"Queer Identities" -- Chapter 71 "It's Too Late"
Brian returns -- but to what?
This is Chapter 71 in the "Queer Identities" series.
The narrator is Brian Kinney, and features Justin Taylor, Michael Novotny, Ben Bruckner, Tim Reilly.
Rated R and contains no warnings or spoilers.
Summary: Brian knows it's too late. Pittsburgh, November 2003.
Disclaimer: You know the drill. This is for fun, not profit. Enjoy.
Earlier "QI" chapters online and on the LJ are here:
http://www.fortruthis.net/gaelmcgear/Gaedhalficpage.html
http://www.fortruthis.net/gaedhal/
Most recent "QI" chapters on the LJ are here:
Ch. 68 "So Far Away"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/417666.html
Ch. 69 "Inescapable II"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/417958.html
Ch. 70 "All or Nothing at All"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/418398.html
By Gaedhal
"Stayed in bed all morning just to pass the time,
There's something wrong here
There can be no denying.
One of us is changing
Or maybe we've just stopped trying.
And it's too late, baby, now it's too late,
Though we really did try to make it.
Something inside has died
And I can't hide
And I just can't fake it.
It used to be so easy living here with you,
You were light and breezy
And I knew just what to do.
Now you look so unhappy
And I feel like a fool.
And it's too late, baby, now it's too late,
Though we really did try to make it.
Something inside has died
And I can't hide
And I just can't fake it..."
***
"No! I can't do this anymore, Brian! I just can't!"
What the fuck?
Justin looks at me like I'm the fucking boogie man -- and then he high-tails it. Down the stairs. Before he hits the first landing, he punches the wall in frustration.
I stand there, gaping.
Something echoes in my head: "Never go after anyone. Never."
Fuck that!
I go after him.
He pauses at the front door, bent over, heaving. Exhausted.
No, he's not exhausted. He's crying. Doubled over and sobbing like his heart is breaking.
Jesus.
I grab him. Take him in my arms. "It's all right, Justin. I'm here. Everything will be okay."
And he holds onto me. Cries against my shoulder. His wet tears are hot on my bare skin.
What an idiot I've been. What a fucking idiot.
I kiss his hair. It smells like lemons and green grass. I press my head against his. Everything will be okay. I'll make it okay.
I need him badly and now I know he needs me.
Needs me. Needs...
"No!" he spits it out, pushing me violently. "Don't touch me, Brian! It won't work. It's not that easy. Not this time."
He steps back, away from me, and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. His right hand. His bad hand. Except it's not trembling now. He's not damaged. Not injured. He's strong. He's firm.
And I'm scared. I'm fucked.
"I said everything will be all right. I'm here. Let's go upstairs and talk about it. I'll explain everything." I pause. This will be the hardest part. The most necessary part. "And I have something to tell you. Something... important. I... I haven't told anyone else about this, but..."
"I don't want to hear it."
He's stopped crying now and his face is like stone.
"Please. Come upstairs. We need to talk."
"No!" He shakes his head. "You think fucking away all our problems will make things better? Well, it won't! It can't! I'm sick of waiting around for you and always being your goddamn back-up plan!"
"Back-up plan? What the fuck are you talking about?"
He glares at me. "I'm not stupid, Brian. I can read the papers. And the internet. You and that guy -- Vaughn What's-His-Name. Pictures of the two of you are everywhere! I know you're fucking him. And I know it's serious."
Fuck. He doesn't understand. And now he doesn't want to listen.
"Justin, hear me out. Vaughn was never serious, whatever the fuck that means. He was a guy on the film. We fucked. Now he's gone -- off the picture. Besides. I know you're fucking Dylan Burke again. And some other guy, too. So what? It's just fucking. It's meaningless. It has nothing to do with us!"
He narrows his blue eyes at me. They are hard as diamonds. "You know all about Dylan and now you don't give a damn? Before you wanted to break him in two!"
