Jennifer walked into her son’s room Tuesday morning to find her son’s lover sitting there.  Not that he would ever admit to being her son’s lover.  “Wow, you look better.  Did you finally get some sleep?”

 Brian blushed.  “Yeah, I did.”

 “Listen, Brian, I appreciate what you’ve done.  What you’re doing, but I don’t expect you to-”

 “You can’t do this alone,” Brian interrupted.

Jennifer frowned.  “But I don’t expect you to be the one who-”

 “Then who?” Brian asked, then sighed.  He knew that she had never been thrilled with Justin’s fixation on him, but honestly, who else was there? Justin’s father? “Can I talk to you? In the hall?” he asked.

She nodded and followed him out.  “He still thinks he lives with me,” Brian turned to her and said.

 “I know, yesterday the doctor asked him what month it was, he answered November.”

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose.  “What did the doctor say?  Are we to just play along?”

 “He thinks more of Justin’s memory will come back, although he may never remember everything.  He recommends we give him a few days and see what comes back to him on his own, and then start helping him fill in the blanks.”

Brian nodded, then looked back in through the doorway at Justin who was starting to wake up.  “Morning,” Brian said, walking back into the room.

 “G’morning,” Justin said through a yawn.  “I’m hungry.”

 “Yeah? I think I saw the breakfast cart coming down the hall.  Maybe they’ll bring you something.”

A nurse came in to check Justin’s vitals and an orderly brought in a breakfast tray soon after.

 “Mmmm, smells good,” Justin said as Jennifer helped him adjust the bed so that he could sit up a little.

Brian huffed. “Only you would think hospital food smells good.”

Jennifer pulled the lid off his plate to reveal scrambled eggs and toast.  She reached for the silverware.

 “I can do it,” Justin protested reaching to take the fork from her hands.

 “I just thought you might like some help.” Jennifer tried.

 “I can do it,” Justin repeated.

Jennifer sighed and stepped back, “Maybe I’ll go get some coffee for Brian and me,” she said.

Justin took the fork in his left hand and awkwardly tried to scoop some eggs into his mouth.

 “You should let her help you,” Brian said.

 “I don’t need someone to feed me,” Justin said as he tried again to scoop up some eggs onto his fork, but instead pushing them off the plate and onto the tray.

 “It appears to me that you do.  Besides, you’re acting like a brat.  She was only trying to help.”

 “Fine,” Justin said flopping back on the bed.  “I’m not hungry anyway.”

 “Shut up,” Brian said taking the fork and feeding Justin some of the eggs.

Justin took the offered food, then he sat back up. “Hey,” he said.

 “Hey, what? They can’t be that good.”

Justin took his left hand and covered his left eye. “No, I can see a little.”

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah.  Not too much.  It’s kinda fuzzy, but I can see shapes and stuff.”

 “See, I told you it was temporary.  Here, if you hurry you can have the eggs eaten before your mother comes back in and catches me feeding them to you.” 

A little later Justin’s doctor came in making his rounds.  He looked into Justin’s eyes and tested his mobility again.  While he was pleased with the improvement in Justin’s vision, the paralysis still caused him concern.  “I’d like to order another CAT scan,” he told Jennifer.  “Hopefully it will tell us more about the extent of the damage.”

Jennifer nodded.

 “I’ll have an intern get it scheduled for later today and we should know more after reading the results,” he said and hurried off to attend to other patients.

 “What did he mean?” Justin asked.  “I thought he told us all this was temporary,” Justin said nodding toward his limp arm.

 “He just wants to run more tests, Justin,” Brian said.  “It doesn’t mean anything.”

 “But it may be permanent? The paralysis may be for real?” he asked.

 “I think the real question is how hard you’ll have to work to get back the movement,” Brian answered.

Justin nodded wanting to believe Brian, needing to trust his words, but unable to let go of his fear.

Brian sighed and asked, “Have you ever not gotten anything you set your mind too?”

Justin grinned.  “No.”

 “Okay then.  I need a cigarette.  Don’t be a brat for your mother.”

Justin stuck out his tongue as Brian headed toward the door.  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Brian said shaking his head. 

