Kaz relaxed in his beloved ergo-chair with his second (of many, he hoped) cold Corona. As he pushed the slice of lime further down the long neck of the bottle, he went back over the encounter in the breeder bar with Kinney and his partner. It kept replaying like some bad Lifetime movie in perpetual reruns in his head. That the kid was stunned seeing his partner all but fucking that woman in public was a no-brainer. He'd never heard even the slightest rumor that Kinney swung both ways, and Horvath and the kid's reactions pretty much confirmed that he didn't. But he obviously did. Shit. Talk about your gossip fodder. If he was so inclined, he could have the gossip grannies set for the next couple of months. But, alas, he wasn't so inclined. Not only did he value his reputation as an investigator, but he had that distinctive gut knowledge that there was a whole fucking iceberg beneath the little tip they saw today.

He flipped open his cell phone and thumbed through the contacts, hitting one he hoped would be able to help him clarify some things. He flinched only a little as he waited for an answer on the other end. Kaz knew his official work on this job was finished and anything he did from here on out would be on his own dime. Christ. Now he was turning into some freaking Mother Theresa investigator and he didn't even know why.

"Liar," he said to himself. Who was he trying to fool? Of course he knew why.

It was Brian Fucking Kinney.

"Pete? Hey, man, it's Kaz. You still tight with Clayton at Chicago PD?"

*******

If he had ever needed his mother in his life, he knew it was now. But the phone call had still been difficult. He had sat with Brian through the rest of his stay in the ER exam room, and now he was in a private room on the third floor. Brian was still unconscious, but it appeared now as if he was sleeping deeply rather than being in a comatose state. Thank god. 

Justin felt more than heard the change in Brian's breathing, and raised his head from where it was resting on the side of the hospital bed. He tightened his hold on his partner's hand. Justin had been holding Brian's hand from the moment he saw him in recovery, only letting go for a minute while the staff made the transfer from gurney to hospital bed. He couldn't let go. Not even to take the piss he so desperately needed. He was afraid to let go.

Eyelids fluttered open for a millisecond. A grip was tightened slightly on Justin's hand. A dry tongue tried to moisten even dryer lips.

"Bri?"

Nothing.

Justin reached for the bed tray table and picked an ice cube from the paper cup sitting there. He ran it lightly over Brian's parched lips. Brian licked the moisture hungrily and Justin repeated the gesture. A small smile.

"Jus?" His voice was gravel. And it was the fucking best sound Justin had ever heard. In his life.

"Hey."

"New York."

"Yeah. It's still there."

Brian's eyes opened and closed. And opened again. Another slight smile.

"I stink."

"Yeah, you had a hard night."

"Jus?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm tired." His eyes closed and he was gone again.

Tears clouded Justin's eyes. In his heart he knew Brian wasn't talking about needing sleep.

*******

Jennifer called Cynthia, letting her know that Brian had been located. He was in the hospital and she and Justin were with him. Yes, as far as they could tell he was physically okay. No, they don't know anything else right now - he had only be awake for a couple of minutes. Yes, of course she was welcome to be there.

Justin called Carl, letting him know that Brian had been admitted and had been awake for a couple of minutes. No, they didn't know anything else at this point. Yes, could he please call the rest of the family and let them know.

Carl called Deb. And he knew all hell was going to break loose.

*******

Cynthia tapped lightly at the door and eased it open. She greeted Jennifer and Justin and then walked over to Brian's bedside. Just a glimmer of a smile on her face, she reached out and touched his cheek with the back of her hand. "Hey, Boss...," she whispered to the sleeping man.

Justin gave her a gripping hug when she turned around, holding her for long minutes before letting out a large sigh and pulling away.

"I won't stay but a minute. I just had to see him. To know..."

"It's okay, Cynthia. Believe me, I understand."

"Justin, I need to speak with you about..." she let her voice trail off without finishing. Justin figured out she didn't want to speak in front of his mother.