I take a deep breath. Yes, I fucking hate Dylan Burke. And, yes, I can be jealous. But I know Justin loves me. That's one thing I don't doubt. See, I can learn from my past mistakes. Or I'm trying to learn.
"Listen, I still want to break the fucker in half -- and I will if I find out he's been screwing you over. But if... if he and that other guy are just fuck buddies -- well, you're a man, Justin. You have to get your needs met when I'm not around and I understand that. As long as you don't forget..." I hesitate. This isn't the place to say shit like this. I'd rather wait until we're in bed.
"Don't forget what, Brian?" His face is still stony. This isn't going the way I thought it would. In fact, it's fucked up. But I'm not sure way.
"Don't forget that I... I love you. You should never forget that." There. That's that. "Now let's go upstairs. I have something very important I have to tell you." I touch his shoulder. Reach for his hand.
But he pulls away. "It's too late, Brian. Everything's changed! Maybe a month ago, a week ago. Even two days ago..." He squeezes his eyes shut, like he's pressing back the tears. "I can't! Life is too fucking short!"
It's like he knows... about the lump. About what I'm afraid even to think about. Even to say out loud -- except to him.
That I think I have cancer.
I have to tell him -- now.
"Life is too fucking short," I agree. "Which is why..."
"No!" he explodes. "Don't try to make it better! It'll never be better! Nothing will ever be the same. And now that Vic..." He stops and a single tear runs down his face.
"Vic? What about Vic?"
He stares at me. "You know! You have to know! Michael must have told you."
"Know what? What the fuck are you talking about? I sat in the Toronto airport for hours, trying to get a fucking flight. I finally gave up and rented a car. I've been driving for fucking hours to get here! I tried your cell, Michael's cell, and Lindsay's cell -- no one answered or got back to me. The first thing I did when I got to Pittsburgh was go to Deb's, but the place was dark! I called Michael again and he didn't pick up. Then I called you again and you didn't pick up. So I came here and waited. I have no fucking clue what's going on!"
He presses his lips into a hard, straight line. "Vic's in the hospital. We were all at dinner at Deb's. He... he had a heart attack. They don't know if he's going to make it. The damage to his heart was... it was bad. Michael and Ben, and Debbie and Carl, and Tim are all still there -- waiting."
Vic.
Heart attack.
I can't get my head around it.
"I'll make certain he has the best doctors!" I sputter. "He'll be okay! He has to be okay!"
"No, Brian." Justin's voice is low and emotionless. "You can't save Vic now. He could be dead right this minute. You're not really Rage, the Gay Crusader. You can't save anyone. I always thought you could, but you can't." He looks up at me, directly into my eyes. "You couldn't save me from Chris Hobbs."
Christ. Fuck.
I couldn't save him. I fucking failed.
Doesn't he know how that's killed me? That not a day goes by when I don't think about it? Doesn't he know that's part of the reason I left the Pitts and went away with Ron? The guilt I could never deal with? Knowing I'd failed him? Knowing I didn't save him? But Jennifer knew -- and let me know she knew. And Deb knew, too. And I know they both still blame me.
They blame me for everything.
And they're right.
I'm to blame. It's all my fault.
But Vic...
"Then there's nothing I can do," I say helplessly.
I turn around and walk back up the stairs.
"Brian?" I hear him calling me.
But I don't stop. He's right. As usual, Justin's decision, his judgment about me is the correct one. I'm a fucking fraud. A failure. I'm not hero, super or otherwise.
I'll never be able to give him what he wants and what he needs.
It is too late.
It's over.
I keep climbing. Those fucking stairs have never seemed so long, so steep.
I slide the loft door closed behind. I lock it.
And I turn out the lights.
***
Around 4:00 a.m. my cell buzzes.
It's Michael.
"Brian, I'm sorry I didn't get back to you, but..."
"I know, Mikey," I say, cutting him off. "I'm here in town, at the loft."
