The two lifelong friends stared at each other across a chasm of unknown depths.

Justin was bewildered by a thousand conflicting emotions. His acute alarm that Daphne had found out Brian was pregnant was mixed with the profound relief of knowing he now had someone he could talk to, but he couldn't think clearly, especially knowing there was a clock ticking - Brian had all but told him he didn't think he had the will to stop himself from drinking more. What should he say to her? Should he confirm that Brian was pregnant or try to convince her that she'd misunderstood? Who was going to be the first to speak?

She was looking at him as though she'd never seen him before. Her chin was quivering; he saw that she was on the verge of tears.

"Oh, Justin," she said, her voice catching.

He just looked at her. What was going on? He couldn't read her at all. Was she breaking down because she was happy for him? . . . Or not?

"It's true," he said finally when she didn't continue. He tried to give her a happy smile, but it faltered on his lips as she approached him slowly, her expression still unreadable. He pulled her close for a hug. Her arms were so tight around his neck he thought he might suffocate in her fuzzy scarf.

"Are you . . . is he . . . going to keep it?" she asked.

"I think so," he replied. "But only if he can get sober."

She pulled back and looked at him. Her eyes swam with tears.

"You're . . . you're not happy for me," he said. "Why?"

"Why?" she said incredulously. "You really have to ask me that? What if I told you I was pregnant and wanted to keep the baby? C'mon, don't think about your answer, just say the very first thing that pops into your head."

"I'd . . . I'd think you were making a terrible mistake," Justin said reflexively. He winced when his answer remained clinging to the breaths that smoked between them.

"And why is this any different?" she asked. "You've impregnated someone, Jus! You're only nineteen! You've got your whole life ahead of you . . . you're too young! What about your dream of spending a year abroad in Italy? What about getting your MFA in London? What if you meet someone else? You're never . . . you're never going to be free of him." Her eyes overflowed, and tears ran down her cheeks, dampening her long lashes into clumps.

Justin's first impulse was to get mad - really mad. How could she not be happy for him? The man he loved more than anything in the world - more than Italy or London or any other fucking place - was going to have a baby - their baby! How was that not good news?

. . . But then he remembered. And kept remembering . . .

"Don't you recall staying with me the night before you went to Vermont?" she said brokenly. "Don't you remember how we talked all night and you told me you couldn't take it anymore, that you needed to break up with Brian, that your ‘so-call relationship' was ruining your life? And before that, you were even talking about hooking up with some other guy and saying how that guy was so romantic and Brian was such a selfish asshole. What about admitting to me that you've never been truly happy with Brian? That you've never felt loved? Now you're stuck. For life."

Justin looked at her pleading eyes.

"So what are you saying?" he asked, feeling like some part of him had just died. "That I should tell Brian he should get an abortion?"

She laughed ruefully. "Ironic, isn't it?" she said. "There I was saying to you just the other night that the choice to bear a child should be the woman's and hers only, but right now, part of me feels like Brian would be selfish to keep this baby. Is it just because he's a man or is it because I know - and so do you - that he's going to make your life, if not hell, then at least very very difficult."

Justin reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. "It's going to be okay," he said. "There's going to be a baby . . ."

"Oh, right," she said, stepping away from his caress. "I forgot. Adding a baby to a dysfunctional relationship always makes the situation so much better. Also, Jus, think about the life this baby will be born into. One parent a teenager and the other just as mature as one. One self-centered because of his age, and the other self-centered because of his past. One on the verge of a career and the other whose career is a big part of what defines his life - along with promiscuous sex and drugs and drinking, that is. Even if Brian can get sober for the pregnancy, is he going to be able to stay sober - or even want to - after the baby's born? What if he dumps you again or doesn't want to take care of the baby? The whole thing will fall into your lap, and you'll be a college sophomore caring for an infant."

Justin was getting annoyed. There was already so much going on. He didn't think he could handle anymore. "He's changing," he snapped. "You should hear him. He's talking about getting sober for the first time in his life. He's not only accepting help, he's asking for it. Being pregnant is going to change him - it's already started to . . ."

Whether she was listening and had dismissed his words or just on autopilot, Daphne broke in again as though she'd never been interrupted. "And what happens when he starts to show? Have you guys even thought about that? How's he going to handle it when people start asking questions? His ego is so fragile as it is - and don't try to tell me he isn't a misogynist. He looks down his nose at women and ‘women's experiences.' He's the ultimate ‘woman' right now. What happens when people start whispering and pointing? Is Brian going to be able to handle it? And before you say ‘yes,' ask yourself why you believe it. He can't even handle being seen as a ‘faggot.' He can't even bottom!"

Justin clapped his hand over her mouth. "Ssshhhh! The last thing in the world we need is someone in there," he gestured to the door, "finding out."

She continued in a whisper when Justin removed his hand. "I'm scared for you," she said. "I'm scared for the baby. I'm even scared for Brian. What if he flips out late in his pregnancy and decides to have a late-term abortion? It'll kill you. I know how much you love children. I know how you've always wanted one, how essential having one is to your life happiness. But you have literally decades to make it happen - and you'll find a better partner to make it happen with. You know I love Brian, but I don't love the way he treats you. And I don't like some aspects of the way he lives his life. If you guys go ahead with this, you'll be bound together for life, whether or not you want to be."

She stopped talking and searched his face for some flicker of agreement. She didn't find it.

"Are you finished?" Justin asked coldly. Any relief he'd felt in thinking he'd have someone he could talk to had evaporated.

She brushed her tears away and wiped her nose on the sleeve of her parka. "Yeah," she said.

"Good," he replied. "Now, do you want to stay a part of this plan to help Brian get sober or do you want to back out considering how you feel about him and the baby - and me."

Her eyes welled with tears again. "I'm only saying all of this because I love you so much," she said. "I want more than anything for you to be happy."

"You're just going to have to assume that this baby will make me happy," he said. "If you can't . . . if you can't do that then I don't want to see you again."

She put her face in her mittens and started sobbing.

"Think about it and let me know," he said and went back inside letting the screen door slam behind him, leaving her alone in the drizzle that'd started to fall gloomily from the low-hanging clouds.

When he and Deb walked into the loft, they found Brian sitting on the edge of the bed with his long legs stretched out in front of him, smoking a cigarette.

"Last one," he said when he noticed them. He was clearly very drunk. Justin could smell the alcohol even from across the room.

He and Deb had discussed on the drive over how they were going to handle a drunk Brian, and they'd decided yelling at him was not going to help. But it was so hard not to yell at him! Deb thought this was a brief, little hic-cup in their plans, but Justin knew that so much more was at stake. Brian was wearing jeans and no shirt. Justin couldn't stop staring at his belly. Maybe it was already too late. Maybe Brian had already killed their baby.

Would Justin ever be able to forgive him if he had?

"Hey there, kiddo," Deb said to Brian cheerfully, clapping her hands in encouragement like a den mother rousting her scouts for another day of slogging through mosquito-ridden forests. "Let's get some clothes on you and take you to your honeymoon suite. I hope there's a vibrating bed. I've always wanted to try out a vibrating bed."

Brian snorted. "Great, just what I'll need. That'll be so helpful while I'm shaking and puking like a sick dog."

Deb sat down beside him while Justin started packing Brian's stuff.

"Don't forget my black silk shirt," Brian said, his words slurring. "I wanna detox in my club clothes. It seems appropriate somehow."

Justin didn't even turn to look at him.

"You're ready for this," Deb said, patting Brian's thigh.

"You don't know that," he replied. "Neither do I . . . but I've got no choice. It's now . . . or never."

Justin's stomach twisted. Brian's words were terrifying . . . but they were also evidence of how serious he was about succeeding. This was not a time to be angry at him, Justin chided himself. It was a time when they needed to give him all of their unqualified love and support.

"Well, you might not know it, but I do," Deb said. "I've watched you overcome every fucking obstacle you've ever encountered, often when the odds were against you. You're one hell of a tough kid. If your mind is set on drying out, it'll happen. The only way you'll fail is if you start doubting yourself, so get up, get dressed and let's get out of here." She patted his thigh again and stood up.

Brian smiled a rolled-lipped smile and got up when she offered him a helping hand.

"Ready, Sunshine?" she called. "We've got a date with sobriety, and we don't wanna be late."

Brian had indeed rented the honeymoon suite, although to Deb's disappointment (and Brian's relief) there was no vibrating bed. Justin couldn't help but give him a fond eye roll. He smiled a tentative smile. Please forgive me was written all over his face. Justin smiled back.

"First things first," Deb said. "Sunshine, you and I need to go on a search and destroy mission. All booze must be discovered and washed down the drain."

Brian sat on the edge of a bed that was even bigger than his while Justin and Deb scoured the room and poured the entire contents of the minibar down the bathtub drain. When they were finished, Deb stood in front of Brian with her hands planted firmly on her hips. Her look was stern. She was clearly not going to be mollified even if Brian turned on his considerable charm.

"Did you stop by to check out this room after you rented it?" she asked.

Brian looked up at her, his face stony.

"Brian A. Kinney! Answer me this second!"

"Yes," he said. Justin could tell he wanted to look away, but he didn't.

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"You know damn well what I'm talking about!" Deb yelled at him. "Tell me where the fuck it is or we're changing rooms!"

Justin had been thinking about his conversation with Daphne and had only been listening to Brian and Deb with one ear. Deb's tone of voice brought him back abruptly to the situation at hand.

"You have till the count of three, kiddo," Deb said. "One . . . two . . ."

"Okay, okay! It's in the fucking nightstand!"

Justin watched Deb go to the nightstand and open the drawer. She pulled out a bottle of cough syrup and held it up.

"What the fuck's in it?" she asked.

Brian's eyes were beseeching as he looked at Justin. "Please," he whispered. "Let me and Deb discuss this alone . . ."

"No way," Justin said without raising his voice. "No fucking way."

Brian sighed a long, shaky sigh. "Codeine and promethazine, which by the way . . ." he looked at Justin with a challenging expression, ". . . was prescribed by my doctor because it helps relieve morning sickness . . ."

"I don't give a fuck whether it was prescribed or not and for what reason!" Deb said. "Although I will say that saying it was prescribed to you for morning sickness is quite a creative explanation. But I'm willing to bet you were not prescribed fucking codeine! No doctor would be so fucking stupid as to prescribe fucking codeine to someone who's going cold turkey!"

Brian leapt up. "It's nothing more than a fucking fall-back in the case of an emergency!" he shouted. "It'll just take a bit of the edge off if things get too bad! Fuck, it's not the two of you who're going to be wishing you were fucking dead sometime within the next twenty-four hours. Fuck you for giving me shit about a fucking spoonful of fucking cough syrup!"

Justin snatched the bottle out of Deb's hands and turned it around until he found the warnings. Then he got right up in Brian's face in a way he'd never imagined doing before. When he started reading, he didn't bother to mince words even with Deb in the room.

"Do not take if pregnant. Can reduce uterine blood flow causing fetal hypoxia, a condition in which the body or a region of the body is deprived of adequate oxygen supply. And I'm sure codeine isn't on a list of safe drugs! Jesus Christ, Brian, I can't even take fucking Tylenol, and the baby you're carrying is half mine! We can't know what drugs he or she is allergic to!"

Brian crawled into the middle of the bed, covered his face with his hands and curled into a ball. Justin instantly wanted to comfort him, but he couldn't. Brian was going to have to hurt - and hopefully a lot. It was an essential part of the withdrawal he was going to go through.

Suddenly, he remembered Deb was in the room. He turned to her very slowly, expecting to see any number of expressions, but what he didn't expect was for her to sink to her knees, her hands in prayer, and her bright, shining eyes looking up at the ceiling.

Shit!!

"Sunshine, bathroom," she whispered.

Justin looked at Brian. He hadn't moved. Considering how drunk he was, Justin wouldn't be surprised if he'd passed out. He followed Deb into the swanky bathroom, and she closed the door softly. She sat down on the toilet cover, and he sat down on the edge of the Jacuzzi sized tub.

"We have to make sure he doesn't use the bubble jets," he said absently.

"Sunshine, look at me," Deb said. He did, but very reluctantly.

"Is Brian pregnant?" she asked with surprising calm.

Justin nodded an almost imperceptible nod.

"He cannot know that you know," he said."

"Have you two told anyone else?"

Justin sighed. "We haven't told anyone, but Daphne overheard me earlier talking with Brian on the phone. So she knows, and she's not happy about it. She already gave me the mother of all lectures, so if that's what you plan to do too, save your breath."

Deb took his hands and held them lovingly. "I have no intention at all of lecturing you," she said in a quiet voice that, up until then, Justin would've thought she was physically incapable of. "This is a fucking miracle straight from God." She looked up and crossed herself again.

Justin smiled a relieved smile and squeezed her hands.

"How long?"

"It happened March 26th . . ."

"So about three weeks ago. How did you learn so quickly?"

"The condom broke. We got tested for HIV as soon as possible. It was a full blood screen. His doctor realized he was pregnant. It took a little while for Brian to accept it . . ."

"Well, of course it did!" Deb wasn't yelling yet, but she was louder than before. Justin put a finger to his lips.

"He cannot know you know," he said. "I have no idea what he'd do if he found out. He's only just started considering the possibility of keeping the baby instead of getting . . ."

"He was thinking about getting a fucking abortion?!" Deb screeched. Justin leapt up and turned on the bath faucet as well as the two sink faucets and the overhead fan.

"Please, Deb," he begged.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," she said between her fingers when she clapped her hand over her mouth. "It's just that I can't believe he's even consideringaborting this miraculous child. It's like the virgin fucking birth! Well, except Brian's hardly a virgin. I'm pro-choice, of course, but outside of politics, I hate abortion, and I especially hate it in this case. At least you want this baby, right?"

"More than anything in the world," Justin replied without hesitation. "But it's Brian's body; he gets the last say."

"Shit," she said desperately. "He's not going to be able to do it. You know he's a son to me, but Brian has his weaknesses. Being a man - a strong gay man - is everything to him."

"That doesn't have to change," Justin said just as desperately. "What can be stronger than carrying a baby and giving birth? He'll be the strongest man in the whole, fucking world."

"I know that," she said. "We both know that, but will Brian see it that way - especially when he's so big he won't be able to see his dick? Don't laugh," she added when Justin chuckled. "I'm being fucking serious."

"So am I," he replied. "I've never taken anything more seriously in my life - even the bashing and my recovery."

She smiled and reached out to cup his cheek. "You're a daddy," she said. "My little Sunshine is a daddy! When are you going to tell your mother?"

"Not until I absolutely have to," he said. "And the same goes for Michael . . . well, that'll be Brian's decision, but I'm willing to bet it wouldn't be anytime soon. Please don't tell him."

"Sweetie," she said. "Sunshine, I wouldn't tell Michael this news if the angel Gabriel himself came down and commanded me to. It's going to break him." Her eyes filled with tears, but she wiped them away with an exasperated gesture.

"So, now you can see why it's imperative that Brian get sober?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely," she said. "And let's not waste another second in here talking. We've got a lot of fucking work to do!"

When they came out of the bathroom, Brian was still in a ball in the middle of the bed.

"Poor, baby," Deb whispered. "So much rides on his success."

"I'm thirsty," Brian said, startling them. He didn't look at them when he added. "And so is junior."

Brian must've heard them in the bathroom!

Justin and Deb froze rather comically. Brian smirked at them, and unfurled from his ball.

"Oh my God, sweetie!" Deb shrieked, finally free of the need to keep her voice down. "Brian, honey! I'm so fucking proud of you!"

Brian made a face. "Why? For getting knocked up? It was Sunshine, here, who broke the condom with his ginormous dick and planted his seed. I was just the owner of the ass he planted it in."

Justin blushed a fever red.

"No, you asshole," Deb said. "Not for getting pregnant, for not having an abortion!"

Brian's eyes turned stormy. "Don't count your chickens," he said nastily.

"And what the fuck do you mean by that?!" Deb screeched so loudly that Justin winced.

"I mean," Brian said, "that I still have months to decide, and if I can't stay sober, I'm getting an abortion. I'm not bringing a kid into this world with problems that'll remind me every fucking day what a worthless piece of shit I am!"

His voice cracked. Justin couldn't take it another second. He crawled onto the bed and but his arms around Brian.

"Ssshhhh," he whispered, smoothing his hand over Brian's hair. "First steps first. We're going to get you sober. You can do this. I know you can."

Brian snorted ruefully, but he didn't try to escape Justin's embrace. "Everyone keeps saying that," he said. "And it's bullshit. We won't know if I can do it until I actually have. And getting sober isn't the only Herculean task I have to accomplish; I have to stay sober until I have the baby . . ."

"Damn right you do! And afterwards too," Deb said. "Because I'm not gonna let you not nurse your child for as long as possible!"

Justin stiffened and froze; he was astonished that Brian didn't as well. They hadn't even come close to discussing anything about what would happen after the baby is born. Hell, they hadn't even discussed what will happen when Brian started to show!

"Just like you to bring that up, Deb," Brian said.

"Well, you don't want your tits to be fucking taps in a fucking whiskey barrel, do you? You'll have to apply for a fucking liquor license!"

Brian laughed - he actually laughed! Justin kissed his cheek.

"Where's my fucking water?" Brian groused. "I'm still thirsty. And stop crying, Deb. Your make-up's going to run all over the place. I don't want to have to pay to clean this fucking duvet, and by the way: Mikey cannot find out."

"I won't tell him, honey," Deb said. "I know as well as you do how he'll react, and I don't want anything to shake the boat. Even though he's my son and I love him dearly beyond words, I want to help you have this baby, and if that means keeping this a secret from him, then I'll do it gladly."

Brian smiled at her, but he already looked pale and exhausted. Both of them could see the fear and uncertainty in his eyes.

Team Cold Turkey met every morning and evening at the diner - all were present except for whoever it was that was with Brian at the moment. The mood was subdued and sometimes people were even tearful, but everyone was determined to stay onboard. Both Michael and Daphne attended the meetings, but neither of them was on the schedule. Justin saw it as a good thing that Daphne was still involved even if less directly. She and Justin hadn't spoken alone since their conversation on the back porch at Deb's house.

Brian was a mess. There really was no other way to describe it. At first he was able to sleep for a little bit, but by now he wasn't able to sleep beyond an hour. His exhaustion was making him crazy. He often seemed confused as to where he was and when it was and even the name of the person who was with him at the time. He shouted and yelled until he was hoarse, and when he couldn't shout and yell anymore, he started crying and didn't seem able to stop. He was shaking so violently that he couldn't hold a glass of water or feed himself. After a couple of days, they'd had to switch from solid foods to Ensure so he could drink it through a straw. Not that he wanted to eat. It was hell trying to convince him to drink even half a bottle.

Nothing calmed him. They tried soothing background music, but it had no effect. They tried giving him massages, but he couldn't bear any kind of touch - even having a sheet over him was too much. He sweated so profusely that the mattress got damp, which made him shiver as well as shake. He was deathly pale and sometimes lay for hours just staring at whoever was there with the desperate, pleading eyes of an artic seal pup.

When the seizures and hallucinations started, Justin called Dr. Bernstein. Fortunately, it was Deb's turn to watch Brian when he arrived. Justin arrived shortly thereafter. They met in the hall outside Brian's room.

"Do we know what the hallucinations are about?" Dr. Bernstein asked. "Are they benign or frightening to him?"

"I'd say frightening," Justin replied. "He seems terrified sometimes . . ."

"Sometimes I think it's about the baby," Deb interrupted.

Dr. Bernstein looked at Justin questioningly.

"It's okay," Justin told him. "She knows, and Brian knows she knows."

"Good. The more people who know he's pregnant, the better," Dr. Bernstein said. "Now what do you mean when you say that he hallucinates about the baby?" he asked Deb.

"He covers his belly with both hands and cowers in corners as though someone's trying to hurt him or the baby, and he shouts at whoever it is to leave him alone. And sometimes . . ." She paused to angrily wipe away a tear.

"Sometimes what?" Dr. Bernstein asked.

"Sometimes he starts saying that the baby is a parasite and that he wants to be rid of it, and if we won't do it, then he will. Once one of the people who was watching over him said that they caught him trying to ‘drown' a clump of towels in the bathtub while saying something about a baby and yelling at it to ‘just fucking die, already.'"

Justin turned away and started pacing. He didn't know if he could take this much longer.

"Have you witnessed any of this kind of behavior?" Dr. Bernstein asked him.

Justin didn't stop pacing, but he covered his face with his hands.

"Sunshine can't bear to watch him," Deb said sadly. "It's just too much for him. He's only a boy after all."

Justin was beyond grateful when the doctor didn't lecture him - or even quiz him. He didn't know what he'd do. He already felt like he was going insane along with Brian!

"Have others heard him talking about the baby?" Dr. Bernstein asked.

"Everyone has," Deb replied. "But they think it's all part of this cold turkey shit, so no one's taking it seriously, thank God."

Justin stopped pacing and looked beseechingly at Dr. Bernstein. "How much longer is this going to go on?"

"The worst should end soon," the doctor replied. "Although there's a huge wild card in play. We have no idea how much of what Brian is experiencing is due to the withdrawal . . . or the pregnancy."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Deb snapped.

"It just means that we need to keep in mind that Brian's body is in total crisis, and it's not just due to the withdrawal; it may also be due to the fact that he's pregnant. It feels strange having to remind you two that Brian is a man, and nothing about him is designed to be pregnant. Pregnancy affects everything in a woman's body from hormones to the location of her vital organs. It's too early for Brian to have an ultrasound, so we really can't have any idea if the gradual expansion of the ‘uterus' - for lack of a better term - is jeopardizing the proper functioning of everything from his stomach to his kidneys. We just don't know. He may even be in a substantial amount of discomfort, which may be the source of some of these disturbing hallucinations."

Deb's eyes filled with tears again, and it took all the strength in Justin to stop himself from breaking down as well.

"Maybe we should just do it," he said, choking on the words.

"Do what?!" Deb screeched.

"Give him an abortion. I'll . . . I won't be able to live in a world without him in it, and if the pregnancy is endangering his life, then I want to end it. He comes first."

"You can't mean that!" Deb said. "We're not talking about a tumor here; were talking about an innocent baby!"

"And what does that mean, Deb?" Justin shouted. "Put his life on the line for some . . . something that doesn't even exist yet?"

"Of course it exists!" Deb shouted right back. "And it's growing right now as we speak. A little human life - a Goddamn miracle!"

Justin lost it. He just finally fucking lost it.

"Why is Brian's life less important?! Why is he less worthy to live?! Is it because he's a quote/unquote ‘selfish prick'? Is it because his life is somehow tainted beyond hope and thus less valuable than the baby's? Is it because he's never given your precious son what he's been panting after for years . . . ?!"

A line had been suddenly and irrevocably crossed. He stared at Deb as her expressive face turned as hard and cold as possible. He never imagined in a million years that she could look like that.

"Deb," he said pleadingly. "I'm sorry . . ."

"I'm leaving," she said. "This is now officially yours and Brian's party. You two can do whatever the fuck you want, but I'm not going to get innocent blood on my hands . . . and I'm not going to let my baby be insulted right to my fucking face! You know he could've ended up in a bucket on some fucking abortionist's floor? God knows it's what my fucking mother would've preferred, and look what I would have missed? My beautiful son! What the whole fucking world would've missed! Now, I'm going in there," she said, gesturing to the door of Brian's room. "I'm going to get my fucking things, and I'm going to respectfully ask that the rest of you not meet at the diner anymore. I'm sorry . . . well, actually no I'm fucking not."

She opened Brian's door and slammed it behind her. Justin and Dr. Bernstein stood looking at each other for a moment in stunned silence . . .

. . . and then they heard Deb scream Brian's name.

They barged through the doorway, almost tripping over each other. For a moment, Justin couldn't understand what was going on, but then he realized the sliding door was open, billowing the long gauzy curtains.

"Hey, kiddo," Deb said carefully. "Come down, sweetie."

Doctor Bernstein held out his arm to keep Justin back; Justin struggled against him wildly.

"Don't," the doctor hissed. "We can't make a commotion."

Every nerve in Justin's body screamed at him to run to Brian, but he knew Dr. Bernstein was right. When he reached the open door, he looked out and saw Brian sitting on the thin, metal railing dangling his bare feet above the busy street. He didn't even seem aware that he wasn't alone. Justin swallowed a sickening mouthful of bile and fear.

"Brian," Dr. Bernstein said calmly. "What you're experiencing right now isn't real. It's an effect of the withdrawal process. Climb down. I've got a sedative I can give you that won't hurt the baby . . ."

Brian started laughing. It was not a pretty sound.

