Doctor Bernstein sighed on the other end of the line. "Is that what he said? That I'm trying to talk him out of having an abortion because he thinks I want to be famous?"

"All I want to know," Justin said, spinning around in the computer chair, "is whether there are any real reasons for him to feel that way? We need a doctor. If you can't be ours, then we need to find someone else immediately."

Doctor Bernstein sighed again. He was starting to sound like a balloon that's leaking air. "You know how Brian can be," he said.

"Yeah, of course, I do," Justin replied. "But I'm not going to tell him he's full of shit without knowing in fact whether or not he is."

"Well, definitely don't tell him he's quote-unquote ‘full of shit.' He's very emotional right now, and not always for rational reasons. It's part of the experience of being pregnant. Given Brian's underlying personality, I wouldn't be surprised if his random suspicions turn into downright psychotic paranoia."

Great. Just great. As if they weren't already dealing with enough shit.

"I was being flippant with my choice of words," Justin said, realizing that he couldn't just assume Dr. Bernstein had a sense of humor. "But that doesn't change the fact that he thinks you're invested in him carrying to term for reasons other than his health and wellbeing."

Doctor Bernstein didn't answer immediately. "I'm not going to deny that there's an element of professional curiosity in play here," he said after a moment. "But I've already procured a therapist to help me work through my personal issues related to this miraculous phenomenon."

"Hopefully your therapist will tell you to stop calling Brian's pregnancy a ‘miraculous phenomenon.' That hardly sounds disinterested."

"Fair point," Dr. Bernstein replied. "Tell me, how is he this morning?"

Justin shrugged even though the doctor couldn't see him. "Still sleeping."

"Good, glad to hear it, but when he wakes up, I need him to call me right away. He told me the other night that, right at that moment, he didn't want to get an abortion. It sounded to me as though he hadn't yet made any solid, long-term decision. But in the meantime, we all must assume that he's planning to go ahead with the pregnancy." Dr. Bernstein paused to take a deep breath. "He needs to stop drinking . . . and smoking too. I've been Brian's physician for almost a decade, and from what he's told me, I believe that he has a serious alcohol addiction that needs to be dealt with immediately."

It was Justin's turn to sigh. "Yeah," he said. "He already knows that. He told me so last night."

"He did? Well, that's wonderful news!"

Justin snorted. "To you, maybe. You're not going to be the one living with him while he detoxes."

"There's always the option of rehab."

"Yeah, right. That'll happen."

"If he goes soon enough, no one at the facility will know or need to know that he's pregnant."

"I . . . I don't know," Justin said distractedly. "Listen, I've got to go. He's waking up."

"Alright," Dr. Bernstein replied. "But please tell him to come to see me or at least call."

"I'll try."

"That's all you can do."

Justin hung-up just as Brian came downstairs.

"That was Bernstein, wasn't it," he said. It wasn't a question.

Justin went to him and placed his hands on Brian's arms. Brian hadn't dressed and was wearing nothing but his blue sheet wrapped around him. His hair was standing up all over, which was unusual. Even in his sleep, Brian seemed aware of his hair and tried to keep it from getting mused as much as possible. Obviously last night Brian had been too deeply asleep to give a shit. Justin was glad beyond words. Brian was going to need to be as rested as much as possible to survive the upcoming weeks.

"I think we should continue to see him," Justin said. "He says he's coping with any professional and personal issues that may come up."

Brian snorted. "Whatever. He's just an ambitious bastard like the rest of us. Where the fuck's my coffee, and don't you dare tell me I have to start drinking decaffeinated."

Of course, Justin wanted him to, but there were only so many hardships Brian would agree to undergo. Drinking and smoking were possibly the only addictions he could deal with breaking. Asking too much of him - especially now when the baby was still just an idea and not a palpable reality - might corral him in the direction of terminating the pregnancy, and Justin didn't want that to happen. He'd started daring to think that Brian didn't either. If he was considering not getting an abortion, why would he be so irked at Bernstein for seeming to push him in the same direction he was already leaning?

