Brian walked out of the hospital, thankful that he didn't see any of "the family". Feeling for his keys, he realized that was a useless endeavor.  He flipped open his phone and called for the service.  He waited for the car in the lobby and was pleased to see that it arrived in less than ten minutes.
 
"Mr. Kinney," the driver said, tipping his hat slightly when he opened the door.
 
"Take me to Lindsey's house," he directed.
 
Brian closed his eyes while the driver made his way through Pittsburgh's winding streets.  Unfortunately, his mind wouldn't rest as all he could see was Justin's car being hit at the stop light. The crunch of the metal and the jarring of the car were as vivid in his mind now as it was on Saturday night. After forty five minutes, they arrived at their destination.
 
"Mr. Kinney," the driver spoke solicitously.  "We're here.  Should I wait for you?"
 
Brian roused himself from his semi-dream state.  "No, I'll call if I need you."  He gave the chauffeur a large tip and got out of the car.
 
Walking up to the door, he wasn't certain why he came, but this was the first place that came to mind.  He knocked on the door and Gus answered.
 
"Hey Dad," Gus greeted his father and gave him a light punch on the arm.  "Come in," he motioned.
 
Brian walked in and went straight for the couch, slumping over, his head in his hands.
 
"Dad, is Justin okay?  Momma called and said they were both in their rooms," Gus asked worriedly.
 
"Justin's fine and Mikey's still pretty drugged up but the docs say they'll both recover," Brian said flatly.
 
Gus let out a deep breath.  "Good.  I'm glad. I'd offer you a shot, but the strongest thing we have is some beer.  You know how the moms are," Gus offered.  I wish I had something stronger.  He looks so devastated.
 
"A beer will do," Brian said halfheartedly.
 
Happy to have something to do, Gus jumped up and grabbed a beer.  I can't wait until I'm old enough to drink.  Curious to see what all the fuss is about.  Normally Dad would probably not mind me having some, but today is probably not a good time to ask.  I'll be seventeen in one month--the same age as Justin was when he met Dad.  Wow, that seems like forever.
 
Brian popped the top, taking a long draw.  Grimacing after he swallowed, he looked at the label.  "What the fuck? Your moms have no taste in beer.  This is like drinking piss water. Throw it away, Sonny Boy."  Brian handed the bottle back to Gus.
 
Gus took the bottle and drained it in the sink, returning to the living room and his father.  "Want me to take you to the store?  I'm sure they have better stuff there?" he offered.
 
Brian looked at his son, the obvious caring in his eyes and the desire to help. "Thanks, but no, Sonny Boy.  I really don't feel like going anywhere.  I'll just slip out back and have another smoke."  Brian stood and walked out the back door, going out to the middle of the yard to light up. 
 
Gus joined him.  "I thought you quit, Dad?" he asked as he turned away from the wind.
 
"Yeah, well... I needed a cigarette and I think that this is a perfect reason to have a smoke.  That goddamned SOB ran into us.  We weren't drinking, just minding our own business.  And now..." He swallowed his words, unable to voice his thoughts.
 
Gus was silent at Brian's tirade.  He just stood outside as the wind blew the smoke in his face and watched Brian as he inhaled the deadly smoke. Brian smoked two cigarettes and looked around the yard as if he finally noticed his surroundings.
 
"Fuck.  What the fuck am I doing here talking to a sixteen year old?  I should be at the hospital."  He ground out his cigarette with his shoe.  Flipping open his phone, he called for the car service again. He gave Gus a hug and Gus returned the embrace.
 
"Dad, it will be okay.  They both are okay.  Mom said they'll both recover." Gus attempted to reassure him.
 
Brian released Gus and gave a small smile.  "Thanks. Bye Sonny Boy," he remarked as he walked to the front of the house and waited for the car.
 
He asked the driver to take him to the loft. He waited for the elevator, not having the strength to go up the stairs. Letting himself into the loft, he sat on the couch, staring into space. After a while, he showered, changed clothes, and put his clothes in the hamper. He glanced out the window, seeing the light from street lamps shine in his window.  Shit.  It's fucking dark outside.  He grabbed the keys from the hook and drove to the hospital.
 
