Authors Notes: I moved the elevator over a bit so there would be a brick wall outside the loft.

As Justin climbed the stairs, he tried to think of a plausible excuse to get Brian to stay in and watch movies with him. As long as Brian pretended nothing was wrong, and Justin pretended he didn't know his secret, Brian would try to carry on as if everything was ok. It wasn't ok though; Brian was very sick and Justin couldn't help but worry.

Justin entered the loft and set his bag down by the island. Brian sat at the kitchen table shredding a cigarette, trying to suppress his silent rage.

Justin smiled and came over. "Hey, I picked up some movies. How about we just say in and have a quiet night?"

Brian looked at him with veiled rage. "What'd you bring? Terms of Endearment, Love Story, My Boyfriend has Cancer?" he shouted thoroughly pissed off.

Justin bit his lip. Fucking Michael! Of course he couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut. Well now he had no choice but to deal with this head on. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked quietly.

Brian's voice kept rising till he was all out yelling. "Maybe because I didn't want you to know or maybe because it's none of your fucking business."

So it was back to that again. Justin could practically feel the edge of the cliff at his heels.

"Brian, I'm your partner."

Brian stormed over to the island and grabbed up Justin's messenger bag.

"Not any more, I don't want you here. Now get the fuck out!"

Justin felt like he had been punched in the stomach at Brian's harsh words. He shook his head. "Brian, please don't."

Justin knew in about ten seconds he'd be out on his ass … again. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

"I said, 'Get the fuck out!'" Brian screamed, even more agitated.

"Brian, I love you and I want to help you."

Brian jerked the loft door roughly open. He latched onto Justin's arm hard. "Get the fuck out!"

Brian threw the messenger bag out into the hall. At the same time he shoved Justin roughly out the door and slammed the door shut. Justin stumbled under the force of Brian's shove and smacked right into the brick wall. Justin groaned at impact. He'd hit his head and would most likely have a black eye. Justin gingerly touched his temple. It came away wet; drops of blood dotted his pale fingertips. He must have cut himself on one of the rough bricks.

Justin looked at the cold steel door of the loft, then picked up his bag and ran down the stairs. Tears misted in his eyes. Why was Brian so angry at him? All he did was dare to love him.

When Justin got to the street he dug out his cell phone and called a cab as he began walking, distancing himself from the loft. He put a hand to his temple to quell the pain. Justin hoped the cab wouldn't be long. He was starting to get a headache and would very likely need his migraine pills, which of course he didn't have any on him.

When the cab came Justin gratefully crawled onto the back seat and gave Daphne's address.

"Hey kid, are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

He figured he must look pretty bad because the driver kept glancing in the mirror at him. His head and cheek would end up looking much worse than it actually was. When the cab pulled up in front of Daphne's apartment he threw some crumpled bills at the driver and got out. He noticed that the driver didn't take off right away. Justin knocked on the door and was so glad to see his friend.

Daphne sputtered, "Justin, oh God, what the fuck happened to you?" She pulled him in and heard the cab drive off. Daphne's dark eyes flashed with anger. "Who the fuck hit you? Please don't tell me Brian did this; he wouldn't. I'll rip his balls off." Daphne all but growled.

Not knowing whether to laugh or cry he did both.

"Can we please leave Brian's balls out of this?"

Daphne pulled him into her arms and held him. He held her firmly trying to pull himself together.

"I…I need my meds. I feel a migraine coming on."

"Yeah, I wouldn't doubt it."

"That bad, huh?"

She took him by the hand and led him into the bathroom. When Justin caught his reflection in the mirror he murmured "fuck." There was a small cut right next to his scar from the bat. A bluish purple bruise stretched from his temple, trailing down the side of his face to his cheek.

"Brian didn't hit me. We got into a fight; he was angry. He pushed me out the door and I lost my footing and hit the wall. It was an accident. I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt me. You know Brian's not like that."

Justin fumbled with his pill bottle. When he couldn't get it open, Daphne took it from him and shook out two pills for him. He downed the pills gratefully. He turned on the tap and cupped some water in his hand to drink.

Silently Daphne gently pushed him to sit on the closed toilet seat while she ministered to the cut, cleaning it and putting a butterfly bandage on the small wound.

"I think," Daphne said trying to control her torrent of emotions, "this calls for some ice cream. I have Fish Food, Cookie Dough, and Turtle Soup. Name your poison."

"All of it," Justin said rather morosely.

It was then Daphne knew whatever happened was serious.

They went into the kitchen; Justin sank down onto a chair gratefully. His head was really starting to throb. Daphne lined up the ice cream on the table. She also handed him a bag of frozen peas for his face. Justin smiled slightly then gingerly placed the cold bag against the side of his face. He picked a container at random and dug in. After a few scoops he knew he should start talking because Daphne was by no means a patient woman.

"I should have come to you instead of going to Michael."

"Oh Christ! Justin when are you ever going to learn?"

"I know, I know, he's a self serving son of a bitch, no offence to Deb. It was a private matter though and I thought Michael knew something about it. Turns out he didn't. Daph, this has to stay just between us ok? If I tell you … that's why Brian got so mad. It's because I found out and I told Michael."

"Justin, you can always trust me."

"I know," Justin's voice began to waver.

He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Brian's sick. I, um, overheard a message at the loft. Brian was in the shower. He never went to Ibiza. He had surgery at Johns Hopkins. He never told anyone."

"Oh God," Daphne gasped. She truly liked Brian and this news was distressing to hear. All she ever wanted was for Brian and Justin to be together and happy.

"Brian has Testicular Cancer. The message was something about starting follow up treatments." Justin ate a spoonful of the chocolate and marshmallow concoction. "It was a shitty way to find out. I should have known something was wrong. He was pale, tired and trying to hide that he was in pain. I'm scared, Daph. I don't even know if he's going to be ok. I really need him to be ok."

He started to cry, hot tears ran freely down his face. Daphne rubbed his arm trying to comfort her friend. Justin half heartedly laughed and tossed the peas aside.

"I think I defrosted your peas."

They both shared a laugh.

"It's ok; I'm not really fond of peas anyway," she said smiling.

"So I went to Michael thinking he had to know something. I wanted to tell Brian that I knew, because you know Brian was acting like everything was fine when it wasn't. He was going out instead of resting. Michael talked me into not saying anything. He said Brian would just get pissed that we knew. One fucking day goes by and what does that fucker do? He spills his guts to Brian. I'm sure he didn't rant and rave at dear old Mikey. I got the brunt of Brian's anger and thrown out of the loft."

"Brian shouldn't have kept it from you, but think how he must feel. He's got to be scared. Cancer terrifies everyone. Isn't that what his father died of?"

"Yeah," Justin murmured.

"You know how vain Brian is. He probably doesn't want you to see him sick."

"Are you trying to justify him throwing me out of the loft, literally I might add."

"No, but I think I understand a little of why he did it."

"We're partners, Daph. These treatments are going to make him very sick. He's going to need someone and I want to do this for him. God, Brian is so fucking frustrating. If it were me I have no doubt he'd take care of me. He did take care of me after the bashing."

"Yeah well, Brian's stubborn that way. He doesn't want help."

"He shouldn't have to go through this alone though."

Justin's meds were kicking in. He was exhausted.

"I need to get some sleep. Crap, I have a double shift tomorrow. Everyone is going to think I got the crap beat out of me. Fuck, I don't even want to think about what Deb will say."

Daphne gave him a sympathetic look. "Can't you call in sick?"

"I wish, but I can't turn down that kind of cash."

Justin went to his room and kicked off his shoes. He was too exhausted to undress. He just crawled under the covers fully clothed. He was asleep moments after.

****

When Justin entered the diner he tried to keep his face averted as he stored his jacket and bag.

"Hold it!" Deb said in a booming voice. She grabbed his chin and turned his face to meet her gaze.

"Christ, what happened to you?"

Justin pulled away and tossed his messenger bag under the counter.

"It was an accident, Deb, and I really don't want to discuss it."

He put on his apron and tied the knot around his waist with a quick sharp tug.

"That asshole hit you, didn't he? Why am I not surprised, if he could punch my son…" she left the sentence hanging.

Justin's eyes narrowed and turned as hard as ice chips. "How could you even think that Brian would ever lay a hand on me? It was an accident, period, end of story. I'm also not some pussy faggot that would stay with someone that would hurt me. As for dear sweet Michael who can do no wrong, I'm sure there was a good reason for Brian's reaction."

Justin spun away towards the kitchen to get away from Debbie. He knew she meant well but sometimes she just pissed him off. Her low opinion of Brian had never sat well with him. Some days he wondered how Brian could think of her as a mother. She hardly ever called him by his name; he was always the asshole.

When Justin composed himself he walked out of the kitchen completely ignoring Deb and began to wait on tables. The patrons of the Liberty Diner all loved him and began fussing over him when they saw his face. The popular theory was that Brian hit him. No matter how he tried to assure his regulars that he was fine and it was just an accident they would believe what they wanted. It was like talking to a fucking wall. He hated to even think what the gay grapevine would do with this juicy little tidbit. On the plus side the tips were even bigger. People just couldn't stand to see a beat up twink.

****

By noon he wanted to strangle someone. He was sick of all the stares and whispers. He was angry that they thought he was a weak little fag who couldn't protect himself. And he was doubly pissed off that they thought Brian must have done it.

Justin was behind the counter changing the coffee filter when Michael walked in.

"Hey, where have you been?" Michael whined. "I really need those panels so I can try to come up with some dialogue for the evil anal probe."

Justin turned around slowly trying to keep his rage in check.

"You can take your evil anal probe and shove it up your ass," he said rather bluntly.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Michael screeched.

"What do you think? You told him that we knew. You self serving, mother fucking, son of a bitch! Did you even stop to think before you just spilled your guts? No, of course not, you never think."

"Brian hit you!"

All eyes were now on them. Justin closed his eyes and tried to take a calming breath. What he really wanted to do was fly across the counter and beat the living shit out of Michael.

Justin sighed, "You know if you've said it once you've said it a million times that Brian is your bestest friend in the world. Do you really think Brian would haul off and punch me? If you think that then you really don't know Brian at all. He would never hurt me." Justin pointed to the nasty bruise. "I got this because you opened your big fat fucking mouth. Brian threw me out of the loft. It was an accident. He doesn't even know I got hurt."

"Look I didn't mean to…"

"Save your bullshit. I really don't want to hear it."

Justin grabbed up his order pad and went to wait on a table.

****

After the Liberty diner Michael went directly to the loft to find out exactly what was going on. It never occurred to him that he was pounding incessantly on the door.

Brian was lying curled up in bed wishing the dull pain would just go away. He was tired and he felt like shit, yet sleep eluded him. Then the pounding began upon his loft door. He groaned and jammed a pillow over his head. Of course, who ever the fuck was out there wasn't going away. Brian struggled to get up out of bed then made his way slowly across the living room. By the time he got to the door he wanted to commit murder. He struggled to pull the door back and wondered when it got so fucking heavy to move.

"Jesus, you look like shit," Michael said as he pushed his way in.

"Gee, thanks, Mikey." There was a bite to his voice as he struggled to shut the door with a hard tug.

"You should be in bed."

Brian pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to gather strength he didn't have for this conversation. "Well I was, but some asshole kept pounding on my door."

Michael went to the fridge. "There's nothing but beer and poppers in here. I'll go to the grocery store for you and pick some things up."

"The fuck you will," Brian growled. "This is exactly why I didn't want anyone to know. I don't need everyone hovering over me like I'm a fucking invalid or a victim or like I'm gonna die." Completely fed up he yelled, "Now would you get the fuck out of here!"

Slowly Brian made his way back up to his bedroom where he gingerly laid back down. He drew his long legs up so he was curled in a ball. Brian almost wanted to cry in frustration when Michael stood by his bedside. No one seemed to get that he just wanted to be left alone.

"What do you not understand about fuck off?" Brian's voice was weary even to his own ears.

"I want to know why the fuck you hit Justin?"

Brian looked up at him startled. That was the last thing he expected to hear. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I went to the diner and Justin has this huge bruise. He said it was an accident, that you got mad, threw him out and he fell. Is that what really happened?"

Brian suddenly felt ill. Justin was hurt and it was all his fault.

"That's a shitty way to treat your partner."

Brian held his breath and waited for Michael to leave. As soon as he heard the door rattle closed, he quickly hobbled to the bathroom where he was violently ill. It literally made him sick to think that he had inadvertently hurt Justin. As he gripped the sides of the porcelain he reminded himself that he would never lay a hand on Justin ever, yet apparently Justin had gotten hurt anyway.

Brian sat on the bathroom floor too tired at the moment to move. He was never really angry with Justin. His anger had been a knee jerk reaction to being found out. He didn't want Justin to feel obligated to be with him under these conditions, and he certainly didn't want Justin taking care of him. He really didn't feel like gambling on whether Justin would even want to stay with him or leave him because it was just too hard. One thing he knew for sure; he needed to see Justin for himself and see if he was alright.

****

By lunch time Justin had more than enough of the sympathetic stares. He didn't know how he was going to make it till nine without committing murder.

"Deb, I'm taking a break."

He grabbed up his jacket and walked out through the back. Justin sat on a crate and lit a cigarette. He sighed as he exhaled a puff of smoke. He idly wondered if this was the way it was always going to be. Everyone saw him as the victim who couldn't take care of himself and Brian was the uncaring, unfeeling asshole. Justin angrily stubbed out his cigarette and lit another. People didn't know shit.

****

Justin was wiping down the counter when the bells jingled over the door. Something compelled him to turn and look to see who had entered. Justin sighed, a long and suffering sigh. Of course Brian would show up. Fucking Michael just couldn't leave it alone. Justin ran a hand through his hair in frustration. It had been a long day and he really didn't want to do this now. At first glance Justin could tell Brian was tired and worn out, he should be in bed resting.

