Parce Mihi Domine Chapter 1

[nothing_rhymes_with_ianto]

Brian's feeling and thoughts from 1.22 through the end of 2.02. This is a gapfiller of sorts, and tells what happens in the month and a half or so when Justin was in the hospital.
 

"Did you see their faces?" He was laughing, happier than Brian had ever seen him before. And it lifted Brian's spirits to see the little twink glow with such life.

"Yeah. We gave them a prom they'll never forget." Justin laughed again. It was a wonderful sound.

"Me neither." Brian hooked the silk scarf around Justin's neck, gently manhandling him against the car. "It's the best night of my life."

"Even if it was ridiculously romantic." Brian grinned affectionately. He couldn't look away from the joyful blue eyes that looked so trusting, lovingly at him.

He moved in to kiss Justin, then stopped, holding the loving gaze. There was something different about tonight that made him want to be gentle. He closed his eyes first-something he never did, and kissed Justin gently, once, twice, then realized it was time for Justin to go.

Gently steering him with the white silk, he spun them so that Justin could leave. For a moment, he pulled the twink closer, wanting to continue touching him, kissing him, then pushed him gently backward, twisting his other hand around the scarf.

"Later." It was a gentle promise that they'd see each other again. Justin's smiled brightly and laughed a little. Brian felt his stomach clench with a sensation he could not describe nor name.

"Later." A huffed cry of joy passed from his lips. The bright smile flashed once more at the idea of seeing Brian again. His eyes lit up at the thought of the dance. God, he really was Sunshine, wasn't he? Brian couldn't help but love Debbie for giving the kid that name. He couldn't help but lo-, like Sunshine for being such a persistent little trick.

Justin turned and walked away as Brian got in his car. Instead of backing out like he would have, Brian stopped. He watched affectionately at Justin's retreating back. He watched as Sunshine let the silk scarf slide through his fingers, knowing he was savoring the feel just because it had been on Brian. The kid was practically skipping with joy.

Then someone- who was that? They look familiar- stepped into the view, a baseball bat swinging from his hand. What the fuck? He scrambled out of the car, unsure of what was going to happen, but whatever it was, it couldn't be good. He watched the bat rise, no-, he opened his mouth but nothing came out, he couldn't react, fear was gripping him, his voice was stuck in his throat-

"Justin!" He turned, smiling bright at the sound of Brian's voice, unaware of the danger behind him. The beautiful sunshine smile that shouldn't be broken. The sunshine smile that made Brian want to cry as he watched what was unfolding in front of him. Time seemed to slow down. He was running, but the bat- the bat was swinging and the crack of wood on bone seemed to echo through the parking garage. The splitting thud of contact resounded through Brian's heart.

And then he was running faster, rushing the kid. He shoved the attacker before he could get away, but the kid was nimble and got up again. Brian grabbed the bat- the bat that had taken his sunshine- and swung it back. He wanted to hit the kid in the head, hard enough to cause damage, he wanted to kill, but instead he brought the bat swinging down to make hard contact with the attacker's knees. He took small satisfaction in the scream of pain as the teenager fell. He dropped the bat, uncertain of what to do with the kid, and ran to Justin's side.

He stopped for a nanosecond when he saw that Justin wasn't moving, when he saw the red that was trickling down near his ear. Then he dropped to his knees. No. Fuck no. He put his hand to Justin's arm, but there was no movement. Justin's breathing was shallow and the golden sunshine had gone out of him.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…God!" Brian pulled at Justin's clothes, trying to will him to be okay. No. He cradled Justin's head in his hands, not caring that blood was pouring over him. He buried his face into Justin's shoulder and prayed to gods he didn't believe in that Justin would be okay. Far away, he could hear the crying of the kid who had hit Justin.

"Justin. Justin. It's okay. Fuck! No, it's not okay. Just- don't go. No, no, no, no. You have to stay here. Please, Justin. I'm going to call for help. Justin. Sunshine. Please. Come on, you have to stay here. Do it for me. For Debbie. Do it for Daphne. It'll be all right. Shit! Justin!"

He pulled out his cell phone. With shaking fingers he dialed 911 and told the person on the other line where he was and what had happened. Talking about it made it even more real and he realized he was shaking. The person on the other end hung up and he let the phone slip from his fingers to the cold cement. The dial tone reached his ears and he knew that's what he felt like. Flatlined and empty.