"Mom, I'm going to take Cynthia down for a cup of coffee. Will you stay with Brian for a couple of minutes?"

"Of course, honey. I'll call your cell if he wakes up."

"Thanks. Can I bring you something?"

Jennifer chuffed out a small laugh. "I'm fine, Justin. I know you need to talk about something. I'll be here."

Justin reached out and pulled his mother into his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder, whispering into her ear, "Thanks, Mom."

As the pair closed the door behind them, Justin smiled sheepishly at Cynthia, letting her know he really didn't want to leave the floor for coffee.

"Can we just talk here in the hall?"

"This is okay, Justin. I...I was looking at the report that Horvath brought over earlier. The one from the investigator."

"No one else knows all that, Cynthia. I was just worried that the financial informa..."

Not letting him finish his concerns, Cynthia continued, "Thank you for that, but what concerned me was the arrest in Illinois in 1994. I remember that time well. I didn't know he had been arrested, but there were some things that I thought you should be aware of around that time."

As Justin leaned back against the hospital wall, his hands in his pockets, the woman told him what she recalled about that time - the importance of the first solo account, the stress, the bond beginning between the two of them, learning his sometimes erratic behaviors and the disappearance and excuses.

"When I found out that he'd actually spent the time in jail, and saw that it was for vagrancy and panhandling, I was stunned, Justin. Not the jail part, but the charges. And the fact that he disappeared. Totally off the radar for four full days. And I noticed something else interesting on the report as well."

Justin had been silently listening, trying to process what Cynthia was saying, and what she was not saying. Although he found the incident disturbing in and of itself, he couldn't figure out why Cynthia thought it was important right now.

"Justin, ten years earlier, almost to the month, it appears that Brian began a six month sentence at Shuman. It just struck me as odd. Almost an anniversary or something. I wish I could tell you why I feel that way. I don't know. But I do."

"I hadn't noticed the dates. They most likely have nothing to do with each other, Cynthia."

"Maybe, but we do know that something important had to have happened to him in 1984 if he ended up in juvie, Justin."

"I know that '94 was the year he met Michael, and the year he...,"Justin's stopped. Suddenly he had a stricken look on his face.

"Justin? What is it?"

"Um...he...nothing. Cynthia I need to get back to Brian. Can we talk about this another time?"

 "Okay, sure." Justin knew something. Cynthia was now more convinced than ever that there was some connection between the two incidents. "Let me know what's going on, okay?"

"Yeah. I will. Later."

As Cynthia walked away, Justin's stomach lurched as he recalled the night he met Brian and the empty look on Brian's face and the haunted sound of his voice - "But I don't remember anymore."

Oh. God.

*******

Debbie and Michael arrived together.  No surprise to Justin.

Neither one knocked at the door. That was no surprise to Justin, either.

For the briefest of moments, they both just stood, like deer in headlights, staring at Brian sleeping in the hospital bed.

"He's sleeping," Justin said, simply.

"Well, wake him up. He can't just disappear like that without letting us know!" A combination of anger and hurt was apparent in Michael's voice.

"We are not waking him, Michael. Whatever is going on, he obviously needs to rest." Jennifer seriously had an urge to slap Michael. Justin had explained the strange behaviors Brian had been exhibiting and she knew, as a mother sometimes just knows, that there were serious issues ahead to deal with. She had come to deeply care for the man who was almost her son-in-law. He was complex and tortured in so many ways, but above all he was a good man.

Looking down at one of her boys, so lost at times, Debbie was torn. She did love Brian, she really did. But she was also filled with anger at him for putting them all through the anguish of the last few days. She couldn't think of a single believable reason he could give her for disappearing the way he did. Finding his car that way, next to the river...all she could think of was that he was dead. She had halfway convinced herself of that and had already begun to mourn. As she hesitantly reached out and touched his hand, the tears coursed down her cheeks, and she realized the level of hurt and anger she was holding. And relief. He was alive. She was mad as shit at him. But at least he was alive, she thought as she made the sign of the cross.

