Brain Damage/Brian Damage

Chapter 7

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Justin glanced at the caller ID on his phone and grinned. "Hey, Daph. How's my favorite doctor? Wow. I get so weirded out when I say that."

"Um, me too, and besides I'm still a med student. I'm not a real doctor yet. And I'm doing good. How are you?"

"I'm good. Remembering stuff every day."

"Oh, Justin, that's great. I'm so happy for you. I wish I could be there with you."

"Me too."

"I know, but, I'll be home for summer vacation soon."

"That would be great. Oh, hey, I was wanting to ask you something."

"Sure, Jus, anything. You know that."

"What can you tell me about why I seem to be having images of myself donned in a pink t-shirt and was kicking peoples' asses?"

"Ah, the dreaded Pink Posse."

"The Pink what the fuck?" Justin exclaimed.

"Well, um, it was like this…"

Daphne explained Justin's involvement in the gay vigilante group, The Pink Posse. She told him about Cody, who had been the ringleader and how Justin had gotten involved in the group after his friend, Darren a.k.a, Chanda Leer, had been bashed. She wisely omitted his underlying reasons for joining the group, which was his own anger regarding the time he was bashed. He had not remembered that yet, and there was no way she was risking the wrath of Brian Kinney by spilling the beans.

"That's so fucked up," Justin commented after Daphne finished her story. "It's weird, usually it all snaps into place after the pieces of memory start flashing, but this one is still a bit hazy."

'That's because it all revolves around our prom,' Daphne said to herself. "Well, you were fucked up," she said out loud to her friend. "At one point you were even carrying a gun. Brian and I were scared to death."

"What made me stop?"

Daphne knew that, too, but no way in hell she was going to reveal that little tidbit. "Um, you came to your senses, I guess. Listen, Jus, I'm sorry, but I have to go. I'm on shift soon."

"Okay, Daph, it was good to talk to you. Take care."

"You too. Love you. Bye."

"Love you." He hung up and took a moment to wrack his brain about this whole Pink Posse thing. Daphne wasn't telling him everything.

"Troubles, Sunshine?" Brian entered the room.

Justin looked up and smiled. "No, just talking to Daph about some stuff."

"How is our little doctor?"

"She's good. She said she's going to try to get away for a visit."

"That would be nice. So what were you two discussing?"

"Um, my days as a gay vigilante," he answered, somewhat timidly.

Brian's eyebrow lifted. "So you remembered that, did you?"

"Some of it. I can't believe you let me do that! Daph said I even had a gun."

"You also shaved your head, but you know I let you make your own mistakes. I'm not your keeper."

"I shaved my head?" Justin reached up and ran a hand through his longish, blond hair. "Fuck, I must have looked like a dork!"

Brian pulled Justin in closer and let his own fingers glide through the golden locks. "Actually, it was hot," he said, and then grabbed a handful of the hair and pulled Justin into a lewd kiss. "But this is hotter."

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After a quick fuck in their room, Justin excused himself to go to his studio. Brian was almost sorry he had encouraged Justin to start painting again. Once the boy had gotten his muse back, he spent a lot of time holed up in the studio. Brian was starting to feel neglected, but the art actually seemed to be helping with the memories so he patiently let it go.

When Justin had gone into the studio, Brian called Daphne's cell and found out how much of The Pink Posse story she had told him. He was relieved to find out that she had kept all references to Chris Hobbs out of it.

It was with a lighter heart that Brian moved to his study to do some work while waiting for Justin to reappear.

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Brian yawned and pushed back his chair. He looked at his computer. Christ, it was two am. They had both been working for three hours. He stood up and went to retrieve Justin and take him to bed.

Brian tapped lightly on the studio door and then entered. Justin was standing at his easel, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. "Hey," said Brian.

Justin looked up and smiled. "Hey."

"It's late," Brian said as he moved toward Justin. "What are you working on?"

Justin stepped back to let Brian get a good look. "I don't know. It just came to me. I must have seen him on the street or something."

Brian's heart clinched in his chest when he saw the picture of a young man playing his violin on the street with the case open, ready for donations. Justin had done a perfect rendition of Ethan fucking Gold.

