in on the kids upon getting into the house, then went up to the attic, even though she knew sleep was futile. She tried anyway, tossing and turning for a while before giving up and laying there, wondering how a person could do something like this. It wasn't an accident. It couldn't be. Someone had actually wanted to kill them. Lindsay was used to hearing the Bible twisted into antigay arguments, but these people seemed to have overlooked the thou shalt not kill part.

When she tired of pretending she was tired, she wandered back to Gus' room to watch him sleep instead. He had no idea what had happened, and when he was old enough to understand, it probably wouldn't matter to him. He was still young and innocent, and this sort of thing didn't affect him yet. But if the sitter had been on time... If Melanie hadn't forgotten her cell phone... If Lindsay hadn't decided to wait outside...

That was too many ifs.

V. Ted

Ted was in the shower when it struck him: as first dates went, this had to go down in the record books as one of the worst.

It wasn't a funny thought. In fact, he'd almost been okay- numb, but okay- until having that thought. But that was it, wasn't it? He'd asked Lewis to go. No, Ted hadn't dragged him there, but Lewis wouldn't have been anywhere near Babylon if he hadn't had the idea planted in his head.

Then he'd asked Michael to get their drinks. Why did he do that? Why didn't he just bring Lewis to the bar himself? It would have been away from most of the crowd. Sure, it would have been Ted and Lewis in the blast instead of Michael, but it wouldn't have been Michael. He knew it was a weird thought to have, but there it was.

What had Lewis said? "Why did I let you talk me into this?" Or something. Whatever the exact words were, he blamed Ted. It was Ted's fault that he was there. Ted was now on Lewis' trauma list, right up there with the fucking Partridge Family and white polyester jumpsuits.

Ted was beginning to wonder if he didn't shoulder at least some of the blame.

No, he hasn't caused the explosion, but he'd still had a hand in maybe ruining two people's lives. One would never forgive him and one might not have the chance to never forgive him.

The water was freezing cold and Ted's fingers strongly resembled pink prunes before he turned off the shower.

VI. Brian

The world hadn't ended. He said it, and the Earth still spun on its axis. The grass still grew, fish still swam, fire didn't rain down from the sky, and the world went on.

That was unexpected.

For a long time Brian just held him amidst the sound of emergency crews hard at work. He ignored all of that. Justin was safe and he was unhurt and Brian had proof because Justin was here in his arms, holding him back tightly, and right now that was very important.

Finally Justin murmured in his ear, "You okay?"

"I wasn't even there," Brian reminded him.

"Doesn't matter. Are you?"

"Yeah," Brian answered automatically.

Justin pulled back, eyeing him a bit warily, then turned his head to survey the scene around them. "No more sirens," he noticed.

Brian didn't give a fuck, personally. There could be sirens or none at all, and it didn't matter. Well, it did to someone. Not him. Michael was already at the hospital, and everyone else who was worth a damn to him was safe. What did matter to him was standing right in front of him, tired and dirty, wrapped in a too-big paramedic's jacket and still looking like he wanted to help somehow. "You should get some rest," Brian said, because for some reason he just wanted Justin away from all of this. He shouldn't have to be here.

"I don't think I could sleep."

"Justin... Go home. You've had a busy night," he said with a smile he didn't really mean.

Justin considered it. "Come with me?"

"I can't. I should stay here," said Brian. "They're finishing up. It's my club and all... I should be here."

Justin touched his face, looking concerned. "Promise me you'll go home and get some sleep," he said.

"Sure."

"Things will be back to normal in the morning," Justin said with a weird little smile.

"I meant it," Brian said, and didn't think he needed to clarify what it was.

Justin kissed him, and Brian didn't want him to stop. It was better when he could fuck away the problems and everything was better for a while, and if he couldn't have that, why Justin just kiss him like nothing fucking mattered?

And Brian did feel shaken, and knew he shouldn't, because he wasn't even in the fucking club when it happened. He was almost on a plane. He would have been in Australia before he even knew about Babylon. And if something had happened to Justin, or if Michael died...

When Justin pulled away, he squeezed Brian's hand. "It'll be fine," he said, and Brian had to believe it, because it was better than the alternative.

VII. Justin

The second the door opened, Daphne was throwing her arms around Justin, hugging him tightly. It was almost funny; the last time he'd been involved in a hate crime, he hadn't been able to let anyone touch him, and now it seemed that no one could stop hugging him. "Oh my God. Are you okay? What happened? It's all over the news. I tried calling your cell and you didn't answer..."

"I've been kind of busy," Justin said. He hadn't realized how bad he must look until he saw the dirt now smudged on Daphne's white tank top. "I'm okay. Can I use your shower?"

Daphne looked perplexed, but nodded. "Yeah. Sure."

When he emerged from the bathroom squeaky clean and dressed in fresh clothes he picked up from home, he sat next to her on the sofa, watching the news coverage on CNN. "Someone was already in the bathroom at my place," he said. "I just couldn't wait, you know?"

"Yeah," she said. "You're sure you're okay?"

Justin nodded, because he was. He was shaken up, but he'd be fine. It wasn't like the bashing. It wasn't an attack on him. He hadn't even been able to find a cut on himself worth peroxide, or even a Band-Aid. "Michael's in the hospital," he said.