"So Justin must have told you..." his voice breaks. "About Uncle Vic."
"Yes." I say. "How is he?"
"In a coma. They don't think... don't... that's he's going to..." Michael stops. He can't say any more.
"Hang on. I'm coming right over."
Hospitals are fucked up places. The smell of alcohol and piss and blood. The aura of sickness and death. The fear that rolls off everyone.
My old man died in this very hospital. I never told anyone else, not even Justin, but I went there near the end. I knew it was coming. He was hooked up to machines, tubes poking out of every orifice. He couldn't speak, but his eyes were open. He knew what was coming. Like some monster lurking in the dark, waiting to strike, waiting to take him away.
And he was fucking terrified.
Cancer.
And soon it'll be me.
But I won't go that way. I refuse to go that way.
I looked into my father's eyes and I saw that knowledge. He'd been a bastard and it was too late for him to make it better. Too late...
But the old man gave me one gift -- he set me free. His death meant I didn't have to care anymore. I could live for myself and not give a damn about anyone else.
Then I remember sitting in the hallway of this same hospital only a few months later, waiting to hear about Justin. I knew he was dying. I thought I was dying, too.
I wanted to die.
That's when I realized there are worse things than death. Living a fucking empty, meaningless life. Living without a single person to care about you. To love you.
Justin took that gift away from me. Because I cared about him. Cared too much. Fucking cared...
I wish I were made out of steel. A robot. Tin man. Anything but human.
Michael is in the waiting room, slumped over and defeated. Ben is lying on a sofa in the corner, sound asleep.
Michael looks up and sees me. "Brian."
I hold him. What else can I do? Justin is right -- I'm not Rage. I don't have any super powers. I can't save anyone.
"He'll get better," I whisper. But I know they're empty words. "Where's Deb? And Tim?"
"In the chapel. Carl went home a few hours ago, but he'll be back in the morning to be with Ma. Vic's in the ICU and they'll only let one of us in there for a few minutes at a time." The chapel. It figures. Debbie, the good little Catholic girl. And Tim -- once a priest, always a priest. Prayers? What good do they do? Fuck prayers.
Michael is crying. But I won't cry. I'm through with crying. Fuck tears.
Fuck everything.
I tried to be the good guy. Tried to behave myself. But it's never worked. That isn't me.
I guess I am the cold, heartless bastard everyone thinks I am. Heartless. They can't break something that doesn't exist. Every man for himself. That's the only way.
But it might not be for long. I can't stop thinking about that.
"Michael... I need to tell you something."
"He was sitting there," Michael says, not listening to me. "Laughing. Ma was passing around plates of pie and he reached for a piece of pumpkin. Then he got this strange look on his face. Like... surprised. And he turned to Tim, but he couldn't say anything. And... and then he fell on the floor."
I cringe. Vic on the floor. Vic in pain. Vic dying.
"Everyone was so stunned, they just sat there for a moment," Michael continues. "And then Ma screamed. And Dylan jumped up and started to do CPR."
Huh? Dylan? "You mean Dylan Burke? He did CPR on Vic?"
"Yeah," Michael nods. "He learned how to do it for some team he's on. Ben called 911. The ambulance was there in a couple of minutes."
Fucking Dylan Burke. At Deb's Thanksgiving dinner. And I was stuck in the fucking airport and then a damned rental car, thinking I'd surprise everyone. But the surprise was on me.
Dylan fucking Burke saves the day. No wonder Justin hates me. He's got a new hero. There's a new Rage in town, kids. Even if Vic doesn't survive, what they'll all remember is that Dylan Burke was there and I wasn't.
I sit with Michael and quietly stroke his hand. The hospital is like a tomb at this time of night. I remember that from when I'd go and sit beside Justin. The Guardian Angel, just out of sight. Fucking lot of good it did him.
I should have walked away then, just like Jennifer wanted me to. And I did walk away -- for a while. I tried to stop thinking about him. Justin was no longer my concern. I couldn't save him and so I had no right to watch over him.