Entering the hospital, he was greeted by the attendant at the desk.  "I'm sorry, sir, but visiting hours are over.  You'll have to come back tomorrow."
 
Brian glanced at the clock on the wall, seeing that it was after 9:00 p.m. Flipping open his phone, he called Justin's room, but he received the message that his call could not be completed as the patients needed their rest.
 
He slammed his fist down on the attendant's desk.  "Fuck," he cried out at the mixture of pain and frustration.  Turning around, he went back to his car and drove home.

He chose to walk up the stairs to the loft, not wanting to get there in any hurry. It was a cold, empty place without Justin there.  He disarmed the alarm and opened the heavy door. He didn't bother with any lights as the reflection from the street lamps provided sufficient illumination.  Walking to the bar, he poured himself a shot of Beam.  Drinking it quickly, he poured a second and drank that as well.  Grabbing the bottle, he brought it to the couch, proceeding to finish it before passing out.

*******

The sunlight hit his eyes as it traveled across the horizon.  "Shit.  What the fuck am I doing sleeping on the couch?" Brian said out loud.  Sitting up quickly, he felt the drums in his head and the cotton taste in his mouth.  He saw the empty bottle on the floor. Bringing his arm up to his nose, he sniffed. " I reek like a bar. Damn, I must have gotten drunk when I got home.  Shit! Fuck! Justin is going to kill me."  He padded to the bathroom, where he brushed his teeth and then took a shower.  After dressing quickly, he took the car keys and drove to the hospital.
 
He pushed the button for the fifth floor and walked right into Debbie and Ben as they were leaving Michael's room.
 
"Where the fuck have you been, asshole?" Debbie accused.
 
Brian inwardly bristled at her tone, but didn't answer. "Well, not that you care, but Michael is okay."
 
Brian nodded at them and turned toward Justin's room. Without knocking, he entered. Jennifer and Tucker were there and they looked up when they heard footsteps.
 
"Brian!" Jennifer exclaimed. 
 
Nodding at her, he said, "Mother Taylor."
 
Walking toward Justin, he kissed him briefly on the lips and then sat down on the side of the bed.
 
Justin returned the kiss, but smelled the distinct odor of the alcohol. He frowned but refrained from saying anything.  The aide brought his breakfast in and he ate it quickly.  "Mom, can you go down to the cafeteria and grab me a bagel and cream cheese?  These eggs were barely enough to feed the dust bunnies in my studio," he joked.
 
"Sure sweetheart.  Brian, can I get you anything?"
 
"No," he answered.
 
"Mom, get him a bagel too.  I doubt he's had anything to eat and I know there's no food in the loft," Justin directed.
 
"Okay.  We'll be back in a while." They got up and pulled the door closed for some privacy.
 
"What the fuck happened to you?  One minute you're here and then you pulled a Houdini," Justin accused as he flipped his hand back and forth. "And you reek.  Did you get wasted at Babylon?"
 
"I went to see Gus and then I went to the loft to change.  When I came back here it was after visiting hours and the bitch at the desk wouldn't let me up.  Not that I owe you an explanation, but that's what happened," Brian said, bristling.
 
"Did you drink the entire contents of our liquor cart?" Justin accused.
 
"No."
 
"I'm not going to argue with you. I'll be getting out of here tomorrow. The nurse told me that the therapist will be in today to show me how to get around."
 
"Good."
 
"Have you seen Michael?  Mom said he's still pretty out of it."
 
"No, but I'll go this morning."
 
Justin carefully held out his arms for a hug and Brian scooted up towards him.  A knock on the door made them release each other.
 
Jose walked in. "So I was right.  The chart said Justin Taylor, but I thought that couldn't be you.  Unfortunately, I see it is.  What happened?"
 
"Car accident.  They had to do surgery and the docs say I need you to show me how to maneuver with this monster before they'll let me go home. I don't see why I need physical therapy for a broken arm" Justin said conspiratorially.
 
Jose smiled. "It's the combination arm and broken ribs that calls for my expertise. You'll have to be really careful of those ribs. If you move too sharply, you could puncture a lung or poke holes in your insides. According to your chart, they did have to put a chest tube in; although that's not uncommon in car accidents." Jose lifted Justin's shirt to look at the bruising on his torso. "Unfortunately, Justin those will take a while to heal. You're going to have to be careful for at least a month, maybe two."

