Valediction - Part 5a
Title: Valediction (Part 5a of 6)
Rating: R Language, violence
Warnings: Angst. Oh, and then? More angst. * Major Character Death *
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my thoughts, and even then sometimes, I rent.
Complete: Yes
General Summary: Canon thru 509(ish), right down to some of the scenes/dialogue directly from the show. Some just happen in a slightly different time line. Because what if Brian realized what he was missing before the bombing? What if he changed just one thing, and that changed everything - the butterfly effect gone mad.
Author's note about the WIP: I really only intended to write a short epilogue to this story and post it right after the end of Part 3, but somehow it morphed into a part 4, and now, part 5. There will be at least one more after this. I know - Oy! I blame Justin. I promise that the story will be finished - but meantime, parts 1-3 can be read as a stand alone. ~ q_dicted
Feedback is appreciated!
Memories for Valediction
Valediction ~ Part 5a
Justin
Justin followed Melanie onto the elevator and stood staring blankly at the control panel. Melanie glanced sideways at him as she pressed the button, trying not to let her concern show. She’d brought his bags with her to Daphne’s - fortunately Ben had had the presence of mind to grab them before they’d followed the ambulance from Babylon. A shower and change of clothes left him feeling halfway human again and he’d seemed okay when they left the apartment. But the closer they got to the hospital the more he withdrew and he hadn’t said a word since they pulled into the parking lot. The elevator came to a stop and he blinked as the ‘B’ lit up and the doors whispered open, but he made no move to exit. Mel had to stand in the path of the doors to stop them closing again. “Come on, Justin,” she reached out and gave his arm a supportive squeeze. “This is really mostly just a formality. You’ll have a couple forms to sign once I give them the paperwork and then we can go home, okay?” Justin nodded and stepped past her, pausing once he was in the corridor.
He knew exactly where they were going - he could probably have found his way there blindfolded. During the weeks he’d spent here recovering from the bashing he wasn’t allowed to leave the building and so he’d filled up his days exploring every inch of the hospital. He knew what each floor held - medicine and physiotherapy on the ground floor, the surgical suites and intensive care on the second, maternity and pediatrics on the third. Among other things, the basement level of Allegheny General Hospital housed the hospital pharmacy, the cafeteria, a gift shop and their destination this morning, the administrative offices. Those were all to his left, their locations mapped out on the directory that faced the elevator doors.
It was what lay to his right that kept him rooted to the spot. The plain gray sliding doors offered no indication of what was beyond them; each bore only a rather innocuous ‘No Admittance - Hospital Personnel Only’ sign beneath a small, square window. He’d gone through them one afternoon when curiosity had gotten the better of him. That was the day the panic attacks had begun. Before that his fears had been confined to the night, to dreams that twisted into nightmares he couldn’t really remember yet still left him shaking and unnerved. His days had been filled with frustration and pain, but it wasn’t until he’d found himself standing on the other side of those doors that mindless panic joined the mix. He passed by several offices with doctor’s names and titles on the nameplates and then found another set of sliding doors, these ones set with larger windows. At first he thought it was an operating room - all sterile-looking steel and bright overhead lights. But the surgical suite was upstairs. And operating rooms didn’t have more than one table. Mercifully, the room was empty but the row of gleaming, stainless steel lockers along one wall left no doubt as to what it was.
It had hit him all at once - how close he’d come to being in that room himself, and why. That someone hated him enough to want him dead; that it had been so easy for Hobbs to get to him; that he wasn’t safe at his own prom. He wasn’t safe anywhere. Certainly not here. He’d stood there trembling, overcome with a paralyzing fear - wanting to run but unable to make his legs work. He didn’t hear the orderly approach him and when the man put his hand on his shoulder he’d lost it. He didn’t remember exactly what happened - he never could. He only knew he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move and that he was going to die. The next thing he knew he was back in his room and his mom was there and she looked like she’d been crying again. Fuck.
Justin felt a tear slide down his cheek as memories of those dark days after he left the hospital filled his thoughts. The joy of finally seeing Brian again, then the terrible realization of how badly the bashing had affected him as well. Yet despite his own issues it was Brian who held him through the nightmares with a gentleness Justin doubted anyone else knew he possessed. It was Brian who was patient and understanding when he couldn’t let anyone touch him, and then tender and loving when he finally could. It was Brian who had given him back his art; refused to let him give up on himself, massaged his hand when it cramped up and his spirit when that failed him, too. And when he’d asked for more, demanded a covenant, Brian had given him that, too. Only one of them had honored it - he wondered bitterly how surprised Brian’s ‘friends’ would be to know which one of them it was.
Justin pressed his forehead to the window and swallowed the lump that rose in his throat as he faced a truth he’d never really acknowledged to the one person he should have. He’d survived the bat to the head thanks to the skill of the surgeons. But he’d lived because of Brian and he’d thanked him by leaving him for pretty words and empty promises. And now it was Brian on the other side of those doors, only this time the nightmare was real. Fuck.
“Justin? The office is this way...” When he didn’t answer her, Melanie stepped closer and looked over his shoulder and through the glass. To her it was an empty hallway like any other but it didn’t take a psychic to feel the anxiety the young man at her side exuded. He was all but vibrating with it and she knew instinctively that touching him would be disastrous. She cleared her throat softly and spoke his name again. It took a third time before he finally turned to look at her and the despair in his eyes made her question yet again the wisdom of making him do this. And once more Justin proved her wrong. He shook his head and blinked away the tears, and then turned his back on the memories - he couldn’t change the past, but he could make sure he didn’t let him down again.
