Back to school... God, how he hated this time of year – the mall, as well as every single shopping center in all of Pittsburgh seemed to be overcrowded with whiny, screaming kids and harried, irritated parents.

“Including me!” he thought dejectedly, “How is it possible that I used to love the mall as a teen and now I can't stand even the thought of coming here?”

He was never so thankful as right now that all of their back-to-school shopping had already been taken care of. He wouldn't even be here today, if his MacBook Pro didn't decide to up and commit computer suicide. Unfortunately, it stored a few work files that he needed the very next day. So here he was, in back-to-school hell that was the Pittsburgh Mall, waiting for the geniuses at the Apple store to resurrect his computer, while eating bad Chinese at the food court and being surrounded by a loud band of wildebeest masquerading as children. He couldn't wait to get out of there.

Halfway through his “meal” he gave up and threw the rest away, now more irritated than ever. He usually enjoyed Chinese food; even the fast food version they served at the Mall was normally devoured with gusto. But today it was exceptionally bad for some odd reason and he left the food court hungrier than he was before.

He decided to slowly make his way to the Apple store on the other side of the gigantic Pittsburgh Mall and check out the progress on his computer, despite the fact that he was told to wait until contacted. He turned a corner and the trio that had just walked out of GameStop froze him in mid-stride. The store was a good 15 feet away and the trio immediately walked on ahead, never noticing him behind them. They were walking away, talking animatedly amongst themselves and laughing.

A minute later he finally came out of his stupor and followed the happy trio; they were going in the same direction as him. He couldn't hear what they were saying – there were too many people and too much noise around. But he could hear their occasional laughter and despite the crowds he could easily see the affection between them. The tall brunet kept his left arm protectively around the blond's shoulders, intermittently raising it to play with longish strands of straw colored hair for a second or two, then always returning to its guarding post. The gesture seemed automatic, almost unconscious, as if the brunet has made the same gesture thousands of times before and didn't even realize he was doing it. The blond, though, seemed to be very aware of it, because every time an elegant, tanned hand buried itself in his shaggy, blond mane he turned to look at the brunet with a dazzling smile, sending him a look of pure love. The brunet would smile back absentmindedly, but just as lovingly at the blond. Then he would turn to the teenager on his right and continue their conversation, occasionally nudging him playfully, or giving him a quick one-second hug with his right arm, or just resting his hand on the kid's shoulder.

The trio happily continued on, unaware of being observed so closely from just a few feet behind.

“They are still together after all this time!” he thought, completely amazed. “God, it's been what, 13 years? And the kid, he's obviously Kinney's. He looks about 13, how can that be? Maybe he's younger, but looks older because he's tall – he's almost as tall as Justin.”

Just thinking that name interrupted his train of thought immediately. He hadn't allowed himself to  even think that name, let alone say it for close to a decade. Now he had thought it and as painful as it was, it didn't kill him. He didn't have a heart attack or a stroke. God didn't strike him down, the sky hasn't fallen and the earth hasn't opened up to swallow him whole. He was still alive, still walking a few feet behind them normally and no one around him noticed that anything was amiss.

He was alive, but not all right. He was drowning in an emotion that a few years ago was the size of a grain of rice and has been progressively growing over the years until it reached a size that threatened to overwhelm him. Shame – it's become his constant companion, clinging to him like Saran wrap, suffocating him, and nothing he did got rid of it.

Just then his cell rang and some Apple store genius told him that he recovered the files he needed, but the laptop was toast and needed to be replaced. He turned another corner towards the Apple store and the trio he was observing went on in a different direction.

Though they weren't in his sights anymore, he couldn't get the image of the three of them out of his mind – love, joy, humor, happiness and gentle protectiveness (the latter on the part of Kinney senior), were in their every gesture and facial expression. The kid seemed well behaved and didn't seem to mind carrying about a dozen shopping bags by himself. The two adults weren't annoyed, irritated, or upset. They didn't seem to be in a hurry to leave or go anywhere specific. It looked like they were just enjoying each other's company and did a good job of ignoring the masses of shoppers swarming around them, the aggravating Mall muzak and the constant noise. They seemed to be in a little world of their own, an oasis of three where calm reigned amid the chaos that was back-to-school shopping at the Pittsburgh Mall.

