Chapter 37 - Repercussions.

Repercussions: An unintended consequence occurring some time after an event or action, esp. an unwelcome one.

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Brian's POV
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‘And, the worst part of all - if Craig saw the caller ID when the call came in on Jennifer's phone, he knows about Justin.’

Fuck. I can’t let Craig get to Justin. He’s not ready to deal with that. Even if Craig didn’t intend to do anything, even if they were to just bump into each other on the street, Justin couldn’t handle that. And now I may have just inadvertently set things up so that Craig will actually want to confront Justin. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!  

Stop it, Kinney. You have to stop and think this through. How long has it been since that first phone call? Shit. It’s been at least a half hour now, maybe more. That’s a lot of time for Craig to decide what he’s going to do. But, what can he do? He has Justin’s phone number but nothing else. We can always change the phone number - that’s no big deal. He can’t use that to find the loft - it’s registered through Kinnetik. 

But, Taylor definitely can find Kinnetik - the address is right on the fucking website, for fuck’s sake. Worse, he doesn’t even have to make that connection between Justin’s number and Kinnetik - he has the address for TelePhonix, Brian Kinney’s company, which just happens to be the same address as Kinnetik. If he can find me, he can find Kinnetik and Justin’s here at Kinnetik right now working.  

All I can think about is that I have to get Justin out of here as fast as possible. 

“Ted,” I shout into the intercom. “Get Justin and get up here to my office immediately.”

Two minutes later, Ted and Justin come rushing into my office, both looking panicked by my call and my demeanor. Fuck, the last thing I want is to freak Justin out. I need to calm down and deal with this logically.  

“Justin, we’re leaving early today. I know I didn’t give you any warning, but something’s just come up. Can you go tell Cynthia to clear my calendar for the rest of the day. Tell her I’ll call her later to explain. And then wait for me in the lobby. I’ll be right out as soon as I give Ted some instructions.”

“Sure, Brian. But, what’s wrong? Why are we leaving now?” Justin asks.

“I’ll tell you in the car on the way, okay. We have to get going though, so please just wait in the lobby for me, okay?”

“Ted, the shit’s hit the proverbial fan, I’m afraid. I suspect that Craig Taylor has just put it all together and knows who I am and that I’m connected to Justin. He’s probably on the way here right now,” I confess to my friend as soon as Justin’s out of the office. “I have to get Justin out of here - he can’t see Craig Taylor. You think that panic attack back at Babylon was bad, I don’t even want to think what will happen if Justin meets Craig. I don’t think Craig can find the loft so we’ll go there and if that doesn’t seem safe, I’ll just take him to a hotel until I think of something.”

“Fuck, Brian. I didn’t think to use a drop box address on the TelePhonix documents. That way he couldn’t have found this place even if he had made the connection. Shit. I’m sorry, Brian,” Ted tries to apologize, but I don’t have time for it.

“It hardly matters now, does it? But, more importantly, I don’t trust Taylor. He’s got a violent streak to him. So, I need you to get on the phone to that security company we’ve used in the past for parties and photo shoots and get them hired right away. I want security here round the clock until further notice. I may also want someone to check out the security at the loft - they have consultants that can do that, so set that up too. I don’t want any employees leaving the building alone until the security is set up, you hear me. I don’t trust this guy at all."

“Got it, Boss,” Ted asserts. “Anything else?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t had time to think it all through yet. I’ll call you later okay and we can figure this out then. I just have to get Justin out of here before Craig shows up. You’re in charge of keeping the rest of Kinnetik safe for now.”

“Will do. Go on and get out of here.” Ted says as he follows me out the door. 

“Come on, Sunshine,” I say, glad that Justin is right where he’s supposed to be, waiting for me in the lobby near the front door. 

