Going or Staying

Chapter 10

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The detective led them to a small office where he allowed them a few minutes alone. Michael took advantage of the time to try and console his emotionally distraught friend.

"It wasn't him, Brian," he said in a soothing voice, knowing the man might need to hear the words to confirm what he'd seen. "It wasn't him."

Brian nodded after a few minutes. "I know," he whispered. "Jesus, Mikey."

Michael put his arm around his friend's shoulders and merely sat beside him in silence. A few minutes later, the detective returned with two bottles of water and handed them to the seated men.

Brian nodded his thanks and drank the entire bottle before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Sorry for the mess," he said with a grimace, referring to his physical reaction to the viewing.

"Happens all the time," the cop assured him. "For what it's worth, I'm glad it wasn't your friend."

"Thanks," Brian muttered almost inaudibly.

"But that doesn't explain where Justin is," Michael pointed out.

The detective shrugged. "Is it possible he just left in the ensuing panic?"

"Where would he go?" Brian asked, slightly irritated at the suggestion. "He doesn't know a fucking soul in L.A. besides Brett Keller."

"If it helps any, we've got men waiting to question Keller as soon as he's responsive."

Michael tried to ease the tension in the room. "Justin would have called someone to let us know he was OK," he reasoned. "He wouldn't want anyone to worry."

Myers nodded, thinking. "There were four others injured in the shooting," he said, "including Keller. Three had gunshot wounds, one was injured in a fall from the balcony where the shooting took place. So far, Keller and the fall victim are the only two we haven't been able to speak to, but they've all be identified."

Brian nodded in resignation. They were no closer to finding Justin now than they had been when they'd left Pittsburgh.

"Can we talk to Keller?" he asked, looking up at the detective. "At least he could tell us if Justin was actually at the party."

"I don't see why not," Myers shrugged. "We need to get his statement first, but after that, you can certainly ask him about your friend."

"Thanks," Brian murmured as he and Michael got to their feet.

Myers eyed the small overnight bags they were still lugging and raised an eyebrow. "Do you have a hotel?"

"Not yet," Michael answered. "We came straight here from the airport."

"And now we're going straight to the hospital," Brian added, defying either of the two men to argue with him. "I want to talk to Keller as soon as possible."

"Of course," Myers concurred, realizing from years of dealing with people that there was no arguing with this man in his current frame of mind. "Let's go."

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Upon arriving at the hospital, they were informed that Keller was out of surgery and awake. After learning that he'd already been questioned, Brian and Michael were given permission to speak to him. Myers decided to accompany them to his room as a precaution. Kinney didn't seem like the violent type, but it was clear he was upset about his partner and expected Keller to have some answers. In the event he didn't, he wasn't sure how the distraught man might react and doubted his friend would be able to physically restrain him if needed.

They rode in silence to the fourth floor where Keller's room was. As they walked down the corridor, the sound of a ventilator could be heard coming out of one of the rooms. The eerily familiar noise reminded Brian of the painful days waiting for Justin to come out of his coma and he found himself looking toward the sound, his mind needing reassurance that it was not his lover hooked to the machine this time.

What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Justin!" he practically shouted, hurrying into the dimly lit room.

Michael and Myers were right behind him. "Oh my God," Michael breathed upon seeing the unconscious young man.

"This is Taylor?" Myers asked with a frown, looking at the name on the bed.

"Yes, this is Justin Taylor," Michael answered. Brian was speechless, just staring down at the still figure, his mind going back three years to another time, another hospital.

"This is the man who fell from the balcony," Myers explained. "According to the ID he was carrying, his name is Kevin Collings."

"How bad is it?" Brian finally asked.

"I'll get the doctor," Myers offered, turning to leave the room.

A few minutes later, a portly doctor entered the room. "I understand we have a case of mistaken identity here," he said solemnly. "Do you know this man?"

"Yes. His name is Justin Taylor," Brian informed the doctor, getting to his feet.

"I'm Dr. Carstairs," the man introduced himself.

"Brian Kinney," Brian returned the courtesy in a clipped tone. "How bad is it?"

"What's your relationship to the patient?" the doctor asked before answering the question.

"He's my partner," Brian said without hesitation, causing Michael to glance quickly at him. "I'm as close to a spouse as he's ever going to get so you might as well tell me what the fuck is wrong with him."

Michael had to hide a small smile at that. Though he knew how Brian felt about Justin, he'd never heard him admit it aloud and he sure as Hell never thought his best friend would be able to say the word 'spouse' in regards to himself without gagging at the very idea.

"Yes, well," Dr. Carstairs hedged, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "His injuries are not life-threatening, let me assure you. Unfortunately, he had an adverse reaction to the drugs he was treated with at the scene and suffered a severe case of anaphylactic shock culminating in respiratory arrest. He was revived immediately and put on a ventilator to facilitate his breathing and we expect him to make a full recovery once the drug wears off sufficiently."