~*~

The Apple store got him squared away in an efficient manner and within 20 minutes of walking into the place he was walking out with a new MacBook Pro and a thumb drive containing the needed files. He breathed a sigh of relief that his Mall nightmare was about to be over – all he had to do was find his car and brave the traffic. As he was walking towards the parking garage, his thoughts returned to Justin.

“He's happy,” he thought, “he's successful, no thanks to his father or anyone else from what I've heard. And he's been with the same man for 13 years, while my second relationship is falling to pieces around me. How did my life get so fucking fucked up! Where did I go wrong? I don't even know how to begin to fix this. Actually, I do, but I am too fucking chicken-shit to do it,” he admitted to himself.

Deep in thought, he didn't notice he was in the wrong section of the parking garage. Finally after almost 15 minutes of looking for his car he realized his mistake.

“Fuck! That's just fucking great!” he exclaimed loudly.

~*~

“Hey, Dad, Justin, thanks for taking me shopping. I know you hate the Mall, but it's just that it's a million times better with you guys than going with the moms. I mean, I love them and everything, but it can be soooo embarrassing!”

“I'm sure it is, Sonnyboy. I just wish your mothers allowed me to take you shopping where I wanted, instead of the damned Mall. It wasn't as bad as I expected it to be, thankfully. So, anytime you want to go shopping I'm yours. OK, Gus?”

“Thanks, Dad! That's totally awesome, but the Mall is fine, really.” Gus tried to reassure his father.

“I don't think the Armani Junior collection would be a good fit for Gus's middle school, Brian,” Justin said laughing, as Brian scowled.

“Very funny, Sunshine. I think I've proved today that I can dress my son without embarrassing the both of us, even if it was at the fucking Mall.”

“Yes, when you retire you can be a personal shopper to the discerning citizens of Pittsburgh. I'm sure that would occupy your time nicely.”

“Retire?” Brian took the whole concept of retirement as a personal affront. “I fully plan to be at the helm of Kinnetik until the day I die, Sunshine. I am going to leave the personal shopping to Auntie Em, unless Sonnyboy here needs me. Right, Gus?”

“Sure, Dad, whatever you say.” Gus laughed as they walked out of the Mall entrance that led to their section of the parking garage.

“Gus, why don't I....”

“No, I'll carry this stuff. I promised, remember?” Gus reminded Justin, nodding towards the dozen or so bags in his hands. His mothers made him promise that he'd carry all the purchases himself when he wheedled permission to go shopping with his Dad and Justin, instead of going to the Mall with them. “You guys bought me so much extra stuff, it's only fair that I carry it. I am especially stoked about the new computer games you guys got me. I can't wait to get home and...” Gus's excited chatter was interrupted by Brian, who suddenly stopped.

“Shit! I totally forgot to stop by the Apple store. Oh, well. I'll send an intern or someone to go there tomorrow morning,”

“Brian, let's go back. There's no need to send an intern on a silly errand, when we are still here,” Justin suggested as Gus groaned. While he didn't mind carrying all the packages to the car, he didn't necessarily want to traipse back into the Mall with all the loot just to go back out again after his father completed an errand.

“No, don't worry about it, Sunshine. It can wait until tomorrow...”

“How about you run back to the store, pick up whatever you need, while Gus and I get the car. By the time we get to the car, put everything away and get out of the garage, you'll be done and we can pick you up at the door. How does that sound?”

“You really don't want me bothering the interns, do you?” Brian asked with a smirk.

“I've been one. I'm sure the interns will make better use of their time learning something at Kinnetik, rather than wasting time doing your errands. Go, Brian! Gus and I will be fine.”

“OK, OK. It shouldn't take me long. Just...just be careful, OK?”

“I'm not a damsel in distress, Brian. We'll be fine. Go,” Justin said gently.

