Justin began, "I was in a parking garage I think..." Then he shuddered.

Without even thinking, Brian pulled him closer, held him tighter. Meanwhile, he was observing Justin closely, trying to ascertain what he was thinking, feeling, and remembering. Justin was staring into space, his eyes unfocused, as though he were watching a movie in his head. He was silent for only a couple of minutes, but, for Brian, that seemed to be an interminable length of time.

When Justin finally spoke, he said something that shook Brian to the very core. Justin whispered, "Later" in that happy/frightened/hopeful voice he'd used the night of the bashing. It was as though Justin had seen himself in his mind and was mimicking his own voice.

Brian swallowed hard. His eyes never left Justin's face. He wondered whether Justin remembered who he'd said that to.

A moment later, Justin continued. Brian quickly realized that Justin was simply narrating what he saw in his head, not yet reflecting on anything, just reproducing it. In a soft hollow voice, Justin said, "Walking. I was walking away."

Brian was dying to prod, to press, "From what or whom?" But of course, he said nothing.

Justin continued, "My footsteps echoed."

Brian clenched a fist. He knew what came next.

"I turned back and then…and then…"

As Justin had spoken these words, his voice had grown softer and softer, fading to silence at the end, as though his memory of this part was fuzzy. As though he were doing the mental equivalent of squinting to bring an image into clearer view.

Then suddenly, Justin cried out, so much more loudly that he actually startled Brian, "Pain…so much pain. And falling. The clatter of a…of a bat on cement."

Justin paused. Then he continued, much more softly, "Fading. The world was fading to darkness. But I could feel warm hands. Warm hands on my back. I heard a shout and then crying. Someone was crying."

Justin looked directly into Brian's eyes now. Then he said, "I could feel the wetness of their tears."

Justin still didn't remember him. Brian looked away and clenched his jaw. He couldn't let Justin see the disappointment and pain that was surely evident in his eyes.

When he had collected himself, he returned his gaze to Justin. Justin was still looking at Brian, his brow furrowed, his mouth open slightly, his eyes wide and filled with confusion.

Brian's entire body tensed up. He had no idea what was coming, and that made him nervous. Very nervous.

After several long moments of dead silence (neither of them were breathing), Justin whispered, "Even if it was ridiculously romantic…"

Brian's eyes lit up. Did Justin remember him saying those words?

Justin looked down for another moment and then back up, his eyes dark and intense. He stated softly, "I thought you said you wouldn't be caught dead in a room full of eighteen-year-olds."

Brian froze. He was still uncertain as to whether Justin remembered who had said what. Did he remember images? Voices? Or just the words themselves, unattached to any voice?

After a short pause, Justin added, "I thought I'd recapture my lost youth."

Brian swallowed hard. He tried to look calm and unperturbed, but, inside, he was pleading with Justin, begging Justin to remember who had said those words, begging Justin to remember him and the rest of the prom. He thought bitterly that if the Kinney luck held true, Justin would remember only the bad parts, of the prom and of their relationship or whatever, if he remembered Brian at all.

Brian lost all hope when Justin suddenly exclaimed, "Chris Hobbs. Chris Hobbs attacked me."

Brian sighed, unclenched his fist, and then clenched it again. He wanted to scream in frustration, but, of course, that was out of the question, as it so often was. Like always, he needed to remain still as life happened all around him, pretending not to care. Except that tonight there would be no sea of bodies and booze to help him forget, even for just a little while. He was grateful that Justin's eyes had lost focus again. He couldn't be sure that none of his emotions were registering on his face. The stoicism Brian had spent a lifetime perfecting had been faltering since he'd met Justin, but much more so and with greater regularity since the bashing. Chris Hobbs had smashed much more than Justin's skull when he'd wielded that bat.

Justin pulled Brian out of his head a moment later, when his eyes focused back on Brian and he asked, in a trembling voice, "Why would Chris attack me?"

Brian held Justin's gaze, but said nothing. He knew that he couldn't answer Justin's question or prompt him in any way, and it was killing him. He wanted to fill in the blanks, the most prominent of which was, of course, him. But then, how could he explain the unexplainable? If Brian were allowed to answer Justin's question, he had no clue what he would say. He didn't, couldn't, view the world in black and white, peopled with forces of good and evil. Was evil at the root of all cruelty, or was it infinitely more complex? A combination of pain, ignorance, rage, and self-hatred and who knows what else, maybe genetics and hormone imbalances. Brian had been cruel to the best of all people, to the person he'd cared for the most. So many times. It pained him to recall. He'd done it to protect himself and maybe even to hurt that innocent and naïve part of himself that he saw so clearly in Justin, that childish self he'd never been able to silence completely, the one that had always urged him to believe, to hope, to let go.

Justin unexpectedly interrupted Brian's philosophical musing, exclaiming excitedly, "Wait, you…you took me to prom, didn't you? No. No. But you were there."

Brian stopped breathing, and his heart stubbornly refused to beat. He stared at Justin with intense eyes. He told himself he should be calm. That he shouldn't expect too much, if anything. Justin might not actually remember Brian being there. He could simply have inferred that.

But then Justin said something that had Brian tumbling head first, having lost all control of his emotions.

Justin smiled brightly as he recalled, "You were wearing a white silk scarf. It was so soft and smooth. You slid it around my neck…and (then more hesitantly) we were dancing."

Justin looked directly into Brian's eyes and asked, "We were dancing?"

Brian's heart soared. He couldn't help but smile. Brightly.

Then he replied, "Yes, Kitten. We were dancing."