Sitting outside on the bench Brian pulled out his cell.  “Cynthia.”

 “Brian, when are you coming in? Ryder is pissed,” she said.

 “Ryder will get over it.” Brian pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Tell him I’ll be in this afternoon for a few hours.”

 “Okay.  And I moved all your appointments from yesterday to Thursday.  So now that day is booked solid.  Please tell me you’ll be here then.”

 “Yeah, that’s fine,”

 “So, Brian,” Cynthia’s tone softened.  “I saw in the paper… that kid… he was the one…you and he were…wasn’t he?”

 “Yeah.”  Brian’s voice also softened.

 “You were there?  You were the one the paper said stopped the attack?”

 “Yeah.” Brian’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

 “Is he going to be okay?” she asked.

 “Define ‘okay’,” he paused.  “He’ll live, he may never walk again, or draw again.  So I don’t know - what is okay?”

 “I’ll get Ryder off your ass.”

 “Thanks.  See you this afternoon.”  Brian flipped the phone shut and took a final drag from this cigarette before stubbing it out.”

When Brian got back to Justin’s room, Jennifer was standing in the hall talking with Debbie.  “Brian, you look a little better than last time I saw you,” Debbie said as he walked up to them.

 “Yeah, so I’ve been told,” he said.  “Justin sleeping?”

 “He was, yeah,” Jennifer answered.

Brian nodded and went on through the door.  Justin was snoozing soundly.  Brian sat down in his chair and picked up a paper left on Justin’s breakfast tray.  It was a menu from the cafeteria.  It seemed Justin was allowed to order what he wanted to eat.  Brian glanced at the sleeping boy and picked up the pen.  He knew Justin would eat pretty much whatever they brought, a picky eater he was not.  But he also knew Justin would order with his stomach not his head, so Brian went through the choices picking out things that Justin could eat with one hand.  Chicken nuggets, French fries, carrot sticks, even a sandwich would be easier to manage than a bowl of soup or a chicken breast.  Brian completed the form and slipped it back in the tray then slid the cart over by the door to be picked up.  Justin being able to feed himself would be one less thing for Jennifer to worry about.

A few minutes later, Jennifer came in and sat down.  “He still sleeps so much,” she said.

Brian nodded, “I suppose it’s to be expected.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Jennifer, I’m going to need to go into the office for a few hours this afternoon.”

 “Brian, I told you, I don’t expect you to be here all the time.  I understand.”

He nodded.  “I’ll be back this evening.”

 “I was thinking,” Jennifer stammered, “if Justin is still- well, if nothing changes I was thinking I’d stay home with Molly for a few hours this evening.”

 “I’ll be here.”

 “I’ll leave you my cell number, you can call me if he needs me.”

 “That would be fine.”

Justin stretched and opened his eyes.  “Is it time for lunch yet?”

Brian chuckled.  “Not yet.”  He supposed the fact that Justin still had his appetite was a good sign.

 “Mr. Taylor?” an intern asked, sticking his head in the door.  “Are you ready to go have your scan?”

Justin shrugged.

 “How long will it take?” Jennifer asked.

 “We should have him back in an hour or so.”

 “Come on, Jennifer.  I’ll buy you a late breakfast,” Brian said as they watch Justin being wheeled away. 

Not long after Justin was back in his room fresh from the radiation department, the doctor appeared in the doorway.  “How are you feeling?” he asked Justin.

Justin shrugged.  “Okay, I guess.”

 “What did the scan show, Doctor,” Jennifer asked.

 “There is nothing there to make me think Justin’s paralysis and loss of sensation in his limbs is permanent.”

 “Oh, thank God,” Jennifer said.

 “What do you mean?” Jennifer asked.

The doctor continued to address Justin. “To allow you to believe that the movement in your limbs will suddenly return would be irresponsible of me.  While I expect the sensation and control to return.  You will have to go through months of rehab to regain the full use of them.  And you may never have a hundred percent range.”

Brian watched the color drain from Justin’s face.  “Will I be able to walk?” he asked.

 “That’s up to you, son.  But with the proper rehabilitation I see no reason you won’t”

Justin looked down at his gimp hand.  Brian realized it was probably a blessing that Justin didn’t remember he had been accepted into PIFA.  “What about my hand?”