Brian was shaking his head slowly, looking down at his partner. "How could this happen?" he asked, a touch of anger in his voice. "He carries a list of the drugs he's allergic to."

"There was a wallet in his jacket pocket," Myers said. "Everything was in the name Kevin Collings."

"Aside from the drug reaction, what are his injuries?" Brian asked.

"He suffered loss of consciousness at the scene," Carstairs replied. "He fell roughly 20 feet. Luckily for him, he landed in a shrub garden, greatly reducing impact."

"Then how did he lose consciousness?" Michael asked, frowning.

"We suspect he hit his head, either on the balcony itself, or on something else as he fell. As head wounds go, it's pretty minor. He has a mild concussion, but we're quite confident, were it not for the drug reaction, he'd have regained consciousness by now."

"So, how long before he wakes up?" Brian queried.

"Any time now, I'd expect. His vitals are good. As soon as he wakes up, we'll take him off the respirator and after a few days rest, he should be just fine. He may experience the occasional mild headache for a few days, but they shouldn't become too severe. If they do, make sure he sees a doctor right away."

Brian only nodded absently. He was well aware of the after-effects of a head injury. Thankfully, this one wasn't as devastating as the last one had been.

Myers had gone a few doors down to Brett Keller's room and returned a few minutes later with a sheet of lined paper in his hand. "This is Keller's statement," he informed them. "Thought you might be interested."

Brian looked up to meet his gaze. "How so?"

Myers scanned the sheet once again. "According to this, your friend was one of the shooter's intended targets."

"What?" Brian and Michael both exclaimed at once, preventing the detective from continuing.

"Who would want to hurt Justin?" Michael asked.

"And why?" Brian demanded, his anger rivaling Michael's confusion. "He'd barely been out here one fucking day."

Myers re-read a couple of paragraphs and then looked up to face the two men waiting for answers. "Apparently, he accused Mr. Taylor of stealing his job and Keller for his part in it. He pulled out the gun and just started shooting. Mr. Keller pushed Mr. Taylor out of the way but wasn't able to move fast enough to avoid being hit himself. He was shot along with a few others who were nearby." He paused for a moment. "Mr. Keller likely saved your friend's life."

"By pushing him off a fucking balcony," Brian grated. "He could just as easily have killed him. He's lying there attached to a fucking machine and now he's supposed to thank Brett Keller for putting him there?"

"What about the shooter?" Michael asked, trying to deflect Brian's anger.

"He's in custody," Myers informed them. "Once we get his statement, we'll compare it to Keller's and maybe get a better picture of what happened." He took a moment to gauge the mood of the two men before him. "Mr. Keller knows you're here and would like to speak to you."

Brian scoffed at the suggestion. "He can go to Hell. I'm not leaving Justin."

"Maybe I should go," Michael suggested to Brian. "See what he has to say."

Studying his friend's face, Brian could see the glint of anger in the brown eyes. While Justin might be his partner in life, he was also Michael's business partner and that business was the reason Justin was in California in the first place. If Michael had something he wanted to say to Keller, he needn't feel he was betraying Brian by doing so.

He allowed a small smile to reassure his friend. "Yeah, maybe you should," he agreed.

Michael nodded and left the room without another word.

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He hesitated in the doorway of Brett Keller's room. The man looked to be sleeping and Michael thought maybe he'd best come back another time. Just as he was about to turn away, the injured man's eyes opened and a moment later, focused on him.

"Michael?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Yeah," he said, walking closer to the bed.

"They said you were here," Keller smiled weakly. "And Brian." As though just remembering, he frowned. "They asked me about Justin. Is he all right?"

"They think he will be," Michael replied, unsure as to what he should say.

"The bastard got him too?" Brett asked, trying to sort out his fuzzy memories.

Michael considered trying to evade the question but the truth came out before he could stop it. "No, he was injured in the fall when you pushed him off the balcony."

He watched Brett's eyes and noted that the surprise looked genuine. "Off the…" he stammered. "Fuck."

"Yeah," Michael sighed. That pretty much summed it up.

"You have to know I didn't mean for that to happen," the director was saying. "He was yelling at Justin and I was going to tell him to get the hell out of my house and then I saw the gun and I pushed and …. You have to believe me, I didn't even know he fell."

Michael nodded in acceptance of those words. After a moment, he asked the question he'd been wanting to ask. "Did you do it to save him?" he asked quietly.

Brett looked at him for a moment as though trying to decide what to say. "You mean did I take a bullet in Justin's place?"

Nodding again, Michael prodded. "Did you?"

With a wry chuckle, Keller shook his head. "I'd like to say I'd do that for someone," he finally answered. "But this isn't one of my movies; this is reality. Truth is, I just wanted out of there and Justin was between me and the door." He saw the disappointment in Michael's eyes and glanced away briefly before meeting his gaze once again. "This isn't a comic book, Michael. People don't jump in front of gun-toting maniacs for anybody. Not out here. Not in my circle."

