The Beatles Trilogy

Tell Me Why

Notes: This is the second part of a trilogy based on the Improv #3 challenge to write a fic based on the lyrics to a song from the Hard Day's Night album by the Beatles. It's a gapfiller really for ep 308 and takes place after the conversation with Daphne but before Justin goes to work at Vanguard. Gus is maybe a few months older than canon (with Cowlip, it's hard to tell LOL). Brian's POV..

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As I drive away from the munchers, I really, really need a drink. I debate going to Woody's and taking up where I'd left off when my cell phone rang, but it's late, and I'm tired, and … The truth is, I know from bitter experience that there's no point in picking up a trick when my mind is focused on Justin, and my ears are filled with the sound of his voice, and my nostrils with his scent and …

Damn! If I pick up a trick now, all that will happen is that my mind will try to make me believe that it's Justin I'm with, and at some point it will lose the ability to do that because my body won't be fooled for a moment that whatever loser I'm with is anywhere near as good a fuck as he is. They won't move like him, they won't smell like him, they won't taste like him, they won't sigh my name the way he does, they won't feel the way he does in my arms. And when that realisation sinks in all that will be left is the devastation of losing him all over again.

I am so fucked.

I don't know whether to be glad he called tonight or to want to curse and scream because he called and I had to go there; had to, because Gus needed me; so I had to see him, and talk with him, and hear his voice, and watch him watch me, and not reach for him and not, not, never break down and fall on my knees and beg him to come home.

Fucked and treble fucked.

That's what happens when you let yourself get involved. If I'd never gotten involved in Gus's life; if I hadn't taught him that stupid song …

It was that damned client's fault. They'd wanted to use a fucking Beatles song for their ad, but "not a clichéd one, Mr. Kinney, something a bit off the beaten track". So I'd been going through all these corny old songs, and some of them had just stuck in my head.

Then I was at the munchers' and Sonnyboy started going on about me staying there with him all the time, and that damned plastic phone was right there, so I picked it up, and the next thing I knew I was telling him that if ever he needed me, all he had to do was call me, and I was singing that fucking song to him. Mind you, it did seem to quiet him down. He loved it. Loves it. He makes me sing it to him every time I go over there. He even tries now to sing along.

And if I'm honest, I'd have to admit that it really gives me a buzz when he starts screaming so loudly for his Dad that even Mel has to call me and get me to sing him the song. Even over the phone, it seems to work okay. But usually, if I can, I go over there right away. I mean, I'd kinda promised the kid that I would, and although sometimes I think it would be better if he learned that he shouldn't rely on me, shouldn't rely on anyone, when it gets right down to it, I hate disappointing him. I don't ever want to do that if I can avoid it. I've disappointed too many of the people that I … love. The people I love. Shit! I'm in my own head, here. I can afford to say it in my own head, anyway.

I've disappointed Justin so many times, and even though I'd told him not to rely on me, told him he was the only one he had, still, I'd also wanted to be there for him, to give him everything I could. And I'd hoped for a while that it would be enough. I'd started to believe that maybe it was going to be enough. But when it came down to it, it turned out that what I could give, and what he needed weren't the same. Hell! They weren't even close. But that doesn't mean that I don't still try to be there if he needs something that I can give him. I need to do that. It's all I have. And I'll always try to give everything I can to Gus. It mightn't be enough, but he'll get the very best I can do.

So when Justin called tonight, needing help, and I heard Gus crying for me in the background, going over there straight away was a no-brainer. Even if it did mean seeing Justin.

Not that I don't like seeing Justin. That's just the fucking problem. I like it way too much. You'd think it would get easier, and for a while there, it sort of did. I mean, I knew he was with the fiddler. And he seemed happy, so I had to be okay with that. We'd gotten to the point where we could at least talk without major weirdness. After the carnival poster and then the thing with that fucking evil little son of a bitch nephew of mine, we'd even sort of become … friends, I guess.