 “Justin’s an artist,” Jennifer clarified.

The doctor frowned.  “I’m sorry, Justin.  I don’t know that you’ll be able to regain the fine motor skills you had before.”

 “You don’t know Justin then, Doctor,” Brian said.  “If he sets his mind to it, then he’ll accomplish whatever rehab puts in front of him.”

The doctor gave Brian a look but didn’t argue.  He understood what Brian was trying to do and while he could appreciate it, he also hoped that Brian wasn’t giving Justin false hope.

 “When can I start rehab then?” Justin asked.

 “We’ll probably move you out of the trauma ward tomorrow or the next day.  We can start you in rehabilitation after that.”

Justin nodded.

 “I wish I had better news,” the doctor said as he left the room.

 “Justin,” Jennifer started.

 “Don’t, Mom.”

 “You’ll be just fine, you’ll see,” she said.

 “Didn’t you hear what he said?” 

 “But, honey-” Jennifer tried.

 “I heard him,” Brian interrupted.  “He said that this,” Brian motioned to Justin’s arm and leg, “is temporary.  He said you’ll have to work hard to get it back, but so what.  You’ll work hard and you’ll get it back. You’ll get up and out of bed and go on with your life.”

 “What’s life? What life will I have if I can’t draw?” Justin shouted, his fear showing through.

 “So draw,” Brian shouted back.  “Since when have you listened to anyone that said you couldn’t do something?”

Justin looked down.  “I don’t even know what happened.”

Brian sat down on the side of Justin’s bed. “You were attacked,” he said softly.

 “So you keep saying, but by who and why?”

 “By Chris Hobbs, because it offended him that we danced together.”

Justin’s eyes grew wide.

 “Brian,” Jennifer said.  “The doctor said to wait, let Justin remember on his own.”

Brian looked at her.  “He also said that Justin would probably never remember the attack.”

 “Where did he see us dance?” Justin asked.

 “Brian,” Jennifer warned.

 “If you still haven’t remembered by Friday, I’ll tell you,” Brian assured him.

 “Ready for lunch?” an orderly said coming in with a tray of food.

 “He’s always ready for lunch,” Brian answered, winking at Justin.

Jennifer helped Justin raise the bed then pulled the lid off the plate.  Justin looked down to see a chicken salad sandwich cut into four squares and a bag of potato chips.  Brian grabbed the bag and tore it open, dumping it on the plate.  “Voila,” he said.

 “At least they finally figured out I can’t use silverware and gave me finger food.” 

After lunch Brian told Justin he had to go into work for a few hours.

 “How long?” the nervousness played in Justin’s voice

 “I’ll try to be back before supper.”

Justin tried not to pout as Brian kissed the top of his head and walked out the door. 

 “Brian,” Cynthia said as he walked by her desk on the way to his office.

 “Hey,” he said.  “Come on in here and get me up to speed on everything.”

They spent the next hour going over accounts and campaigns.

 “So, how are you?” Cynthia finally asked while they took a short break.

 “I’m fine,” Brian answered not wanting to have the conversation.

 “You look tired.”

 “Thanks,” he smirked.

 “How’s Justin?”

 “He’s a tough kid, but the doctor told him today that he’ll probably never regain complete use of his hand.  That was hard for him to hear.”

Cynthia nodded.  “I’m sure it was.”

Ryder knocked on the door.  “Brian,” he said.  “Sorry to hear about, uh, your friend.”

 “Thanks,” Brian said.

“So will the kid be okay?”

Brian shrugged; he was getting tried of answering this question.  “He’ll never be the same, but yeah, he’ll be okay.”

Ryder nodded and turned to leave.

 “Hey, Marty,” Brian stopped him.

 “Yeah?”

 “Listen, his mother’s a single parent with another kid.  His shithead father has turned his back on him.  She can’t do this alone.”

 “Okay, what are you saying?”

 “That I’m going to need to have some time off to help her.  I’ll be here when I can, but I’ll need to be able to be at the hospital to help out.”