But when Jennifer came to me and wanted me to take him back -- I should have said no fucking way then and there!
But... I wanted to take him back.
I wanted him. That turned out to be his tragedy.
And now that's my tragedy, too.
Fucking doomed. That's what it feels like.
Michael falls asleep in my lap. I must have dozed off, too, because I feel a hand shaking me.
Ben. "Brian, when did you get here?"
"I drove in from Toronto, but when I got to Deb's no one was there. I came over here as soon as I found out. Has there been any word?"
Ben shakes his head. "Nothing. Deb's in there now. It could be days before we really know. I think I'll take Michael home for a few hours and see if he can get some rest. I tried to get Debbie to lie down, but she won't do it."
"No, Deb wouldn't leave Vic. She wants to be there in case..."
"I know. She'd never leave Vic."
Ben isn't a bad guy at all. He's a little pompous and full of himself, but he means well. And he was a good fuck, although when I look at him now, I don't feel any desire for him at all. Funny how that can fade away. Fucking sex. Fucking meaningless. But he's better for Michael than that fucking Dr. Dave.
Michael rouses and I leave him to Ben. They won't let me into the ICU, obviously, so I go to the chapel.
Tim is there, kneeling. Praying.
"Is your old Boss listening?" I ask.
Tim turns around in surprise. "Brian. What are you doing here?"
"I came for Thanksgiving, but as usual I'm too late." I try to smile, but it's fake. Forced.
"Too late," says Tim. "You're right, Brian. It's always too late. I thought Vic and I might have years together. At least I hoped we would. But... but I just wanted..." And he crumbles.
I'm the wrong person to be comforting everyone. I'm not the person they think I am. The person they want me to be. Full of kind words. Strong arms. Justin. Michael. Now Tim.
But I put my arms around him. I think about when I was just a kid. Tim should never have given me the kind of comfort I craved. It was wrong and we both knew it. But he did it. And he probably saved me -- at least a little. He showed me there was still love in the world. And I needed to know that.
"He'll be fine," I say.
"No," says Tim. "He won't be. If Vic lives he'll be very ill. He'll never be the same. He might never be able to leave the hospital. Or live a normal life."
"You don't know that, Tim. How many times did you tell me that such things weren't in my hands? That I couldn't control the world? Well, neither can you. Vic could wake up tomorrow and be great."
Tim takes a ragged breath. "But he won't. The doctors know it. Michael and Ben know it. I think even Debbie knows it." Tim looks up at me. "I'm glad you came. Justin needs you here."
That makes me wince. "I can't stay. We're behind schedule in filming. I left even though Dorian told me not to. I have to leave in a few hours. I drove here, but it's a rental. I'll probably fly back to Toronto tonight."
"Please don't, Brian. Stay a little longer. Justin needs you. We all need you."
"No, you only think you need me. And that goes for Justin, too. I'm the last person he needs." I stand up. I don't want to hold anyone anymore. I don't want to touch anyone. "I think I should go now."
Tim looks at me. Sees through me, actually. He could always see things no one else could. "What's wrong, Brian? Is there something the matter with you?"
"No. What could possibly be the matter?" I turn away. I can't let him see my eyes. If he sees my eyes he'll know the truth. "I'll see you, Tim. Maybe at Christmas."
And I flee. That's the only word for it. I have to get the fuck out of this hospital. Out of this city.
Away from... everything.
Brian Kinney -- running for his life. Rage the fucking superhero. What a joke!
But I have to run. It's too late to do anything else.
***
"There'll be good times again for me and you,
But we just can't stay together,
Don't you feel it too?
Still I'm glad for what we had
And how I once loved you.
But it's too late, baby, now it's too late,
Though we really did try to make it.
Something inside has died and I can't hide
And I just can't fake it.
Oh it's too late, my baby,
Too late, my baby,
You know
It's too late."
(King/Stern)
This is Chapter 71 in the "Queer Identities" series.
The narrator is Brian Kinney, and features Justin Taylor, Michael Novotny, Ben Bruckner, Tim Reilly.
Rated R and contains no warnings or spoilers.
Summary: Brian knows it's too late. Pittsburgh, November 2003.
Disclaimer: You know the drill. This is for fun, not profit. Enjoy.
Earlier "QI" chapters online and on the LJ are here:
http://www.fortruthis.net/gaelmcgear/Gaedhalficpage.html
http://www.fortruthis.net/gaedhal/
Most recent "QI" chapters on the LJ are here:
Ch. 68 "So Far Away"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/417666.html
Ch. 69 "Inescapable II"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/417958.html
Ch. 70 "All or Nothing at All"
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/418398.html
By Gaedhal
"Stayed in bed all morning just to pass the time,
There's something wrong here
There can be no denying.
One of us is changing
Or maybe we've just stopped trying.
And it's too late, baby, now it's too late,
Though we really did try to make it.
Something inside has died
And I can't hide
And I just can't fake it.
It used to be so easy living here with you,
You were light and breezy
And I knew just what to do.
Now you look so unhappy
And I feel like a fool.
And it's too late, baby, now it's too late,
Though we really did try to make it.
Something inside has died
And I can't hide
And I just can't fake it..."
***
"No! I can't do this anymore, Brian! I just can't!"
What the fuck?
Justin looks at me like I'm the fucking boogie man -- and then he high-tails it. Down the stairs. Before he hits the first landing, he punches the wall in frustration.
I stand there, gaping.
Something echoes in my head: "Never go after anyone. Never."
Fuck that!
I go after him.
He pauses at the front door, bent over, heaving. Exhausted.
No, he's not exhausted. He's crying. Doubled over and sobbing like his heart is breaking.
Jesus.
I grab him. Take him in my arms. "It's all right, Justin. I'm here. Everything will be okay."
And he holds onto me. Cries against my shoulder. His wet tears are hot on my bare skin.
What an idiot I've been. What a fucking idiot.
I kiss his hair. It smells like lemons and green grass. I press my head against his. Everything will be okay. I'll make it okay.
I need him badly and now I know he needs me.
Needs me. Needs...
"No!" he spits it out, pushing me violently. "Don't touch me, Brian! It won't work. It's not that easy. Not this time."
He steps back, away from me, and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. His right hand. His bad hand. Except it's not trembling now. He's not damaged. Not injured. He's strong. He's firm.
And I'm scared. I'm fucked.
"I said everything will be all right. I'm here. Let's go upstairs and talk about it. I'll explain everything." I pause. This will be the hardest part. The most necessary part. "And I have something to tell you. Something... important. I... I haven't told anyone else about this, but..."
"I don't want to hear it."
He's stopped crying now and his face is like stone.
"Please. Come upstairs. We need to talk."
"No!" He shakes his head. "You think fucking away all our problems will make things better? Well, it won't! It can't! I'm sick of waiting around for you and always being your goddamn back-up plan!"
"Back-up plan? What the fuck are you talking about?"
He glares at me. "I'm not stupid, Brian. I can read the papers. And the internet. You and that guy -- Vaughn What's-His-Name. Pictures of the two of you are everywhere! I know you're fucking him. And I know it's serious."
Fuck. He doesn't understand. And now he doesn't want to listen.
"Justin, hear me out. Vaughn was never serious, whatever the fuck that means. He was a guy on the film. We fucked. Now he's gone -- off the picture. Besides. I know you're fucking Dylan Burke again. And some other guy, too. So what? It's just fucking. It's meaningless. It has nothing to do with us!"
He narrows his blue eyes at me. They are hard as diamonds. "You know all about Dylan and now you don't give a damn? Before you wanted to break him in two!"
