At noon, about four hours after arriving at the hospital, Brian was still sitting in the chair in the hallway of the hospital. Michael had gone into the waiting room with Debbie and Jennifer to watch the small television mounted to the wall while they waited for the latest update on Justin's condition, but Brian chose to stay where he was.

The reason he had planted himself there was because of the way Jennifer had looked at him earlier that morning. She had obviously heard what had happened to make Justin leave the loft, and Brian was unsure of how Jennifer felt about it. Was she angry at him? Disgusted? Would she even want Brian in Justin's life after this?

Additionally, Brian had no idea what Lindsay may have told Jennifer in the nearly seven hours the two of them had sat together before he and Debbie had arrived. How much did Jennifer know now about his colorful past? Did she know that he was the father of Lindsay's son? How would she feel about Justin being involved with a man that had a child... a child Brian only bothered to visit a few times a month when it was convenient for him?

And would Jennifer blame him for Justin's illness, if it were indeed caused by a viral or bacterial infection? Would she blame him for taking Justin out to public places, like the grocery store, the diner, and Woody's, so soon after his surgery, which would have exposed Justin to who knows how many germs? Would she now be concerned with Brian giving Justin an STD, since she knew he was sexually active with other men... if she hadn't already been concerned before?

If the doctors determined that Justin's body was rejecting Brian's kidney, would Jennifer blame it on the fact that Brian lived such a reckless lifestyle? Would she think that if Brian hadn't gone out to drink, take drugs, and have sex with anonymous men the previous night, Justin would have gotten to a doctor much sooner and the rejection might have caught before it did any damage?

Brian squeezed his eyes closed as his thoughts went back to Justin. What if the blonde really was rejecting his kidney? What then? Would the doctors be able to stop his immune system from rejecting it to the point of the organ shutting down completely, forcing Justin to go back on dialysis? And if he did have to go back on dialysis, what would that mean for his dreams of going to PIFA and becoming an artist? How many years would it shed from his life? Would Justin see the rejection as a sign that Brian should not be a part of his life?

Unable to ignore his growling stomach any longer, Brian stood up and walked down the hallway toward the elevators, where he remembered passing a vending machine on his way in. Once he got to the machine, he took a dollar out of his wallet, fed it into the bill slot, and pressed the buttons to select a bag of pretzels.

He watched as the coiled metal rod rotated, pushing the pretzel bag forward. Unfortunately, the rod stopped rotating before the bag dropped, and now the bag was stuck against the glass window of the machine.

Brian groaned and placed his hands on the top ledge of the machine. He gave the machine a few rough shakes, but the bag barely budged. He shook it harder, but the bag still refused to come loose.

"Son of a bitch!" Brian yelled. Without even thinking, he pulled his right arm back and punched the glass.

The glass, luckily, did not break. Brian, however, felt and heard something in his hand pop, and a flash of pain shot up his wrist.

"Shit!" Brian screamed as he bent at the waist, clutching his painful right hand with his left.

At the same time, a couple of nurses from the nearby nurse's station walked over. "Are you okay, sir?" one of them asked.

"No, I'm not okay!" Brian replied. "I think I broke my fucking hand!"

********************

Debbie and Michael found Brian in the emergency waiting room a half an hour later. Brian was sitting in a chair, and he had his right hand wresting on a pillow in his lap. An ice pack sat on top of his hand.

"What the fuck, Brian?" Michael asked.

"You punched a vending machine?" Debbie asked.

Brian sighed. "It wouldn't give me my pretzels."

Michael and Debbie looked at each other, and then back at Brian. All three let out a chuckle.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Debbie said as she took a seat in the chair to Brian's right. Michael took the chair on Brian's other side.

Brian nodded. "I... I lost my temper."

"Obviously," Debbie said. "But you had other things on your mind than just the machine stealing your pretzels, right?"

"Did you get any news before you came down here?" Brian asked.

"Right before a nurse came and told us about you hurting yourself, Justin's kidney specialist came in and said they're prepping him for a biopsy," Debbie said. "They'll give him a local anesthetic and use a long needle to get some tissue samples. After that, he'll be moved back into intensive care for a few hours so they can monitor him closely. He's still running a fever, but it's not as high as it was last night. The biopsy can cause bleeding, so they'll watch for that. Since he's an urgent case, they should have the results of the biopsy back by morning.

"When he came in for his check-up on Wednesday, they did an ultrasound of his kidney and it looked fine," Debbie continued. "They also took some blood and urine samples, which they got the results of this morning. They didn't show anything wrong. They've been monitoring his fluid output since he came in here. He's not urinating blood or retaining excess fluid, which is a great sign."

"So... it is safe to assume that he's not rejecting my kidney, that he just has the flu or something?" Brian asked.

"At this point, it doesn't look like he's rejecting the kidney, but they won't know for sure until they get the biopsy results back, along with the results of the CT scan they did and the blood they drew earlier."

Brian exhaled a sigh of relief and looked down at his lap. "I wish I had known that before I tried to buy those fucking pretzels..."

Debbie and Michael both snickered.

"We were actually about to leave before we heard that you were down here, because visiting hours might be over by the time we're able to see him today," Debbie said. "Only immediate family can see him in the ICU."

A door opened, and a nurse called Brian's name.

"Well, that was quick," Michael said as he helped Brian stand while supporting the pillow under his hand.

Debbie looked around the waiting room, which only contained a few people. "Yeah, fortunately they're not too busy right now or we could have been waiting out here for hours."

"Why don't you guys go and get some lunch?" Brian asked. "No telling how long it will take back there."