Ryder studied Brian.  “Okay,” he finally said.  “You can give a few of your smaller accounts to one of the junior execs, but I’ll still need you to oversee their work.  And I’ll need you on the major accounts.  I can’t risk losing their business.”

Brian nodded.  “Thanks,” he said.

Ryder left Brian’s office. Cynthia looked at him.  “You really care about this kid, don’t you?”

 “My personal life is not up for discussion,” Brian snarked.  “Now let’s get back to work, I told his mother I’d sit with him tonight so she can stay home with his sister.” 

Cynthia nodded.  She didn’t think she’d ever see Brian Kinney falling in love. 

It was almost five by the time Brian got back to the hospital.  He walked in the room to find Daphne sitting on the bed talking with Justin.

 “Hey,” Justin said as Brian walked over and kissed the top of his head.

 “Hey.”

 “Hi, Brian,” Daphne said.  “I’m sitting with Justin while Mrs. Taylor is home with Molly.  She said to tell you she’d be back up later this evening.”

 “I get a little freaked out if I’m alone,” Justin explained.

 “So, I better go now,” Daphne said.  “I’ve got homework to do.”

 “I’ll walk you out,” Brian said.  He turned to Justin seeing the panic in his eyes.  “I’ll be right back, I just forgot my cell phone in my car.  I won’t be long.”

Justin nodded.  “Hurry.”

 “You wanted to talk to me?” Daphne asked once they were down the hall and out of earshot.

 “I was just curious.  Did you tell him anything?”

 “You mean about what happened and everything else he doesn’t remember? No, Mrs. Taylor explained it to me, that we need to give him time to remember on his own.”

Brian nodded.  “The doctor said he may never have complete use of his hand again.”

 “Yeah, Justin told me.  He also said you told him it was bullshit that if he wanted it bad enough.”

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth.  “I just hope I’m right.”

 “Chris Hobbs was at school today,” Daphne said.  They stood in front of the elevator; she turned to look at him.

 “What?”

 “Yeah, I couldn’t believe it either.  I walked into class and there he was like nothing even happened.”

 “That son of a bitch,” Brian said, running his hand up through his hair.

 “I guess his parents have to escort him back and forth and he can’t participate in any after school stuff. But there he sat in biology class.”

 “Daph, that must have been hard for you.” She looked so small standing there in front of him.

 “Yeah, it was. At first everyone was watching me like they expected me to go into hysterics or turn around and attack him or something.  I just kept my eyes straight ahead.  I couldn’t look at him.”

Brian shook his head. “That sucks, Daphne. You shouldn’t have to go through that.”

 “Yeah, well, tell that to the teachers.  They’re just acting like it’s nothing.”  The elevator doors opened.  “You didn’t really leave you phone in your car, did you?”

Brian smiled.  “No.”

She nodded. “Well then, I better go home and you better get back in there before he starts freaking out.”

 “Yeah, you’re right.  See ya.”

 “See ya,” she said and turned to get on the elevator.

 “Daphne?”

 “Yeah?”

Brian chewed his bottom lip.  “If you need anything, you know… well, you can call me.  You know that, right?”

 “Thanks,” she said and gave him a small smile. 

When Brian got back to Justin’s room they had delivered his supper.

 “The doctor said they’ll transfer me to a regular room in a day or two, then I can start having more visitors.”

 “Yeah, I was here when he came in,” Brian said.

 “Oh yeah.” Justin took another French fry from his plate, but only played with it.  “Hey, Brian?”

 “Yeah.”

 “I don’t live with you anymore, do I?” Justin studied the fry in his hand as if it held the answers.

 “Why do you say that?”

Justin shrugged “I remember things but it’s like I don’t know what order they happened in.  Like I remember Christmas.  At first I thought it was the Christmas before I met you, but I remember coming to your house on Christmas day.  So I know it’s not November.  And I remember Molly’s birthday and you coming to find me in New York, and living at Debbie’s in Michael’s old room.”

Brian nodded. “Yeah, you don’t live at the loft, until a few days ago you lived at Debbie’s,” he acknowledged.

 “But you were with me when I was attacked?”

 “Yeah.”

 “So it’s not like we broke up, it’s just that we don’t live together.”

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Justin, you lived with me, but we weren’t ever really a couple.”