I take a deep breath. Yes, I fucking hate Dylan Burke. And, yes, I can be jealous. But I know Justin loves me. That's one thing I don't doubt. See, I can learn from my past mistakes. Or I'm trying to learn.
"Listen, I still want to break the fucker in half -- and I will if I find out he's been screwing you over. But if... if he and that other guy are just fuck buddies -- well, you're a man, Justin. You have to get your needs met when I'm not around and I understand that. As long as you don't forget..." I hesitate. This isn't the place to say shit like this. I'd rather wait until we're in bed.
"Don't forget what, Brian?" His face is still stony. This isn't going the way I thought it would. In fact, it's fucked up. But I'm not sure way.
"Don't forget that I... I love you. You should never forget that." There. That's that. "Now let's go upstairs. I have something very important I have to tell you." I touch his shoulder. Reach for his hand.
But he pulls away. "It's too late, Brian. Everything's changed! Maybe a month ago, a week ago. Even two days ago..." He squeezes his eyes shut, like he's pressing back the tears. "I can't! Life is too fucking short!"
It's like he knows... about the lump. About what I'm afraid even to think about. Even to say out loud -- except to him.
That I think I have cancer.
I have to tell him -- now.
"Life is too fucking short," I agree. "Which is why..."
"No!" he explodes. "Don't try to make it better! It'll never be better! Nothing will ever be the same. And now that Vic..." He stops and a single tear runs down his face.
"Vic? What about Vic?"
He stares at me. "You know! You have to know! Michael must have told you."
"Know what? What the fuck are you talking about? I sat in the Toronto airport for hours, trying to get a fucking flight. I finally gave up and rented a car. I've been driving for fucking hours to get here! I tried your cell, Michael's cell, and Lindsay's cell -- no one answered or got back to me. The first thing I did when I got to Pittsburgh was go to Deb's, but the place was dark! I called Michael again and he didn't pick up. Then I called you again and you didn't pick up. So I came here and waited. I have no fucking clue what's going on!"
He presses his lips into a hard, straight line. "Vic's in the hospital. We were all at dinner at Deb's. He... he had a heart attack. They don't know if he's going to make it. The damage to his heart was... it was bad. Michael and Ben, and Debbie and Carl, and Tim are all still there -- waiting."
Vic.
Heart attack.
I can't get my head around it.
"I'll make certain he has the best doctors!" I sputter. "He'll be okay! He has to be okay!"
"No, Brian." Justin's voice is low and emotionless. "You can't save Vic now. He could be dead right this minute. You're not really Rage, the Gay Crusader. You can't save anyone. I always thought you could, but you can't." He looks up at me, directly into my eyes. "You couldn't save me from Chris Hobbs."
Christ. Fuck.
I couldn't save him. I fucking failed.
Doesn't he know how that's killed me? That not a day goes by when I don't think about it? Doesn't he know that's part of the reason I left the Pitts and went away with Ron? The guilt I could never deal with? Knowing I'd failed him? Knowing I didn't save him? But Jennifer knew -- and let me know she knew. And Deb knew, too. And I know they both still blame me.
They blame me for everything.
And they're right.
I'm to blame. It's all my fault.
But Vic...
"Then there's nothing I can do," I say helplessly.
I turn around and walk back up the stairs.
"Brian?" I hear him calling me.
But I don't stop. He's right. As usual, Justin's decision, his judgment about me is the correct one. I'm a fucking fraud. A failure. I'm not hero, super or otherwise.
I'll never be able to give him what he wants and what he needs.
It is too late.
It's over.
I keep climbing. Those fucking stairs have never seemed so long, so steep.
I slide the loft door closed behind. I lock it.
And I turn out the lights.
***
Around 4:00 a.m. my cell buzzes.
It's Michael.
"Brian, I'm sorry I didn't get back to you, but..."
"I know, Mikey," I say, cutting him off. "I'm here in town, at the loft."
"So Justin must have told you..." his voice breaks. "About Uncle Vic."