"Doesn't fucking matter, Doc," he said glibly. "Give me a shot of fucking Haldol if you want. Hell, give me a glass of fucking Beam. The baby's already dead. Ain't nothin' gonna hurt it now."

Both Justin and Deb gasped. Dr. Bernstein hissed at them angrily to be quiet and let him handle the situation.

"How do you know that, Brian?" he said. "How do you know the baby is dead?"

"Because I killed it," Brian said in a withered voice.

"How did you kill it?"

"I wished it was dead, and it died."

"There is no way that you can know that."

"Bullshit. I know everything. I can do anything. Hell, I can even fly . . ."

It happened in less than a fraction of an instant - maybe it was even that primal connection he'd felt when he heard Brian's distraught calling Gus's name in the hospital - Justin reached out and grabbed the collar of Brian's t-shirt. It tore, but it was enough to counteract the forward motion of Brian's fall sending them both sprawling on the floor of the balcony.

The second he was aware of what was happening, Brian started to thrash and shout. It took all three of them to subdue him and get him back into the room and onto the bed. Justin slid the door closed and locked it. When he turned back to the bed, he saw Dr. Bernstein sitting astride Brian's chest, trying to pin his hands above his head.

"I need help here!" the doctor shouted, and Justin quickly twisted a sheet into a rope, tied Brian's wrists together and held on.

"My briefcase!" Dr. Bernstein yelled.

Deb grabbed it and carried it over to the bed. With the nimbleness that comes from experience, the doctor filled a syringe from a small, sealed jar and injected the contents into Brian's arm. Almost immediately, Brian ceased struggling.

"You can let go of him," he told Justin. "This sedative is what we call a medication-induced restraint. He'll be asleep very soon."

Brian turned his head so he was looking in Justin's eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered. A tear fell and slid down his temple and into his sweaty hair.

Justin tried to give him as calm and as gentle a smile as he could. "It's okay," he said. "Whatever happened or will happen in the future is okay as long as you're safe. That's all I ask - that you stay safe."

Brian gave him a little smile in return and then fell soundly asleep. Everyone in the room breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"God, that was close," Deb said, her voice shaking now that the adrenaline had receded. She crossed herself. "Jesus Fucking Christ! I've never been so scared in my fucking life!"

She sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, and Justin went to her and wrapped his arms her, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"You saved his life," he said. "And you saved the baby's life."

She turned to look at him and patted his cheek. Justin knew in that second that all was forgiven between them.

He stood up and went to the desk where Dr. Bernstein was writing in his log.

"Do you think it's true?" he whispered. "That the baby is dead?"

Dr. Bernstein closed his log and removed his glasses. "Mothers - well, in this case pregnant fathers - have an almost sixth sense when it comes to the fetus they're carrying. But that said, Brian is not in his right mind. We cannot assume that anything he thinks or says is true. After some time has passed, I can draw a blood sample and ascertain whether his production of white blood cells has spiked. If they have, that could be a sign that the fetus is dead, and his body is trying to stave off infection. If his white blood cell count is unremarkable there is no reason at all to think the fetus has died."

"Wouldn't he miscarry if the baby was dead?" Justin asked.

"Unfortunately not," the doctor replied. There is no site of entrance or egress in the uterus-like organ that contains the fetus. Unlike a woman who becomes impregnated through her vagina and gives birth through her vagina, Brian does not have a birth canal. He was impregnated through absorption - at least that's what we believe - but he can only expel the fetus - either in the event of birth or prenatal death - through surgical intervention."

Justin took a deep breath. In his excitement over the pregnancy, he'd all but forgotten how big of an ordeal the whole experience would be for Brian - and how dangerous it was.

"When is he going to wake up?" he asked.

"In a couple of hours," the doctor replied. "In the meantime, though, I want to transport him to my office. He needs around the clock medical attention. I wish I'd known how difficult the detox process was going to be. The group of you did a good job, and he probably wouldn't be alive now except for your care, but I'm going to take over now."

Justin nodded. He was actually relieved. "Can we come to see him?" he asked.

"Of course. I think it's important for him to be constantly reminded of how deeply loved he is."

He heard Deb sniffle and then swear. "Jesus Christ! I'm like a fucking leaky faucet!"

Justin smiled . . . and then fainted dead away.