Brian gave him a quick kiss on the lips that still tasted faintly like a strawberry-peach smoothie he and Gus got at the food court and briskly walked back towards the Mall entrance. 

~*~

Justin and Gus walked companionably towards the parking garage, chatting about the day’s events and laughing at Brian's antics while clothes shopping. Their stomach's growled in unison, making them laugh, and they decided to go straight to the diner for a couple of hearty burgers, fries and, of course, a turkey on wheat with no mayo and a side salad for Brian.

A few minutes later they found their aisle and saw Justin's SUV parked in a corner at the end. They were a few feet from the vehicle when their progress was interrupted by someone's aggravated curse.

“Fuck! That's just fucking great!”

Startled, they turned to look and saw a man in his mid-thirties cursing up a storm. He turned around, started walking in their direction and, suddenly, froze when he saw them standing there looking at him.

“Justin?” he said, somewhat surprised.

“OhGodOhGodOhGod! Gus! He's unprotected. We are in a fucking parking garage and there's no one around. We shouldn't have fucking parked in this dark corner. I've got to protect Gus! Brian will never get here in time. Oh, God!” Justin thought frantically.

“Taylor...” the man said again and took a couple of steps closer towards them.

Justin forcefully shoved a curious Gus behind him and quickly stepped backwards towards the vehicle. He immediately realized that his body wasn't very adequate protection, as much as he would have liked to think otherwise.

“Listen, Jus...”

“Don't you fucking come closer, Hobbs!” Justin interrupted, and then still looking into a face that once in a while still gave him nightmares, he addressed Gus who was peaking from behind his shoulder. “Gus, drop the bags.”

“What?”

“I said drop the fucking bags, now!” he ordered. “Take my keys and my cell. Go to the SUV, lock the doors and call your father.”

“Why? Wait...Wait, Hobbs... Hobbs?” Gus exclaimed.

Justin heard a bunch of shopping bags hit the ground behind them suddenly, but instead of taking the keys out of his hand and going to the car, Gus was trying to step in front of him.

“Are you the guy who nearly killed my Pop?” he screamed, while fighting Justin who was trying to get him out of danger.

“No, it wasn't your father,” Chris Hobbs answered quietly. “I nearly killed Justin. Listen, I...”

“Justin is also my father, you moron!”

“Gus!” Justin shouted, finally getting through to the young boy who stopped struggling. “You do not talk people like that, you understand? It doesn't matter who they are or what they've done – you do NOT call someone a moron!”

“I'm sorry, Pop, but I am not leaving you alone with him! I'm just not!” Gus said defiantly.

“Don't argue with me, Gus, please. Not right now. I need you to do as I say. I need you to get into the SUV, lock the doors and call Brian.” He pleaded, but Gus still hesitated. “I need to know you are safe, Gus. Do as I say. Do it!”

Gus took the keys out of his hands and reluctantly shuffled towards the SUV, got in and clicked the door locks closed. Only then did Justin feel like he could breathe normally again. He let out a deep breath and focused on his old enemy.

“What do you want, Chris?”

“I wasn't going to hurt him. I would never hurt a kid!”

“17 is still considered to be a kid, yet you've hurt me.” Chris visibly flinched at those words.

“I guess I meant to say 'now' – I would never hurt a kid now,” Chris Hobbs said quietly. "I didn't mean to scare him or you, though I think he was more angry than scared. He was ready to defend you, like his father defended you.”

“Again, what do you want, Chris?”

“I... I... I want to... I want to make... amends,” came an uncertain, cautious response.

“Amends? Is this some kind of a joke?”

“No. I've never been more serious in my life. I'm.... I'm... This is hard for me to say, but... I'm asking for your forgiveness.”

“My forgiveness?” Justin felt a bit like a parrot repeating Chris Hobbs' words, but at the moment he just couldn't help it. He felt like he stepped into the Twilight Zone, because he never thought such words would ever enter Chris' mind, let alone be uttered out loud. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Why? I don't know... Yes, I do. I saw you – the three of you – earlier at the mall. You looked so... happy. You are successful – one doesn't have to be in the art circles to hear of your success, one you achieved yourself. You have a... a... a family. You've been with the same person since fucking high school. While I...”

