Choices. Life is full of them. A teacher once told me that we are the sum total of all our choices. Every move we make, no matter how small, can change our lives indefinitely. Sometimes irreversibly.

***

Justin:

I lay on my horn as, for the third time in the last minute, some prick in an ugly red Mustang cuts me off! I flip him off, even though I know he won't see me. It does little to relieve my frustration and right now I'm pretty damn frustrated.

Why is it that when you're in a hurry, every idiot in the city feels the need to get behind the wheel?

I wonder this and immediately see the irony of the question. I wish it was humorous irony. That I could laugh about it. Unfortunately it's the sort of irony that makes you want to curl up in the fetal position and cry yourself senseless.

Dammit! Why the hell did he insist on coming home tonight?

Because you wanted him to, I remind myself.

Sure I wanted him too. But I told him not to worry about it. I told him that it was late and that he should just wait. I guess he could hear it in my voice. How much I missed him. Longed to see him. Hold him. Kiss him. He's been on a business trip, checking on potential clients. Business is business, but after a two-week separation, we were both getting a bit desperate to be with one another. And obviously he had decided to make the trip from Philadelphia tonight so he could surprise me. He's done it before.

Only this time...this time some drunk ass motherfucker was playing chicken with oncoming traffic. That's as much of the story as I've gotten. I'm praying with all that I am, that I can get the rest from Brian.

I get to the hospital and am out of my car before I can get it completely into park. Bursting through the emergency room doors, I scan the room for a nurse. A doctor. Somebody wearing white would do at this point.

"Can I help you?" I hear a young girl ask. Her red and white striped uniform tells me that she's a volunteer. Probably won't know shit, but she's all I have.

"B-Brian Kinney!"

"Mr. Kinney? I think he's in trauma room two. Wait here and I'll go check."

I nod and begin to pace just outside of the door the young brunette has just disappeared through.

"Justin!" I had made a point to call Michael on my way over. I knew he would never forgive me if I didn't. I also knew that there is no way I'll get hysterical if Michael is here. He's probably going to be upset enough for both of us.

Now he's running into the ER, just as I had only moments before, followed by Ben. They both look rumpled and disheveled, as though they have just rolled out of bed. Given the hour, I think that might just be the case. It's nearly three after all.

"Michael," I hug him close and I feel him shaking against me. Or maybe I'm shaking. Maybe it's both of us. Either way, we cling to one another as only old friends can in such a time of need.

"What happened?" Ben asks. I look at him over Michael's shoulder and shake my head angrily.

"Drunk driver."

"Shit!" this from Mikey.

"Did you call Deb?" I ask.

Ben shakes his head. "No. We left as soon as you called. I can call now-"

I shake my head. "No. Wait until we have more news. It may be nothing." I say it. Now if I can only convince myself that it could actually be true.

Ben nods and pulls Michael off of me gently. He turns from my shoulder, straight into Ben's as if his grief has frozen him into one position. As they sit down in the uncomfortable plastic waiting room chairs, a nurse, along with the young candy striper that I had spoken with before, walks briskly out of the double doors that lead into the trauma ward. "Are you with Mr. Kinney?" She asks me.

I nod, my voice suddenly deserting me.

"Uh, he's Mr. Kinney's partner," Ben answers for me.

The woman eyes Ben, who is holding Michael tightly against him and then gives Justin a once over. Her realization of what Ben means by ‘partner' is evident as her face marks her disdain.

"Is there anyone of any relation to the patient?"

"We're his family," Michael spoke up.

She raises a dark, penciled eyebrow. "Blood or legal relations, that is?"

As if by magic, her words free my own voice and I allow it to flow freely. "Lady, the man I love and plan to spend the rest of my fucking life with, is back there, in God knows what kind of condition, after God knows what happened to him! If you don't tell me how he is, I'm gonna-"

"Justin," Ben says calmly. He's now on my right side, his hand on my shoulder. I reign in on my emotions, because I know I can rely on him to be a true voice of reason. Ben can be a lot like that old guy on "Kung Fu". He says very little, but each word carries so much meaning.

I back off a bit but my eyes never leave the nurse's. If she's surprised, it's no more so than I am. I've never attacked anyone so harshly. So venomously. But then...no one has ever really stood in my way like this when it came to Brian.

"Olivia, let me know if his family arrives." The candy striper nods at the spiteful woman and the group watches the nurse walk stiffly to the nurses' station on the opposite side of the double doors, her haughty snout leading the way.

Olivia looks at me as if she wants to say something but I can tell that she's afraid to upset me further. I force the hard look from my face. Instantly the girl brightens. As much as someone CAN brighten under the circumstances. "Sorry...about Bitch-zilla in there." I try to return her small smile but it falls flat. "Um...H-he's in a coma."

"What?"

She looks to Michael who, surprisingly, is the only one that can speak. "I heard about it from the paramedics when they brought him in. The car that hit him, swiped the driver's side. Don't quote me, but...supposedly he has a concussion and some internal bleeding."

"Oh..." I gasp and sniffle. I want to cry. So badly, I want to cry. But that won't help any of us, least of all Brian. "Have they...done anything?"

"I think they're, uh...prepping him?"

I know the kid is trying to help. I get that. But did her voice really have to raise at the end in a question? I need answers. I need facts, ringing affirmative with news of Brian's fate. If I'm not allowed to see him, I need to know something. Have some small grain of hope to cling to.