I grab Justin’s hand and practically jog through the door towards my parking space. Perks of being the boss, I have the first parking space - which means that at least we don’t have to traipse through a sea of cars before we’re at the Jeep and buckled safely inside. I start the car and pull out of the parking space, pulling out of the parking lot onto the street before I start to actually breathe again. I think I might have done it. I might have beat Craig.

As we pull up to the stoplight at the corner of Liberty Avenue, I lean over and pull Justin towards me to kiss him. I’m so relieved that I just can’t stop myself. I just want to know that he’s okay and that I haven’t screwed everything up. The kiss is hot and long and I think we miss the light when it changes because I hear a car behind us honking.

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Justin’s POV

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Brian has me really worried. Brian is never panicky or rash. He's always in control, even when he's out of control. But today when he called Ted and I into his office he was definitely panicking about something. And the fact that he wouldn't tell me what it was about makes me even more worried.

But I know enough not to make it worse by delaying him, asking too many questions or not following his directions. I know he'll tell me what's wrong as soon as he can. So I let him send me out of the room while he talks to Ted. I follow orders and relay the message to Cynthia. I even wait patiently for him in the lobby. But none of this makes we worry less. 

Brian puts me into the passenger seat of the Jeep and actually buckles my seatbelt just like he would for Gus. Then he drives away from the building like it was on fire. He's breathing fast as if he'd just run a foot race and he keeps looking over at me, maybe expecting me to disappear? It's freaking me out, and the only thing keeping me from panicking too is that I'm not even sure what it is I'm supposed to be afraid of. 

When we're a couple of blocks from the office, I think I finally see him relax a bit. He gives me a half smile and finally stops crushing my hand in his vice-like grip. At the stoplight, he leans towards me, hooking his hand around my neck and tugging me over to kiss him - which I take as a good sign. I hope this means that whatever upset him is finished.

As we kiss, Brian is facing mostly forward, his eyes half veiled but open just enough to see when the light changes. But the way he pulled me around, I'm facing towards the side and rear of the car. Which is why I can see the car behind us and it's driver, who seems to be acting strangely. 

I first notice him when he honks his car horn, causing me to open my eyes even though I don't break the kiss. He seems to be gesturing wildly inside the car but the vehicle is just far enough away and it's a weird angle, so I'm not completely sure what he's saying or signaling. Whatever it is, though, he's very emphatic.

When he doesn't get whatever response he's waiting for, the driver stops honking and gesturing and begins to back up his car. I think maybe he's just going to go around us. Fine with me - I can go back to enjoying my kiss with Brian. But, for some reason, I don't close my eyes again.

That's why I see everything as the car comes barreling back towards us, speeding up as it nears. It all happens so fast. I only have time to yell, "Brian!" before the car has rammed into the rear of the Jeep, knocking both Brian and I forward into the rapidly deploying airbags.

But, for that brief period of time right as the collision happens, I look up at the driver of the other car, who I can see clearly since the car is now so close, and I see the sneering face of my father, Craig Taylor. 

Then, it's all noise and pain and confusion and trying to get the air bag away from my face so I can see what's going on. The way Brian had been sitting, his body leaning towards me and slightly turned, I think the airbag hit him at an odd angle and he seems a bit stunned. Okay, maybe I look stunned too but I don't feel like it. Brian isn't moving very quickly though. As soon as I can get my air bag deflated enough to move my arms, I try to help him. 

Then I see out of the corner of my eye that the car which hit us is backing up again. I turn to watch, thinking that my father the coward is going to flee the scene. The silly thought of trying to get his license plate when he drives away flashes through my brain. The car doesn't go very far though. As soon as he's pulled back about a half a block, he shifts out of reverse and comes gunning it back towards where we're still stopped. 

There aren't any airbags this time. Brian is already hurt and this time he gets thrown right into the steering wheel as I watch helplessly. I'm twisted in my seat watching the car behind us, plus I'm in the passenger seat, so I just slam with my shoulder against the padded dashboard, which hurts like hell but doesn't really cause any major damage, at least not that I can tell right away. But Brian is unconscious and it looks like he's bleeding. I'm trying to get out of my seatbelt and move towards Brian when HE comes to the passenger door and glares in at me. His presence alone causes me to freeze and I'm instantly helpless to do anything to protect myself. 