~*~*~
Justin and Melanie walked down the corridor towards the administration office. Although there were no patients on the basement level, it still had the hushed quality inherent to hospitals and so they heard the commotion before they even turned the corner. A young man in casual clothes stood beside a much older, well dressed woman with steel-gray hair at the administration office reception window. She was clinging to the man’s arm as though her life depended on it; nothing about her posture suggested strength or confidence and yet she was berating the young woman behind the counter with practiced arrogance. The man cast an apologetic glance at the clerk and then tried to soothe his companion with quiet words but she waved them off and leaned across the counter and through the open window.
“I want to speak to your supervisor, right now.” The clerk disappeared into the back and immediately the older woman looked up at her friend, dabbing at her eyes with a wadded up tissue. “This is outrageous. They can’t do this.”
Justin felt all the hairs on his neck stand up as the sound of her voice tickled something in the back of his brain. He’d only heard it once before but there was no mistaking its cold, somewhat imperious tone. Before he could think about it he tapped the woman on the shoulder. Both of them turned to face him and Justin took in the white band peeking through the collar of the man’s black shirt in the same moment he saw his face. A priest. Not just a priest, Reverend Tom. Their Reverend Tom. Justin then turned to the woman who stood beside him.
“Hello, Mrs. Kinney.”
It was obvious that she didn’t recognize him at first as she looked him up and down with an eerily familiar arched brow, and then even more obvious when she did. Her face narrowed with barely concealed disdain and she raised her chin haughtily.
“Justin, isn’t it?” He nodded, a little surprised that she remembered his name. She glanced back and forth between him and the priest, clearly trying to decide how she could explain the young blond without acknowledging her son’s abominable lifestyle. She ran a shaky hand across her eyes as if she hoped he might not be there when she opened them. But of course he was, and the priest was staring at him with open curiosity. “Reverend Butterfield this is...” she hesitated, her mouth twisting as though she had tasted something sour. She made a show of dabbing her eyes again and Justin couldn’t help notice that the tissue looked decidedly dry. He huffed out a short, scornful breath of his own and gave a slight shake of his head. He put out his hand and the priest took it automatically.
“I’m Justin Taylor, Brian’s partner.” He ignored the scowl on the old woman’s face and met Reverend Tom’s gaze evenly, no small feat considering their brief but eventful history. “I’m pretty sure we’ve met,” he said, and felt the man’s hand clench around his fingers for a heartbeat as recognition dawned in the priest’s eyes. They slid briefly to the woman at his side and then back to Justin. He hesitated for only a moment before he covered younger man’s hand with both of his own and shook it firmly.
“I’m so very sorry for your loss. Brian was a good man.”
Melanie watched the scene unfold and she couldn’t have said which of the two were more surprised by the priest’s heartfelt condolence. Justin, who had no reason to expect such respect from the man, or Joan, who seemed genuinely confused by it. Before she could question it further the door to the administration office opened and a dark-haired woman emerged. Clearly the clerk had informed her of the situation; she took in all four of them as she approached but it was Joan she spoke to first, greeting her with a sympathetic but professional smile.
“I’m Pamela Johansen, Director of Patient Services. How can I help you?”
Joan turned her back on Justin and Melanie as if they weren’t there and answered the woman sharply. “You can tell me where my son is. This... person,” she nodded at the young clerk who had resumed her place at the counter, “has been no help whatsoever.”
“First of all, Mrs. Kinney, let me offer my condolences. I know this is an extremely difficult time.” Her words elicited no response from the older woman, so she continued, “Please be assured that our only concern is to make certain that your son’s wishes are adhered to in accordance with his instructions.”
The implication of the Director’s words seemed to be lost on Joan and she went on as though she hadn’t spoken at all. “The funeral home called me and said you refused to let them pick up his...” her voice cracked with the first sign of real emotion she’d shown but she recovered quickly, her chin rising defiantly again. “This is outrageous. I want him released right now.”
The director smiled tolerantly and tried again. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kinney, but I’m afraid we can’t do that.” Joan’s eyebrows shot up and she practically sputtered.
“You most certainly will...”
“Maybe I can help clear things up,” Melanie interrupted her and it seemed to shock the older woman into silence. “I am Melanie Marcus - we spoke on the phone earlier.” She pulled a legal-sized file folder from the leather attaché slung over her shoulder and offered it to the administrator. “And this is Justin Taylor,” she added, motioning towards him. Pamela opened the folder and quickly looked over the top document, nodding. Before she could respond, Joan apparently found her voice again and grasped her by the elbow.
“Excuse me, but we were not finished speaking.” Pamela looked down at the hand on her arm and back up into the indignant woman’s eyes. Her job required her to deal with people in all sorts of emotional crises and she was a compassionate person, but she drew the line at being touched. She tucked the folder under her arm and removed the woman’s hand from her elbow.
“Mrs. Kinney, I understand you are upset,” she said patiently. She glanced at the four of them and gestured towards her office door, “Why don’t we step into my office and I will be happy to explain.” But Joan refused to be placated.
“There is nothing to be explained. He is my son and I demand that you do as I ask and let us...” her voice faltered and she looked up at Reverend Tom and then back at the administrator. Despite the dark hair Joan guessed her to be around her own age, and she had wedding rings on her hand - perhaps she was a mother, too. Perhaps she could understand the shame... “Please, there are things we need to do,” she implored, and then she cast a contemptuous look in Justin’s direction and clutched the priest’s arm again. “My son is damned. We need to pray for his soul.” Pamela scarcely had time to register her dismay before Justin spoke.
“What did you say?” Justin barely breathed the words but they drew the attention of all four of them. “What did you say?” he repeated the words carefully, his hands instinctively clenched at his side.
Joan didn’t retract her words, but she at least had the sense not to say them again. She moved closer to the priest and when he put a protective arm around her shoulder she raised her chin and huffed. “You heard what I said. And you are on the same road, young man. It’s not too late for you yet, though. You can still change. You can escape God’s punishment.”
