Justin Comes Home

Chapter 12

POV JUSTIN

I wake up cramped and sore in a waiting room chair- if the hospital makes you wait to see your loved one, they could at least provide halfway decent chairs. I stand up and stretch and check the clock over the nurses' station. Only an hour of sleep- but I couldn't possibly fall asleep again. I hurry over to the night nurse and ask about Brian, and where Dr. Flanders is.

"Why don't you ask the doctor about your… friend-"

"Life partner and lover, you mean?" I interrupt, pissed that so many people do that- hesitate and then call him my 'friend'. It's just plain homophobic, and insulting to what Brian and I are to each other.

"Er, yes. The doctor is in the doctor's lounge going over some charts. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you ask him a quick question- he just went in."

I know this hospital like I know the loft, so I ignore her as she points the way and am at the door to the lounge immediately.

"Doc?" I tap on the open door and he looks up and smiles.

"You're here for the duration, aren't you, Justin? Just like when Brian was here the first time because of that Gold maniac, you're constantly underfoot again." He winks. "Brian's lucky to have such a loyal partner." He says seriously.

"No; I'm lucky to have him. The luckiest man on earth." I say quietly. "May I go in to ICU?"

"It's hardly visiting hours, Justin. I imagine he's sleeping."

I look at him imploringly. "I'll just sit quietly beside him- I won't bother him. Honest. I'll be quiet and no one will wake up because of me."

He smiles and throws his hands up in mock defeat. "Justin, since I can't get rid of you, and Brian can't seem to get you to go home and get some rest, why don't I have an orderly set up a cot next to him in ICU. Those waiting room chairs and the chairs by the patients' beds are as uncomfortable as fuck-" He catches himself- "I'm sorry, Justin! It's late and I'm tired. My language was inappropriate." He actually blushes a little.

I grin at him. "Nah. You've just been around Brian- and me- too much. We're not very careful about reining in the cursing around anyone. Well, Brian's less careful than me, I suppose. He could care less who he curses around. Except for around his son- he tries not to swear around him- and not always successfully. Don't worry about language around either of us, trust me." I assure him. "And YES: PLEASE- a cot would be wonderful…"

"Phew. Thanks about the language thing. And I'll page an orderly to set up a cot for you." He pages for a cot, puts down the phone and pauses. "I didn't know Brian had a son."

I beam at him. "Yeah- he looks just like Brian, too- he's beautiful! His name's Gus." I pull out my wallet and show him a picture of Brian and I with little Gus in Brian's arms; Brian and I are standing very close and Gus' little arms are wrapped around both our necks. My arm is around Brian's waist. Bri and I were grinning ear to ear and Gus was giggling his ass off when the pic was snapped. "He's 3; he loves his Da Da."

"Looks like he loves *both* his 'Da Da's." The doc smiles at the picture. "He's adorable! Gus definitely looks like Brian must have looked at his age- are you two raising him together?"

"Oh, no. Brian donated sperm to one of his best friends, Lindsay, who wanted a baby to raise with her wife, Melanie. Linds insisted that Brian be the father; he agreed, but Brian never thought he'd be- or wanted to be- involved in Gus' life; but the night his son was born, it was so fuckin' obvious that it was love at first sight. Brian denied it, but I was there. He couldn't fool anybody. Brian held his son and the look on his face was of sheer pride and pure love." I show him the picture Michael took of Brian holding the newborn for the first time.

The doctor breaks out in a broad smile. "This is a beautiful picture." He mutters.

I beam. "I know. It was even more beautiful in person."

"You know? You're right- you can see the love, awe and joy in Brian's face." The doc says. "How'd the baby get the name 'Gus'?"

"*I* named him!" I say proudly.

"Wow- that's a pretty big honor, to name Brian's child!"

"Yeah- especially because Gus was born was the night Brian and I met." Doctor Flanders raises his eyebrows in surprise. "It was a choice between Abraham and Gus." I go on. "I had a teddy bear as a kid named Gus- plus the kid wouldn't have survived a day in school with a name like Abraham."

He crinkles his nose. "You definitely chose the right name!" He exclaims, still staring at the photo. "You know, you should get this blown up and framed, Justin. Same with the one of you, Brian and Gus. And put them on the window sill in Brian's room where he doesn't have to move his head much to look at them. Brian'd probably really like to wake up and see these images as opposed to the wall of the cafeteria next door."