"I should have known," he hisses at me through the crumbling safety glass. "On top of it all, you turn out to be a fag. Not only is my son a goddamned traitor, helping this scum and your slut of a mother to destroy me, but you're a thrice damned faggot who's going to burn in the depths of hell for all eternity. I hope you enjoy your damnation you son of a bitch pervert. You and this fucking pederast can rot in hell or, for that matter, just rot here on Earth as you slowly waste away from AIDS, for all I care. Oh, and you can tell your boyfriend when he wakes up - if he wakes up *he he he* - that I'll pay him his money back when Hell freezes over."

When he's done with his little speech, my father just stands there laughing at me. He's laughing like the sight in front of him - me frozen with fear while Brian is slumped unconscious at my side - is the funniest thing he's ever seen. Each little syllable of his laughter feels like a needle piercing through my skin, my heart, my brain. A million little individual wounds each trying to pierce through to my core where they will once more blow open the almost healed hole inside me.

Off in the distance I finally hear the sirens from approaching emergency vehicles. My father looks up briefly, noting the crowds of people gathering nearby, then he leans in through the window and spits right in my face with his most contemptuous sneer. When I do nothing to either stop him or avoid the flying spittle, he laughs again, then calmly walks away, gets back in his smashed car and drives away. 

Of course I'm not really paying any attention anymore. Everything around me is turning grey and hazy. My field of vision is narrowing down as the tunnel of fear and pain closes in on me. I can hear myself wailing and crying, but the sound seems to be coming from outside me and from a long way away. And then it all goes black and I don't remember anything else for a long, long time.

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Brian's POV

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*Beep, beep*. *Beep, beep*. *Beep, beep*. "Pupils are dilated unevenly. Loss of consciousness more than fifteen minutes and counting. Grade three concussion. No obvious spinal cord or neck injuries. Possible broken wrist. Minor cuts, bruises. We're on our way - ETA five minutes."

The voice is loud. It grates and hurts my head. That fucking beeping noise is even worse. I wish they'd all just shut up and let me sleep.

"Second victim is male, approximately eighteen years old. He's conscious but non-responsive. No obvious head injuries. He appears to have an injury to his arm or shoulder but he's not cooperating with our examination so I'm not sure - probably a dislocated shoulder. Minor cuts and bruises. Exhibiting symptoms of severe PTSD."

Justin. It's Justin. The voice is talking about Justin. I just can't remember why that's important.

~~*~~

"Here. This one had ID on him. Name's 'Brian Kinney'. Don't know about the other one, couldn't find any ID on him," the grating voice says.

"Thanks. The cops are on their way. I hear it was a hit and run. They should be here any minute. You'll have to wait and give a statement," a second voice, much softer and less grating answers.

"Yeah. You done with that ID? I'd better give it to the cops when I talk to them," voice one says.

"Sure. Here you go," voice two replies and then I think I hear footsteps.

"Brian? Can you hear me? I'm Doctor Tamara Fields. Brian? If you can hear me, please squeeze my hand."

"He's drifting in and out, right now. Better get him down to imaging. I want an MRI and X-rays, both of the head and that left wrist."

~~*~~

"I'm sorry, officer. He's not fully conscious yet. I doubt he's going to be any help to you," voice two says, trying to stop several other voices from talking to me.

"Okay, doc. We'll come back and get a statement later. Here's my card. Please call if his condition changes," says a large, very loud voice.

"Of course. Any luck on finding us some ID on our other patient? He's completely uncooperative and we suspect psychological issues. At this point it looks like we won't be able to treat him without sedating him, but we don't have anyone to give consent," voice two asks.