Brian sat down on one of the barstools and glared at his kitchen appliances as though they were the source of all the evil in the world.

"Coffee," he groused. "Now."

Justin poured him a mugful and added an obscene amount of sugar. Gross. He'd tried drinking coffee the way Brian likes it once and very nearly stayed up for forty-eight hours straight, and not in a useful, productive kind of way. Instead all he can remember was pacing around vibrating with bugged-out eyeballs.

"Uhm, how do you feel this morning?" Justin asked, knowing full well he was going to get an invective-laden response. His expectations weren't wrong.

"How the fuck do you think I feel?" Brian grumbled. "Despite sleeping all fucking night - with no fucking, by the way - I'm fucking tired as hell. I went without my nightly alcohol consumption for the first time since I graduated from college ten years ago. I've got a ripping headache and a crick in my neck from sleeping on it wrong. I'm in a shit mood . . ."

". . . Really? I hadn't noticed."

". . . and fucking starving, but if we go to the diner, I'm going to fucking heave if I even see an egg. Especially eggs that're still runny after they've been cooked . . ."

Brian dry-retched. "See?? I can't even think about eggs."

"That's a food aversion," Justin said. "For some reason your body wants you to avoid eggs."

Brian made a dismissive waving gesture as though Justin's fact was an annoying fly.

"Okay, if you don't want eggs for breakfast, what do you want?"

Brian frowned as though Justin had just questioned him regarding The Meaning of Life. After a ridiculously long time, he said "granola." He'd never eaten granola in his life.

"Okay, I'll go get you some . . ."

"And then will you blow me? My balls ache."

"And then I'll blow you."

Brian looked temporarily placated and sipped his coffee. He made a face. "This tastes like shit. What's going on? Are you trying to kill me?"

"No, it's exactly the way you like it," Justin said.

"God, it tastes like boiled wildebeest dung!"

"Okay," Justin said gently, careful to not to poke the bear any more than he already had. "What do you want to drink then?"

"Orange juice," Brian muttered. "With some of that new protein powder I bought."

Justin froze. Protein powder? What the fuck was in protein powder? Was it safe for the baby?? Turning his back, he located the powder and quickly, surreptitiously unscrewed the lid. "Here it is," he chirpily. He turned back to face Brian, and the lid opened, the container dropped on the floor, and powder spilled everywhere.

"Oh no!" Justin cried. "How terrible!"

He turned to look at Brian. He was wearing a dark look. "You did that on purpose," he said. "Fuck the granola. Get on your knees and suck my cock right now."

"That's punishment?" Justin asked, but Brian had already gotten off the stool and leaned against a beam, letting his sheet fall to the floor. He was hard, so much so that his dick was actually sticking up instead of straight out. He spread his legs until Justin's face was level with his groin.

Justin just looked at Brian for a moment, taking in the sight and scent of his pubic hair and the thin trail that led from there up to his navel. And then it hit him like a lightning bolt - right there, right beneath the taut skin and flesh of Brian's lower belly, was a tiny, living creature nestled inside him. A tiny, little miracle! The realization flooded Justin's whole body with a thousand different emotions. Awe. Joy. Terror. Gratitude. And underneath, simmering hot and greedy, was sheer, overflowing, primal lust. Brian's body had never seemed so beautiful.

"God," he moaned, kissing Brian's belly with wet, open-mouthed kisses. He was trembling with desire, and he heard Brian moan in response when he realized how turned-on Justin was.

"You're so fucking hot for it," Brian said hoarsely. "Jesus, fuck."

Justin didn't stop kissing Brian's belly when he reached between Brian's thighs and cupped his balls, rolling his testicles gently between his fingers.

"Haven't come for-fucking-ever," Brian gasped, which was actually kind of funny because Brian's idea of "forever" was anything longer than twenty-four hours. "Can you feel how heavy they are?"