"Justin," Brian's voice was soft, one would say almost meek.

"What do you want?"

Brian reached up to cup the bruised side of Justin's face. Justin took a step back letting Brian's hand hang in the air.

"It's been a really long day and I'm not doing this here. Do you want to order something?"

"No, Justin, I…"

Justin saw so much in Brian's eyes just then. They conveyed so much vulnerability, tiredness and even a bit of sadness. Justin blinked and had to look away.

"Look, I've got another hour to go here. You should go home and rest. You look like shit." Justin smiled slightly to take the sting out of his words. "If it's alright with you I'll stop by the loft when I'm finished. I'll bring you some soup."

Brian nodded. "I'd like that."

"You drove here, didn't you?"

For a moment Brian looked confused. "Yeah."

"Give me your keys; you're too tired to be driving. Call a cab; I'll drop the Vette off when I come over."

To Justin's surprise Brian didn't argue with him. He dug in his overcoat pocket and slid the keys across the counter to Justin who pocketed them.

"Deb, I'll be back in a few minutes," Justin called out.

He grabbed up his jacket and walked with Brian to stand in front of the diner. Justin stood by while Brian made the call for a cab. In a moment of weakness Justin reached out and adjusted Brian's overcoat. Then he found himself in Brian's arms, holding him to reassure himself that Brian was ok.

"Does it hurt?"

Justin went up on his toes and spoke next to his ear. "Of course it hurts, you jerk."

"Justin, I…"

Justin shook his head. "Later, your cab is here."

****

Brian made it back to the loft. He walked slowly over to the sofa and somewhat collapsed. He felt numb inside. Brian sat there still in his overcoat, just blankly staring out into his living room. He couldn't believe he'd hurt Justin, accident or not.

****

Brian hadn't moved from his position on the sofa. More than an hour had passed and Justin let himself in. He noticed Brian sitting quietly on the sofa. Justin sat the paper sack on the island then went to check on Brian.

"Brian, are you ok?"

"Hmm? You're here."

Justin looked at Brian with concern in his eyes. "Yeah I'm here. Are you ok? You still have your coat on."

"I'm fine." Brian stood up and shrugged off his overcoat.

Justin nodded not sure if he believed Brian or not. "I brought you some soup. Do you want some?"

"It's not chicken is it?"

Justin laughed softly. "I figured that's what you'd say. No, it's pea soup. I remember you ordering it a few times at the diner."

Justin busied himself in the kitchen dishing up a bowl of soup for Brian. Brian sat at the island and Justin placed the bowl in front of him. Brian reached out and slipped his hand in Justin's. He brushed his thumb lightly over Justin's hand.

"Justin, I'm sorry. I know sorry's bullshit. But not when I say it, I mean it when I say it. I'm sorry I hurt you."

Justin didn't know what to say for a moment. "It's ok, Brian. I know you never meant to hurt me. It was just a stupid accident."

Brian nodded and began eating his soup.

"Look, Brian, if we're going to be partners we have to trust each other with the big stuff. I know I'm one to talk but I'll make the effort if you will."

Brian looked up.

"I'm not going anywhere, Brian; you don't have to push me away."

"I want you to stay," Brian said barely above a whisper.

Justin smiled. "Then I'll stay."

Justin suddenly turned serious. "Brian, I … what did the doctor's say? Are you going to be ok? And please don't lie to me and say you're fine if you're not."

Brian cleared his throat. It still wasn't easy for him to talk about. "They caught it early; they think they got it all. I have something like a 95% chance of full recovery."

Justin let out a shuddery breath. "That's good, that's really good. I was really worried and scared. I didn't know what to do then you threw me out. By the way, everyone on Liberty thinks you beat me."

Brian snorted a laugh.

"It's not funny," Justin said somewhat indigent.

"No, it's really not."

"Well, on the bright side, I tripled my tips. People have a soft spot for battered twinks."

They locked eyes and in the next moment shared a laugh. Justin took Brian's dish and put it in the dishwasher.

"You should go lay down. You look really tired."

"Come with me?" Brian asked.

Justin smiled and nodded. "I'll just lock up and turn down the lights."

When Justin climbed the stairs Brian had just finished pulling on his sweats and crawling tiredly into bed. Justin kicked off his shoes then pulled his socks and jeans off before climbing into bed next to Brian. He hesitated for a moment before snuggling into Brian's arms. Justin ran his hand along Brian's back over and over, assuring himself that he was there with Brian and Brian would be ok.

"You can't leave me, I still need you. I'll always need you."

Brian was half asleep but heard the words anyway. He tightened his hold on Justin, conveying what he couldn't say aloud.

Justin held him tight and mouthed the words, 'I love you'.

Return to Gina's