“While you what?”

“My business, which was handed down to me from my father is hemorrhaging money. It's not dire yet, but if this continues I don't know what I am going to do. I might lose my father's company. I am on my second marriage and it's circling the drain just like my work, if I don't do something to save it. I am thirty years old and my life is for shit and I've been trying to figure out why that is for a while now.”

“Your problems are not my fault, Chris,” Justin said quietly.

“I know they aren't. I wasn't trying to imply that. I'm just... lost, I guess. I need to start fixing my life and until I saw you again, now and earlier at the Mall, I had no clue where to start. I think my life started to derail when I got away with attempted murder. YOUR attempted murder. I want to apologize...”

“I already made you apologize, remember?” Justin said regretfully; he wished many times that his Pink Posse days never happened.

“I had a gun in my mouth, so I didn't mean a word of it then. Truthfully, I wouldn't have meant a word of it without the gun back then. God, I was a colossal asshole! This one is sincere, I hope you'll believe me and accept my words at face value.”

“Again, why? Is this a 12-step-program thing? Have you reached step nine, the 'making amends' stage? Is that why?”

“No. I realized that I need to get my shit together and soon, before I lose everything.”

“Why now?”

“I have a son with Connie, my ex-wife. She was with us at St. James, but I don't know if you remember her. My son, Kevin, was suspended from school last winter for beating the crap out of a kid and bullying him for being gay just because the kid has two fathers. My son was eight years old and only in second grade. At that age he isn't even supposed to know about sex or what 'gay' means, but he did. The other kid was also eight – there's no way to know whether he's gay or not at that age. Connie and I had to talk to the principal, who ironically enough is an older sister of one of our old classmates. She heard what I did to you from her sister and remembered it well. She told us in no uncertain terms that bullying and gay-bashing won't be tolerated at her school and that my son won't get away with murder like I did. She actually said “get away with murder”. Irene, my current wife, was with us. She came for moral support. Irene isn't from Pittsburgh. She lived in Seattle most of her life until about three years ago. Until then she hadn't heard about any of this. To say that she was shocked would be an understatement. She told me that she felt betrayed; she never knew she married a violent homophobe that got away with attempted murder and had no idea I was teaching my son the same type of attitude. I'd swear to you on a stack of Bibles that he didn't get it from me or Connie, though you probably won't believe me. It came from my father. You see, Connie and I agreed when we got married that our children wouldn't know anything about what I did to you – ever. When we got divorced, she promised me that she wouldn't use my past to turn Kevin against me and she has kept that promise. We found out later that night from Kevin that he heard the story at his grandparents' and that my father was the one who told him what the word gay meant, and that gay people needed to be – and I quote – beaten bloody. Connie was pissed off beyond belief and said that Kevin was never going to set food in my father's house ever again. As for Irene... She was horrified. She slept in the guest room that night and the next day there was a brand new box of birth control pills on the bathroom counter. We'd been trying to have a kid for six months at that point, but without much luck. I blew a gasket when I saw them, but she told me that I should be glad it's birth control and not a set of divorce papers. She told me she refused to bring a child into a potentially abusive home, with a homophobic father who drinks too much, who might possibly turn violent, and with a grandfather that actively teaches kids aggression and bigotry. She hasn't changed her mind since then. That's not the worst part. The worst part was seeing my son's utter confusion – he didn't understand why he was in trouble for 'just beating someone up a little' when his Dad nearly killed some gay guy and didn't get in trouble at all. It seems my dear old father 'forgot' to mention the trial and community service that I had to complete. The punishment didn't fit the crime, I know, but my father made it sound like there were no consequences whatsoever for my actions. I love my son, Justin, and I want to be a good father. I want him to be a good man. After that night I finally admitted to myself that I wasn't a good man, although I've suspected that for a while, just was not willing to face it. I realized that I wasn't a good example for my kid, or a good father. I finally understood and faced the fact that my father – a man I greatly respected until that day - wasn't any of those things either. It's been almost eight months since that incident and my rather painful epiphany. I haven't been able to deal with any of it well or at all, while my life has been crumbling around me. Until today, I didn't even know where to begin to fix this mess. Actually, if I were to be honest, I was too afraid to face what I needed to do to fix it. Even if I were in a 12 step program, Justin, this apology to you certainly wouldn't be step nine – that's too far down the list. What I did to you is my number one regret and I, sincerely, would like your forgiveness.”

“You have it.”

“No hesitation?”

“None. Your kid needs a good father. He deserves one, as do the kids he might bully and beat up, if he doesn't have a good Dad. If you need my forgiveness to start turning your life around for the sake of your son, your wife, even yourself, then you have it. Because everyone deserves a second chance, even you, Chris. I think I also need to forgive you for myself. I'd like to watch Gus play baseball or take him to a ballgame without taking anti-anxiety meds and without worrying about nightmares.”

“Fuck! I'm sorry. For all of it.”

“Apology accepted. And I'm sorry too – for that night with the gun. That was... unconscionable. I should never have done that.”

“Accepted,” Chris said immediately, astonished that Justin would be apologizing to him for anything at all.

“No hesitation?”

“None.”

“Then we are... even's not the right word, but I can't think of another one,” Justin said, shrugging.

Chris smiled with something like relief, nodded, and to both his and Justin's surprise extended his hand for a handshake. Justin, his WASP upbringing kicking in, was in the process of returning the handshake automatically, when he was interrupted by a loud shout coming from the entrance to the garage.

“Justin!” Justin and Chris turned around at the sound and saw a frantic Brian running full force towards them, shouting, “No! Justin, no!”

When Brian reached them, the cell phone he held in one hand and the small Apple store shopping bag clattered onto the cement floor of the garage, while his hands started to roam Justin's body in a nervous, agitated manner.

“Sunshine, you OK?” Brian's voice suddenly hitched as his hands came back to rest on Justin's upturned face.

“I'm fine, Brian,” Justin said and felt a slight tremor assault Brian's whole body. “I'm fine. Safe and sound, I promise.” Justin said quietly, looking up into that beloved face that was still suffused with worry. He placed one palm onto Brian's cheek and gently caressed his face, trying to reassure his lover. “I promise, Brian, I'm fine.”

“God, I couldn't handle it if something happened to you again. I couldn't, Justin," Brian whispered harshly and crushed his blond roughly to his body.

Chris Hobbs, whose presence was momentarily forgotten by the couple in front of him, watched the scene as if in a trance. He suddenly remembered watching them dance at prom with amazing clarity and all the feelings he felt thirteen years ago and for years after – the fascination, the confusion, the jealousy, the disgust, the fear and the rage. He was surprised that while he remembered those emotions well, he didn't feel them any longer. He did not feel the disgust, or the rage – they were gone into the ether, though when or how that happened he would never know.

He finally understood where the jealousy and the fear had come from. He was dating Connie on and off most of his high-school years and at “prom” they happened to be “on”; but as much as they liked each other, their feelings were never as deep or as apparent as those he witnessed between Justin and his dance partner that night. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that while Connie loved him, she had never looked at him the way Justin looked at the tall brunet and the way his gaze was reciprocated. He knew that none of the people close to him – neither his parents, nor his grandparents, nor other members of his family – ever exhibited that kind of unconscious, unrestrained, palpable feeling of passion and love that was there on that dance floor. Now, he realized that his teenage self was desperately envious of the fact that Justin Taylor – the little blond 'faggot', as he thought of him back then – was so obviously loved. 

The fear and the confusion, well, that was a little tougher to explain or admit. There was something about Taylor that had always fascinated him, ever since they were kids. His perpetual happiness, his positive attitude, his intelligence, his ease with everyone around him, his artistic talent, his stubbornness, his resilience, his beauty, his bravery – it was all a big puzzle that he couldn't decipher. The day of the fateful hand job in the sports equipment room he was thrown into a sea of confusion. He was straight, he knew he was straight, yet... he was completely turned on while talking to Justin and actually enjoyed the hand job given to him by another male. How was that possible, he asked himself for weeks and even years after. He couldn't figure it out and he had no one to talk to about it. He had a girlfriend who put out on a regular basis and whom he thought he loved; yet that hand job stayed with him for a long time afterwards. He began to wonder if he might be gay and the thought of that chilled his blood to ice. He'd heard the rumors of what happened to Taylor when his father found out he was gay; he knew that he'd be thrown out too if he turned out to be queer also. He was paralyzed with fear and did everything he possibly could to convince himself, the others and especially Justin Taylor that he was 100% straight.

The thing was, as days and weeks went by, he became conscious of the fact that as much as he thought of Justin Taylor, none of the other guys ever held any kind of interest for him. He realized that he was never aroused in the locker room or in the showers, or on the football field. He realized that the only time he ever got a raging hard-on was when he looked at girls in general, Connie in particular, and when he looked at or thought of Justin Taylor. When that realization hit him, he got petrified again because he thought he might be bi. For some reason that seemed to be worse then being gay. He was absolutely panicked, confused and afraid for a solid week – a week that led to the night of the prom. The night when all that confusion and fear grew into a towering rage as he watched two beautiful men dance together, smiling and laughing, and looking at each other as if no one else existed.

It took him years to figure out that he wasn't gay, bi or in love/in lust with Justin Taylor. He wasn't sure what exactly fascinated him about the man, but after years of confusion, fear, hate, doubt, worry, sleepless nights, hours of wondering, countless bottles of booze and a failed marriage, he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it had nothing to do with Justin's sex or sexuality, but everything to do with the man himself (or rather the boy he used to be). He finally admitted to himself that Justin Taylor was a puzzle he would never solve and needed to let go of completely, if he wanted any kind of normal life at all.

“God, I love you!” The heartfelt words, delivered on a ragged sigh brought Chris back to the present. Kinney held Justin so tightly in his embrace that the blond was almost obscured. “You are my life, Sunshine, you know that, don't you?”

“I know, Brian. And you are mine. I love you too, more than anything!” Justin raised his head from Kinney's shoulder and looked up into his face with a brilliant smile that spoke of utter happiness.

“That's why he calls him Sunshine...How absurdly apt!” Chris realized and then another realization hit him with a force of freight train – he had a “sunshine” of his own now, his wife Irene. Until he met her three years ago, no one in his entire life had looked at him that way, like he was their entire world, not even his son. He realized that she gave him all the love, all the passion and all the happiness that Justin gave Kinney and that Kinney gave Justin. He realized that he already had what he had always envied and wanted, but he was too self-absorbed, too selfish, too mired in his fears, his shame and his past to see the treasure he was given in his second wife. He had always felt that he didn't deserve her, that her marrying him was some sort of cruel joke devised by the universe at his expense. He finally realized that instead of doing everything he could to be worthy of her, he was doing everything to prove the universe right. Not for the first time he thought that he was about to lose her. But, finally and for the first time, he decided to fight for her.

“If Justin Taylor, the man I almost killed, believes I am worthy of forgiveness, of a second chance and of a good life, then I should believe that too. Maybe Irene will forgive me also. I wonder if he will...” he thought.

As monumentally difficult it was for him to apologize to Justin, saying anything to Kinney seemed an insurmountable task. He was about to abandon the idea, when he looked at Justin and a kaleidoscope of memories flew past his eyes, all of which featured Justin, a guy that never backed down from anything – harassment, homophobic teachers, homophobic father, being thrown out at 17, the beatings, the bashing, the brain injury – none of it destroyed him, but forged him into the man he was today. Chris gathered his courage and spoke,

“Kinney...”

The brunet whirled around in surprise, his penetrating, angry gaze zeroed in on Chris' face and then he shoved Justin behind his back just like Justin had done with the kid, Gus, earlier. It seemed that Kinney had completely forgotten that Chris was still there.