Brian was so proud of his balls; yes, he was proud of his perfect cock as well, but for some reason, it was his balls he bragged about the most (and their come-producing capacity). He loved playing with them, even when he wasn't having sex. He'd just open his jeans and slide his hand between his legs while he was watching T.V. or sitting at his computer doing work. It wasn't even necessarily a sexual thing; instead it seemed more like a comforting mechanism. Was it a reminder of his treasured aggressive masculinity?

"Yeah, I can," Justin said against Brian's belly.

"They're going to empty in your mouth," Brian said. "Every last drop of come. Stop worshiping my belly and suck my cock."

Justin snorted with amusement. He'd been caught.

He moved to take Brian's cock in his mouth, keeping his lips and jaws loose until it was in as far as Justin could take it. He felt the head press against the back of his throat. Brian moaned at the contact. Justin seized the base of his shaft as he closed his mouth and swallowed; he kept his other hand between Brian's legs, cradling his balls. When he looked up at Brian's face, Brian was gazing down at him, his lips parted and his eyes almost closed.

After a few minutes of casual sucking and swallowing, Brian indicated he was ready to come by placing both of his hands on the sides of Justin's head and holding him still. He started slowly, gradually increasing his speed and depth until he was fucking Justin's mouth.

"Tug on my balls," he panted, and Justin complied immediately, alternating between letting them tighten close against Brian's body and pulling them gently down. Brian gasped. "Suck on them," he said urgently. "I'll jerk myself off."

Justin shifted so he could put both testicles in his mouth and lick the space between them.

Brian came without a warning, and Justin savored the feeling of Brian's balls answering each contraction of his orgasm with their own smaller contractions. Brian's whole body tensed and then sagged against the beam.

"Oh, God," he groaned. Justin moved back so that Brian could reach between his legs and cup his balls, seeming to measure their weight for a moment.

"Mmmm, that was good," he said breathlessly. "Ready for your turn?"

Justin smiled up at him and shook his head even though he was on the edge of orgasm himself. "That was for you," he said.

Brian smiled hazily. "Thanks," he said. "Now go jerk off because I know that's what you want to do. And then let's go to the diner. Granola's on the menu, right?"

"I thought you couldn't bear the sight or smell of eggs?"

Brian shrugged. "Junior's changed his mind."

Justin's heart turned over with happiness. There was no way Brian would've said such a thing if he was planning to have an abortion - at least that's the way Brian was obviously feeling at the moment. It was a start. He grinned up at Brian, who rolled his eyes.

"Don't say anything," he said. "And hurry the fuck up. Coming that hard makes me hungry."

Everyone was thrilled to see Brian. As soon as he and Justin walked into the diner, there was a round of applause, not just from the usual suspects, but from the other diners as well. Brian looked around, confused.

"What the fuck?" he asked Deb when she came out from behind the counter to give him a kiss and a "don't ever scare us again like that, you asshole!"

"It's all everyone's been talking about," she said.

All color drained from Brian's face in an instant. "What is everyone talking about?" he asked faintly.

"You collapsing in front of Woody's," Michael answered in his "Duh!" voice. He nudged Justin aside so he could give Brian a hug (which, of course, Brian didn't return because they were in public and he was sober).

Color returned to Brian's face, but he still seemed a bit shaken. Clearly, he had no idea how alarming Friday evening had been for everyone. Brian Kinney did not vomit in public and fall down, let alone beg to be taken to the hospital! The possiblity until now had been unthinkable!

He scowled at everyone and asked loudly whether people had something better to do than sit around staring at him like a bunch of idiots. There were chuckles and snorts, and the diner returned to normal - as did, presumably, all of Liberty Ave. It would only be a matter of minutes before word started getting around that Brian Kinney had returned to his kingdom ready to rule again with his iron . . . er . . . fist.

Things were tight. Ben and Michael were there, as were Emmett and Ted. Instead of trying to squeeze into their booth, Justin and Brian sat in a nearby booth of their own. They were quickly joined by Michael. Justin glanced at Ben and took in his mildly amused fondness. Doctor David he was not.

