Brian checked one last time with the cab driver that it was indeed the address he had requested before exiting the cab. It had taken a lot to get this address.  First he'd gone to Justin's last known address and found that the person he'd shared the apartment with no longer lived there. 

The problem was the only people who might know where Justin was living were his mother, Debbie, or Daphne.  He didn't want to ask Jennifer, because then he would have to explain why he wanted to know.   After the housewarming Brian kept his contact with Debbie and Michael to the bare minimum for obvious reasons.  That left Daphne and he had no idea where she could be. 

Emmett knew what he was up to.  Hell, it had been his suggestion, so Brian called Emmett to bitch.  Emmett, in turn had surprised him by knowing how to get in touch with Daphne, causing  Brian to slap his hand to his head in a 'duh, why didn't I think of that' fashion.  Unfortunately, while Daphne did manage to get in touch with her friend who'd married and moved, the friend had no idea where Justin had gone.

Brian had felt like screaming.  He'd thrown his phone against a wall instead.

It was just dumb luck that while Theodore was in New York to attend the symphony he passed a gallery that had a familiar painting in the window.   It turned out that the artist was indeed Justin Taylor.   He immediately bought the painting and managed to finagle Justin's address out of the gallery owner saying he wanted to commission a painting.

So now he was huffing and puffing up three flights of stairs.  He squenched his nose because the place smelled almost as bad as the one in Pittsburgh that Justin had moved into a long time ago.  Taking a deep breath he knocked on the door. 

The door flew open suddenly and Justin started saying, "Look I told you..."  before he realized who was there.  "Look, I'm sorry, I know you told me to never contact you and that I should have stayed away, but Michael insisted."   

This was said at the same time as Brian said,  "The cancer's back."

"What?  When did I say that?"  Brian asked at the same time Justin said,  "What do you mean the cancer's back?"

Talking over one another wasn't working.   Brian head was throbbing , "Can I come in?" he pleaded.

Justin reluctantly let him in and Brian could immediately see why.  The place was small even by New York standards and cluttered with boxes.  On top of one of the boxes Brian's sharp eyes spotted an eviction notice right before Justin made a grab for it and crumpled it up. 

"What the fuck is this about me asking you to stay away?"  Brian asked.  "I never..."  He pulled out his cell phone and went through his e-mails shoving it into Justin's face.  "This is the last thing I got from you saying you didn't want to have anything more to do with me.  That things were going really good for you."

Justin grabbed the phone and squinted.  Eventually he pulled out a pair of glasses and one handedly put them on.  His eyes widened as he read the e-mail and he shook his head in disbelieve.  "Brian, I never sent this."  There were tears in his eyes.  "I no sooner got settled when the apartment was broken into and all my stuff was stolen.  Daphne's friend said she'd been living there for years and never once been broken into.  She told me I had to find someplace else to live."

Brian was horrified.  "Why didn't you call me?"

"I did.  I was upset and all I got was the answering machine.  The next day Michael called telling me that you didn't want to hear from me ever again.  That you were tired of giving and giving."

Brian shook his head vehemently.  "Justin, I never got that message.  I would have been on the next plane out if I had.  And I certainly never said anything like that."  He tried to remember those first few weeks surrounding Justin's leaving for New York.  Michael had stopped by a lot, constantly cajoling him into reopening Babylon.  Mikey wouldn't would he?

"Forget that,"  Justin demanded.  "What do you mean the cancer's back?  Are you going to lose your remaining ball?"

"No."  Brian shook his head.

"Not your prostate,"  Justin breathed.  That was even worse than losing a ball in Justin's opinion.

"No,"  Brian repeated, his face turning red.  "Breast cancer," he whispered in embarrassment.

Justin's mouth opened and he sat on one of the boxes causing it to sink in. 

Brian looked down, shocked.  This was not the same man who he had let leave him for New York.   Brian Kinney had many regrets for how he'd treated this man over the years.  But one thing he still believed with his whole heart was what he'd told Justin all those years ago, that he was too old.  That Justin needed to grow up and become his own man.  Even when Justin left him to go live with Ian he felt that it was what Justin needed.  This was more like the boy whom he'd  been shortly after the bashing, not the man who left for LA.  Brian knew very well that Justin could have done well in LA, that it wasn't his fault that the movie went belly up.

Justin on the other hand was  stunned.  Breast cancer was the last thing he would have considered on finding out Brian was once again sick with cancer.  What did it mean?  Why was Brian telling him this?

Brian had hurt him time after time.  That's what he'd had to tell himself over and over to get through the past few years.  He'd gone to Hollywood with no real plan for what he would do if the movie didn't pan out.  He'd come to New York with no real plan other than relying on what Lindsay and the magazine article had told him.  Shit, Brian was sick.

Justin was shaking.  Brian knelt in front of him, noticing his eyes were not focused.  It didn't look like he was on anything; it looked like he was having a panic attack.  "Justin, where is your medication?" 

"No money.   Not for meds, not for food, not for rent," he muttered.

"Justin, you have the house in West Virginia,"  Brian informed him.

Justin shook his head vehemently.  "Your house."

"How soon they forget.  Listen to me.  Are you listening?  Remember.  I bought it for my prince.  You can move in there."

"Without you?  Noooo!"

Brian settled back on his heels.  Justin's current behavior was unusual for the Justin he knew.   He remembered the bright, cocky boy he lived with and wondered why he had fought so hard not to admit he cared.  There was so much he could tell him, but now was not the time, mainly because someone was banging on the door.  Brian reluctantly got up and opened the door.

"Look, kid.  I'm sorry but..."  An overweight man wearing an undershirt and old pair of slacks stood in the doorway.  It took him a moment to notice that the man he was talking to was not his tenant.  "Where's Taylor?"  His sharp eyes quickly spotted Justin sitting in a box and rocking back and forth.  "Is he okay? Should I call an ambulance?"

Truthfully Brian thought it might be a good idea, but seeing Justin hospitalized in New York was not in the cards.  Furthermore, this was not the independent Justin he'd fallen in love with.  Then it occurred to him that maybe this was how Justin felt about the changes he had seen in him right before he left for New York.  

Brian's phone rang and he moved aside to answer it.  "Theodore, this had better be important."

Then he was surprised when in the snap of the eye Justin was next to him apologizing to his landlord saying he was alright and asking for more time.  Brian cocked and eyebrow thinking the change in Justin was rather dramatic.

"Son, I can't do it.  You're already three months behind,"  the man said and amazingly enough he sounded sincere. 

Theodore, who was still on the line, heard it all.   "Three months behind on what?"

"Rent,"  Brian informed him.

Ted who had the advantage of knowing where Brian was and why, an unusual occurrence in itself, turned to his computer and pulled up the address on a realty page.  While the apartment in question was one of the cheaper ones, the total amount Justin owed for three months rent was not cheap.  "Holy shit."

"If you can't pay, I'll be forced to call in the cops,"  the landlord said.

"Police?"  Justin gasped as he seemed to shrink in on himself and the next thing Brian knew he was flying out the room.

"Shit,"  Brian shouted and dropped the phone to run after him.

Justin was half way down the staircase, hugging the railing.  He slipped and fell down to the landing with a scream. 

Brian had seen Justin panic before, but nothing like the full grown panic he was in now.  He made the trip down the stairs fast and gathered Justin into his arms.

"I don't understand?  What's wrong with me?"  Justin wailed as he clung to Brian.

All Brian knew was that life was too short and he vowed to protect Justin anyway he could.