But that was when he was with Ethan. He isn't anymore. So now there's nothing and no one there between us, except that I'm still not what he wants, not what he needs, not what he deserves. And, although I could handle that, just, when he was with someone else, and happy, now he's alone again, and he's not happy, you only have to look into those beautiful blues to know that, and I don't know what to do.

I want to do the right thing, the right thing for Justin. The problem is that torn between wanting him and wanting him to be happy, I just don't have a clue what the right thing is any more.

Except that right at this moment, going home and seeking the company of my old friend Jim seems like a good option.

As I sink down on the couch, that damned song is still going through my head. I get up and rifle through the cds until I find the right one, and put it on. Supposedly to listen to that song. Of course, what I really want to hear is the other one, the other song, the one I had to stop myself singing over and over when I first found it.

It starts and I'm overcome by the memories. What am I doing to myself? Gallons of Jim Beam couldn't drown out this pain.

It was the day after. Not the day after the Rage party. That was just the finale. No, the day after I finally understood that I was really going to lose him. He'd come home stinking of the fiddler, and … well, I don't want to think about that. I'm not particularly proud of how I acted that night.

When we finally lay in our bed … the last time, really, that it was "our" bed, he turned away from me and just lay there in the dark. I think he was crying. I think I was. I wanted to reach out, to touch him, to hold him, to hold onto him. But I didn't. I just lay there looking at him and all through the night I felt him move a little further away from me with each breath so that by the morning he was way beyond my reach.

The next day I was working on the campaign and I came across this fucking song.

"Tell me why you cried, and why you lied to me."

The moment I heard that line, I felt something start to squeeze my heart so tightly I could hardly breathe. That wasn't the kicker, though. It was the rest, the verses. Over the next week or so, till he finally left me standing in the middle of Babylon, they kept coming back to haunt me. Now, as I listen to them again, all that pain floods back. No, not back, it never left; it just pours out from somewhere deep inside me.

"I gave you everything had,

but you left me sitting on my own.

Did you have to treat me oh, so bad.

All I do is hang my head and moan."

But it wasn't him, he didn't treat me badly. He just did what I'd always told him he should do, he looked out for himself. He was always free to leave, if he didn't want to stay. And I didn't give him a lot of reasons to want to stay. At least, I thought maybe I had, but it was obvious even then that they weren't the right reasons. They weren't the reasons he was looking for.

"If there's something I have said or done,

tell me what and I'll apologise.

If you don't I really can't go on

holding back these tears in my eyes."

I didn't cry. Not on the outside at least. I just lived every day in this haze of pain. But hey!, I'm an expert at pain management, right? Except that this time the usual techniques didn't work very well. The tricks, well, we know what went wrong with the tricks. And the drugs and the drink, they just left me feeling too out of control.

"Well, I beg you on my bended knees,

if you'll only listen to my pleas.

Is there anything I can do?,

'cause I really can't stand it,

I'm so in love with you."

See, that was the problem, take in enough pain killers and the control started to slip and all that was left was what I wanted, what I needed, and there were times I was so fucking close to finding myself fucking serenading him under his fucking window… I scared the shit out of myself. So I had to stop going down that path. Even tonight …

I sigh, and screw the top back on the Beam bottle.

Because tonight, he looked at me, and I swear I saw something there. Or maybe that's just wishful thinking. But whichever - wishes or reality - I can't go running to him and begging him to come home. I can't. Because I think he would, I'm afraid he would. And I won't do that to him. It's like I told Lindz, I would never ask him to put my needs above his, or try to be something he's not just to make me happy.

So I just put that fucking song on repeat, and sit here, listening to it over and over and try not to wonder … if I'd done it, if I'd somehow found a way to give these words to him, would he still be here? Even now, would he come back?

"Cause I really can't stand it I'm so in love with you."

End part two

Lyrics quoted from "Tell Me Why" by Lennon/McCartney

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