 “Oh.”

Brian watched Justin.  He swore he could see the wheels in Justin’s head spinning.  “Yeah,” Justin said as he remembered more. “I was there cause Dad wouldn’t have my disgusting lifestyle in his house.”

 “Something like that. Listen, don’t try to remember everything tonight, your head’s going to explode.”

Justin frowned.  “I’m just missing this chunk of my life. I’m lying in a hospital bed with a gimp arm and leg and can barely see out of my eye and I can’t even remember what happened.  It’s so frustrating.”

Brian moved from the chair over to sit on the side of Justin’s bed.  “Well, remembering isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” he said softly.

 “When’s Mom coming back?”

 “I don’t know.  Soon I’m sure.”  Brian leaned in and brushed the hair from Justin’s forehead, then placed a kiss on his pale skin.  Justin reached his hand up and pulled Brian down to capture his lips.  Brian kissed him gently but broke it off before their bodies had time to respond.

Justin grinned up at him and went back to his supper.  “Why do these chicken strips smell like oranges?”

 “What?” Brian asked.

 “The… Um…” Justin stammered.

 “Justin? What’s wrong?” Brian watched as Justin’s eyes rolled back in his head and his body went limp.

 “Justin.”

Justin’s body began jerking as a seizure tore through it.

 “Justin,” Brian called out as he reached over to hit the nurse’s call button while trying to hold Justin down so that he wouldn’t fall out of the bed.

Two nurses and an intern came running in.  “Step back, sir. We’ve got him,” one said as they moved around Brian pushing him out of the way.  Brian watched as the doctor injected something in the IV and Justin’s body went limp.

 “What the fuck was that?” Brian asked running his hand through his hair.

 “He had a slight seizure,” the intern explained.

 “Slight?”

 “It’s really common in head injury patients.”

 “So another thing he’s got to look forward to?”  Brian closed his eyes.

 “We can control them with medication if he continues to have them,” the intern tried to reassure Brian.

 “So then, is he okay?”

 “He’s fine.  He’ll probably sleep for the rest of the night.  The sedative I gave him was fairly strong.  When he wakes up he probably won’t remember that anything happened.”

 “Great,” Brian sighed and slumped down on his chair.  “More to forget.” 

 “Brian?” Jennifer asked walking in the room later that night.  “What’s going on?”

Call it mother’s intuition or what you want; all Jennifer knew was she could tell something was wrong.  She could see it in Brian’s posture, in his eyes.

Brian looked at her with a haunted look.  “He had a seizure.”

 “What? My God.  Why didn’t you call me?”

Brian shrugged.  “To do what? The whole thing was over in minutes and since then he’s just been sleeping.”

 “But, is he okay?”

Brian frowned.  “They said that seizures are common with head injuries and they can control them with meds.”

Jennifer sighed and sat down.  Brian felt bad for her.  She had more to deal with then anyone should.  “I’m sorry.  I should have called, but there wasn’t anything you could have done.”

She nodded. “Yeah, you’re right.  I just, shit, Brian.  When does this end?” 

 “Hello?” Michael had been sleeping soundly when the ringing of the phone interrupted his dreams.

 “Michael Novotny?”

 “Speaking.”

 “Yeah, this is Tony, the bartender at Woody’s and I thought maybe you would come down here and give your friend a ride home.”

 “Brian?”

 “Yeah.  I’ve taken his keys, and I tried to cut him off but he just started making the guys buy him a drink before he’d let them blow him.”

 “Shit,” Michael sighed.

 “Yeah, he’s in a bad way.  I didn’t know who else to call.  It’s over that kid isn’t it? That one he

“Yeah,” Michael said crawling out of bed.  “Thanks for calling me.  I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

 “Okay good, cause I hate to see anyone like this.”

 “Yeah, I know.” Michael hung up the phone.  “Emmett? Emmett, get up.  I need you to drive me to go get Brian.” 

 “Mikey? What are you doing here?” Brian slurred when Michael walked up him; a big grin plastered across his face.

 “I’m here to take you home.”

 “Oh.  Well, I don’t want to go home yet.  I’m still having fun.”

