Justin Comes Home

Chapter 16

POV BRIAN

Shit! "Justin! Justin!" I call out uselessly. I try as hard as I can to stand again, but the pain is unreal and I'm too weak from my wounds and the meds they've pumped into me.

Orderlies burst into the room, finally answering the page.

"What the fuck took you so long?" I snarl.

"What happened? What's going on?" they demand, simultaneously pulling Nathan away from Sunshine.

"This shit punched Justin out- he's very sensitive to head injuries- you have to get a doctor to check him over!" I whisper urgently, feeling suddenly very faint. "Please… now!"

"Who is this guy?" the bigger orderly asks, holding the struggling Nathan back.

"My name is Nathan, asshole."

"I see you have a serious attitude problem," the orderly snickers wryly. "I think we need to get the police in on this; we can't have some lunatic attacking patients."

"Please get a doctor!" I rasp, frustrated. "Justin needs to be looked at! I just told you, he can't take head trauma!"

The big orderly pulls Nathan out of the room. The other one kneels by Justin's prone, unconscious body and examines his head. Then he looks at me. "Okay, Mr. Kinney, I'll be right back. I'm going to get the nurse," he says worriedly and rushes out.

"Hurry!" I call after him as loudly as I can, which is a nothing but a mere croak.

Nurse Betty sprints into the room following the orderly. "What the hell happened?"

"Some guy attacked Mr. Taylor and hit him pretty hard several times. He's unconscious. Mr. Kinney here says Mr. Taylor's very sensitive to head trauma."

"He is. Shit," she mumbles. She kneels beside Justin. "Let's get him back in his bed!" she demands. The orderly gently picks Sunshine up and lays him on the bed next to me. Fuck, I feel so helpless! Betty checks his vitals. "His breathing is shallow; get some oxygen," she tells the orderly. "Brian, who did this?"

I take a deep breath. "Nathan Gold," I answer quietly.

"I thought he was dead!"

"That's Ethan Gold. Nathan's his brother."

"His brother? Are all the Gold's psychotic?" she asks incredulously.

I just nod. "Is he okay…?"

The orderly wheels in a portable oxygen tank and she quickly fits Justin with a mask before she answers me. "Brian, I expect so. He was hit hard a few times. It's not often that mere punches will knock someone out, but if someone's sensitive to head trauma it's much more common. The oxygen should help revive him and we'll keep a close eye on him. Very close."

Then she regards me. "Brian, how are you? Did that psycho attack you too?" She frowns looking down at my chart. "You're way overdue for your meds."

"No, he didn't really attack me, and no, no meds. I don't want to be out of it right now." I wince as I say that though. Honestly, the pain is pretty bad.

She looks at me concerned. "Brian, I know you, you fucker. You're in pain. For you to show that you're feeling pain means that most every other human would be screaming in agony. You really should take your meds."

"No!" I have to stay alert.

She nods slowly and stands, regarding the two of us. "You guys really can't catch a break, can you?" She sighs. "You deserve one. It's about time." She comes over to me and gently brushes a lock of hair from my forehead and she cups the cheek that isn't covered in bandages. "Brian, here." She carefully puts my hand on the nurse call button. "Please press it if you get overwhelmed. I suspect you already are, but we all already know you're remarkably stu..." I *think* she's going to say 'stupid', but she checks herself with a slight smile. "We all know you're remarkabley stuBBORN, and will probably withstand anything in order to be here for Justin.

"But you have to take care of yourself. Justin loves you with all his heart and soul. It's obvious. Still, I have a feeling he'd call you a bullheaded twat right now. You know he wouldn't want you to be in such excruciating pain. If you finally feel it's too much and you need the meds, just know that I'll take good care of him. Trust me. I will even if you don't call for meds. You don't have to watch over him."

"I know that…" I mutter impatiently. I just want her to leave.

"Your Sunshine will be okay." She smiles warmly and fuck, I hate this sort of 'kindness and caring', although deep down right now, it's comforting. It's like someone has my back or something. "I'll be back soon to check on both of you," she adds. With that, she wipes an actual tear from her eye, softly caresses my cheek one more time then she smoothes her skirt and leaves the room, all business and no-nonsense.

Shit. It seems Sunshine and I have made an impression on the staff here. I guess we've become pretty frequent 'guests'.

I painfully turn my head towards him. "Justin! Sunshine! Wake up!" I whisper. "Wake up!"

Justin's head moves from side to side and he moans.

"Justin!" I call out a little more loudly.

He turns to face me and opens his eyes, his hands going up to his head because of the pain. He stares at me a moment or two, taking off the oxygen mask. "Who are you?"

What? "Justin... don't fuck around..."

"Do I know you?"

Aw, fuck. "Justin, I'm Brian. Your part-ner," I articulate slowly. I mean, he's got to be kidding around, right? "Stop yanking my chain. Your timing is WAY off..."

"You're who? My what?"

Oh shit. I push the nurse call button that Betty had left right in my hand just moments ago. After a minute or two, she's back. "Oh good! You're awake!" She smiles at Justin.

"Betty, he doesn't know who I am!"

She sits by him in bed and checks him over. "Justin, do you know where you are?"

He looks around. "It looks like a hospital. Am I hurt?"

"Just a little bump on the head," she assures him. "But you do know your name, yes?"

"Justin Taylor."

"And where do you live?"

"With my parents on Evergreen Drive."

"No, you live with me," I interject.

"I don't even know you!" he responds. Betty glances at me. "All I know is your name is Brian because you just told me!"

"We've been partners on and off- mostly on- for years, Justin!" I'm getting frustrated. Betty's right, we can't catch a break!

"Shhh! Brian, Justin probably just has temporary amnesia. Don't be angry with him," Betty admonishes.

"I'm *not* angry with him! I'm frustrated by this series of circumstances that plague our miserable lives!"

"I know. But he should be fine in awhile." She turns back to Justin. "You rest, okay? Chat with Brian over here for awhile. He might help to trigger your memory." She then leans down and I hear her whisper in his ear, "Justin, Brian loves you. And you love him, even though right now you don't feel like you know him. But you can trust him with anything. Just understand, he's somewhat of a grouch." Aw, fuck me! She looks at me and winks good-naturedly.

"Bitch," I mutter. Justin is simply staring at me with wide, deep blue, confused eyes; wide, deep blue, confused eyes that also betray that he's enamored, I note.

Betty gets up then and goes down the ward and checks everyone else's vitals before leaving.

Justin's still staring at me, looking lost, gorgeous and again: like a kid with a sudden crush. "So, 'Brian', how do I know you? You're um… you're ... there's no way we're together."

I sigh. "We met years ago on Liberty Avenue. And we are together."

He shakes his head. "You're too… good looking. Sophisticated. And old," he mumbles to himself. I wince. Fuck! Why'd he have to add that last bit? "Why are you so hurt?" he asks me.

I sigh, rolling my eyes. "Your ex-boyfriend drugged me, then tied me up and tortured me for 3 days," I say bluntly. "He also shot me twice."

Justin's eyes go wide. "Shot you? Tortured you? *My* ex-boyfriend?"

"Yeah. Here's the story in a big, fat nutshell: We were apart for a little while and you hooked up with Ethan Gold. He beat you. I happened to see you at the McDonald's where you were working and I could tell he beat you. I took you back to my loft and wouldn't let him near you."

'Well, I at least *tried* not to let him near you,' I think to myself.

"Then we were expecting food delivery and I opened the front door to let the delivery guy in, and Ethan was there with a gun. He was going to shoot me, but then he went towards you. I clocked him on the head with a bottle of wine, but at the same time, he spun around and shot me."

Justin is looking at me with a stunned expression.

"Then, Ethan and I were both in the hospital. He was under guard since he'd shot me. He was in a coma from my hitting him over the head with the bottle. Somehow when he woke up, he got past the guards and out of his hospital room. You were visiting with me in my room and he snuck up behind you and knocked you out. Then he drugged me and took me out of the hospital to his apartment. That's when he did this to me, when he tortured me. You were unconscious for 3 days. The cops didn't know where I was until you told them your suspicions where I'd be when you woke up. You were part of a sting and found me practically dead in his apartment.

"As I said, he shot me a couple times, once in the hip. That hurt." In the back of my mind, I realize that I'm going into more detail than necessary, but I know Justin. It's uncanny: what I leave out, he'll ask me about, amnesia or not. "You approached Ethan and he aimed at you. When I heard a shot, I thought he'd shot you; but it was the cops behind you who shot Ethan. Ethan didn't die and was aiming his gun at me again when the cops shot him once more. After that, he was dead.

"Now it seems we have to deal with Ethan's brother, Nathan, who seems to have a weird thing for me and who believes you had his brother killed. He punched you and you were out a little while. Now you have no idea who I am or have any recollection of our life together. I think you believe you're 15 or something, since you met me years ago when you were 17. It's all just dandy," I add sarcastically. "Peachy, really."

"You went through all of that because of me?"

"I didn't have a choice…" I lie.

Justin snorts. "Yeah, right. You did too, ass."

I look at him. He's been through absolute HELL and he's still one cocky fucker. "Okay, maybe, 'ass'," I emphasize the word, "But it's more accurate to say I went through all of that *for* you."

He reaches his hand out and takes mine, wrapping his small fingers around my own much longer ones. Great, just great. Just what I need: for Justin to have a big emotional breakdown. But he's dry-eyed—all soft and gooey looking, but dry-eyed. "Well, thank you. And I'm sorry I don't remember. And even *more* sorry that I don't remember you. You're preeeetty, Mr.--," his tone is sorta playful, mocking. Then he gets a puzzled look. "What's your last name?"

"Kinney. And fuck off," I say simply.

Justin studies me for awhile and I start to feel uncomfortable. "Brian, why would one punch knock me out and give me amnesia?" He finally asks.

"I dunno. It was more than one punch. And you've been bashed in the head a few too many times."

"Bashed in the head?"

"Well, I told you about Ethan knocking you out before taking me to his disgusting apartment. Before that, at your prom, a homophobe named Chris Hobbs hit you on the head with a baseball bat. You were in a coma a long time. That bashing was my fault though. You asked me to go to your prom and I wasn't going to. But at the last moment," the last dance, I add silently, "I showed up at and we danced in front of your classmates. Hobbs really didn't like that."

"You were at my prom? We danced? That's wonderful! How was him bashing me your fault? You didn't wield the bat."

"Maybe not. But our- *my*- performance was so awesome, I inspired some serious homophobic rage." Fuck, I hate talking about this stuff.

"I don't believe that. Nobody takes a bat to their prom. Whoever this 'Hobbs' guy was must have been planning it. I'm sure of it."

"How can you be sure of anything if you can't remember?"

"Because I'm beginning to know you just a little, Brian; and it's also common sense." Cheeky fucker. "I'm gonna rest a little, okay? Don't go anywhere."

I snort. Yeah. I'm *so* mobile right now.

POV JUSTIN

I wake up. I look over at my roommate; he's asleep. And gorgeous. He doesn't have so many bandages on now. It's been a few weeks, six or so, since I first woke up and sort of 'first' met him ... for the second time. This amnesia is very frustrating. He and everyone else tell me it's been years that we've been in love. 8 years. *8 years*! Well, Brian doesn't say we've been 'in love'; he just says we've been 'together' for years. But the others do use the term 'in love'. They're sure to say it with small voices and small smiles though, trying to be careful not to raise Brian's hackles lest he hear them.

The 'others' I'm talking about are a wild bunch of freaks (Brian calls them freaks) who are incredibly nice, caring and loving ... and rude. They very obviously love Brian to pieces and it drives him nuts when they dote on him; which I think they know. I think they enjoy watching him squirm under their attention.

Debbie, an eccentric older woman with a shocking red wig and fingernails to match, has told me that I've been part of this rag-tag family for years. She said that as soon as I stole Brian's heart and he stole mine, I've been an integral part of the group. She's also told me that she and I are maybe the only ones who really see beyond the Kinney smokescreen. Fuck, I saw 'beyond the Kinney smokescreen' when I first woke up after that Nathan character knocked me out.

Six long weeks ago.

Inwardly, I'm pretty angry that I can't remember the last eight years with Brian. I mean, I'm glad that I've fallen in love with him all over again (I say that aloud and I'll be in the ICU the rest of my life); but the stories the gang have told me about the two of us, the ups, the higher ups, the downs… the lower downs… my horrible decision to leave Brian for this Ethan character not all that long ago. All the stories just make me mourn for memories I don’t have anymore.

Doctor Flanders tells me that he expects my memory to come back in full, he's just not sure when. And I trust him 'cause Brian tells me that the doc is one of the few physicians he's encountered who gives an optimistic, accurate prognosis. According to Brian, most give a worst case scenario just so if you end up better than they led you to expect, they can charge you more money and call themselves miracle workers. I laughed at that analysis, but I suspect he's right.

The doc's told me the 'Brian-Justin' story as he knows it. I like Doctor Flanders, although I don't like the pity I see in his eyes when he looks at me. 'You love him so much, Justin… and he loves you so much', he always says. 'I wish you remembered him.' I don't doubt I loved him but I *don't* remember him.

Honestly, I've relished the stories about Brian and me, even if some of it sounds like a nightmare. Brian and I have weathered a lot over the years from what I've learned; but now there's only this: me remembering the last six weeks with Brian.

Still, despite all I've heard from the gang about me slipping in under the wire and into Brian's heart, I can't believe that he would be with me. While Ted and Mel in particular have insinuated how Brian's not in my class or something, how dubious my taste is, I'm pretty proud that I have the taste I do, that Brian's with me after all these years. Every time I look at him, my breath hitches with how handsome he is. He's told me 'to shut the fuck up with that crap already' countless times. He's aware that he's raw and refined magnetism on two legs but he gets annoyed by my awe of him.

Betty is the nice nurse who's been putting up with the two of us. She gave me a small hand-held mirror after I asked to see myself. I still see and think of myself as a kid even though everyone says I'm now about 25. When I first saw my reflection, I whispered to myself something about how I'm completely not in Brian's league. As soon as those words were out of my mouth, Nurse Betty looked at me and shook her head. Thankfully, Brian was sleeping and didn't hear me. "Justin," she said to me quietly, "You and Brian are incredible together. Appearance and personality-wise, you two are nearly opposites. But that's what makes you so amazing. Trust me. Opposites attract, you know."

I remember that I humphed loudly in response to her comments (I was feeling particularly childish that day). "Opposites. Right, opposites. He's tall, dark, handsome, tan, successful, strong, brilliant, lean … I'm short, pale, dull, weak, too emotional and flabby."

I was surprised when Betty started laughing. "Are you fishing for compliments, Justin?" she finally asked.

"Huh?"

"I mean, if that's really how you see yourself, how you believe you really are, you must have a low opinion of Brian's taste in lovers." She raised a sly eyebrow at me.

"Brian's said something to that effect before, that he doesn't accept second best," I admitted.

"And?"

"But Brian doesn't 'do' lovers. I'm convenient." Then I watched her trying to contain further laughter.

"Justin," she said, after a few moments. Now she was serious. "Justin, you two have been together for eight years. You are definitely lovers. I don't care if he never says so, you are. You know it. So quit bellyaching. I know you can only remember the last 6-7 weeks of being with Brian, but I can see that you've fallen in love with him all over again. And I know you were deeply in love with him for all those years you don't remember right now. Within a few minutes that you were with Brian after you woke up, I could see that you were smitten with him. And he feels the same about you, but he's had those years you don't right now; and he's still with you. So, suck it up. Realize you *are* in his league. You're *both* drop dead gorgeous and every straight woman you two meet is cursing the fact that you're gay and every gay man is cursing the fact that you're together and off the market."

I was speechless after she told me all that. I haven't mentioned my doubts about why Brian would be with me to Nurse Betty again.

POV JUSTIN

I finally met Brian's son. I was shocked when Brian first told me that he has a son. He's eight and his name is Gus, like my teddy bear growing up. Brian knew that. And he tells me that his son was born the night we met and that I named the boy. I'm floored. Brian agreed to be a sperm donor for his very good friend Lindsay; she's told me that Brian never thought he'd be part of the child's life, but it is so obvious that he's absolutely gaga over his little boy and he doesn't even try to deny it.

Brian doesn't have as many bandages as he had 6-7 weeks ago. Many have been removed and the docs and nurses have all whispered amongst themselves how amazing it is that he hardly has any scars. Nurse Betty told me how Brian was really supposed to be dead, meaning he survived the most deadly torture in a… superhumanish way. 'Medical miracle' was the term she kept using. Now the staff is saying his healing is also a 'medical miracle'.

And it is. His face is free of bandages, as is his torso; his several casts are due to be removed within a few days. His mobility has improved, which I love 'cause he reaches for me all the time now when no one else is around, like he's reassuring himself I'm here. He's absently holding my middle finger right now as he dozes and fuck me if I don't start to cry a little.

He groans and opens his eyes. "Justin… what now? Gawd, you're a simpering little brat these days," he complains but his voice belies his concern.

And what IS it now? I honestly don't think I know, until I open my mouth. "I just can't remember. All those years of my life and I can't remember them…"

"That doesn't mean those years have vanished. And Deb, Vic, Mikey, Emmett, Ted, Linds and Mel, even Gus, have told you more stories about you during those years than anyone should remember. They've related enough stories to make me gag, that's for sure."

"Stories are one thing. Remembering is another."

Brian sighs deeply. "Get over yourself, asshole."

"God! Don't you even care, Brian? I hardly know you!"

There's a long pause and I wait, realizing how he must be taking what I just blurted out. He turns and looks at me fully, his deep eyes conveying a pain I've never seen, a pain I don't think he knows I see. "Justin," he says quietly. "If you still like me, just be here with me now. If you find you don't…" He pauses again. "That's cool. Just tell me."

I don't say anything. What can I say? That I love him all over again? He'd laugh or snark or roll his eyes. That I don't love him? He'd shut down. That I don't know? He'd probably shut down, as well. The truth is that I love him all over again… I roll onto my side, facing him from my bed. I lace my fingers through his, pull his hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles.

He smirks. "How gallant," he chuckles, but he sounds nervous or something. "Justin—tell me," he whispers.

"I love you all over again," I say and even I can barely hear myself. He doesn't laugh, snark or roll his eyes.

"Yeah?"

I nod and hold his hand to my cheek.

"Dumbass," he mutters with a smile. I lean forward and gently kiss his lips, so soft and full and warm. Then a sudden rush of memories flow over me. Shit! This is BRIAN, and he's my PARTNER! I mean, I knew that already—but I remember! I remember everything! "Brian!" I pull back from his face slightly. "Brian!"

He opens his eyes with a questioning look, his lips still parted from our kiss.

"I remember! I remember everything- EVERYthing!" I swallow a little spastically. "I remember the prom! Our magical dance; Hobbs!" I cough as I'm flooded with memories, images. "Shit. I practically turned into some other person after he bashed me, didn't I…?" I ask sadly, not expecting an answer. "And my hand…" I lift my right hand and stare at it. Simultaneously, I hear Brian suck in a breath. "My art…" I choke and my vision blurs.

"Justin," Brian whispers softly. "Fuck…"

"You… my art…" I'm literally overwhelmed as memories crash through my brain and I fall back onto my bed.

He's watching me warily. "Yeah, Sunshine, you have some residual damage from the bashing. Your hand is problematic sometimes. But," despite my devastation, my heart swells when he uses the name 'Sunshine' for me. I'd forgotten about that. "You still create incredible art. You've risen and surpassed that challenge. You have a computer program that helps so you don't have to—"

"Yes," I interrupt quietly, remembering all of it. "I know. You got me that computer, Brian." He doesn't respond. "I left you," I state quietly. I left him. Of course I know that, knew that before this tear-jerking, crap soap opera, quiveringly poignant moment in my little life. I knew that. But the feelings I had when I left him- insecurity, self-loathing, helplessness, doubt- and the crippling feelings of regret, remorse, realization and gratitude that I have now all wash over me at once. I left him. For *Ethan*. "I left you," I repeat. "You gave me back my life, my art and I *left* you. For Ethan's idiotic, empty, pretty words. Brian, he beat me," I inform him uselessly. "But you took me back. You got me away from him and took me back…" I pause a few minutes. "He shot you. He tortured you. Because of me."

"Justin," Brian finally speaks. "I didn't give you back your life or your art. You took back your life and your art." Shit, he doesn't see. I do, I see it all now. "And Ethan was a sociopath. He was mentally ill. Nothing he did to you, to me, to himself—none of that was anyone's fault but his own. And honestly, I'm not sure it was even Ethan's. No clear mind, psyche, being, could be that twisted and have a soul. Now, quit channeling Faye Rae and get the nurse in here to check you over."

I'm stunned with all the memories and cathartic realizations that have flooded my core. All I can do is nod. Blindly, I ring for her and within moments she comes in.

"My memory's back," I mumble to her dejectedly.

"You fucking drama queen, it's a GOOD thing," Brian snorts.

"You remember? That's wonderful, Justin!" She takes a few minutes and checks me over. "Honey, I'm sure it's a little overwhelming for you, but Brian's right: it's a good thing. You seem just fine. The doctor has said that as soon as your memory returns, you can be discharged."

"I'm not leaving Brian!" I nearly yell, startling even myself.

"Justin," Brian says next to me. "You need to get some rest, take a shower, eat something substantial. Go home to the loft."

"No WAY!"

Just then the doctor pokes his head in. "You two up for some visitors?"

"Oh lord," Brian mutters as the gang files into ICU. "Talk about timing." But I see him smile when Gus comes in and scurries over to the bed. "Hi, Sonny Boy!"

"Dad, are you still hurting?"

"Yes, Gus. A little. But you know I'm here to heal."

"Justin?" Gus looks at me apprehensively.

I smile as best I can. "I'm good, little man!"

Gus turns back to his Dad. "Will you finally tell me what happened, Dad?" he asks in a small voice.

"Lambskin," Lindsay interrupts. "Let's not talk about it, okay?"

Brian glances at me and reads my expression. I'm not ready to tell everyone my memory's back, all my memory's back. He turns his gaze back to his son and sees the boy's lip tremble like he's trying not to cry. "It's okay, Linds. I think I should tell him. He's eight. He's old enough. He deserves to know.

"Sonny Boy, why don't you very carefully come up here next to me on the bed." Gus very gingerly climbs up next to his Dad. "A man hurt me very badly, Gus."

"Why?"

"He thought I was coming in between him and the man he thought he loved."

"Were you?"

"It was Justin, Gus. Justin was the man he thought he loved, and Justin didn't love him back."

"Justin loves *you*!" Gus states emphatically.

Brian smiles. "Maybe. But he definitely didn't love this other man."

I smile too. "Gus…"

Gus looks back over at me.

"I do love your father with all my heart. And I'm very angry at the man who hurt him."

"Is he in jail?"

"No, Gus. He's dead," Brian answers. I love how honest he is with his son. He doesn't beat around the bush like so many do around children. He's not graphic, but he doesn't lie.

The rest of the gang have been watching this exchange and come closer. "Brian, how are you really feeling?" Vic whispers.

"I feel how I look. Like shi—like crap," he answers, careful of his language in front of Gus. "But better than I felt six weeks ago."

"Justin, how are you doing?" Deb questions in a worried tone.

"I'm fine, thanks." I take a deep breath. "In fact, my memory's just returned." I smile widely, putting on a happy face. Deb shrieks and bear-hugs me. I'm feeling a little claustrophobic all of a sudden but I can't let on. "It was weird not having any memory of Brian's and my time together. Thank you all so much for telling me all those stories about us." Brian gives me a look. He knows I'm putting on a positive front.

"You and Brian are the hottest couple on Liberty Avenue, sweetie," Emmett grins. "EVERYone has stories about you two. Some good, some not so good."

I blush. "Well, while Brian was like this exotic, beautiful stranger with an attitude problem in the last six or so weeks, it's nice to now have my real memories back."

Brian snorts.

"Shut up, Brian," the entire gang says before he can say something crude or rude.

He sighs.

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