"Fuck," was all Brian said before he turned and walked out of the room leaving a very puzzled Justin behind.

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Justin sat and stared at the painting. It was obvious from Brian's reaction to it that this was not just some random street performer. This man had played some part in their lives. Whatever it had been, it wasn't good.

Justin sighed. He couldn't remember a thing about the man.

After a while he cleaned up his studio and decided he had let Brian brood long enough. He moved silently through the house, turning off lights and looking for his lover.

Finally, he found him in their bedroom. He was standing in front of the window, shirt off, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

"You're pissed," Justin stated as he walked into the room.

"No," Brian replied, not bothering to turn around.

"Yes, you are."

Brian turned to look at Justin. "Yes, I am, but it's stupid."

"I don't remember who he is."

"You painted a fucking picture of him."

"You're mad at me for painting a picture of someone I don't even remember? That's fucked, Brian."

"I told you it's stupid, but there you have it."

"Um, brain damage here. I'm not sure what you're angry about."

Brian smiled wryly and cocked his head. "Good."

Justin met Brian's gaze. Both men locked in a silent battle of wills; Justin wanting to know more and Brian not wanting to tell him.

Brian sucked in a breath. He wasn't being fair to Justin. He knew that, but fuck, this was not somewhere he wanted to go. "Ethan. His name was Ethan Gold."

"Ethan," Justin replied softly. His face was still a blank.

"You had an affair with him."

"Oh, I fucked him?"

"You fucked him. You loved him. You left me for him."

Justin shook his head in disbelief. "No. I wouldn't. I…"

"Oh, you would and you could, Sunshine. You did." Brian set his glass down on the small wet bar that was in the corner of their room. He picked up the bottle of Jim Beam and took a pull. He really didn't know why this was pissing him off so much. This was a chapter of their lives that was closed a long time ago. Obviously he still had lingering issues. Huh. Who knew?

Justin stood and stared at his husband. He couldn't believe what he was saying. He had had an affair. He had left Brian. For some scruffy guy who played his violin on the street. He moved woodenly over to the bed and sat down. "We're together, though," he said softly, almost to himself. "We got married."

"You came to your senses," Brian replied, taking a moment to study his lover.

Justin sat on the bed, looking dejected. "It seems like I lost my senses a lot over the last six years."

He obviously still had no memory of the whole Ethan fiasco. "Fuck," Brian whispered to himself. It wasn't going to do any good to queen out about it now. He was a couple years too late for that.

Brian set down his bottle and moved to the bed. He sat behind Justin, rubbing his shoulders. Justin turned his head to speak to Brian. "I know this will sound really lame, but I'm sorry."

"You're right," Brian smiled. "It is lame. Don't worry about it. It's done and we're together. That picture just hit a nerve."

"Wow, I never thought I'd see the day that Brian Kinney was jealous."

"I am not fucking jealous of Ian."

"I thought you said his name was Ethan."

"Whatever."

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Later that night, Justin was startled awake by a vivid dream. He knew by now that some of his dreams were actually memories and he was learning to tell the difference.

He had dreamed of Ethan. Of picnics on the floor and romantic evenings. The young man had given him promises and romance; things that Brian had been unable to give at the time. He also dreamed of a cold and unavailable Brian who had driven him into Ethan's arms. Of that last betrayal at Babylon with the actor dressed as Rage. Of Ethan's final betrayal with his adoring fan.

Justin shifted a bit and Brian woke up. "You okay?" he asked sleepily.

"Yeah," Justin replied, smoothing the hair out of Brian's eyes. "Just a dream."

"Hmm," Brian looked at him curiously. He knew that Justin's memories often surfaced as dreams. Justin would often wake him up so Justin could ask questions and they could discuss them. "A dream or some new memories?"

Justin tilted his head and smiled a bit. "No…no memories. Just a dream," he whispered. Brian nodded as Justin leaned in to place a tender kiss on his lips. "Just a dream," he repeated.

He laid his hands back on Brian's chest and they both drifted off to sleep.

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