"We found some papers in the Jeep. We think his name is Justin Taylor. We're working on locating next of kin for both vics now. I'll call you when I've got something definite, doc," says large voice.

Justin. It's Justin. I need to go help Justin. . .

~~*~~

"Mr. Kinney? Brian? It's Dr. Fields. Do you think you can answer a few questions for me?" it's soft voice again, and I now get that she's my doctor. 

"Yes," I answer.

"Good. Now, can you tell me your full name?"

"Brian Kinney," I rasp out, my lips and mouth very dry.

"Do you know where you are?"

"Looks like a hospital to me," I answer.

"Very observant. Can you tell me what happened to you?"

That's a much tougher question. "No. Should I remember?"

"Well, yes, you probably should, but it's understandable why you can’t. You were in a car accident and you've sustained a severe concussion. It's what we doctors refer to as a Grade Three Concussion. It may take you quite some time to regain your memories and all functions. That's why I'm asking you these questions. Someone will be asking you similar questions periodically over the next twenty four hours until we're sure you're fully okay. Do you understand?"

"I guess," I reply. "Why does my hand hurt?"

"I'm afraid you fractured your wrist. It's not a bad break though. You were relatively lucky. You'll have to keep it in this soft cast for about six weeks, but it should eventually be good as new," Dr. Soft Voice says. "Other than that, how do you feel?"

"My head feels like a Mack Truck ran over it. I kind of feel like I want to vomit. And, that light you're flicking at me, hurts my eyes," I tell her. "Are you sure I was in a car accident? This feels like my standard Sunday morning hangover."

"Ouch. Well at least your sense of humor wasn't damaged in the accident," the doctor says, writing something on a clipboard as we speak. "Okay. That's it for now. I'll be back in a few hours to check up on you. Just try to rest and if you need anything the call button is over there."

She starts to leave and I'm already starting to drift off to sleep when she turns back and asks, "Just one more thing, Mr. Kinney. Is there anyone you'd like us to call for you - family, friends - to let them know you’re here and that you're okay?"

Thats when I get worried. There's someone that I do want here, I know it. But I can't remember. I know that I should remember something important. Fuck. What am I forgetting?

"That's okay, Mr. Kinney. A concussion often causes confusion and short term memory problems. We expect it to improve with time. When you're ready, just let the nurse know and she’ll take care of that for you. I'll be back in a few hours."

The doctor is out the door and I'm trying to lie back and get comfortable without jogging my injured left wrist before I realize what the fuck is wrong here - Justin! Where is Justin? 

Shit. If I'm in the hospital, where is Justin and who's taking care of him? Why isn't he here? He would be here wouldn't he, if he knew I was hurt? It doesn't make sense. Something is very wrong. 

I start pressing the nurses' call button frantically. Nobody has come in yet though so I start to get up out of bed - I'll go find Justin myself. But I'm only halfway to the door when a nurse comes in and wrangles me back to bed. I'm amazed at how weak I feel. She orders me to stay in bed; tells me that I could still get dizzy from the concussion and I might fall so I have to stay in bed. She won't shut up long enough for me to tell her what the problem is or why I was out of bed in the first place. 

"Shut the fuck up!" I scream at her, and immediately regret it because of how much it hurts my head. 

It does get the babbling nurse's attention, though.

"I need you to find my cell phone for me. I need to call my partner. Something's wrong - he should be here if he knew I was hurt. I think something's wrong."

Babbling Nurse is just standing there glaring at me still. I'm pretty sure I'm speaking English. What part of that was so hard to understand?

"Please. His name is Justin Taylor," I try again, hoping Babbling Nurse can somehow understand me this time. "His number is . . . Fuck, I can't remember his phone number. It's in my cell phone though. Please just find him for me."

"I'll try, Mr. Kinney," she finally says with a sigh. "Justin, what was the last name again?"

"Taylor. Justin Taylor. Please hurry. I'm . . . I think something's wrong with him."