"How's Gus?" Michael asked. He was sitting next to Justin across from Brian, but he was leaning so far forward that he was practically climbing onto the table. Justin bit his lip to keep from laughing.

"He's alright," Brian replied. "Apparently the bath the babysitter put him in was too hot. There's no permanent injury though, which is a damn good thing. Stupid woman. What's she doing babysitting when she can't even figure out how to use the fucking cold water faucet?"

"And how are you doing, Bri?" Ted asked. "Back to being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed?"

Brian just looked at him for a moment and then turned to Justin. "Where the hell's the granola?" he asked.

"Granola?!" Deb screeched. "Did you just ask for granola??"

Brian glared at her. "Tell the whole diner, why don't you?" he muttered. "Yes, I said ‘granola.' I'm going on a health food diet. Oh, and no coffee. Just bring me some damn decaffeinated tea - but not any of that girly shit with those stupid names."

"I don't know," Ted said. "Some ‘Tranquility Tea' might do you some good."

Brian just looked at him again.

Meanwhile, Michael had decided not to climb over the table into Brian's lap and had instead took the more seemly route of moving to sit next to him.

"What the hell do you mean you're going on a health food diet?" he asked. "You never mentioned it to me."

"Opps, I must've forgotten to send you the memo." Brian smiled his thanks when Deb put a big bowl of granola in front of him.

"Good for you, kiddo," she said, pinching his cheek. Brian pretended to be annoyed. "So when're you going to cut back on the partying? Or does your new diet consist of granola, salad and poppers?"

Brian scrutinized his cereal before taking a suspicious bite. "Actually," he said after he'd swallowed, "I've decided to go cold turkey on the drugs and booze." He kept his eyes on his bowl and didn't look at anyone.

Silence. Not only at the two booths, but from the surrounding ones as well. Justin looked around, taking in the various expressions. Ted and Emmett's mouths were hanging open; Emmett's spoon was even suspended in midair. The same was true of the occupants of several other booths in the vicinity. Bizarrely, Michael looked like he was going to burst into tears, while Ben just smiled approvingly.

It was Deb who spoke first. You'd think she'd just won the lottery.

"Oh, sweetie!" she cried, shoving her son out of the way so she could Brian a sloppy, lip-sticky kiss on the cheek. "That's wonderful! I never thought I'd hear those words coming from you, but there you go - miracles really do happen!"

"It's not a fucking miracle," Brian snapped. "It's just a long-overdue decision."

Justin could tell that the use of the word "miracle" had rattled him. He clearly did not want to be thought of as a "miracle." Nor did he want to have his actions considered as such.

"It was Friday night, wasn't it?" Michael said. "Then why the hell were you going on about that stupid party yesterday?"

Brian shrugged. "I told you I was just giving you and Sunshine a slap for stalking me. I hate being stalked. You should now that by now, Mikey. When has anything good ever come from stalking me?"

Michael looked chastened. He even hung his head.

"And as for your first question," Brian continued. "Yes. Call it a wake-up call or whatever, but don't make a big fucking deal about it, okay?"

"Of course not," Michael said. He put any arm around Brian's shoulder and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Brian scowled and wiped it off.

He went back to eating his granola and didn't look up again when, after a couple minutes, he said in a low voice so only their two booths could hear: "Justin's going to need some help. He's got school. He can't be keeping an eye on my ass twenty-four hours."

Emmett looked at Justin with a raised eyebrow. "You don't want to be looking at Brian's ass for twenty-four hours?"

Everyone laughed. God bless Emmett! He'd recognized how difficult it'd been for Brian to say what he had and forestalled the noisy astonishment.

As for himself, Justin was surprised, if not outright shocked by Brian's words! So Brian was serious! He never, in a million years, would've asked for help (even though he'd disguised his request in terms of Justin's needs, not his) if he didn't realize - or care - how much was at stake . . .

