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He just kept his eyes closed. That's all he could do. If he could figure out a way to close his fucking ears, as well? Yeah, he'd be right on that. But they would just keep demanding shit. Talking and talking and talking. BrianBrianBrian... It just went on and on. Christ. "Shut the fuck up already! Leave me the fuck alone!" But he didn't actually say that. Not out loud. He couldn't get his mouth to work right. It didn't matter much, they wouldn't shut theirs up long enough for his to get any airtime. FuckFuckFuck... It was always his fault. He did it wrong again. And they were blaming him again. Their voices grating and pinching and scratching and gnawing inside him.

"I don't fucking know what you want from me!" Brian shouted aloud.

He jerked his eyes open and scanned the silent room. He was alone.

*******

Justin had introduced his mother, Debbie and Michael as Brian's chosen family to the doctor as they were settling into the small lounge area across from Brian's room. Dr. Patterson sat down on the paint cracked plastic seat, leaned forward, elbows on knees, hands clasped in front, and let out a small sigh before addressing the group settling nearby.

"As I told Mr. Taylor earlier today, we haven't found anything from our examinations and tests at this point that speak to Mr. Kinney's symptoms. I have ordered a neurological workup which will, hopefully, give us some direction here. We know Mr. Kinney has a history of cancer, as well as heavy drug and alcohol use, a high stress profession..."

"Doctor, forgive me if I overstep my boundaries here," Jennifer spoke quietly, "but you saw what happened in there. What was that?"

Martin Patterson struggled with how to best address the woman's question. He didn't want to step too far outside his own area of expertise by making assumptions regarding the obvious personality flux Brian had exhibited. They had all witnessed the episode first hand. Not being acquainted with the man prior to this morning, he couldn't even make an informed guess as to which of those facades might be the true one.

"Mrs. Taylor, I know we all witnessed something that appears strange to us, but until we know more, I simply cannot give you an answer as to what ‘that' was. But if I could, perhaps, ask a few questions about Mr. Kinney?"

"Go ahead," Michael led off. "We've all known Brian a long time."

"Okay. First, someone tell me about Brian. Who is he? What is he like?"

They all thought over that loaded question before answering.

"He's a proud man," Debbie began. "Doesn't let anyone inside. Keeps it all under lock and key."

"Brian's all about Brian. His business, his tricks, his needs..." Michael piped up. He was still angry about Brian's disappearance and the way he had been treated a few minutes ago. The obvious fact that something was wrong with Brian had a hard time competing with all of Michael's insecurities and unrequited feelings over so many years. His conscience nagged at him, telling him that Brian was not really well. But where Brian was concerned Michael's conscience was, more often than not, relegated to the backseat while his id rode shotgun for his tender ego.

Jennifer bristled at the words of Brian's ‘best friend'. "Brian is as generous a man as you could ever find, Michael. It took me a long time to see and understand that. How can you be so blind?"

At Jennifer's words, Michael shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He actually knew he was being an ass, but for fuck's sake, he was tired of Brian's strange behavior. He wanted his friend back.

Justin barely took notice of the dialogue that had been going on around him. He was trying to figure out how one could reduce something as complex as a man like Brian Kinney into some sort of convenient sound bite. He stood and walked to the wide window, reaching up slightly to adjust the blinds. He just stood looking over at the door to Brian's room, as if that would help him find just the right words.

"Brian is... everything. Intelligent, creative, driven... and a beautiful man who appreciates beauty in others. He's arrogant, narcissistic, stubborn, yet kind and gentle. A man who would go to any lengths to make sure his friend had her dream wedding, but wouldn't miss the White Party to attend it." He laughed lightly at that memory. "Brian is...private...with his feelings, almost to a fault. And public with his sex, almost to a fault." Dr. Patterson's lips turned up in an embarrassed little smile at that comment. "Fiercely protective of those he cares about."

Justin paused, but it was filled with anticipation. He turned back toward the others in the room.

"He likes people to think he is so emotionally strong, that nothing can hurt him. But that's a lie he wants others to believe. He's so very vulnerable. He hurts. But he just puts on another mask and goes on as if nothing has happened. They slip once in awhile - the masks - and then you can see a little glimpse of who he really is. He's a perfect puzzle." An uneasy dream of fractured Chinese tangrams played at the back of Justin's memory.

The doctor now held two seemingly unrelated thoughts:

First, he was hoping beyond all hope that his suspicions about his patient were way off base.  

And he thought Brian Kinney sounded like one amazing man.

*******

Hours later, Alice McCarthy stood in the third floor hallway going over the patient file she had picked up at the nurse's station. Martin had called in a favor, one she was pretty sure was a wasted effort, and asked her to visit one of his patients - a Brian Kinney. Apparently Kinney was evidencing some behavioral issues that were outside of what his family reported as normal, as well as having an extended unexplained disappearance and presenting at the ER unconscious. She knew that what Martin suspected was highly unlikely, given the reported prior history of this patient. Successful, well to do financially, no prior known psychiatric diagnoses. Her best guess would be some neurologic issue, but a favor was a favor, she reminded herself.

As Dr. McCarthy entered Brian's room, the man's uncovered back was to her and he was going through the drawers in the small closet, tossing the few articles of clothing he found there onto the floor. He obviously had not noticed her enter and she took those few invisible moments to observe him. He was tall, quite thin but fairly well toned. Wearing only the open back hospital gown, he appeared comfortable with his body since he wasn't trying to hold the back closed. Experience had taught her that most people, even when alone, are uncomfortable with that kind of exposure. The patient's body language indicated to her that he was agitated or confused. One hand was running repeatedly through his hair. He held what appeared to be a plaid shirt in the other hand and was staring at it with a somewhat horror-struck twist on his face.

Deciding to make her presence known on her own terms rather than lose any chance of gaining his trust by being discovered ‘spying' on him, she addressed him softly.

"Mr. Kinney?"

"Where the fuck are my clothes?"

"Aren't those your clothes, Mr. Kinney?" Dr. McCarthy knew that what he was wearing when he arrived at the hospital would have been placed in that closet.

"Of course they are. I always make it a habit of asking where something is while holding it in my hand," he bit out sarcastically. "Fuck no, these are not my clothes!"

"I'm sure we can ask the nurse if there was perhaps some mistake, but the staff is quite careful with patients' belongings. What were you wearing when you arrived this morning?"

"I was wearing...I had..." Fuck. He couldn't even remember coming to the hospital, let alone what he was wearing. Brian slammed the closet door and ran his hand over the bridge of his nose, pinching it as he tried to concentrate. "I don't recall exactly, but I know it wasn't this shit," he conceded.

"Try to remember. What was the last thing you recall wearing?" Dr. McCarthy watched as Mr. Kinney struggled to find an answer to the relatively simple question. He appeared... lost. She knew she was seeing some of the confusion Martin had mentioned.

"Okay. Let's not worry about what you were wearing. Can you tell me the last thing you remember before you came to the hospital?"

Brian clenched his eyes shut against the sudden urge to cry. What was that about? God. And why was his head starting to hurt like this? And why the fuck couldn't he think straight! And why was this idiot asking all these fucking questions?

"Listen. Are you listening?" Brian didn't wait for the woman to answer him. "I don't know who the hell you are or even why the hell I'm here. But it doesn't matter. I'm leaving. And I want my own fucking clothes." He would call Justin. Or Cynthia. Anyone who could bring him some clothes so he could get out of this mad house. Finding that his cell phone was not with the other belongings that were supposed to be his, he reached over to the bedside table where the room phone should have been. There was nothing.

"Where's the phone?" he asked, pissed at having to work this hard for such a simple thing.

"You don't remember?"

"Remember? What am I supposed to remember now?" He was growing tired. Tired of the questions, tired of not knowing the answers, tired of thinking and thinking and thinking...

"You threw the phone across the room earlier. You were angry, and you are angry now. What are you angry about, Mr. Kinney?"

"I'm not...angry. I... Shit!" He closed his eyes and leaned back against the closet door. He wanted to cry, to scream, to... do something! What was he wearing? In the loft? He wanted to sleep again - to sleep for a long time. He just wanted to be able to breathe! "I can't... I can't... anymore..."

"Just leave us alone." The voice was soft and small and so full of fear. The timbre was different. The inflection had changed. Dr. McCarthy looked on the man crumpling to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest protectively. She watched him as he put his head on his knees and cradled himself, rocking almost imperceptibly. "Just leave us alone."

And she knew without a doubt that Martin was right. Brian Kinney was an amazing man. And her heart broke a little for him. For them.

*******

Justin had not left the hospital since Brian had been brought into the ER early that morning. Sitting in the cafeteria trying to drink down the sorry excuse for coffee they provided, he so wished he had some of Cynthia's Kava tea. But that would probably put him to sleep as tired as he was at the moment. And he needed to stay awake. The crap coffee would have to do.

He had just finished a long talk with Daphne and had managed to convince her that coming to the hospital now would be useless. After the episode in Brian's room and the non-productive talk with the family and Dr. Patterson afterward, he couldn't decide if he wanted to be unconscious or to scream. Shit, even recovering from his bashing wasn't this stressful. Was it? Maybe for Brian? Maybe it was always worse when it was someone you loved rather than yourself. He knew he had been hurt, terrified, even a bit hopeless when he found out Brian had cancer, but at least he knew what it was. This? No, this was much worse. This was like being in the middle of hell, being forced to watch the man you love disappear. Slowly. Atom by atom. Morphing right before his eyes into... what?

Justin had nearly begged Debbie and Michael to keep Brian's hospitalization private, to not tell the rest of the family. Debbie had said it herself - Brian was a proud man. If he didn't want anyone to know about the cancer, he sure as hell wouldn't want anyone to know about whatever the fuck this was. But Justin knew... he just knew... that by the time they reached the parking lot the rest of the gang was being blasted with all kinds of exaggerations and misinformation. Goddamn, he hated the way they twisted Brian around, claiming to love him and then having some kind of morbid gossip party when he was down. Justin didn't doubt that they loved Brian. They just didn't know how to love him. It was abusive love, though they would never see it that way. Their kind of love was only a broken bone away from the kind of love Brian's parents had for him.

Overwhelmed with the enormity of everything that had happened in the last few days, Justin rested his head on the cafeteria table. He just needed to relax. The fatigue was drawing him deeper and deeper when he heard his phone ring. Right now he couldn't miss any calls and he answered the unidentified number. It was Dr. Patterson. And he wanted to meet right away.

God.

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