Justin shook his head, refusing to accept what he was hearing. “He’s your son. How could you...” He threw a questioning look at Reverend Tom and found the man unwilling to meet his eyes. Joan had no such trouble.
“I tried to tell him, to help him understand. God gave him a second chance and he threw it in His face.” Her voice faltered then, full of unshed tears, not for her son’s life, but for her own disgrace. “He condemned himself to the fires and added eternity after eternity to his sentence with his sinful ways.”
“You can’t really believe that?” Melanie said incredulously. She knew Brian’s mother disapproved of him but she never imagined she could be this... monstrous. Justin looked as though he might actually strike the woman and she moved to his side just in case. Joan turned to Melanie as though she had just noticed her presence.
“I believe in God’s holy word. You have no right to question it, or me, Miss...” she narrowed her eyes and assessed the younger woman, “who are you, exactly?”
“Actually, I have every right - or rather, Justin does.” Melanie leveled her most menacing, don’t-fuck-with-me stare at her. “I am Brian’s attorney, and that,” she said, pointing at the file that Pamela held, “is all the documentation necessary to make sure that you don’t go anywhere near him.” In a different situation she would have enjoyed the look of shocked indignation on the old woman’s face, but as it was she felt only a deep sadness that any mother could possibly value religious dogma over the life of her child. Still, the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly as she drove the message home. “Unless of course, Justin allows it.”
“That is ridiculous,” Joan spat the words at her, waving her hand dismissively. “Of course I don’t need this... boy’s permission to see my son.” She glared at Mel in a vain attempt to stare the younger woman down and for a moment Melanie caught a glimpse of Brian in the arrogant set of her jaw. She glared right back and was struck by the eerie familiarity of the exchange. How many times had she and Brian faced off just like this? But this time, unlike pretty much every single one of those times, the Kinney side of the equation blinked first. Joan turned to the administrator, fully expecting validation of her rights as Brian’s mother, but found the woman shaking her head.
“I’m afraid Ms. Marcus is correct.” A cursory glance at the paperwork confirmed what Melanie had already told her on the phone. Though they were only a few weeks old, all the documents were in order giving Justin the authority the lawyer had just asserted. Her job required her to be impassive but it was difficult not to feel a little relief that she would not have to accede to this woman. All too often she’d seen the cruel treatment of bereaved partners at the hands of a homophobic parent simply because they hadn’t had the foresight to put their wishes in writing. Try as she might, Pamela couldn’t quite keep the contempt out of her voice as she tried once again to explain the situation to her. “Mr. Taylor has the legal authority here. He...”
“Don’t tell me about legal authority,” Joan cut her off. “What about moral authority? God’s authority?” She clung to Reverend Tom again, her voice growing more shrill by the moment. “Ms. Johansen, surely you must see what is at stake here? We need to pray for his soul - for God’s mercy.”
“Joan, please...” Reverend Tom tried to calm her but she wouldn’t be silenced. She cast a hard look at Justin.
“The Bible is quite clear. Men lying with men is an abomination. My son died without repenting his sins. He is going to Hell.”
Melanie gasped, Ms. Johansen said something about legal rights and obligations, even the good Reverend seemed taken aback, but none of it registered for Justin. All he could hear were the hateful words being spewed by the person who should have loved Brian more than anyone else, and it was all he could do to control the fury he felt clawing at his chest.
“You have no idea,” he said through his teeth. Joan raised a questioning eyebrow at him but wisely said nothing. “You have no idea how Brian... died,” he nearly choked on the word but anger fueled his resolve and he took a step toward the older woman, close enough to smell the stale alcohol on her beneath a cloud of expensive perfume. “You have the gall to stand there and talk about morality? Brian was a good man, an honorable man. He was...he was the best man I’ve ever known. He worked hard and he supported his friends,” he paused and glanced at Melanie, his voice softening a little, “and he loved his family... He loved me, and he died...”
Justin's voice failed him as Brian’s last moments flashed in his mind. He wasn’t ready to share what Brian had gone through. Not yet, and maybe not ever. Certainly never with these people. He doubted even knowing that her son died wondering if his own son would remember him would be enough to get through to her. He thought of all the times he’d harangued Brian for not telling her about Gus and he felt an odd mixture of guilt and respect. As always, Brian had known what he was doing keeping his son far, far away from her. He recalled the photo of Brian and Gus he carried in his wallet and it was all he could do not to take it out and shove it down the old woman’s throat - make her see just what her God had taken away from them. As much as he wanted to do it, he knew he could never betray Brian that way. His voice was thick with emotion but he refused to let this woman see him cry. He drew in a ragged breath and took another step forward until there was barely a foot between them.
“He died...no...” Justin shook his head, “no, he was killed because someone… someone like you believed someone like him, someone like me didn’t deserve to live. He died knowing that. How can you possibly believe that was God’s will?” He turned baleful eyes on the priest. “How can you?” The man had the grace to look ashamed, but still he remained silent and dropped his eyes. Justin shook his head at the both of them, his voice filled with loathing, “You want to pray for something? You should both pray that God forgives you.”
For a brief moment something flickered across the old woman’s face. Remorse? Regret? Her pinched mouth trembled and a sheen of tears wet her eyes and Justin had a wild hope that maybe he’d actually gotten through to her. And then it was gone. She sniffed and squared her shoulders as if shaking off the momentary weakness and then cleared her throat. Her voice was somewhat more subdued, but the invective was the same.
“Yes, well, God has already passed judgment, hasn’t he. All we can do is pray that He has mercy on his soul.” She raised her chin defiantly and Justin knew a moment of pure hatred so powerful it made him recoil as if she’d slapped him. It took several deep breaths before he trusted himself to speak.