He was going to keep the baby!

Holy shit!!

Justin excused himself for the bathroom as nonchalantly as possible. When he got there, he locked the door and broke down with relieved and grateful tears.

They convened that afternoon for their first meeting at Deb's house. Brian had gone into the office to put things in order so he could take a few days off. Justin was pretty sure that he knew that Team Cold Turkey was going to get together, but he hadn't said anything. Justin was all but certain that they'd never discuss it, which was okay. If Brian needed to pretend that his friends weren't going to build their lives around his for the foreseeable future, Justin wasn't going to try to make him talk. Brian was already well outside of his comfort zone.

"Okay," Justin said, standing in front of the fireplace. "First we should get a basic understanding of what we're going to be facing. I did some research on the web and talked to Brian's doctor. Given how much Brian drinks and how long he's been drinking . . ."

"Drinking is Brian's second career," Deb said. "Has been since I first met him. It's his fucking father's fault . . . !"

"Debbie," Justin's mom said. "This isn't the time."

Deb brushed a tear away. "I know, but damn it! Sometimes I get so fucking mad when I think of what those people did to that poor boy."

Vic placed his hand on Deb's shoulder, and she covered it with her own.

"I printed out some information," Justin said, passing around three-ring binders he'd put together for all of them. He gave them a few minutes to look at the documents before continuing.

"As you can see, Brian has already started the process. He had his last drink just before he went to bed last night, which was at about eleven o'clock, and he only had a beer and a glass of Beam - he did it in front of me, so I know that's how much he drank, which, as we all know, is a lot less than he usually drinks every night."

He heard his mother sigh. He knew she was chastising herself for the thousandth time for letting her son get involved with an older man with so many serious problems. Wait till she found out Brian was pregnant! He had no idea how she'd react - whether she'd be overjoyed at the prospect of a grandchild or terrified by the many implications having a baby would have for Justin and his future. Probably a bit of both and a million other emotions as well - good and bad.

"Right now he's suffering from a headache that is growing more and more severe by the hour. He's developing a slight case of the shakes, which is going to get worse until he won't be capable of walking around, so it's imperative he remain indoors in close vicinity to a bed."

"Do we know if he's going to stay at the loft or go somewhere else?" Ted asked.

"He's still thinking about that," Justin replied. "Right now he's leaning toward renting a hotel room. The loft contains too many opportunities to fail and too many memories."

"That's an excellent idea," Ben said.

"Obviously, he's going to need to take time off from work," Justin continued. "And that's going to add to his anxiety. Cynthia, his personal assistant, is aware of the situation and will pass on any urgent communications to us - Emmett, why don't you be the contact person?"

"Can do," Emmett replied. "Do I get a special button?" Ted gave him a playful punch in the arm.

"At the very least, he's going to be agitated, moody and volatile . . ."

"And that's going to be different in what way exactly?" Ted asked and everyone chuckled, even Justin. It was going to be important that everyone be able to blow off steam around each other.

"He'll have nightmares until he develops insomnia. He'll be pale and clammy and nauseous at first, and then he'll start sweating and vomiting. His heartbeat will be frighteningly fast . . ."

Michael suddenly leapt up from the sofa. "What the fuck?" he yelled. "Brian should be in rehab! This sounds too serious for us to handle. He might die!"

Debbie smacked him in the back of the head. "Right now what Brian needs most is his friends - not some fucking strangers who are going to strap him to a fucking bed!"

"Actually," Justin said. "It might come to that, and he knows it."

"But at least, it'll be his friends who are doing it," Ben said.

"He's going to hate us, isn't he?" Lindsay said.

"Definitely," Justin replied. "We need to be prepared to take some serious verbal abuse. If it turns into physical abuse, that's when we'll need to restrain him, but it's doubtful he will. He's going to be very weak."

"I volunteer to be the one who straps him down," Mel said.

Everyone twittered again, except for Lindsay.

"I don't think this is a laughing matter," she said.