Have to stay focused. "Ben," I whisper, "will you call...?"

I suddenly realize that Ben still has a firm grip on my shoulders, holding me in place, or maybe holding me up. He nods, eases away and checks on Michael before going to the pay phone in the corner.

Olivia looks at me as if she wants to do more, but I know she's already said too much. I'm sure she could get into trouble for what she did tell us. I attempt a grateful smile, though I know it's weak at best. "Thank you." She nods and takes her leave without another word.

I sit down heavily next to Michael and he takes hold of my hand. Neither of us says anything. We know better than to bullshit each other with half-hearted words of reassurance. We simply sit alone in the silence of the waiting room and wait for the rest of the family to arrive.

***

They arrived in one large drove.

First Emmett and Ted, who look a bit strung out even though it's still early by their time. Then Vic and Deb rush in alongside Lindsay, Melanie and Gus, who is still asleep despite the activity around him.

I tell Ben not to even bother calling Claire. She's not Brian's family anymore. If she ever was. Besides, she would only cause more drama and hysteria among a group of queens that really just don't need any help in that department.

Everyone, of course, is hovering over me, making sure I'm okay. It's ridiculous. They act as if I'm going to break or something. Brian will be fine. He's Brian. He's in-fucking-destructible. I refuse to allow ‘what ifs' into my head. Yet, with all of these people hovering over me, telling me with such earnestness that everything will work out, it's becoming a difficult, if not impossible, task. They're suffocating me with positivity.

I watch as the doctors come and go. Nurses too. But no one is telling us anything. Or rather, they say that they don't know anything. How comforting is that?

The unsuspecting nurse that had spoken to us before, passes by the room and I nudge Deb. We had told her exactly what had taken place earlier. I knew that if anyone could get something out of somebody, it would be my pseudo mother.

If it wasn't for the fact that my lover is somewhere, alone, in this dreary hospital I might actually smile. Laugh. As I watch the scene that is unfolding before me.

"...Well, I don't care what you think! We're all family so tell us what's up before I kick your boney butt from here to the moon!"

You had to hand it to her. Deb put on a good show.

The nurse was quaking in her little white orthopedic shoes before Deb could even get the words out. I know the feeling. Deb's scary when she wants to be. She has this tone that just...ahh! Ya know?

She eyed the rest of us wearily before sighing, "All I know is that he's in a coma as a result of a severe blow to the head. He also has several broken ribs and a broken leg."

"Well, can we see him?"

"He's only just gotten out of surgery. He's being taken to intensive care. Only immediate family." She shoots a glare at me as she says this and with that, the wicked witch of the east wing is gone.

I began to advance on her retreating figure, having no problem with kicking her ass at this point, but Emmett and Ted stopped me. They each catch an arm and, like two prongs on a slingshot, they hold me in place and I bounce backwards between them. "Not worth it," Vic whispers from where he stands just behind me. I relax and the boys let me go.

I look up again just as Mel slips through the door to the waiting area. She looks distracted and vaguely upset underneath her tough facade. I know that she had gone to find someone. Use her legal wiles to get real answers. She glances briefly at Lindsay and then at me, before moving to stand before Michael. "They operated as soon as he got here. Some internal bleeding." She speaks to all of us, but her eyes remain glued to Brian's best friend. Why does that make me so nervous? "The doctor says that they did the best they could but there is a shit-load of damage. I-It doesn't look good."

I barely hear Lindsay cry out. Michael's words of anguish are lost on me. Deb's gasp is merely an echo. All of it covered up by the roaring waves, crashing in my brain - in my ears. Sweeping over me, like a tsunami.

The words that finally make it through the barrier come as Melanie begins to whisper to Michael. "As you may remember, you are the executor of Brian's living will."

My fingers tighten on the arm of my chair. I must be imagining things. Hearing things. "What?"

It's the pain talking. The shock. Has to be.

She looks at me with sympathetic eyes, but turns her attention quickly back to Michael. "They have him on machines now. You don't have to make the decision right away. I suggest you give it, at the very least, two days to a week."

Why would my friend say something like that? Why would she do this in front of me? "What are you talking about, Mel?"

Wide-eyed and near sobbing, Michael shakes his head. "It was a long time ago. When Ted was in a coma... We...we promised each other that if something should happen to one of us...that...that we would pull the plug."

"The fuck you will!" I'm suddenly and completely lucid at this point. Apparently, nothing is more sobering that learning that your lover's best friend has the legal right to say if your lover lives or dies. I stand and run to the nurses' station. "I need...to see Brian Kinney!"

The nurse from before is nowhere in sight. The new nurse looks a bit younger, and hopefully a bit more forward-thinking. "Mr. Kinney is in intensive care, sir. Only relatives and-"

I hold up my hand, stopping her before she can even finish the sentence. Near tears myself at this point, I suck in a lung full of air and let it out slowly. "I get it. I get it. We're fags so we can't be legally married and I don't count."

"Oh...um..." the nurse begins. She looks distinctly uncomfortable. So much for forward-thinking.

"Janey, I'll take this," I hear a deep voice behind me say. The nurse nods and smiles gratefully at the doctor that is now leaning against the desk beside me. He acts as if we're standing at the bar in Woody's or something. