Judas

Risk Your Health For Me

Brian's POV

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I've been accused more than once of being a control freak. I guess there is some truth in that. I like things to go a certain way, my way. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop today from happening. I did, however, manage the next best thing. I made it perfectly clear to everyone that no one was to call me or attempt to see me today, and under no circumstances was anyone to mention the significance of the day. In exchange, I allowed a small birthday celebration at Woody's last night. I may not have been able to stop today from happening, but I could keep it from meaning anything.

So far the only person having any trouble with my orders is me. That's why it's after eight, and I'm still at the office going over contracts. It's so quiet now that everyone is gone. I sent Cynthia home at noon after making her cry for the first time in years. I should leave, but I can't think of anywhere to go. There's always Woody's or Babylon, but I have a suspicion the boys might be keeping an eye out for me there. I could head back to the loft for a nice bottle of Jim Beam and pray that Mikey has enough sense not to be waiting for me. For some reason, I don't feel like getting drunk. I can control the memories better when I'm sober. Drunk, too much slips in - his smile, the kiss. Things I can't allow myself to remember. It's bad enough I can hear myself call his name; I can hear the bat connect with. Fuck! I am not going to do this again!

I'm saved from my thoughts when my cell phone rings. I feel a flash of fear when I realize after the lecture I gave last night no one would be calling unless it was an emergency. I answer cautiously.

"Brian, have you seen him?" I hear Debbie's panicked voice and wish I hadn't answered.

"Debbie, I told you to leave me alone."

"Listen here you fucking asshole, I don't have time for your games right now. So set aside whatever you're drinking or fucking and pay attention. Have you seen Justin today?"

I know she's upset so I try not to snap at her, but this is exactly the conversation I wanted to avoid. "No, I haven't seen him. I'm the last person he'd be with."

"He left this morning, and we haven't heard from him all day. Neither have his mother or Daphne. What if something happened to him?"

"Debbie, calm down," I really can't deal with hysterical women. "I'm sure he's fine. He probably just wants to be alone."

"Brian." I don't like the way she says my name. She takes a deep breath before speaking again. "He's having nightmares again. He calls for you."

"Fuck! Why didn't you tell me?"

"He told me not to. He said it was no big deal." She sighs again. "But Brian, I'm worried about him. I don't think he's as strong as we pretend he is."

I wish she would stop talking. I can feel the walls closing in on me. This is more than I need to know, more than I can stand to know. And now she expects me to fix something I fucked up so royally in the first place. There is nothing I can do; there never has been, but once again, I'm forced to try. "I'll look for him, but no promises. I'm sure he's fine."

"Oh thank you, Brian. I knew I could count on you."

I manage not to laugh at her before hanging up the phone. When has anyone really been able to count on me? Especially Justin. Unfortunately, I'm all he's got. No one else even knows where to begin. It's been two months since the night I called him. Since then, we've run into each other three or four times. But I've heard his name mentioned more often on Liberty Avenue so I have a few ideas of where he may have gone.

I find him on my third try. He's at one of the quieter bars on Liberty, one where people actually come to drink more than cruise. I see him at a table in the back. Empty shot glasses in front of him, and a full one in his hand. When he notices me walking toward him, he throws the shot back and smiles. It's a bitter smile, and I want more than anything to turn away.

"Brian, come join me. We can have a toast."

"Justin," I push his hand down before he can get anyone's attention. The last thing he needs is another drink.

"Come on, we really need to have a toast. Of course, Chris should be here. I wonder if I have his number? This really isn't his kind of place, but he needs to be here. We can't celebrate without him. And don't tell me there's nothing to celebrate." He turns his bitter, pain filled eyes on me.

"Justin, stop this. Please." I hate that I added the please, but I can't stand this. I could never stand to watch him in pain. There is something so wrong about it. He was supposed to be the golden child, the one who had everything. He was never supposed to learn to suffer the way he did.

"But there's so much to drink to. It was my very own personal version of Dickens. You know the whole `it was the best of times, it was the worst of times' thing. All in the space of an hour. But I don't remember the best of times part," he falls silent then.

Justin looks like he's about to cry, and just this once I want to cry with him. How cruel is it that all he can remember of that night is the end? He told me it was the best night of his life, and it's gone. All that's left of what was supposed to be a ridiculously romantic night is the tragic ending. More Shakespeare that Dickens if you ask me. Justin can't remember anything else, and I won't allow myself to. All he has is the pain, and all I have is the fear and his blood. Everything good about that night, the happiness, the joy, the love, is gone. Obliterated from his memory and buried too deep in mine. It would be different if Justin remembered. I know that. He would make me remember the good parts. He would help me feel them again, but he can't. And I've never known how to share them with him.

He's staring into space, lost in his own world. I take advantage of his distraction to stand him up. After throwing some money on the table, I herd him out of the bar to the jeep. He gets in quietly and closes his eyes. On the way to the loft, I call Debbie and tell her I have Justin. She doesn't ask for any details, and I don't offer any. What would I say?

Justin doesn't say a word to me the whole ride or on our way up to the loft. We are sitting on the couch before he ever really even looks at me. Finally, he speaks, "Brian why am I here?"

I don't have an answer for him so I ask a question of my own. "Tell me about your nightmares." He looks surprised, and I can't blame him. I never wanted to know before. I always told him to forget them, to go back to sleep. But it's different this time. I need to know what's driving him.

He looks away before answering. I can tell he's seeing them. "It's like what I remember only different. I hear you call me, but your voice sounds funny, far away. When I turn around, I can't see you. You're not there, and I'm looking for you. That's when Chris hits me. Then I can't see anything; I just hurt. I can't move; I can't see. I'm waiting for you to come to me, but you never do. You're not there. I want to call you, but I can't."

The pain in my chest is crushing me. I haven't felt pain like this since that night. Since I saw him laying there with all that blood. He thinks I would leave him there alone. I can handle him thinking any horrible thing about me, but that. I couldn't, I would never leave him. I open my mouth, but no words come out. Justin is just sitting there looking so lost it breaks my heart even more. He has to know I would never have left him there. I gather him in my arms like I did then. Only this time he isn't lifeless; this time he can hear me say his name. I hold him tightly to my chest, and I can't imagine how I'll ever let him go.

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