WE'RE OKAY

Original poster: _alicesprings

Title: We're Okay
Written By: asm614
Timeline: Ep. 201
Rating: PG-13, for language
Warnings: Post-bashing, so maybe a little angsty.
Summary: This fills in the time between Brian and Justin talking in the loft and Brian dropping Justin off at his mother's in Episode 201.
Author's Notes: Thanks to the amazing shadownyc for her feedback and suggestions.



"… I still don't remember anything. Last thing I do remember is you telling me that you wouldn't come to my prom… But they said that you showed up after all and that we danced together, and that it was amazing. Daphne said that we were amazing."

"We were alright."

"Shit! I wish I could remember that… And then I walked with you back to your jeep, and that's when Chris Hobbs came out with a baseball bat and –"

"I thought you said you couldn't remember anything."

"I can't. This is just stuff that other people have told me. It's like a story that happened to somebody else."

"Yeah, well… I can remember. I can remember everything… I saw him… He was coming after you with a bat… But he was moving too fast and you were too far away… And I ran, but there was no time to stop him… And then he swung and it was too late… There was nothing I could do… And then you just laid there on the cold cement."

"It wasn't your fault… It wasn't your fault."

****

Justin

I don't know how much time has passed as we stand intertwined in the middle of the loft. Brian's arms are wrapped around me like a vice, and I've got him back just as tightly, or as much as I can manage with my good hand. I suspect I'm "holding" him just as much as he's holding me.

All I know is that I won't soon forget the look on his face as I told him what I already knew, and wished he could believe – it wasn't his fault. None of it.

I can't remember what happened that night, but… shit… Brian showing up at my prom? Dancing with me in front of everyone? Fucking kissing me… I have no doubt that it was the best night of my life, regardless of the outcome. My only regret is that my memories exist in the form of others' recollections.

But now… tonight… I've never seen Brian allow himself to look so open, so exposed, so vulnerable – not even the times we talked about Gus when Linds and Mel wanted him to give up his rights (even though he did anyway)… He's letting me see everything this time, and he looks so broken that all I want is for it to stop.

This is all I've wanted for the past six weeks – to see him, touch him, know that he's right here in front of me… Even if I don't know how long it will last, or if I'll see him again after tonight.

Eventually, Brian pulls away, looks down with watery eyes to meet my gaze. He musters a half smile and then turns away from me before dragging an arm across his face.

Two months earlier, I would've been amazed if Brian had allowed me to see so much emotion – to witness tears heavy in his eyes… And two months ago, I might've become giddy at said occurrence because it would just prove that I was onto him, and it was totally proof that he SO cared about me…

But now I'm older, wiser, and… irrevocably changed by a bat to the head. I hate seeing him in this much pain, and I hate that it's because of me, even if indirectly. All I want is for him to smirk and call me a silly twat, and make everything go back to normal.

With a sigh, Brian turns back toward me. "We should get you back home. Your mother is probably beside herself."

"I left a note," I shrug. "Besides, if I come back from my adventure in one piece, maybe she'll stop fucking treating me like I'm about to break."

Brian considers this for a moment before clearing his throat. "I can't believe I'm about to say this, but… Look, cut her a little bit of slack. She almost lost you, and she's scared. Just be glad you have a mother who cares that fucking much about you."

I want to throw back a sarcastic remark, but I know better, given what I've learned about Brian's family situation. Instead, I simply nod in response.

"Well then, shall we?" He picks up his keys from the countertop and leads the way toward the loft door, sliding it open, and then stepping aside to let me exit.

I can't help but take one final sweeping look around, hoping I'll be back to see it again, sooner than later.


****

Brian

Neither one of us speaks as I start the jeep and put it into gear. I pull away from the sidewalk and drive down Tremont, stopping at the first light. I take a moment to breathe, willing the evening air to rejuvenate me enough to get me through the evening's final minutes. I had no intention for tonight's end to be quite so… fuck… draining.