"Yes." I say. "How is he?"
"In a coma. They don't think... don't... that's he's going to..." Michael stops. He can't say any more.
"Hang on. I'm coming right over."
Hospitals are fucked up places. The smell of alcohol and piss and blood. The aura of sickness and death. The fear that rolls off everyone.
My old man died in this very hospital. I never told anyone else, not even Justin, but I went there near the end. I knew it was coming. He was hooked up to machines, tubes poking out of every orifice. He couldn't speak, but his eyes were open. He knew what was coming. Like some monster lurking in the dark, waiting to strike, waiting to take him away.
And he was fucking terrified.
Cancer.
And soon it'll be me.
But I won't go that way. I refuse to go that way.
I looked into my father's eyes and I saw that knowledge. He'd been a bastard and it was too late for him to make it better. Too late...
But the old man gave me one gift -- he set me free. His death meant I didn't have to care anymore. I could live for myself and not give a damn about anyone else.
Then I remember sitting in the hallway of this same hospital only a few months later, waiting to hear about Justin. I knew he was dying. I thought I was dying, too.
I wanted to die.
That's when I realized there are worse things than death. Living a fucking empty, meaningless life. Living without a single person to care about you. To love you.
Justin took that gift away from me. Because I cared about him. Cared too much. Fucking cared...
I wish I were made out of steel. A robot. Tin man. Anything but human.
Michael is in the waiting room, slumped over and defeated. Ben is lying on a sofa in the corner, sound asleep.
Michael looks up and sees me. "Brian."
I hold him. What else can I do? Justin is right -- I'm not Rage. I don't have any super powers. I can't save anyone.
"He'll get better," I whisper. But I know they're empty words. "Where's Deb? And Tim?"
"In the chapel. Carl went home a few hours ago, but he'll be back in the morning to be with Ma. Vic's in the ICU and they'll only let one of us in there for a few minutes at a time." The chapel. It figures. Debbie, the good little Catholic girl. And Tim -- once a priest, always a priest. Prayers? What good do they do? Fuck prayers.
Michael is crying. But I won't cry. I'm through with crying. Fuck tears.
Fuck everything.
I tried to be the good guy. Tried to behave myself. But it's never worked. That isn't me.
I guess I am the cold, heartless bastard everyone thinks I am. Heartless. They can't break something that doesn't exist. Every man for himself. That's the only way.
But it might not be for long. I can't stop thinking about that.
"Michael... I need to tell you something."
"He was sitting there," Michael says, not listening to me. "Laughing. Ma was passing around plates of pie and he reached for a piece of pumpkin. Then he got this strange look on his face. Like... surprised. And he turned to Tim, but he couldn't say anything. And... and then he fell on the floor."
I cringe. Vic on the floor. Vic in pain. Vic dying.
"Everyone was so stunned, they just sat there for a moment," Michael continues. "And then Ma screamed. And Dylan jumped up and started to do CPR."
Huh? Dylan? "You mean Dylan Burke? He did CPR on Vic?"
"Yeah," Michael nods. "He learned how to do it for some team he's on. Ben called 911. The ambulance was there in a couple of minutes."
Fucking Dylan Burke. At Deb's Thanksgiving dinner. And I was stuck in the fucking airport and then a damned rental car, thinking I'd surprise everyone. But the surprise was on me.
Dylan fucking Burke saves the day. No wonder Justin hates me. He's got a new hero. There's a new Rage in town, kids. Even if Vic doesn't survive, what they'll all remember is that Dylan Burke was there and I wasn't.
I sit with Michael and quietly stroke his hand. The hospital is like a tomb at this time of night. I remember that from when I'd go and sit beside Justin. The Guardian Angel, just out of sight. Fucking lot of good it did him.
I should have walked away then, just like Jennifer wanted me to. And I did walk away -- for a while. I tried to stop thinking about him. Justin was no longer my concern. I couldn't save him and so I had no right to watch over him.