"Neither do I," said Michael. "He could die."

Mel rolled her eyes. "He is not going to die. Brian is going to keep the cockroaches company after the apocalypse."

More twittering.

"This doesn't seem all that bad," Daphne said.

"I haven't finished," Justin said. "There's more. He may develop a fever and seizures. He may even have hallucinations."

"It's called ‘the horrors' on the street," Vic said. "It's pretty scary and one of the reasons people should never try to go cold turkey when they're on their own . . ."

Michael stood up again. "I refuse to be part of this," he said, throwing his binder on the floor.

"And what's the option?" Justin yelled at him, finally losing his temper. "Let him keep drinking and doing drugs? Is that your solution?"

"No!" Michael shouted back. "Not that anyone's bothered to ask me even though I'm Brian's best friend, but I have an idea. Let's just help him cut back. Maybe we can get him off the whiskey and keep the beer? And pot instead of coke? Why are we going to force him to go through this?"

Justin could've strangled him, but he reminded himself that Michael's stupid, fucking idea came from a fierce love and protectiveness. Justin understood that. But what Michael didn't know was that Brian was carrying a baby - and what he didn't know is that Brian would get an abortion if he can't stop drinking. Brian had made that very clear. Or what if he decided not to abort, and the baby was born with serious complications? Justin knew Brian well enough to know that he'd never forgive himself.

Ben stood and put his arms around a fuming Michael. "Addictions don't work like that," he said gently. "It's all or nothing. Brian is incapable of limiting himself . . ."

"But we could help him," Michael said.

"How?" Ted asked. "By following him everywhere twenty-four-seven and giving him an electric shock every time he tries to buy a glass of Jim Beam?"

Michael looked around helplessly as it became clear that no one was on his side.

"Sit down, sweetie," Deb said. "We're going to help Brian through this. He's going to be okay."

"Plus we're going to be working closely with his physician who's going to be on call day and night," Justin added. "If worse comes to worst, he can use medications to tranquilize Brian if necessary."

God, Justin hoped that wouldn't happen! He dreaded the thought of such powerful drugs coursing through Brian's body and possibly harming the baby.

"Okay, then," his mother said, with the innate practicality of her personality. "What are we going to do?"

Justin handed around a schedule. "We're going to do this in three hour shifts," he said. He took a huge, deep breath. Fuck, this was going to be hard. "Everyone is going to take part . . . except for you, Michael."

A long silence passed while everyone became fascinated by their shoes. Michael was shaking all over, his eyes were wild with anger.

"WHAT??!" he finally bellowed. "That is BULLSHIT! You can't keep me away from him!" He started to sob. Both Ben and Deb tried to comfort him but to no avail.

"He's my best friend," Michael sniffled. "He needs me."

"He will too after this is all over," Justin said kindly.

"Honey, sweetie," Deb said. "Sunshine's right. You know you'd cave and buy Brian alcohol. You wouldn't be able to say no to him . . . you never have been."

Michael turned to look her with an expression that conveyed that he thought she'd betrayed him.

"If he fails, we'll have to start all over again," Ben said. "And we don't know if Brian will have the strength to go through all of this a second time."

"But . . . but he needs me," Michael said helplessly.

"No one's saying he doesn't, sweetie," Emmett said. "But look in your heart; you know your mom's right. You wouldn't be able to stand up to him, and he'll know that. He'll use your love to ease his pain - it's the worst thing that could happen to your friendship. Brian will be furious if he fails . . . and furious at you for helping him fail."

"Will . . . will I at least be able to see him?" Michael hic-cupped.

"You can come see him when it's my watch," Deb said.

"And mine too," Ben added.

Michael took several deep breaths and wiped his eyes. "I need to go for a walk," he said. "Alone."

"Okay, sweetie," Deb said, rubbing his back.

When Michael was gone, everyone released a collective sigh of relief.

"Poor guy," Mel said. "Will he ever escape the thrall of Brian Kinney?"