I look at him, stunned-- he's a fucking genius! "What a fantastic idea! I'll give these to Deb when she gets here later to go out and get them blown up and framed- she'll love the whole idea! You're brilliant!"

He grins, handing me back the photo.

"By the way- about the cot- thank you- I know you're bending the ICU rules for us. I'll be very careful and quiet- and if Brian starts to seem agitated with me there, I'll leave."

The doctor turns serious. "Justin, with any other patient in there, I'd never bend the rules like this. But Brian seems to feel calmer when you're near him. I've noticed this in his charts- after one of your visits, his vitals are a little stronger and his sleep is less fitful.

"Justin, Brian was very scared that you were hurt or even killed by Gold after you found him in Gold's apartment. His memory of what happened was hazy and he didn't remember that Gold had been killed. That fear for you was practically all he talked about- what little he could manage to say when he first woke up. That, and how stupid you were to risk your life for him like that."

I curl my lips in a small smile. "Yeah. He's already called me 'shtupid'. He was willing to die a horrifying death for me rather than have me ever see Ethan again. But I was more than willing to die for Brian to get him safe."

The doc nods. "I know. That's what's kind of remarkable about the two of you. I kept reassuring him you were fine, which helped him somewhat- but seeing you seemed to put him at ease. So, I think I can bend the rules in this case, since in the long run, it helps Brian in his recovery. It's like a prescription, in a way."

"A prescription for both of us, Doctor Flanders-- Brian would be rolling his eyes non-stop right now if he heard how schmaltzy I'm being-" I pause. "Um, and doc, I really appreciate how you've kind of taken Brian under your wing; with what he's been through, he needs some very special treatment- as much as he says he hates TLC, and he bitches and snarks and grumps-he needs it, the fucker. And you've mastered the way to reach him without seeming like you're coddling him; you've picked up on part of the way Brian Fucking Kinney ticks- and not many people are brave enough or smart enough to know how to handle the cranky, too-smart-for-his-own-good, arrogant son of a bitch." It's true; Dr. Flanders is a quick study and I guess that's what makes him such a good doctor. It's rare that surgeons give any thought to bedside manner or how to communicate to patients as individual personalities. And fuck all if Brian isn't an 'individual personality'. "And we both appreciate that you aren't a fuckin' homophobe…" I add as an afterthought.

Doc Flanders smiles. "Well, thank you, Justin. That's nice of you to say. Brian's not too hard to read; proud, takes on too much responsibility, has difficulty expressing emotion while at the same time, probably experiences feelings more intensely than most." The doctor smiles. "*And* he's rude and unfortunately, also a witty and intelligent motherfucker."

I laugh a little at the doctor's use of language; he's taking me on my word that crude language doesn't bother Brian or me. I could really be friends with Doctor Flanders- Brian could, too. "Doctor, I'm shocked!" I say mockingly.

"Bullshit." He says shortly. "Now, that cot in ICU should be set up by now; just be sure to be quiet and don't disturb anyone in there or they'll tan my hide for breaking the rules. And get some sleep, Justin. You look like shit."

"I won't be sleeping much." I admit.

"Well, try. Staring at Brian all night won't do either of you any good." With that he waves me off good-naturedly and resumes his examination of the charts.

I rush over to ICU and see that the cot is set up next to Brian's bed. I go in, making as little noise as possible; and here I stand, always in awe of my partner, even as he lays there- stronger than steel yet as vulnerable as a lamb… I lay down on the cot.

Only the soft glow of dim track lighting illuminates the room, casting him in an ethereal light; even with all the bandages, it's obvious that he's a beautiful man. I gently take his fingers in my hand and close my eyes. But of course, sleep is impossible, so I do just what the doc said not to. I watch over Brian as he sleeps, listening to the beeps of the monitors attached to him, and thanking the powers-that-be that he'll be alright. It'll be rough for a long time- I know; he'll try to push me away, he'll be a royal pain in the ass- he'll be rude and mean and he'll mope- but there's no way I'm going anywhere. My love for him is so deep, it takes my breath away.