He bent over Justin's prone form again, staring at his face, which was relaxed and peaceful. He brushed hair from Justin's forehead and kissed his head, again and again, as if the kisses could heal what had been broken, as if they could bring back the sunshine. He held the young man's body in his lap, kissing Justin's shoulder, his lips, his eyelids, rocking slightly. He wasn't sure if the rocking was for him or for Justin. He just knew that if he didn't hold tight to his sunshine it would be gone

He didn't registering the blaring alarm of the ambulance as it rushed to his side or the glaring flashing lights of read and blue. His eyes and mind were focused only on Justin. He didn't even realized that he was clutching Justin to him, refusing to let go, until a paramedic put a hand on his shoulder and he jumped, jerking out of the haze.

"Sir, you have to let go. We need to take him to the hospital." Brian stared emptily at the EMT and then nodded, pulling Justin tighter to him and kissing him one more time before letting the paramedics lift him onto a stretcher. He pushed to his feet. His legs were stiff from sitting on the cold cement, hunched over his Sunshine. He slowly retrieved his cell phone from the ground and pocketed it. He moved to get into the ambulance. A hand on his arm stopped him.

"Sir, what relation do you have with the boy?"

"Justin. His name is Justin Taylor. I'm his- I'm his partner. I want to ride with him. Please." The desperation and fear in his voice must have been evident because the man nodded and allowed him in.

Brian grabbed hold of Justin's hand, trying to hold on to Justin without getting in the way. Someone gently pulled the scarf off of Justin's shoulders and moved to throw it away, but Brian grabbed it out of the hands that held it. He watched helplessly as hands wrapped bandages around Justin's head. He couldn't do anything. He kissed Justin's hand again and again. Someone disengaged their hands and he shrank away as a paramedic blocked his view of Justin to get better access. Then Justin was back in view and he tunnel-visioned again on his Sunshine.

He remembered his cell phone in his pocket and pulled it out, pressing speed dial for Michael. A tentative "Hello?" was answered by a flat voice telling Michael to come to the hospital, Justin's been bashed, just come.

The ambulance came to a halt and doors opened, exposing them to the cold outside air. Hands pulled and lifted and shoved at Justin's stretcher and Brian wanted to yell at them not to shake him, not to hurt him, but he couldn't find his voice. He jumped out of the ambulance behind the EMTs and followed them, keeping Justin in his line of sight, until a hand on his chest prevented him from going any further and he heard dimly through the static in his head that he would have to stay in the waiting room, he couldn't go in with Justin. A hand on his arm led him to a hallway outside of the operating room. Someone brought him a chair and pushed him gently into it. There was something on it. Someone had taken of his jacket for him. He looked down at his hands to find the silk scarf. But it was marred with red. Justin's blood.

He felt hot tears trail their way down his face and didn't try to stop them. He crumpled the scarf into a ball and then thought better of it and put it around his shoulders. Justin. Justin was in there, and no one knew if he was going to live or die. Please live. Please, Justin. Sunshine, do it for us. He stared out at nothing, barely registering Michael's hand on his neck. It shouldn't have been Michael's hands. Not tonight. Tonight it should have been Justin's hands.

He looked down the hall, remembering when he and Justin and Mikey had all come barreling down to see Gus, laughing and racing and nervous but happy. He never thought he'd be here again, but he was. He looked back to the wall. Justin, please. It was his fault that Justin was lying there in the operating room. If he hadn't come to the prom, that wouldn't have happened. Now Justin was dangling between life and death. He let the tears fall freely.

********

By the time Jennifer, Debbie and Daphne had joined them, there were no more tears left in Brian's eyes. He stared blankly at nothing, and when Jennifer touched his hand gently, he flinched away and stood up, walking quickly to the mens room and locking himself in a stall.

Kneeling, he retched into the toilet but nothing came up. He knew it was futile, but continued dry heaving over the bowl, trembling. When he stomach calmed, he leaned against the cool tile, taking deep shaky breaths to calm himself. He heard the gentle squeak of the door as it opened.

"Brian?" Michael's voice was soft but it echoed loud- too loud, through the tiled room. The stall door opened and Michael was beside him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "It's all right. It's okay. It's all right."

"It's not all right! Fuck!" Brian hit the wall with his fist. Michael took both of Brian's hands in his and held him close. Brian resisted for a moment, then went limp in is friends grip and just sat there, breathing hard. He looked up at Michael, eyes dulled with pain and anguish and worry, bloodshot with tears. Michael put his forehead to Brian's and rocked him gently. They just sat like that for a long time, neither caring that their legs had fallen asleep or that neither of them was very comfortable. When Brian let out a long, cathartic breath, Michael took that as a cue to speak.