"You sure you don't want us to go back and sit with you?" Michael asked.

Brian shook his head. "That's alright. I'll call you when I'm done here."

********************

Two hours later, Brian took the elevator back up to the intensive care floor. He stopped to look at the evil vending machine. His bag of pretzels was now gone, most likely after someone bought the bag behind his, resulting in them getting his bag for free along with theirs. The bastard...

Brian's right hand was now in a splint that immobilized his pinky and ring finger. An x-ray had revealed what is called a "boxer's fracture," which is when you break one or more of the metacarpal bones in your hand- the bone that connects the bone in your finger to the bone in your wrist. Brian had broken the metacarpal connecting to his right ring finger, which would require him to wear the splint for at least the next six weeks for it to heal properly.

He returned to the chair he had occupied that afternoon. Using his left hand, he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Fumbling with the phone, he managed to dial Michael's cell phone number.

"Hey," Michael answered. "Is it broken?"

"Yep," Brian said. "I'm now sporting a lovely splint, and I have to go to a hand specialist next week to get an MRI to make sure I didn't tear any ligaments or anything. It's too swollen to tell right now. It hurts like a motherfucker."

"So, you'll be jerking off left-handed for the next couple of months?" Michael cracked.

"Looks like it," Brian said, although he hoped that Justin would be the one servicing his cock for him... "It's going to be a bitch, driving with this thing."

"Well, I'll have Ma drop me off at the hospital, and I'll drive you and the Jeep back to your loft."

"Uh... no," Brian said. "I'm going to stay here."

"Brian," Michael said with a sigh. "I was there when the doctor said that nobody but immediate family will be able to see Justin until tomorrow morning. There's no point for you to sit around the hospital, especially when you're in pain."

"I thought Deb said they weren't keeping him in the ICU all night," Brian said.

"They said they'd probably move him into a regular room in a few hours, but visiting hours may be over by then."

"Visiting hours end at eight," Brian said, knowing that from his own stay at the hospital. "That's like, six hours from now. If there's any chance I'll get to see him..."

"Brian," Michael whined.

"Bye, Mikey. I'll call you later," Brian said before ending the call.

He then got up and walked down to the family waiting room that Jennifer and everyone else had been sitting in earlier. He peeked inside the room, but Jennifer was no longer there. Following the signs, he walked farther down the hall and went into the main waiting room to the ICU.

Brian found Jennifer sitting on a couch, reading a magazine. He walked over to stand in front of her, and she looked up at him.

"Hi," he said to her awkwardly.

"I heard about your vending machine assault," she said, looking at his splint.

Brian snorted. "Yeah... it won. Luckily, I didn't break through the glass or I'd probably have stitches, too, along with having to pay to replace the glass. Hell, they may have even arrested me for damaging their property."

"Did you break any bones in your hand?"

He nodded. "Just one. Have you gotten to see Justin yet?"

"Yeah, I just left him. They only let you go in once every hour, for ten minutes," Jennifer said. "We won't know for sure what's wrong with him until the morning. He's really groggy, but he's hanging in there. They're making him lay on his stomach for a couple hours, after they took a tissue sample for a kidney biopsy. He told me to go home and get some sleep, but I'm going to stay long enough to see him one more time."

"Did, uh... Did you tell him I was here, or...?" Brian asked.

Jennifer nodded. "He said he never wants to see you again. I told him that you were really worried about him, but he said, and I quote, ‘I don't give a fuck how he feels.'"

Brian sighed as he took a seat on the couch next to her. "Look... Jennifer, I don't know how you feel about me now, but-"

"Brian," Jennifer interrupted. "I'll admit that you're not one of my favorite people right now, but I have other things to worry about." She paused and quietly added, "Like my own relationship."

Brian decided not to press for details, not wanting to discuss anything having to do with that asshole, Craig Taylor.

"Whatever is going on with you and Justin, is between you and Justin," Jennifer said.

Brian found that refreshing, since he was so used to having to defend himself to everyone when he fucked up. Since he did not want to force Jennifer to endure him any longer, he got up and went downstairs to the cafeteria to find something half-way edible to eat.

********************

Brian returned to the ICU a few hours later, after he knew Jennifer would be gone and Justin may have been moved into a regular room. He went over to the desk, where a nurse was sitting.

"Could you tell me if Justin Taylor has been moved into a regular room yet?" Brian asked her.

After typing Justin's name into the computer, the nurse said that yes, Justin was now out of ICU. She gave Brian the room number, and he sat off to find it.

Brian located Justin's room, and he was happy to see that the door was open. He slowly walked in and found Justin asleep on his back.

Although he knew that Justin normally slept like a rock, Brian stepped quietly over to the blonde's bedside. Not wanting to disturb him, Brian sat down in the chair next to the bed.

He had been sitting there for about fifteen minutes, staring over at the beautiful young man, when a nurse carrying a meal tray walked into the room. The nurse smiled at Brian before sitting the tray down on the rolling bedside table.

"Mr. Taylor?" the nurse yelled to get Justin's attention. "We need you to try to eat dinner."

Justin jumped slightly, and his eyes opened. He looked around the room and locked eyes with Brian.

"Get the fuck out of here," Justin said in a raspy voice.

"Sunshine..." Brian said.

"I said, get the fuck out!" Justin repeated, his voice getting louder with each word.

"Sir," the nurse said to Brian. "If he doesn't want you here, you should respect his wishes."

Brian refrained from telling the nurse to go fuck herself and looked down at Justin one last time before leaving the room.