Everyone looked at their shoes again. Nobody had the heart to tell her that Michael wasn't the only one in love with Brian. Her wife was too.

Wow, this is awkward, Justin thought.

"I'll start," he said. "But I think it would be good if you could come with me, Deb."

"Just say when," she replied. "I've already made his favorite dish - tuna casserole."

Justin had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Brian loathed tuna casserole.

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Here we go." He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called Brian.

Brian didn't say anything when he answered, not even a grumpy ‘what do you want?'

"Hey there," Justin said. "You ready?"

No answer.

"Brian?"

He heard a resigned sigh.

"Yeah," he said wearily. "But I've gotta warn you."

Justin held his breath. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to like whatever it was that Brian was about to say.

"About what?"

"I'm drunk," Brian said matter-of-factly.

It was Justin's turn for silence. Finally, he cleared his voice.

"I'm going to give the phone to Deb," he said as calmly as he could.

Brian didn't respond.

"She's going to get you to the fucking hotel."

Silence.

"Because if I see you right now, I will kill you."

More silence.

"Don't you have anything to say for yourself?!" Justin yelled.

"Nope." Brian's voice was cold.

Justin suddenly became aware that he was very much not alone. Everyone was staring at him.

"Excuse me a second," he said to the room. He'd started to shake, and they must've heard in his voice that whatever he and Brian were talking about was bad news. He left the room and went outside to the back porch.

"Call Dr. Bernstein," Justin said in a voice just as cold and emotionless as Brian's. "Tell him you want a fucking abortion."

A long silence and then a low, savage-sounding answer.

"Fuck you."

"Fuck me?" Justin yelled. "Fuck me? Fuck you, you selfish prick! If you can't get clean, get a fucking abortion!"

"Who said I can't get clean?!" Brian yelled back. "I can and I fucking will! I am not going to poison my baby!"

Justin's breath caught. Had Brian really just said "my baby"? He couldn't believe it!

"Why didn't you fucking think of that while you were getting shit-faced?!" Justin shouted. "You don't want to poison the baby, but what do you think you're doing right now at this very minute?"

Yet another long silence.

"I'm being scared," Brian replied frankly, steadily.

Justin was stunned by, not only the admission, but the calm with which Brian had said it.

Brian was changing. Something Justin had doubted in his heart he'd be able to do.

"I'm scared, and I had a few fucking drinks," Brian said.

"You can't fall back into that pattern," Justin replied. "You just can't."

"I know."

"You're pregnant, Brian. There's another life inside of you - another human life."

"I know."

"You have to succeed. Not only for you - but for your baby as well."

He was very consciously and deliberately saying ‘your baby' instead of ‘my baby' or even ‘our baby.' Amazingly, Brian was starting to actively own the fact that he was pregnant and, that being pregnant, he had obligations beyond his own personal needs and desires - something that Brian had never experienced before, let alone admitted. It was imperative that Justin constantly remember how very hard all of this was for him.

"I'll come with Deb," Justin said. "Did you make hotel reservations?"

"Yeah. The Omni," Brian replied.

Justin chuckled. "Of course," he said. "I wouldn't expect anything else."

"The room's reserved for a week. That better be fucking long enough."

"It should be. Okay, Deb and I will be at the loft to pick you up in about half an hour. And, Brian?"

"Yeah?"

"Please please don't drink anything more in the meantime, and if you feel the urge, then just place a hand on your belly and remember your baby is nestled there, trusting you to do the right thing and take your pregnancy seriously."

"Get here as quickly as possible," was all Brian said before he hung-up.

Justin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Yes, it was terrible that Brian had gotten drunk, but he had a feeling - knowing Brian's strength and tenacity - that this was the last time, that he was going to get sober. Justin turned to go back inside, and that's when he saw her.

Daphne. Her eyes were wide and her knuckles white as she clutched the doorjamb with both hands as though she thought she might fall over.

"Oh my God," she whispered in a tone of pure, unadulterated awe. "Oh. My. God."