Michael watched him for a moment, thinking about the words. Images of Ben entered his mind and he knew without a doubt that there were people he'd risk his life for. Just like he knew they'd do the same for him. That was his reality and if Brett Keller didn't believe in it, then the man was missing out, despite all his money and fame.

He smiled slightly, seeing the man before him in a whole new light. He was a big name director, wielded a lot of power, commanded a lot of respect - but as a man, he was no better than any of them. "I gotta go," he said. "They're expecting Justin to wake up any time."

"I'm sorry he got hurt," Brett said sincerely.

"So am I," Michael replied, touching the arm that wasn't swathed in bandages. "Sorry you did, too."

Brett nodded in acknowledgement and watched as the dark haired man left the room.

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Brian sat at Justin's bedside, holding his hand and leaning his forehead against the cool sheet. Michael watched them both from a chair in the corner of the room. It had been nearly an hour since the doctor had said he expected Justin to wake at any time and they were both worried that something was terribly wrong, even though neither would admit their fears aloud.

Suddenly, Brian jerked upright and stared at the pale man lying before him. "Justin?" he said quietly.

Blond eyelashes fluttered briefly and then slowly rose to reveal two slits of blue. A couple of seconds later, the eyes widened in panic.

"Don't try to talk," Brian advised him quickly, gently stroking his forehead with his good hand. "They need to take that thing out of your throat first."

Justin's gaze landed on Brian's, but the brief flash of relief was quickly replaced with pain and sadness. Michael didn't see the change and grinned. "I'll get the doctor," he offered, hurrying from the room.

"You scared the hell out of me," Brian murmured, kissing the hand he held. "I thought …"

He allowed the thought to trail off, not wanting to voice the fears that had haunted him as he'd waited for the morgue technician to pull that sheet back.

Justin closed his eyes, unable to speak, and unwilling to look at the man who'd so easily cast him aside on more than one occasion.

Dr. Carstairs bustled into the room then, a jovial smile on his face. "Well, young man," he cheerfully greeted Justin. "It's about time you decided to join us." He checked Justin's pupils and vital statistics as a nurse joined them in the room.

"Ok, Mr. Taylor," the doctor spoke gently to Justin. "We're going to take that tube out of your throat. I want you to do exactly as I say and try not to fight it, understand?"

Justin blinked once and moved his head in an almost imperceptible nod.

Brian held his breath while the doctor told Justin what to expect and what he had to do before he finally got around to removing the tube. Justin coughed harshly once it was out, but the nurse was there with a glass of water, softly encouraging him to breathe easily and take small sips. After a moment, the blond collapsed back onto the pillows, his breathing approaching normal.

"Now, let's see just how things are working, shall we?" the doctor said. He asked Justin a few questions and smiled as he answered them correctly and without hesitation. Then, he checked his reflexes and examined his eyes once more. Turning to Brian, he put the penlight back into the pocket of his lab coat.

"His pupils are equal and responsive," he explained. "Reflexes are good. As you heard, he knows his name, the date, the president… though I could have sworn his first name was George, not 'Fucking'." He chuckled. "But he did get the last name right, so that's a good sign. All in all I'd say he's one lucky young man. I'd like to keep him overnight, but I see no reason he can't be released tomorrow."

"Doctor?" Justin called wearily from the bed.

Carstairs turned to look at him. "Yes?"

"I think you're giving the information to the wrong man," he said, still avoiding eye contact with Brian. "I'm the patient here and I'm of legal age."

"I'm sorry," the doctor frowned, clearly flustered. "I just thought your partner should…"

"He's not my partner," Justin cut him off in a flat voice.

The room was silent for a moment. Brian stared at Justin, Michael stared at Brian and the doctor's gaze flitted between his patient and the man who'd claimed to be his partner. He hadn't questioned the relationship and had seen the depth of caring in the man's hazel eyes as he'd described the blond's injuries.

"Is that true?" he asked Brian directly. "You lied to get in to see this patient?"

Michael was about to protest when Justin spoke.

"He didn't lie, doc. The split was recent. I'm sure he just got confused in the commotion." His eyes finally locked with Brian's as he spoke, but the blue gaze was now cold and hard.

"I see," the doctor murmured, unsure how to respond to the recent revelations. Brian had yet to say anything at all.

Justin closed his eyes. "I need to sleep," he said wearily. "Would you all just please go?"

Brian hadn't moved an inch since Justin had said they weren't partners. He realized it shouldn't have surprised him, given all that had happened between them in the last few days, but still, the words hurt worse than he could have thought possible.

"Mr. Kinney?" the doctor's voice broke into his thoughts. "I think it's best you leave."

Brian nodded at him mutely and then turned to look down at Justin one more time. Though the voice asking them to leave had seemed devoid of emotion, he saw the lone tear escaping from the corner of a closed eye and felt a small ray of hope.

Maybe his partner was still in there somewhere.

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