"I think they've gone home now. Do you want to go back?" Brian nodded and stood, wincing. He splashed cool water on his face, then left the restroom, Michael right behind him. He sat down again in his chair. No one was around. They had all gone home. Michael came closer.

"Do you want something to eat?" Brian flinched at the sound, so close to his ear. He shook his head and stared at his hands. Michael said something about getting food for himself and left. Brian remained where he was. He felt the tears form again, pricking behind his eyelids, and he willed them away.

He stood up and began to pace, unable to stay still any longer, the fear and uncertainty bubbling again in his belly, making him frantic. He continued to pace, running a hand through his hair, breathing hard. He turned and leaned his forehead against the wall, so unsure. He felt Michael take his hand and lead him back to his seat. A water bottle was shoved into his hands and he unconsciously took a drink. He put the cap back on the water and let it slide from his hand. He continued to stare at the wall as time slid by at a speed unknown to him.

*********

"Brian. It's been a whole day. You're exhausted. Go to sleep." He wasn't exhausted. And he couldn't sleep, he had to stay awake, to know if Justin was all right. But he was tired.

His head felt heavy, and he let it drop against his chest. He blinked, trying to keep his eyes open. He slid into blackness.

When he awoke, it was almost noon, and Debbie was sitting beside him. She moved to put a hand on his knee, and he flinched away. She looked apologetic and returned her hand to her own lap. He looked at Michael, who was seated beside him.

"They still don't know yet. He's still in critical condition." Michael answered the question in Brian's eyes. Brian bit his lip and nodded. He glanced down at the scarf in his lap and shuddered, hunching his shoulders and closing his eyes, trying to stave off another wave of tears.

Michael walked over and crouched beside him, running a comforting hand along the back of his neck. "Do you want anything? Want to go home?" he asked softly.

"Maybe. No. No. I want to know he's gonna be okay. Then I can go home." Michael nodded and retreated back to his chair. Brian retreated back into his head.

It was nearly ten PM on the third day when a doctor opened the door and looked at the small group cloistered together. A dark haired man was hunched in one seat, eyes red, face slack, staring off in the distance. A blonde woman sat beside him, looking at a tissue in her hands. Others were trying to comfort them. They all looked up when the doctor stepped in. He seemed nearly taken aback when the dark haired man turned piercing hazel eyes on him, the devastation and pain in them enough to knock you over.

"Well, how is he? Is he okay? When can he go home? Is he awake? What's going on?" A chorus of voices surrounded Brian and he wanted to cover his ears. The doctor held up his hand for silence.

"He's stable now. He's still in a coma, and we're not sure when he'll wake up. We wont know how extensive the damage is until he wakes up, but there is a large possibility for minor brain damage. He might have difficulty remembering things, he might have problems with motor control. We're not entirely sure what effects this will have on him, and we cant be certain until he wakes up."

"When will that be?" Asked Jennifer.

"We're not sure. We had to open up his skull to release the blood and that can do a lot of damage. He may not wake up for a long time, but we are almost completely certain that he will wake up. Though he will wake up, we have no way of knowing his mental condition or any motor damage that has occurred until he does."

"Fuck!" Brian couldn't stand this any longer. He stood up, kicking over his chair in his haste, and hurried out of there. He heard Michael call his name, and knew that his friend would be running after him. He hurried out to the parking lot, then stood there, looking out. Michael caught up with him.

"Where the fuck's my car?" Brian asked him.

"It's still in the parking garage where…" Oh yeah. Brian had forgotten that he'd ridden in the ambulance. "I'll take you home." Brian nodded.

Brian opened the door to his loft, kicking off his shoes as he stepped inside. He hadn't realized he was still wearing the suit from that night.

"Brian, do you want me to-" Brian shook his head at Michael.

"Just go, Michael. I want to be alone. And you need to be in Portland with David. I'll be okay, I promise. If-if I need something, I'll call your mom." It was the most he'd said in three days. Michael nodded.

"Okay." Brian allowed Michael to give him a kiss, then shut the door after his receding back. He slowly undressed, exhausted from the stress of the hospital. The last thing he removed was the bloodstained scarf, which he reverently folded and put at the foot of the bed before stepping into the shower.

He turned the water on as hot as it would go, trying to sear his skin clean and burn out the pain and anguish and worry. He scrubbed at himself until he was raw, and then finally turned off the water and fell into bed, not bothering to put on boxers or a t-shirt. But his fingers brushed the white silk fabric and he pulled it to him, draping it around his shoulders and tangling an end through his fingers before he fell into a fitful sleep full of baseball bats and blood and screams and cold cement and sunshine smiles and a feeling in the pit of his stomach that he could not describe.