Daphne bit her lip. "How bad?"

"They don't know if he's going to be okay yet."

"God."

"Yeah."

For a moment there was silence, and Justin broke it by saying, "It's been a weird night."

Daphne tried to cover her mouth with her hand, which only made Justin smile for some weird reason, maybe just because he needed to. "Sorry," she said, forcing the smile away.

"I think I just made a gross understatement," Justin said.

"Maybe."

Oh, she didn't know the half of it. "Brian told me he loves me."

Her jaw dropped. "Definitely an understatement. Wait, what?"

Justin shrugged. "He said it."

"Um... this isn't exactly the reaction I expected you to have, Justin."

"He only thinks he means it," he said, and was pretty sure he was spot on with that assessment.

"You don't think he could?" Daphne asked.

He'd seen the shock on Daphne's face when he told her. It was the reaction anyone would have. They'd all be amazed that Brian fucking Kinney actually said it, and probably congratulate Justin, like getting him to say the words was an achievement worthy of praise. And that really had been the problem between them, hadn't it? One little explosion couldn't change a person. It could only shake them up, and after a while, they'd recover.

"No," Justin said. "I don't."

VIII. Hunter

When Hunter woke up, it took him a second to remember where he was. It had to be the airport. Only airport chairs were this fucking uncomfortable. And the chairs in hospital waiting rooms. And park benches. And bleachers. Fuck, was what up with there not being a single place to sit in public that didn't hurt your ass?

He was irritated, and scared, and knew he probably could have been a little nicer to the airport workers when he was trying to get a ticket. That had to be why it was taking so long. When the standby list shit finally panned out, he'd probably get stuck right next to a bulkhead, getting slammed into by all the people lined up for the bathroom.

He thought about hitching back, but it would take too long. He was sure Michael would be fine, but still. He just really needed to get home.

IX. Emmett

The morning after wouldn't have happened if it wasn't for rote habit. It meant brushing teeth and showering even though he'd showered only a couple hours before, when being filthy had suddenly bothered him. His sleep hadn't been much more than passing out from shock and exhaustion and waking up in terror minutes later when a car backfired down the street. Emmett figured habit would have to be enough for now.

He knew it would be a good idea to stay home, considering he'd been shaking for a few hours now, but he didn't want to become a shut-in. He wanted to be there for everyone else, show them he was okay, so they should be, too. He hadn't gone to the hospital with everyone last night, and thought he should do so now.

He was halfway to the door before Drew caught him. "You're going out?"

Emmett's hand stayed fixed on the doorknob. "Yeah. I'm going to the hospital. Thought I would help everyone wait for news on Michael."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Drew offered.

"No," Emmett said quickly, and just as quickly shook his head to take it back. "I just need to... You know. Go. Myself. I need to go myself."

"Emmett-"

"I'm fine," said Emmett, flashing a thin smile that no one in their right mind would find reassuring. "I'm just going to check up on Michael, is all."

Drew didn't look happy about this, but bit his lip. "I can drop you off."

"Drew, I'm fine," he said. He would have expected himself to snap at him, to bite out the words in anger and frustration. Instead, his words sounded normal, and very far away. "I'm just going to go to the hospital-"

"To check up on Michael," Drew finished. "You said. He was quiet, leaving Emmett to feel studied. "Call me when you get there."

Emmett gave him another one of those quick, fake smiles, and kissed him. "I'll be fine," he repeated. "I always am."

X. Ben

It was unclear to Ben why he felt the need to get up from his chair and lean over to kiss Debbie on the cheek. "Where the fuck are you going?" she asked.

"I have a class," Ben explained. It sounded flimsy, but it was true. It was a responsibility, not an excuse.

"You're fucking going to work at a time like this?" she asked incredulously.

Ben let out a breath, trying to figure out the words for why. "I have to," he said.

Debbie still looked confused, but nodded. "I'll call you if anything changes."

"I'll probably be calling you first," he said with a little smile. He bent over Michael, kissing him on the forehead. "I'll be back soon," he said, not sure who he was speaking to.

Maybe it was horrible of him to leave now. Maybe. But the fact of the matter was, he couldn't just sit there. He had to clean up and change clothes and remind himself that the world hadn't stopped because Michael was hurt. He had students who were bound to be reeling from the events of last night. He had to go do something, because sitting on his ass and getting pissed off and letting every negative thought enter his mind had never helped him before.

And he knew Michael would expect no less of him.

XI. Carl

Carl felt bad for not being able to drive Debbie to the hospital, or check in more, or be there for anyone, but he had a job to do. He could actually do something to help, and if he knew Debbie, she'd be upset now, but the second Michael woke up she'd be demanding that he catch the motherfucker that did this. It was probably best to get a head start.

He worked through the night and most of the morning, until he was exhausted. He was more than a little relieved when he was finally able to head home for a little bit, even if it was only long enough to change clothes and grab something to eat on the way to the hospital.

Just as he was getting in the car, his cell phone went off. He answered it with, "Any news?"

It sounded like Debbie had been crying, but in the happy kind of way. "He's awake," she announced.

"That's wonderful," said Carl, feeling more relief than he thought he would somehow.

"So did you find the motherfucker that did this?"

Carl smiled. "We will."