Michael eyed him.  He was about as wasted as Michael had ever seen him. “You’ve had enough fun.  Come on.”

Just then a tall brunet walked over carrying a glass.  “Here you go, Brian,” he said handing Brian the drink.

 “Don’t give him that,” Michael protested.

The dark haired beauty just shrugged.  “He said he’d let me blow him.”

 “And that, I will,” Brian said downing the drink and rising to his feet.  His eyes blinked slowly, trying to focus on the spinning room as he tried to find his balance.  “Come on,” he mumbled then his knees buckled.

Michael reached out and grabbed one of Brian’s arms while the trick grabbed the other one.  “Help me get him to the car,” Michael asked of the stranger.

 “Yeah, sure.”

They managed to half walk half drag Brian to the door.  “Michael,” the bartender called out.  Michael turned and the man tossed Brian’s keys to him.  “I hope that kid is all right.”

 “Thanks,” Michael said as he caught the keys and moved Brian out the door.

 “What kid?” Brian slurred out.  “What’s he talking about?”

 “Nothing,” Michael said.  “Where’s your jeep?” Michael said.

 “It’s out here somewhere.”  Brian tried to get his feet under him, but they seemed to be made of rubber.

 “There it is,” Michael said, spotting it not far away. They manhandled Brian over and propped him up against the side. “Brian, stand here a second,” Michael said as he took the keys and began to unlock the door. 

Brian mumbled something incoherent and slumped over leaning against the trick.  “You want me to come with you? I could help take care of him,” the stranger asked.

Michael could see the look in the guy’s eyes.  He supposed, to some, a drunken fuck from Brian Kinney was something to go after.  “No, thanks.  I have my roommate with me. He can help.”

Brian muttered something again then leaned over and threw up all over the guy’s shoes.  “Son of a bitch!” the trick yelled jumping back.  Michael reached out and grabbed Brian barely keeping him from falling head first into his own puke.

 “Oops, sorry,” Michael said as the trick strode off, back down the sidewalk.  “Come on, Brian.  Get in the jeep and I’ll drive you home.” 

Michael pulled the jeep up to Brian’s building and parked behind Emmett who was sitting in his car waiting.  “I’m gonna need help,” he called to Emmett as he got out of the driver’s side door.

Michael and Emmett managed to get Brian out of the vehicle and into the elevator.  “This is so like him,” Emmett said.  “Out partying it up while Justin’s lying in the hospital.”

Michael shook his head.  “It’s not like that and you shouldn’t say something like that right in front of him.”

 “Oh please, like he’ll remember anything in the morning.  Look at him Michael, he’s barely conscious.”

The elevator stopped on Brian’s floor and they dragged him out and into his loft.  “What do we do with him now?” Emmett asked.

 “Face down on his bed, so at least if he gets sick….”

 “Should one of us stay here?  You don’t suppose he drank enough to have alcohol poisoning do you?”  Emmett wrinkled his nose.

 “Brian,” Michael shouted.  “Wake up.”

Brian mumbled a few syllables but never opened his eyes.

 “Brian,” Michael tried again a little louder. No response.

 “I think he’s okay,” Michael said, “but maybe I better stay, just in case.”

 “So you really think he’s that upset over Justin? Is that what this is all about?”

 “He blames himself, and yeah, Mom said that the doctor said today that he didn’t expect Justin to ever regain all his motor skills; that he will probably never be able to draw again.  I’m sure Brian is blaming himself even more.”

“Well, maybe we both should stay, that way we can sleep in shifts.”

 “Thanks, Em.”

  “Hey Michael,” Emmett said slipping off his jacket.  “I never said it, but I’m glad you decided to stay here, to not go to Portland.”

 “Yeah, well, this is my home,” he shrugged.  “I’ll take the first shift.  You go sleep on the sofa for a few hours.”

 “Okay, what are you going to do?”

 “Sit here by the bed and make sure he’s okay I guess.  Maybe I’ll find a book or something.”

“He’s lucky to have a friend like you, Michael,” Emmett said turning to go make his bed in the other room.

Michael sighed and sat down next to Brian.  “Why do you do this to yourself?” he asked his slumbering friend.  There was no answer. But then, there never was.