"Brian?"

He was sitting on the bench in the hallway; his head leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. Michael had come back and brought Brian a change of clothes so that he could finally get out of the bloody tux. Mikey had stayed there for a few hours until he kept nodding off and Brian convinced him to take Daphne home, and go home and rest himself.

"Brian?" Jennifer said again, a little louder.

He didn't want to open his eyes. He didn't want to see the pain in her face, didn't want to hear the words she would surely say.

"Are you asleep?"

He frowned and slowly blinked his eyes open. "No, just resting."

She looked so frail. He thought it wouldn't take much of a wind to blow her over. Her eyes were sunken and she had dark circles beneath them.

"I need a favor," she said.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Will you come sit with Justin? I had to leave Molly with a friend, and I really need to go pick her up and get her to her father's. I don't want to leave Justin alone, and, well… I was wondering if you would come sit with him."

That was just about the last thing Brian expected to hear come out of her mouth. His surprise must have shown on his face because she sighed and sat down beside him. "I know you think I blame you, and I really wanted to. I have all this anger, and it would be so easy to direct it at you. But, the truth is Brian, it wasn't your fault."

Brian frowned; she was only saying that because she needed a favor. Of course it was his fault. Brian had only wanted to give the kid what he had asked for. He wanted to take Brian to his prom; to give St. James a big 'fuck you' and Brian was so inspired by his courage, by how unapologetic he was, that he thought, maybe just this once. And now….

"Will you come sit with him?" she asked again.

Brian nodded.

He stood and followed her down the hall to Justin's room. She walked through the doorway and turned to see Brian leaning against the doorframe, looking pale. "I know, it took me a little time to get used to it too."

Brian stood there staring at the person lying in the bed. It didn't look anything like Justin. The side of his face that had been hit was purple and blue. His head was swollen to twice the size; the skin so taut it looked as if it could be popped with a poke of a pin. His hair had been shaved and his skull was bandaged. There were tubes and probes running everywhere; machines in the back monitoring his heart rate, breathing, brain waves and who knew what else. Brian didn't know what he had expected, but it wasn't this.

"Brian?" Jennifer motioned to the chair by Justin's bed.

Brian pulled himself together and walked into the room and sat down in the chair.

"I'll try to not be gone long," Jennifer said.

Brian reached out and grabbed her hand as she turned for the door, looking her in the eye. "It's okay, take as long as you need. I'll be here."

She nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, then turned and left the room.

Brian sat watching Justin, trying to find something familiar in his face; something he could recognize. Finally, looking down at Justin's hands he was relived to see they were the same. The same long thin fingers, the same short stubby nails. Brian reached out and took one of them in his. The hand remained limp, but warm; Brian could almost imagine that Justin was only sleeping; but looking back up to that face; no, this was no dream.

Brian tried to keep his thoughts on the present, and not let them wander onto what ifs. There were too many of those to contemplate, and so few had a happy ending.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of Justin's hand in his.

 Brian smelled her familiar perfume before he felt her hand on his shoulder, he knew without opening his eyes it was the only woman that had ever been anything close to a mother to him. He let his weight lean against her and she placed her other hand on his cheek, pulling him to her. "We're going to get through this, kiddo. We're going to hold on tight and get through this," she whispered.

When Jennifer got back to the hospital Brian and Debbie were standing in the hall outside Justin's room. She felt her heart rise up to her throat. "Debbie?"

"The doctor is in with him," Brian explained. "They asked us to wait out here."

"Oh, so nothing…"

"No change," Brian answered. He noticed that she had taken time to change clothes and freshen up her makeup, although it did little to hide the dark circles.

"Brian. There you are," Michael said walking up from the other direction. "Hi, Ma. Jennifer." He leaned in to kiss Debbie's check. "How's Justin?"

Just then the doctor emerged from Justin's room. "Ah, Mrs. Taylor, you're back."

"Yes, Doctor. How is he?"

"He's stable. As I've said, these first twenty-four hours are the most critical. But we really won't know anything until the swelling starts to recede."

"And when will that be?" she asked.

"How long has it been since the accident?"

"You mean the attack," Jennifer corrected. "It was no accident."

"Yes, of course. When was the attack?"

"A little over twelve hours ago," Brian answered.

"Well, after an injury the area will continue to swell for the first twenty-four to thirty-six hours, then the swelling will begin to recede."

"You mean it could get worse? The swelling I mean?" Jennifer asked.

"Yes, but we are monitoring the pressure in his brain closely, and will do everything we can to minimize it."

Brian had heard enough. "I need a cigarette," he mumbled in explanation. He walked off down the hall. Michael looked from Brian's retreating figure to his mother. She nodded; someone needed to be with Brian, Michael knew it was up to him. He hurried to catch up with his best friend.

"So that's good," Michael said as they walked down the hall. "I mean, that he's stable. Right?"

Brian stopped and looked at him.

"Brian?"

"His head is the size of a fucking watermelon, Mikey. It doesn't even look like Justin. He doesn't even look human."

Michael blinked. "Oh."

"I really need a cigarette." Brian turned and walked away.