But when Jennifer came to me and wanted me to take him back -- I should have said no fucking way then and there!
But... I wanted to take him back.
I wanted him. That turned out to be his tragedy.
And now that's my tragedy, too.
Fucking doomed. That's what it feels like.
Michael falls asleep in my lap. I must have dozed off, too, because I feel a hand shaking me.
Ben. "Brian, when did you get here?"
"I drove in from Toronto, but when I got to Deb's no one was there. I came over here as soon as I found out. Has there been any word?"
Ben shakes his head. "Nothing. Deb's in there now. It could be days before we really know. I think I'll take Michael home for a few hours and see if he can get some rest. I tried to get Debbie to lie down, but she won't do it."
"No, Deb wouldn't leave Vic. She wants to be there in case..."
"I know. She'd never leave Vic."
Ben isn't a bad guy at all. He's a little pompous and full of himself, but he means well. And he was a good fuck, although when I look at him now, I don't feel any desire for him at all. Funny how that can fade away. Fucking sex. Fucking meaningless. But he's better for Michael than that fucking Dr. Dave.
Michael rouses and I leave him to Ben. They won't let me into the ICU, obviously, so I go to the chapel.
Tim is there, kneeling. Praying.
"Is your old Boss listening?" I ask.
Tim turns around in surprise. "Brian. What are you doing here?"
"I came for Thanksgiving, but as usual I'm too late." I try to smile, but it's fake. Forced.
"Too late," says Tim. "You're right, Brian. It's always too late. I thought Vic and I might have years together. At least I hoped we would. But... but I just wanted..." And he crumbles.
I'm the wrong person to be comforting everyone. I'm not the person they think I am. The person they want me to be. Full of kind words. Strong arms. Justin. Michael. Now Tim.
But I put my arms around him. I think about when I was just a kid. Tim should never have given me the kind of comfort I craved. It was wrong and we both knew it. But he did it. And he probably saved me -- at least a little. He showed me there was still love in the world. And I needed to know that.
"He'll be fine," I say.
"No," says Tim. "He won't be. If Vic lives he'll be very ill. He'll never be the same. He might never be able to leave the hospital. Or live a normal life."
"You don't know that, Tim. How many times did you tell me that such things weren't in my hands? That I couldn't control the world? Well, neither can you. Vic could wake up tomorrow and be great."
Tim takes a ragged breath. "But he won't. The doctors know it. Michael and Ben know it. I think even Debbie knows it." Tim looks up at me. "I'm glad you came. Justin needs you here."
That makes me wince. "I can't stay. We're behind schedule in filming. I left even though Dorian told me not to. I have to leave in a few hours. I drove here, but it's a rental. I'll probably fly back to Toronto tonight."
"Please don't, Brian. Stay a little longer. Justin needs you. We all need you."
"No, you only think you need me. And that goes for Justin, too. I'm the last person he needs." I stand up. I don't want to hold anyone anymore. I don't want to touch anyone. "I think I should go now."
Tim looks at me. Sees through me, actually. He could always see things no one else could. "What's wrong, Brian? Is there something the matter with you?"
"No. What could possibly be the matter?" I turn away. I can't let him see my eyes. If he sees my eyes he'll know the truth. "I'll see you, Tim. Maybe at Christmas."
And I flee. That's the only word for it. I have to get the fuck out of this hospital. Out of this city.
Away from... everything.
Brian Kinney -- running for his life. Rage the fucking superhero. What a joke!
But I have to run. It's too late to do anything else.
***
"There'll be good times again for me and you,
But we just can't stay together,
Don't you feel it too?
Still I'm glad for what we had
And how I once loved you.
But it's too late, baby, now it's too late,
Though we really did try to make it.
Something inside has died and I can't hide
And I just can't fake it.
Oh it's too late, my baby,
Too late, my baby,
You know
It's too late."
(King/Stern)