“You hateful, ignorant woman,” he seethed, “you don’t deserve to call yourself his mother.” He was shaking and had to shove his hands deep into his pockets to keep himself from doing something he would regret. He felt Mel’s arm go around him and pull him gently away from the woman, but he couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. “You have no idea who your son was, how much he meant to me... to all of us...” He felt the tears begin to slide down his face and he let them fall. “You’re despicable and the worst part is you don’t even know how pathetic you really are.” He pulled his hand from his pocket to wipe his eyes and Joan actually flinched as though she expected a blow. Reverend Tom placed himself between them and took Justin’s arm.
“Justin, we are all trying to cope with this tragedy in our own way.”
“Take your hand off me,” Justin bit the words off one by one, and though the priest was several inches taller and quite a bit more solid than the younger man, he dropped his hand and stepped back.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”
“Didn’t mean to what, Reverend Butterfield. Didn’t mean to let her talk about him like he was some worthless piece of shit? Didn’t mean to stand here in silence while she reduces her son’s life to nothing more than his sexual orientation? Didn’t mean to be a complete and total fucking hypocrite?” He saw the priest’s face narrow with fear and somehow, instead of making him angrier, it just made him sad. He blew out a short, disgusted breath and shook his head, leaning closer. Fully aware that Joan could still hear every word, he hissed directly into the priest’s ear. “You’re worse than she is.” The good reverend could explain that to her any way he saw fit.
He turned his back on them and scrubbed his hand over his face, wiping away the evidence of their effect on him. He took a moment to recoup, and then he spoke to Ms. Johansen for the first time. “You have something for me to sign?” She nodded wordlessly and went to the counter where the young clerk stood with a folder in her hand. She drew out a set of documents, some insurance forms and the release papers and indicated where he should sign. Melanie had explained what they all were on their way over, and so he scrawled his name in the appropriate places and pushed them back across the counter to her. Later, he would think about the import of what, exactly, he had just done but for the moment the simple act seemed to calm him, to deepen his resolve to make absolutely sure that Brian’s faith in him was justified. He turned and faced Joan again, this time with an icy dignity that would have made Brian proud.
“Brian didn’t want a funeral - no visitations, no service. He’s going to be buried privately at Union Dale the day after tomorrow, so if you or Claire want to pay your respects, you can do it there.” Joan started to protest and Justin cut her off before she could get a word out. “But know this: if either of you so much as open your mouths to denigrate him in any way I will personally throw you out. So if you don’t think you can control yourself then I suggest you just stay away.” Joan retreated to the priest’s side again, clearly winding up to have another go at the administrator, but Justin stopped her cold, turning to the woman himself.
“I want to thank you for your help, Ms. Johansen,” he said sincerely. She had been more than kind and he sensed that she was on his side, but looking around he realized that they had drawn the attention of most of the people in the administration office, and not all of them held the same expression of sympathy that the Director did. At least not for him. So he hoped that she understood his warning was for their benefit, not hers. “Just so we’re clear, we have made arrangements for Mr. Kinney...” he bit down hard on his lip for a second before he could go on, “for Mr. Kinney’s body to be picked up later this morning. If either of these people are allowed anywhere near him before then, I will own this hospital by the time I’m finished.”
Pamela nodded her understanding, quietly impressed at his composure. She wasn’t sure she could have handled what he’d just gone through with such grace at his age, or even now for that matter. The Director smiled softly and extended her hand to him. “Of course, Mr. Taylor. And once again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Justin turned and walked away without looking back and Melanie followed him in stunned silence, still trying to absorb what she had just witnessed. Until the moment Joan had provoked him into speaking about it, she hadn’t really considered that fact that Justin had actually had to watch the love of his life die. Watching his face as that memory engulfed him was like looking at an open wound - raw and bleeding with no means of stopping the pain. But he had taken that pain and channeled it into one of the most powerful displays of courage and loyalty she had ever seen. She found herself slightly in awe of the depth of the love that inspired it and to her dismay, she realized that just maybe the man she’d spent so many years reviling was actually worthy of it.
Only someone who knew Justin well would have known just how little it would have taken to shatter the thin veneer of bravado that had carried him through these last few minutes. He managed to get all the way to the parking lot before it abandoned him. By the time they reached the car he was shaking too hard to open the door. He leaned heavily against it instead and wrapped his arms around his own body in an attempt to keep himself together.
“Fuck. What did I just do?” he breathed as the tears spilled over. Mel threw her bag into the car and put her hands on his shoulders, leaning down until he was forced to look her in the face.
“You did one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen, Justin. I’m proud of you.”
“How could she, Mel? His own fucking mother. God, she makes me sick.” He ran his hands back through his hair and clasped them behind his neck. “I wanted to... Jesus... I could have killed her for the things she said.” He blew out a shaky breath. “What kind of person does that make me?”
“It makes you human, Justin. Nobody should have to listen to the things you did about someone they love.”
Justin hunched his shoulders and nodded, “I know. But it scares me to be that angry, Mel.”
Mel cupped his cheek and made him look at her again. “Let me tell you something, kiddo - I wanted to kill the sorry excuse for a woman and I didn’t even like the asshole,” she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. It took a moment but then a tentative smile curved his lips and he actually laughed softly, low in his throat. She pinched the cheek under her palm and then tapped it gently. “Don’t let the fuckers get you down, Justin.”
Justin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling loudly. “You’ve been hanging around Deb too long.”
She shrugged and returned the smile. “Yeah, well... sometimes Deb can be pretty fucking wise.” She opened the car door for him, then went around and got in behind the wheel.
Justin let out a bone-weary sigh as they pulled out of the parking lot. As bad as the encounter with Brian’s mother was, at least it was over. He felt as though if he could deal with that and come out the other side relatively sane, he could deal with anything.
Later, he would wonder how he could possibly have been so naïve.