The light changes to green, and I loosen my grip on the steering wheel a bit, noticing that the blood flow is restored to my white clenched knuckles. We travel another few blocks before I hear his voice.

"Brian." It's soft, tentative, even.

"Yeah?" I croak out, silently cursing my emotions, willing them to stay at bay. I almost lost it earlier in front of him, and I can't… I won't make him deal with anything more than he absolutely fucking has to.

"Brian." His tone is firmer this time, and I know he wants me to look at him, wants me to see his eyes and everything that they are telling me.

"Justin." I imitate, temporarily reclaiming my voice. "I'm driving." I can't break my concentration right now. I need to focus on getting him home safely. I can't risk putting him in danger again, because the last time I looked away, even just for one fucking split second, I nearly lost him.

"Brian, stop the fucking car and look at me!" Now he has my attention. Nodding slowly, I pull into the nearest parking lot, which happens to be a mini-mart. Cutting the engine, I turn to face him.

"What?" I try to sound irritated, impatient… something to make this moment feel a bit more normal, but I know it's not, it can't be. It might never be again, and that thought scares me shitless.

His blue eyes pierce into mine, so full of compassion and concern that it makes me want to run, yell, do something stupid… anything to make this not about me, and all about him. It always has been about him. If anything, that's what the past six weeks have caused me to admit, if only to myself.

He takes my hand, caressing it gently with his, and then places it on his cheek. "Brian," he says again, and this time, he has my full attention.

"Yeah?"

"I'm here. I'm okay. And I meant what I said before. I need you to believe that." We both know to what he's referring.

I can't respond, not coherently, and he knows that, can sense it, and is willing to leave it alone. I manage to nod a bit, to acknowledge that I've heard him. He smiles softly and turns his face, planting a kiss on the palm of my hand.

I take a deep breath and restart the jeep. Feeling a bit more relaxed, he spends the rest of the drive in somewhat more typical Justin-form, chattering about life outside of the hospital – his mom, Molly, and Daphne, mostly. And for once, I don't pretend that it annoys me.


****

"Thanks"

"For what?"

"The ride… Saving me."

"I didn't save you."

"I meant tonight… So will I see you again?"

"Yeah, you'll see me."


****

Brian

After some ridiculous comment about not knowing how long he'll be around at the rate he's going, he hops out of the jeep. I appease him with a small smile, but mentally erase his last few words. That's not an option, as far as I'm concerned.

Within nanoseconds of his door slamming shut, Jennifer has flicked on the porch lights, flung open the door, and likely alerted the media. As predicted, she's worried to death, and I'm sure seeing me doesn't necessarily put her mind at ease.

Justin's opinion of me counts for a whole hell of a lot – more than I'd probably ever admit. Unfortunately, his will surely not be the last expressed before this is all over.

Jennifer casts one final extremely-wary-but-possibly-concerned look at me as she ushers a protesting Justin into the house, but doesn't say a word. For the moment, I am grateful.

I lean back against the seat, needing a moment to collect myself.

His last question lingers in my mind, giving me a sense of déjà vu, and suddenly I'm transported back to the first time we parted, just over nine months earlier.

A cocky and recently de-virginized seventeen year old hopped out of my jeep, so innocent and sure of himself, insisting he needed to see me again. Using one of my less creative lines, I told him he could see me in his dreams. He'd already broken at least one of my rules, and I had somehow convinced myself that it was the end.

Yet somehow, all of that changed... And now... after the weeks of uncertainty, guilt, worry, fucking sheer panic... I knew I would break every fucking rule I'd ever made if it meant I could have him alive and healthy.

It's ironic that I first told him he could see me in his dreams, because after the prom, I'd been fucking terrified that mine might become the only way I'd ever see him again.

I close my eyes and exhale deeply as I try to make sense of the evening's events. A night of getting shitfaced with Mikey ended up as something more painful… yet more rewarding than I ever could've imagined.

For the moment, I choose to focus on the latter. I hear his words reverberate back through my head. He's here. He's okay… and somehow, I know that now, I will be too.

-FIN-