Brian stirs and his one unswollen eye opens. He tries to look over but can't move.

"Brian, shhhh- don't move. It's just me."

"Jushtin?" He asks, like he doesn't believe I'm there.

"Yes. The doctor said I could sleep in a cot next to you. Don't be too loud- everyone is asleep and I don't want to get the doc in trouble for bending the rules for us."

"Bendin' the rulesh?"

His breathing is still affected a bit and all he can do is whisper- which pains me yet also is possibly lucky at this point...

"Yeah. Remember- I've only been able to visit with you for a little while at a time. He seems to think it helps you to be near me- I sure as fuck know it helps me to be near you." I whisper back.

"Nishe guy, that Doc Flandersh."

"Yeah. He was just doing charts and he cursed-and acted like he committed a mortal sin swearing in front of a hospital visitor."

Brian guffaws quietly. "Din't know who he wash talkin' to."

"That's what I said. I told him basically that between you and me, we swear more than anyone. I told him not to worry about swearing around us. Later he was using words like 'motherfucker' and 'bullshit'."

Brian lets out a weak laugh, which obviously hurts his ribs and he quickly winces. "Don' make me laugh, Shushine."

I'm immediately concerned. "I'm sorry, Brian."

"'Sh'okay. Laughing ish good- it jusht hurtsh."

"Can I get you anything, Brian? If not, I really shouldn't keep you from your rest. If they find you aren't resting enough because of me, they won't let me be here at night. And Dr. Flanders will get in trouble."

"I don' want tha' but I've been reshting all fuckin' day."

"I remember feeling stir crazy when I was here after the bashing- I know what you mean. But it will help you heal faster."

"No it won'. It'll drive me crazy."

I smile. "Well, then, keep it down."

"I canno' do anything but keep it down. An' I mean my voice, Shunsh…"

"I know. You know, it's amazing they didn't keep you intubated for longer- but you did get intubated in the ambulance and probably stayed that way for awhile. By the time I saw you, it was gone though, which is unusual. Still, that tube can really make your throat scratchy; I hated it. It'll get better though."

"I know. Had it done many times in m'life."

I cringe; I'm assuming he means while he was growing up in that house from hell. "Yeah, well…" I don't know exactly what to say. He hates talking about his childhood. After a few moments, I take his hand to my lips and kiss each beautiful finger tenderly. "Brian, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah. But I may not anshwer."

"How are you really? I mean, not physically- that's obvious-"

"Yeah. Shitty." He interrupts quietly.

"I mean, inside… emotionally. I know you hate talking emotions, but you went through fucking hell; I saw what that asshole did. I can't imagine going through that for three days. He was never that brutal to me- I wouldn't have made it. I marvel at you, you know that? I just want you to know if you want to talk about it at any time… I'll listen. I'm sure that's the last thing you want to hear- right now, and from me… but you know I love you and if you need to talk- I'm here- to lash out at, whatever- you know, I'll try to keep the schmaltz to a minimum and simply listen. I know they're going to pretty much make you talk to a professional- or at least try to. Which I think is important, despite your feelings about therapy. But just remember I'm here, I love you and would do anything for you- plus, I knew Ethan and how sick he was. Nothing you tell me would shock me; it will deeply affect me and hurt because of it happening to you, but I can take it if it will help you.

"Okay, tender speech over. You can gag now and tell me to leave." I look at his face closely now, having been staring at his fingers while daring to say all this. Needless to say, Brian isn't into this kind of talk - in fact, he hates it -so I figure I can get it out if I'm not looking at his reaction. I have to say it, though.

As I look at his face, I'm shocked to see tears in his eyes.  

"Brian!" Luckily I keep my voice low. I lean up and gently kiss the tears from his face- very gently, given the state his face is in. "Brian…" I say, getting tears myself. Hell, I've been in a near constant state of being close to tears or in tears since Brian first came to the hospital after Ethan shot him the first time. He's the stoic one, the one who is strong, takes charge, survives. I've been a fall down mess, basically. I can't get a good read on why Brian is suddenly so emotional- he usually would scoff, tell me to fuck off and leave him alone- that he doesn't want to talk about it, especially to me.

So, this spooks me just a little to see him get this emotional. "Brian, I'm sorry; it's too soon to bring any of this up. I'm sorry."

"Fuckin' allergiesh an' theshe medsh make me fuckin' emotional."

"See how allergies are? And the meds do have weird effects on people- I remember mine either put me out like a light or I'd find I was bawling for no real good reason. I understand." I tell him, smiling through my own tears, supporting his need to not feel so exposed right now. I'm sure he's embarrassed as fuck, even though he has no reason to be. Especially in front of me. But maybe he's sees it the other way around - maybe he sees that he has even *more* reason to be embarrassed especially because it's in front of me.

"Fuck, Brian… please say something. And as I said- your allergies are understandable given the hospital food they give you around here. Fuck, that stuff is gross. And the meds don't help." I try to lighten the situation a little.

"Fuck, Jushtin, jusht shtop it. An' shut up!" He snaps as well as he can- but quietly.

"Do you want me to leave, Brian?" I ask meekly.

"No. Fuck, thish shucks. I haven't cried shince you were bashed."

"Is it pain? Want me to increase the morphine?"

"The pain ish bad, but it'sh not tha' bad. The medsh do affect me- fuck, I shound like I jusht had a bender at Woody'sh. It jusht hitsh me shometimesh. I din' know if you were dead. An' I kept thinkin' how I couldn' believe you lived with shuch a monshter for closhe to two monthsh. An' I hardly ever shaw you- I should have shushpected. Me of all people should have known shomethin' wash up."

"Aw, Brian, we talked about this. I hid from you, I acted like I was fine when I did see you. There was no way you would have known."

"You alwaysh looked unhappy the few timesh I shaw you. Your glow wash gone."

"I wasn't happy, Brian. But that was my problem, not yours. I missed you terribly, felt so much guilt for what I did to you- and of course, I didn't like Ethan or being beaten… But don't take responsibility for something you didn't do and had no control over or knowledge of. Besides, if it hadn't been for you seeing me at that McDonald's, I would still be with that motherfucker. You saved my life. And got harassed, shot, tortured and shot again because of it, because you were protecting me. You- the one who by my estimation should have hated me the most."

"Never hated you. But thoshe three daysh with that fucker ex-partner of yoursh-"

"Never was I really his partner. The words were said; the love wasn't really there- never for me, anyway. I admired him although he was too self-centered and arrogant to ever really truly impress me; and after a week, he became controlling and the beatings started. And then the cheating began. It was a living nightmare.

"But then you found me, you recognized what was going on, and you saved me, nearly dying yourself. In fact, Brian, you did die-twice on the operating table."

He looks at me in surprise, his swollen even opening a crack as he widens his eyes. "I died?"

"Twice. Doc Flanders and the surgical team were able to revive you both times, obviously; that's how you were dubbed a 'medical miracle'. Your will to live stunned the doctors and nurses. I guess the doc hasn't talked to you about everything that happened. I hope I didn't fuck up by telling you." I add very quietly.

"I *died*?" He asks again, incredulous.

"Shhh… Brian, quiet." I remind him- his voice is slowly getting stronger. "Yes, you did. Two times."

"I'm gonna have to talk to the doc next time he doesh roundsh."

At that moment, oddly, the doctor comes in and comes over to us. "Now boys, this isn't a slumber party. And Brian, you need to sleep." He looks at me with a slight frown. I look at him guiltily.

"I'm sorry doc. He hasn't been tired." I say in a small voice.

"It'sh true, doc. I've been shleeping all the time." Brian defends. "An' sho I hear I died two timesh?"

Doctor Flanders looks at me again. "Yes, Brian. On the table. I was going to wait to tell you all that's happened with you and your injuries once the meds weren't so strong so you wouldn't be too groggy to understand or remember what I tell you. Although, you are remarkably lucid for the dosage you're on. Tomorrow, I'm going to try you on a slightly reduced level of morphine and there are other painkillers I'd like to try that don't make you sound like you belong in the drunk tank." He smiles.

"Great." Brian says, meaning it.

"So, when do you two break out the cookies and milk at this little party?

"No, but I mean it- you both really need to rest. The nurse will be doing rounds soon, but after that, get some sleep if you can. They were short a doctor, so I'm basically pulling a double shift, but things have slowed down so I'm going to the 'doc bed' room as they've called it to see if I can get some shut eye. Doctor Hill will be on tomorrow- you haven't met her, I don't think, since you've been here such a short time-"

"Feelsh like an eternity." Brian interjects.

"It'll feel more and more like that, Brian. I'm sorry- you'll be here for awhile."

"No insurance." Brian says weakly.

"We'll worry about that later. You can't go home in the shape you're in- it would be medically unethical for me to send you home, and morally wrong as well. I like you Brian, and I don't want you to hurt more or worse. I hope at some point soon we can transfer you out of ICU, but I can't estimate that timeframe right now, I'm afraid; the nature of your injuries, of what your body has endured, is extensive as you well know. I want to keep a close eye on you and ICU is very closely monitored; not that the other rooms aren't, but it's the best place for someone in your present condition.

"But luckily you have Justin here to keep you company, so long as you two behave." He winks at us.

"Like I could fuck ANY time shoon." Brian sighs.

"That's obvious- fuck, if you aren't a horny bastard, Brian." Brian smirks at the language as best he can with his fat lip and hurt face. I chuff a quiet laugh.

"Jushtin told me you practically shtarted to shwear like a truck driver after he tol' you we shwear more than anyone an' we don' mind if you shwear."

"Actually, I didn't say like a truck driver…" I say quietly, embarrassed.

The doctor shrugs. "Saying 'like a truck driver' doesn't bother me. But I didn't mean 'behave' as in no fucking, which as I just said is pretty obvious given your state, Brian. I meant, don't disturb the other patients and be civil to the nurses."

"Yeah, fuck me but they're in here every 10 minutesh. How am I shupposed to get any resht with tha' kind of traffic coming in an' out all day and night?"

"Every half hour or hour, depending on the patient's condition. It's staggered even more if the patient doesn't need quite as constant monitoring as others; that's typically pretty close to the time they are moved into the main ward to a 'regular' room." The doc corrects.

"Shtill…"

"Quit bitching, Brian. As I said earlier, I want to keep a close eye on you." The doctor says. "Now, you boys get some rest as best you can- no more chatting like schoolgirls-"

"Fuck you." Brian interjects.

"Yeah, whatever. As I mentioned, the nurse will be in soon, so after she leaves, get some rest. I'll still be here, but I'll be trying to rest myself. And Dr. Hill will have you most of tomorrow, filling in for me in my regular shift, since I've such long hours today and tonight. Once I get sleep, I'll probably fill in for Dr. Hill simply because I'm very familiar with your case, such as it is. She's very capable, and will have no problem taking over in the meantime; I just have a vested interest in yours since I saw you and tended to you when you first came in. Good night, guys."

"Good night, doc. Thanks." I whisper. The doctor leaves and I turn to Brian. "If I didn't know better, I think he has a crush on us." I joke.

"Nah. What'sh wrong with your gaydar, Jushtin? He'sh shtraight."

"I'm not so sure. He's awfully attentive- to all the patients, but to you in particular."

"Well, he did bring me back from the dead two timesh, Jushtin. He'll prob'ly publish a paper on me an' get famoush."

"Oh, hush. He likes you."

"Fuck, he likesh you too. Jusht not in the way you think; he'sh shtraight. One of the few shtraight people I like."

I concede; Brian's gaydar is always dead-on, so I don't bother to argue. Mine usually is, but I'm not the Stud of Liberty Avenue. Yeah- I'm the King of Babylon, but that was from one night of dancing; not a veritable lifetime of conquests.

We talk idly for awhile, waiting on the nurse. The emotional episode from earlier quelled and put behind us, and for Brian and the level of pain he's in, he's relatively upbeat in his way. The nurse comes and gives Brian his meds and pain medication, checks his vitals, actually flirts with him a short while and moves on. Brian gets a brief, painful laugh from the flirting, his ribs hurting terribly; but he says he essentially doesn't care- and besides, she has his pain meds. He doesn't want to piss her off.

Soon, he's sleeping; I don't- I can't. I watch him all night, and time the nurses visits for awhile. Every ½ hour. The shortest shift. Luckily, his meds have him pretty out of it and he doesn't wake up till morning.

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