Chapter 7

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I have to take a moment to consider what I'm hearing. "So… the dreams were real and the real stuff was a dream?"

The doctor chuckles at my simplistic observation. "As confusing as it may seem, Justin, that's a fairly accurate explanation. In your dreams you couldn't speak or move. As I said, we had to induce a comatose state in order for your brain to be able to heal. There were likely moments when you could hear what was going on around you, but were unable to respond. That's why we often tell loved ones to speak to comatose patients. Sometimes they're getting through, even when it doesn't seem like it."

I take a few moments to think about that. "But Lindsay wouldn't see me," I protest, still unwilling to get my hopes up lest they be dashed once again.

"Justin," Brian says quietly. "Lindsay has had her hands full with Gus." He takes a moment, lowering his eyes to the floor before bringing them back up to meet mine. "But you're right, she had a hard time seeing you. We didn't know if you were going to make it and she was devastated that you might have lost your life saving Gus."

I feel a renewed glimmer of hope at the words. That sounds so much more Lindsay. "And you, Brian, you blamed yourself."

"I should have been there," he replies, his voice cracking.

"You didn't know what would happen," I insist, not even realizing that I've begun to buy into their version of reality.

"No one did," Brian replies.

I look back at the doctor warily. "Why would I dream Gus died?" I ask. "It makes more sense to dream he's alive." There, let's see him explain that one away. I mean, they're my dreams, he shouldn't be able to come in here and challenge everything I believe, should he?

"You and Gus walked in on a crime in progress," the doctor explained. "A very traumatic situation, to be sure. In your mind, you had a need to protect him, but physically, you were rendered helpless. The messages to your brain got rerouted and your subconscious took the words you heard and came to what it considered to be the logical conclusion given what was paramount on your mind when the injury occurred."

I look to Brian to see if he believes any of this. The small nod he gives me tells me that he does.

"Gus told me everyone was sad," I tell him.

"We didn't know if you were going to make it," Brian tells me again.

They weren't mourning Gus, but me? Is it possible that he really is OK? That this is the reality?

Suddenly I remember the picture. If it's real, if it's here, that means…

"He drew you this," Brian is saying.

I rein in my thoughts and try to focus on the piece of paper in his hands. It's a drawing of the whole family, all with sad faces.

"It's beautiful," I say, my smile shining through the tears.

"Yeah," Brian says, gently stroking my arm, his smile warm.

Michael enters the room with a solemn expression on his face. "I called the house but there was no answer."

"Oh," I reply, disappointment colouring the word.

"Probably because they were already on the way," Michael adds, unable to hide his grin.

The door opens wider and Gus comes barreling in followed by Lindsay and Mel who hover just inside the door.

"Justin!" Gus exclaims jubilantly

"Oh my God," I whisper as I pull him into a tight hug. "You're OK. Thank God, you're OK."

"I knew you'd wake up," he says with the confidence of innocence. "I knew it."

"You talked to me."

He nods.

"Thank you," I whisper. "Thank you for talking to me, Gus. I heard every word."

"I love you, Justin."

"I love you too, Gus."

"Well, now that we've established what was real and what wasn't, I'd like to run a few tests," the doctor says, interrupting the sentimental moment.

"I feel fine," I tell him honestly. Knowing our little family is intact, I feel more than fine.

"I'd like to do a CT scan just to be sure everything's as it should be."

"And then?" Brian asks, looking at him with concern.

"If everything checks out, we'll move Justin to a regular room where we'll monitor him, at least overnight and from there he'll be released as soon as we're satisfied that there are no lingering problems."

"That's wonderful news," Lindsay beams from just inside the doorway.

"Lindsay," I greet them with a smile, holding out my hand. "Mel."

They both cross the room, Lindsay taking my hand, Mel adding hers to the mix.

"I'm so glad you're OK," Lindsay whispers.

"You saved Gus' life," Mel adds, looking uncharacteristically teary. "How can we ever thank you?"

I look down at the drawing on my lap. "Gus already did," I assure them in a shaky voice.

"Well, then," the doctor announces. "Since we're greatly exceeding the visitation limits for this room, I'd suggest you all leave and allow Justin to rest while I schedule the tests he'll need."

"I want Brian to stay," I say, glancing uneasily at him. He frowns slightly but nods before looking at the doctor.

"Very well," the doctor says with a small smile. "But everyone else, out. You'll have plenty of time to visit once he's moved to a regular ward."

"Thanks for coming," I tell them sincerely. The four of them hug me before they quietly leave the room.

Once we're alone, I can feel Brian watching me though I can't meet his eyes.

"What's up, Justin?" he finally asks quietly.

At first I can only shrug, looking away and blinking rapidly before I screw up enough courage to face him. "I just can't believe it," I tell him. "It seemed so real."

"But it wasn't. Gus is fine, you saw that for yourself."

I nod slowly. "I don't think I've ever been more relieved about anything in my life."

"Then why the long face?" he asks, gently tipping my chin up to look into my eyes.

"I … I gave up on us," I admit regretfully. "On you."

"How?"

"I knew how hard it was for you after what happened, knowing I was there when he… when it happened. Lindsay wouldn't admit it but she blamed me and I couldn't look at her and she needed you and I told you that we couldn't live like that the rest of our lives, with you seeing Gus' death every time you looked at me."

I don't even realize I'm sobbing out the last half of my ramblings, or that Brian's pulled me into a tight hug.

"I practically pushed you away and didn't even think about the fact that you'd be losing two people you loved instead of just one. I was just so scared."

He's stroking my hair softly and waits until I've run out of words. "Did I let you?" he finally asks.

I pull back to look questioningly into his eyes. "Let me what?"

"Push me away."

"No," I admit with a small smile. "You yelled at me."

He laughs and it's undoubtedly the nicest sound I've heard in a long, long time. "Sound at all familiar, Sunshine?"

It doesn't take long to recall the memory he's referring to. "The cancer," I say, slowly shaking my head. "God, I'm such an idiot."

"No," he says softly. "You're not." After a brief pause, he adds, "Not all the time, anyway." He takes the feeble slap to his chest in stride. "Look, the point is, no matter what crap life throws at us, we deal with it together. You, me, this whole fucked up family of ours. We deal. Together."

"You said almost those exact words in my dream," I tell him, a hint of wonder shading my voice.

He leans in and kisses me softly. "That means you already knew they were true."

That makes me feel better, thinking that I did know, somewhere deep down where it really counts.

"You also asked me to stay with you."

His face sobers slightly. "I said that a lot over the last few days," he admits. "I didn't think you could hear me."

"I heard you, Brian, I just didn't know it."

He presses his forehead to mine in an intimate gesture reserved just for us. "Promise me something?"

"Anything," I say with a smile as I remember dreaming those same words.

"Promise me you're going to stop with all this hospital drama," he says wearily. "It's getting old."

"Only if you'll promise you're always going to ask me to stay."

He smiles and stretches out beside me, pulling me close. "I guess we've got ourselves a deal," he says, kissing the top of my head.

I snuggle as close as I can, never wanting to leave his arms. "Yeah," I sigh in contentment. "I guess we do."

The End