~*~*~
Part 5b
Rating: R Language, violence
Warnings: Angst. Oh, and then? More angst. * Major Character Death *
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my thoughts, and even then sometimes, I rent.
Complete: Yes
General Summary: Canon thru 509(ish), right down to some of the scenes/dialogue directly from the show. Some just happen in a slightly different time line. Because what if Brian realized what he was missing before the bombing? What if he changed just one thing, and that changed everything - the butterfly effect gone mad.
Author's note about the WIP: I really only intended to write a short epilogue to this story and post it right after the end of Part 3, but somehow it morphed into a part 4, and now, part 5. There will be at least one more after this. I know - Oy! I blame Justin. I promise that the story will be finished - but meantime, parts 1-3 can be read as a stand alone. ~ q_dicted
Feedback is appreciated!
Memories for Valediction
Valediction ~ Part 5a
Justin
Justin followed Melanie onto the elevator and stood staring blankly at the control panel. Melanie glanced sideways at him as she pressed the button, trying not to let her concern show. She’d brought his bags with her to Daphne’s - fortunately Ben had had the presence of mind to grab them before they’d followed the ambulance from Babylon. A shower and change of clothes left him feeling halfway human again and he’d seemed okay when they left the apartment. But the closer they got to the hospital the more he withdrew and he hadn’t said a word since they pulled into the parking lot. The elevator came to a stop and he blinked as the ‘B’ lit up and the doors whispered open, but he made no move to exit. Mel had to stand in the path of the doors to stop them closing again. “Come on, Justin,” she reached out and gave his arm a supportive squeeze. “This is really mostly just a formality. You’ll have a couple forms to sign once I give them the paperwork and then we can go home, okay?” Justin nodded and stepped past her, pausing once he was in the corridor.
He knew exactly where they were going - he could probably have found his way there blindfolded. During the weeks he’d spent here recovering from the bashing he wasn’t allowed to leave the building and so he’d filled up his days exploring every inch of the hospital. He knew what each floor held - medicine and physiotherapy on the ground floor, the surgical suites and intensive care on the second, maternity and pediatrics on the third. Among other things, the basement level of Allegheny General Hospital housed the hospital pharmacy, the cafeteria, a gift shop and their destination this morning, the administrative offices. Those were all to his left, their locations mapped out on the directory that faced the elevator doors.
It was what lay to his right that kept him rooted to the spot. The plain gray sliding doors offered no indication of what was beyond them; each bore only a rather innocuous ‘No Admittance - Hospital Personnel Only’ sign beneath a small, square window. He’d gone through them one afternoon when curiosity had gotten the better of him. That was the day the panic attacks had begun. Before that his fears had been confined to the night, to dreams that twisted into nightmares he couldn’t really remember yet still left him shaking and unnerved. His days had been filled with frustration and pain, but it wasn’t until he’d found himself standing on the other side of those doors that mindless panic joined the mix. He passed by several offices with doctor’s names and titles on the nameplates and then found another set of sliding doors, these ones set with larger windows. At first he thought it was an operating room - all sterile-looking steel and bright overhead lights. But the surgical suite was upstairs. And operating rooms didn’t have more than one table. Mercifully, the room was empty but the row of gleaming, stainless steel lockers along one wall left no doubt as to what it was.
It had hit him all at once - how close he’d come to being in that room himself, and why. That someone hated him enough to want him dead; that it had been so easy for Hobbs to get to him; that he wasn’t safe at his own prom. He wasn’t safe anywhere. Certainly not here. He’d stood there trembling, overcome with a paralyzing fear - wanting to run but unable to make his legs work. He didn’t hear the orderly approach him and when the man put his hand on his shoulder he’d lost it. He didn’t remember exactly what happened - he never could. He only knew he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move and that he was going to die. The next thing he knew he was back in his room and his mom was there and she looked like she’d been crying again. Fuck.
Justin felt a tear slide down his cheek as memories of those dark days after he left the hospital filled his thoughts. The joy of finally seeing Brian again, then the terrible realization of how badly the bashing had affected him as well. Yet despite his own issues it was Brian who held him through the nightmares with a gentleness Justin doubted anyone else knew he possessed. It was Brian who was patient and understanding when he couldn’t let anyone touch him, and then tender and loving when he finally could. It was Brian who had given him back his art; refused to let him give up on himself, massaged his hand when it cramped up and his spirit when that failed him, too. And when he’d asked for more, demanded a covenant, Brian had given him that, too. Only one of them had honored it - he wondered bitterly how surprised Brian’s ‘friends’ would be to know which one of them it was.
Justin pressed his forehead to the window and swallowed the lump that rose in his throat as he faced a truth he’d never really acknowledged to the one person he should have. He’d survived the bat to the head thanks to the skill of the surgeons. But he’d lived because of Brian and he’d thanked him by leaving him for pretty words and empty promises. And now it was Brian on the other side of those doors, only this time the nightmare was real. Fuck.
“Justin? The office is this way...” When he didn’t answer her, Melanie stepped closer and looked over his shoulder and through the glass. To her it was an empty hallway like any other but it didn’t take a psychic to feel the anxiety the young man at her side exuded. He was all but vibrating with it and she knew instinctively that touching him would be disastrous. She cleared her throat softly and spoke his name again. It took a third time before he finally turned to look at her and the despair in his eyes made her question yet again the wisdom of making him do this. And once more Justin proved her wrong. He shook his head and blinked away the tears, and then turned his back on the memories - he couldn’t change the past, but he could make sure he didn’t let him down again.
~*~*~
Justin and Melanie walked down the corridor towards the administration office. Although there were no patients on the basement level, it still had the hushed quality inherent to hospitals and so they heard the commotion before they even turned the corner. A young man in casual clothes stood beside a much older, well dressed woman with steel-gray hair at the administration office reception window. She was clinging to the man’s arm as though her life depended on it; nothing about her posture suggested strength or confidence and yet she was berating the young woman behind the counter with practiced arrogance. The man cast an apologetic glance at the clerk and then tried to soothe his companion with quiet words but she waved them off and leaned across the counter and through the open window.
“I want to speak to your supervisor, right now.” The clerk disappeared into the back and immediately the older woman looked up at her friend, dabbing at her eyes with a wadded up tissue. “This is outrageous. They can’t do this.”
Justin felt all the hairs on his neck stand up as the sound of her voice tickled something in the back of his brain. He’d only heard it once before but there was no mistaking its cold, somewhat imperious tone. Before he could think about it he tapped the woman on the shoulder. Both of them turned to face him and Justin took in the white band peeking through the collar of the man’s black shirt in the same moment he saw his face. A priest. Not just a priest, Reverend Tom. Their Reverend Tom. Justin then turned to the woman who stood beside him.
“Hello, Mrs. Kinney.”
It was obvious that she didn’t recognize him at first as she looked him up and down with an eerily familiar arched brow, and then even more obvious when she did. Her face narrowed with barely concealed disdain and she raised her chin haughtily.
“Justin, isn’t it?” He nodded, a little surprised that she remembered his name. She glanced back and forth between him and the priest, clearly trying to decide how she could explain the young blond without acknowledging her son’s abominable lifestyle. She ran a shaky hand across her eyes as if she hoped he might not be there when she opened them. But of course he was, and the priest was staring at him with open curiosity. “Reverend Butterfield this is...” she hesitated, her mouth twisting as though she had tasted something sour. She made a show of dabbing her eyes again and Justin couldn’t help notice that the tissue looked decidedly dry. He huffed out a short, scornful breath of his own and gave a slight shake of his head. He put out his hand and the priest took it automatically.
“I’m Justin Taylor, Brian’s partner.” He ignored the scowl on the old woman’s face and met Reverend Tom’s gaze evenly, no small feat considering their brief but eventful history. “I’m pretty sure we’ve met,” he said, and felt the man’s hand clench around his fingers for a heartbeat as recognition dawned in the priest’s eyes. They slid briefly to the woman at his side and then back to Justin. He hesitated for only a moment before he covered younger man’s hand with both of his own and shook it firmly.
“I’m so very sorry for your loss. Brian was a good man.”
Melanie watched the scene unfold and she couldn’t have said which of the two were more surprised by the priest’s heartfelt condolence. Justin, who had no reason to expect such respect from the man, or Joan, who seemed genuinely confused by it. Before she could question it further the door to the administration office opened and a dark-haired woman emerged. Clearly the clerk had informed her of the situation; she took in all four of them as she approached but it was Joan she spoke to first, greeting her with a sympathetic but professional smile.
“I’m Pamela Johansen, Director of Patient Services. How can I help you?”
Joan turned her back on Justin and Melanie as if they weren’t there and answered the woman sharply. “You can tell me where my son is. This... person,” she nodded at the young clerk who had resumed her place at the counter, “has been no help whatsoever.”
“First of all, Mrs. Kinney, let me offer my condolences. I know this is an extremely difficult time.” Her words elicited no response from the older woman, so she continued, “Please be assured that our only concern is to make certain that your son’s wishes are adhered to in accordance with his instructions.”
The implication of the Director’s words seemed to be lost on Joan and she went on as though she hadn’t spoken at all. “The funeral home called me and said you refused to let them pick up his...” her voice cracked with the first sign of real emotion she’d shown but she recovered quickly, her chin rising defiantly again. “This is outrageous. I want him released right now.”
The director smiled tolerantly and tried again. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Kinney, but I’m afraid we can’t do that.” Joan’s eyebrows shot up and she practically sputtered.
“You most certainly will...”
“Maybe I can help clear things up,” Melanie interrupted her and it seemed to shock the older woman into silence. “I am Melanie Marcus - we spoke on the phone earlier.” She pulled a legal-sized file folder from the leather attaché slung over her shoulder and offered it to the administrator. “And this is Justin Taylor,” she added, motioning towards him. Pamela opened the folder and quickly looked over the top document, nodding. Before she could respond, Joan apparently found her voice again and grasped her by the elbow.
“Excuse me, but we were not finished speaking.” Pamela looked down at the hand on her arm and back up into the indignant woman’s eyes. Her job required her to deal with people in all sorts of emotional crises and she was a compassionate person, but she drew the line at being touched. She tucked the folder under her arm and removed the woman’s hand from her elbow.
“Mrs. Kinney, I understand you are upset,” she said patiently. She glanced at the four of them and gestured towards her office door, “Why don’t we step into my office and I will be happy to explain.” But Joan refused to be placated.
“There is nothing to be explained. He is my son and I demand that you do as I ask and let us...” her voice faltered and she looked up at Reverend Tom and then back at the administrator. Despite the dark hair Joan guessed her to be around her own age, and she had wedding rings on her hand - perhaps she was a mother, too. Perhaps she could understand the shame... “Please, there are things we need to do,” she implored, and then she cast a contemptuous look in Justin’s direction and clutched the priest’s arm again. “My son is damned. We need to pray for his soul.” Pamela scarcely had time to register her dismay before Justin spoke.
“What did you say?” Justin barely breathed the words but they drew the attention of all four of them. “What did you say?” he repeated the words carefully, his hands instinctively clenched at his side.
Joan didn’t retract her words, but she at least had the sense not to say them again. She moved closer to the priest and when he put a protective arm around her shoulder she raised her chin and huffed. “You heard what I said. And you are on the same road, young man. It’s not too late for you yet, though. You can still change. You can escape God’s punishment.”