"Christ," Brian exclaimed. "Explain careful?"

"I'll be blunt. Sex will have to be very sedate, if Justin can handle it at all. He won't be doing bending, twisting, or crunching. Those activities will cause him a lot of pain," Jose stated, understanding Brian's question.

Both Justin and Brian frowned at the proclamation, but neither responded.

"Time for your lesson, Justin.  Are you going to join us, Brian?" Jose asked, remembering Justin's watchful eye from Brian's therapy.
 
"I think I'll pass.  I have to go check on Mikey. Later.  I'll be here when you get back."
 
Brian left and went down to Michael's room.  He knocked and Debbie called out to enter.
 
"I see the asshole has deemed it okay to come see his best friend," she snarked.

"Deb, there's nothing I could do. Besides, I know that "the family" would have let me know if there was a problem.  How is he?" Brian explained, using the familiar words.
 
Deb recognized Brian's statement, the message received loud and clear.  She softened her tone, "He's got a compound fracture in his legs and the docs had to put him back together with plates and screws.  The doctors had him pretty sedated, but he's off the Morphine drip and now they have him on shots. They just gave him one an hour ago and that usually puts him asleep for about an hour. He should be up in a few minutes."
 
"Justin went to therapy so I can stay for awhile."  Brian stood at the window, looking out at the traffic below.
 
About half an hour later, Michael woke up.  Slowing opening his eyes, he saw Brian standing at the window.  He called out his name, but it came out very weak; "Brian."
 
Brian turned around and walked to the bed. "You said you were going to sleep for a week when we left the convention, but I think you might be carrying it too far, Mikey," he teased.
 
"Asshole.  I think maybe I won't wish for that again. How are you?" Michael asked as he eyed his best friend.
 
"Fine.  The impact was all on the passenger side of the car. I just had a headache, but the damn doctors still kept me overnight.  Speaking of headaches, I have to meet with the insurance adjuster later today. He'll probably try to stick it to us saying somehow it was my fault that the asshole ran the red light.  Insurance, you gotta love it.  Justin may not be driving soon, but I know he'll want to have a car when he can drive again."
 
"Shit.  He really liked that car." Michael tried sitting up, wincing in pain and his face turned very white.
 
Brian paled at the sight and spoke quickly, "Justin should be done with therapy and I promised him I would eat part of a bagel.  See you later." He turned quickly and left the room.
 
Brian returned to Justin's room just as Jose was bringing him back from therapy. 
 
"Justin did great. If he remembers to take everything slowly, he'll do just fine. I'll come back this afternoon and practice one last time, but I doubt you really need it," Jose pronounced.
 
Jennifer had left the bagels on the table with a note, saying she would be back this afternoon.  Justin picked up his bagel, smearing the cream cheese on it.  Brian bristled at the fat-laden food and ate a few bites of his bagel with just a light coating on it.  Justin sat in bed, propped up by a horde of pillows, and Brian sat in the chair.  Neither spoke and Justin grabbed the remote, flipping through the channels. 
 
"I have to meet with the insurance guy this afternoon. Want me to bring you anything?"
 
"No.  After you meet with him, why don't you stop at Kinnetik?  You're probably itching to see if Ted has destroyed all your hard years of work," Justin teased.
 
"Theodore is fine.  I don't need to stop by," Brian said, laughing at Justin's remark.
 
"I know, but I don't need you babysitting me.  I'll need your help for at least a few days when I go home.  You might be working from home, so why don't you check in with Cynthia and Ted and get things in order.  I'm fine here and mom will be back if I need anything."
 
Brian leaned over, kissing Justin fully on the lips.  "I want to remind you, I don't cook or clean or do windows, so I'm not sure what you expect," he said playfully.
 
"Oh, I can think of a few things you can do.  Now, go.  I'm tired and I need my beauty sleep.  Go to the store and buy food.  I don't want to eat only take-out for the next two months," Justin reminded him.
 
"I don't shop either, but I'll see what I can do.  "Later," Brian said.
 
"Later," Justin responded.