"Shut up, Michael."

"Ma..."

"Shut. Up. Michael." She repeated. "He needs to rest. There will be enough time to figure all this out when he's better."

"No, I won't shut up. What he did was selfish! He's my best friend..." Michael started but was quickly silenced by the grip of his mother's hand on his face.

"So help me, Michael, if I ever hear you use that phrase again to justify one of your own selfish needs..."

The silence in the room at Debbie's tone was deafening.

"This boy is hurting. His need is the important thing right now. Whatever it was, it hurt him so much he walked away. And itkills me to know we weren't enough."

Jennifer gathered Debbie in her arms and held her. Two mothers grieving for a son's pain. Michael watched the others in the room, painfully aware that not a single one of them understood his feelings. He loved Brian, too. But the Brian he loved would never have treated them this way - and he needed to know why. He looked at his friend lying there against the stark whiteness of the hospital linen, reached over and gave him a light kiss on the lips.

He felt the slight pressure on his lips. Struggling against the waves of fatigue, he blinked his eyes open and saw the face of the one who had kissed him. Cocking his head out of the way, he reached up, roughly grabbed the front of the other man's shirt and growled in a soft brogue, "Just what the FUCK do ya think you are doin'?"

Justin's heart skipped a beat, nearly stopped. He closed his eyes against the tingle of tears and quietly pressed the nurse's call button.

*******

Martin Patterson stood at the nurse's station and looked over the test results in Kinney's file. Other than the blood alcohol content being a little high there was nothing. The scans looked fine as well. Back to square one. He went back over the scant information he had on the man.

Objectively he noted that the patient was a little under the optimal weight for his height, but had good muscle tone. Obviously kept physically fit. Age 35. Presented in an unconscious state. With the exception of a high BAC, nothing notable from the blood tests. CT scan within normal.

Subjectively he noted first responders' and partner's concerns about confusion. Partner claims he didn't know his own identity, that he was acting outside of any normal parameters, became physically violent when confronted, spoke with accent not normally present.

Although considering himself an excellent diagnostician, Patterson had to admit this one was a bit puzzling. Deciding that a complete neuro work-up was necessary, he so notated the file. As an afterthought he indicated the possible need for a psych evaluation, pending the results of neuro report.

As he made his final notation and closed the file, he saw the call light was lit for Kinney's room. He walked with the nurse in response to the call, hoping the patient was awake and rational. Entering the room, he noticed Kinney was indeed awake and holding another man by the front of his shirt in a rather menacing way. The nurse stopped immediately, knowing that to approach might exacerbate the situation. Dr. Patterson moved in front of the nurse at the same moment that Kinney released the man he was holding with a slight shove. No one in the room made any attempt to move at this point and all of them, including Kinney, carried slightly confused or stunned looks. Trying to diffuse any further issues, the doctor chose to ignore the previous situation and speak matter-of-factly.

"So, our patient is awake. Hello, Mr. Kinney, I'm Dr. Martin Patterson." As he spoke, he noticed the change on the face of his patient. He was... wary... his eyes darting around the room as if he were looking for an avenue of escape.

"What am I doin' here?" The doctor immediately noted the brogue Mr. Taylor had mentioned earlier. Focusing on his patient, he didn't notice the even more confused looks on the faces of the others in the room, but he did hear one of the women mutter under her breath. "Jesus Christ."

"You are in the hospital, Mr. Kinney. You were brought in unconscious earlier today." Dr. Patterson watched carefully as the wary confusion played out on his patient's face. He watched as the man reached over toward the bedside table and picked up the phone sitting there. He watched as he threw the phone across the room, his face a collage of emotion. He watched as the man's breathing grew deep and ragged. And he watched as the man rolled his shoulder slightly and disappeared.

Blinking his eyes, Brian looked around the room at the group of shocked faces. He smiled slightly and lay back on the pillow, reaching out and taking Justin's hand. He turned his head slightly and caught Michael's gaze.

"Hey, Mikey."