Justin shook his head, refusing to accept what he was hearing. “He’s your son. How could you...” He threw a questioning look at Reverend Tom and found the man unwilling to meet his eyes. Joan had no such trouble.
“I tried to tell him, to help him understand. God gave him a second chance and he threw it in His face.” Her voice faltered then, full of unshed tears, not for her son’s life, but for her own disgrace. “He condemned himself to the fires and added eternity after eternity to his sentence with his sinful ways.”
“You can’t really believe that?” Melanie said incredulously. She knew Brian’s mother disapproved of him but she never imagined she could be this... monstrous. Justin looked as though he might actually strike the woman and she moved to his side just in case. Joan turned to Melanie as though she had just noticed her presence.
“I believe in God’s holy word. You have no right to question it, or me, Miss...” she narrowed her eyes and assessed the younger woman, “who are you, exactly?”
“Actually, I have every right - or rather, Justin does.” Melanie leveled her most menacing, don’t-fuck-with-me stare at her. “I am Brian’s attorney, and that,” she said, pointing at the file that Pamela held, “is all the documentation necessary to make sure that you don’t go anywhere near him.” In a different situation she would have enjoyed the look of shocked indignation on the old woman’s face, but as it was she felt only a deep sadness that any mother could possibly value religious dogma over the life of her child. Still, the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly as she drove the message home. “Unless of course, Justin allows it.”
“That is ridiculous,” Joan spat the words at her, waving her hand dismissively. “Of course I don’t need this... boy’s permission to see my son.” She glared at Mel in a vain attempt to stare the younger woman down and for a moment Melanie caught a glimpse of Brian in the arrogant set of her jaw. She glared right back and was struck by the eerie familiarity of the exchange. How many times had she and Brian faced off just like this? But this time, unlike pretty much every single one of those times, the Kinney side of the equation blinked first. Joan turned to the administrator, fully expecting validation of her rights as Brian’s mother, but found the woman shaking her head.
“I’m afraid Ms. Marcus is correct.” A cursory glance at the paperwork confirmed what Melanie had already told her on the phone. Though they were only a few weeks old, all the documents were in order giving Justin the authority the lawyer had just asserted. Her job required her to be impassive but it was difficult not to feel a little relief that she would not have to accede to this woman. All too often she’d seen the cruel treatment of bereaved partners at the hands of a homophobic parent simply because they hadn’t had the foresight to put their wishes in writing. Try as she might, Pamela couldn’t quite keep the contempt out of her voice as she tried once again to explain the situation to her. “Mr. Taylor has the legal authority here. He...”
“Don’t tell me about legal authority,” Joan cut her off. “What about moral authority? God’s authority?” She clung to Reverend Tom again, her voice growing more shrill by the moment. “Ms. Johansen, surely you must see what is at stake here? We need to pray for his soul - for God’s mercy.”
“Joan, please...” Reverend Tom tried to calm her but she wouldn’t be silenced. She cast a hard look at Justin.
“The Bible is quite clear. Men lying with men is an abomination. My son died without repenting his sins. He is going to Hell.”
Melanie gasped, Ms. Johansen said something about legal rights and obligations, even the good Reverend seemed taken aback, but none of it registered for Justin. All he could hear were the hateful words being spewed by the person who should have loved Brian more than anyone else, and it was all he could do to control the fury he felt clawing at his chest.
“You have no idea,” he said through his teeth. Joan raised a questioning eyebrow at him but wisely said nothing. “You have no idea how Brian... died,” he nearly choked on the word but anger fueled his resolve and he took a step toward the older woman, close enough to smell the stale alcohol on her beneath a cloud of expensive perfume. “You have the gall to stand there and talk about morality? Brian was a good man, an honorable man. He was...he was the best man I’ve ever known. He worked hard and he supported his friends,” he paused and glanced at Melanie, his voice softening a little, “and he loved his family... He loved me, and he died...”
Justin's voice failed him as Brian’s last moments flashed in his mind. He wasn’t ready to share what Brian had gone through. Not yet, and maybe not ever. Certainly never with these people. He doubted even knowing that her son died wondering if his own son would remember him would be enough to get through to her. He thought of all the times he’d harangued Brian for not telling her about Gus and he felt an odd mixture of guilt and respect. As always, Brian had known what he was doing keeping his son far, far away from her. He recalled the photo of Brian and Gus he carried in his wallet and it was all he could do not to take it out and shove it down the old woman’s throat - make her see just what her God had taken away from them. As much as he wanted to do it, he knew he could never betray Brian that way. His voice was thick with emotion but he refused to let this woman see him cry. He drew in a ragged breath and took another step forward until there was barely a foot between them.
“He died...no...” Justin shook his head, “no, he was killed because someone… someone like you believed someone like him, someone like me didn’t deserve to live. He died knowing that. How can you possibly believe that was God’s will?” He turned baleful eyes on the priest. “How can you?” The man had the grace to look ashamed, but still he remained silent and dropped his eyes. Justin shook his head at the both of them, his voice filled with loathing, “You want to pray for something? You should both pray that God forgives you.”
For a brief moment something flickered across the old woman’s face. Remorse? Regret? Her pinched mouth trembled and a sheen of tears wet her eyes and Justin had a wild hope that maybe he’d actually gotten through to her. And then it was gone. She sniffed and squared her shoulders as if shaking off the momentary weakness and then cleared her throat. Her voice was somewhat more subdued, but the invective was the same.
“Yes, well, God has already passed judgment, hasn’t he. All we can do is pray that He has mercy on his soul.” She raised her chin defiantly and Justin knew a moment of pure hatred so powerful it made him recoil as if she’d slapped him. It took several deep breaths before he trusted himself to speak.