“What the fuck to do you want from him, Hobbs? Leave him be, leave us be! For fuck's sake, haven't you done enough?” Kinney yelled and to Chris it sounded more anguished than angry.

“Brian,” came a soft, soothing voice from behind Kinney's back as Justin's hand settled on the brunet's forearm, and then Justin himself stepped up to stand next to his lover. “Brian, he just wanted to apologize, that's all. I freaked out a little because of Gus, but I am not afraid. He apologized. We both apologized, we forgave each other and it's all in the past. Brian, it's all in the past.”

“In the past? It'll never be in the fucking past for me, Justin. Never!” Kinney shouted, now sounding angry again, looking at Justin with a tormented face.

“Kinney...” Chris said again.

“What?” he roared in response.

“I want to apologize to you to. I am sorry, so sorry for...”

“Sorry's bull...”

“Not in this case, Brian,” Justin interrupted forcefully. “In this case, sorry's not bullshit. Accept his apology, Brian, if not for his sake, then for yours.” Kinney turned to look at Justin and studied him silently for a couple of minutes. He must have seen something in Justin's eyes that convinced him, because he let out a ragged, drawn-out sigh, closed his eyes and nodded.

“OK. OK, Sunshine.” he whispered, then turned to look at Chris again with expressionless eyes. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Chris gathered what courage he had again and said, “I'm sorry, Kinney, sincerely...”

“What for? What exactly are you sorry for, Hobbs?”

“For many  things. I'm sorry for harassing him, Justin, at school, for making his life at St. James a misery, for hating him and you for years. For bashing him, for putting him in a coma for three weeks and in therapy for six, for causing him permanent brain injury, for giving him nightmares, for making him afraid for even a second, for making it necessary for him to use anti-anxiety meds, for him not being able to take your son to a ballgame. For nearly killing him and taking him away from you. For getting away with it with nothing but community service for punishment. For putting you through hell... then and now. I'm sorry, Kinney, for all of it.”

“I accept your apology.” Brian Kinney said formally with a curt nod.

“Truly?”

“I don't lie, Hobbs. I've never had to.”

“Thank you,” Chris said and felt like a huge boulder was lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you!”

“Go home, Hobbs, we are done here.” Kinney said calmly and quietly; the anger, fear and tension were surprisingly gone from his body and his face seemed at peace.

Chris nodded and turned to leave.

“Chris, do you... do you need a ride to your car?” Justin asked, hesitating slightly.

“Are you fucking kidding me? What the fuck, Justin?” Kinney asked, completely stunned.

Chris was just as astonished as Justin's partner. If anything would have convinced him that Taylor's forgiveness was 100% genuine, it was that, and for the first time in a long time Chris Hobbs felt completely unburdened and free.

“No, I know where it is,” Chris answered with a smile. “Thanks, Justin.”

 “You are welcome. Goodbye, Chris.”

“Goodbye, Justin, Kinn... uhm... Goodbye, Brian.”

Chris Hobbs didn't wait for an answer, but turned around and walked out of the garage into the warm August sun. He briskly walked towards the section of the parking structure where he left his car and dodged a large group of giggling teenage girls with shopping bags. For some reason that didn't irritate him, but made him laugh instead.

“I made giant steps today, gargantuan,” he thought. “Step one – I made amends to the person whose life I almost destroyed and he forgave me. Step two – I made amends to the person I didn't even know I needed forgiveness from and he forgave me as well. So, what now? Where do I go from here? Forward,” he decided.

“I go forward, but with baby steps. Step three – now comes the easy part – putting my life back together.” He laughed at himself, but then realized that for the first time in years his life and his future had possibilities again, and he was no longer afraid or ashamed. He realized that for the first time in probably his entire life he felt brave... as brave and invincible, and capable as Justin Taylor.

“So, where the fuck do I start? I know where - I am a fucking alcoholic and I need to get help.”

~*~*~*~

The End

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