“You hateful, ignorant woman,” he seethed, “you don’t deserve to call yourself his mother.” He was shaking and had to shove his hands deep into his pockets to keep himself from doing something he would regret. He felt Mel’s arm go around him and pull him gently away from the woman, but he couldn’t stop the words from pouring out. “You have no idea who your son was, how much he meant to me... to all of us...” He felt the tears begin to slide down his face and he let them fall. “You’re despicable and the worst part is you don’t even know how pathetic you really are.” He pulled his hand from his pocket to wipe his eyes and Joan actually flinched as though she expected a blow. Reverend Tom placed himself between them and took Justin’s arm.
“Justin, we are all trying to cope with this tragedy in our own way.”
“Take your hand off me,” Justin bit the words off one by one, and though the priest was several inches taller and quite a bit more solid than the younger man, he dropped his hand and stepped back.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...”
“Didn’t mean to what, Reverend Butterfield. Didn’t mean to let her talk about him like he was some worthless piece of shit? Didn’t mean to stand here in silence while she reduces her son’s life to nothing more than his sexual orientation? Didn’t mean to be a complete and total fucking hypocrite?” He saw the priest’s face narrow with fear and somehow, instead of making him angrier, it just made him sad. He blew out a short, disgusted breath and shook his head, leaning closer. Fully aware that Joan could still hear every word, he hissed directly into the priest’s ear. “You’re worse than she is.” The good reverend could explain that to her any way he saw fit.
He turned his back on them and scrubbed his hand over his face, wiping away the evidence of their effect on him. He took a moment to recoup, and then he spoke to Ms. Johansen for the first time. “You have something for me to sign?” She nodded wordlessly and went to the counter where the young clerk stood with a folder in her hand. She drew out a set of documents, some insurance forms and the release papers and indicated where he should sign. Melanie had explained what they all were on their way over, and so he scrawled his name in the appropriate places and pushed them back across the counter to her. Later, he would think about the import of what, exactly, he had just done but for the moment the simple act seemed to calm him, to deepen his resolve to make absolutely sure that Brian’s faith in him was justified. He turned and faced Joan again, this time with an icy dignity that would have made Brian proud.
“Brian didn’t want a funeral - no visitations, no service. He’s going to be buried privately at Union Dale the day after tomorrow, so if you or Claire want to pay your respects, you can do it there.” Joan started to protest and Justin cut her off before she could get a word out. “But know this: if either of you so much as open your mouths to denigrate him in any way I will personally throw you out. So if you don’t think you can control yourself then I suggest you just stay away.” Joan retreated to the priest’s side again, clearly winding up to have another go at the administrator, but Justin stopped her cold, turning to the woman himself.
“I want to thank you for your help, Ms. Johansen,” he said sincerely. She had been more than kind and he sensed that she was on his side, but looking around he realized that they had drawn the attention of most of the people in the administration office, and not all of them held the same expression of sympathy that the Director did. At least not for him. So he hoped that she understood his warning was for their benefit, not hers. “Just so we’re clear, we have made arrangements for Mr. Kinney...” he bit down hard on his lip for a second before he could go on, “for Mr. Kinney’s body to be picked up later this morning. If either of these people are allowed anywhere near him before then, I will own this hospital by the time I’m finished.”
Pamela nodded her understanding, quietly impressed at his composure. She wasn’t sure she could have handled what he’d just gone through with such grace at his age, or even now for that matter. The Director smiled softly and extended her hand to him. “Of course, Mr. Taylor. And once again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Justin turned and walked away without looking back and Melanie followed him in stunned silence, still trying to absorb what she had just witnessed. Until the moment Joan had provoked him into speaking about it, she hadn’t really considered that fact that Justin had actually had to watch the love of his life die. Watching his face as that memory engulfed him was like looking at an open wound - raw and bleeding with no means of stopping the pain. But he had taken that pain and channeled it into one of the most powerful displays of courage and loyalty she had ever seen. She found herself slightly in awe of the depth of the love that inspired it and to her dismay, she realized that just maybe the man she’d spent so many years reviling was actually worthy of it.
Only someone who knew Justin well would have known just how little it would have taken to shatter the thin veneer of bravado that had carried him through these last few minutes. He managed to get all the way to the parking lot before it abandoned him. By the time they reached the car he was shaking too hard to open the door. He leaned heavily against it instead and wrapped his arms around his own body in an attempt to keep himself together.
“Fuck. What did I just do?” he breathed as the tears spilled over. Mel threw her bag into the car and put her hands on his shoulders, leaning down until he was forced to look her in the face.
“You did one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen, Justin. I’m proud of you.”
“How could she, Mel? His own fucking mother. God, she makes me sick.” He ran his hands back through his hair and clasped them behind his neck. “I wanted to... Jesus... I could have killed her for the things she said.” He blew out a shaky breath. “What kind of person does that make me?”
“It makes you human, Justin. Nobody should have to listen to the things you did about someone they love.”
Justin hunched his shoulders and nodded, “I know. But it scares me to be that angry, Mel.”
Mel cupped his cheek and made him look at her again. “Let me tell you something, kiddo - I wanted to kill the sorry excuse for a woman and I didn’t even like the asshole,” she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. It took a moment but then a tentative smile curved his lips and he actually laughed softly, low in his throat. She pinched the cheek under her palm and then tapped it gently. “Don’t let the fuckers get you down, Justin.”
Justin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffling loudly. “You’ve been hanging around Deb too long.”
She shrugged and returned the smile. “Yeah, well... sometimes Deb can be pretty fucking wise.” She opened the car door for him, then went around and got in behind the wheel.
Justin let out a bone-weary sigh as they pulled out of the parking lot. As bad as the encounter with Brian’s mother was, at least it was over. He felt as though if he could deal with that and come out the other side relatively sane, he could deal with anything.
Later, he would wonder how he could possibly have been so naïve.
~*~*~
Part 5b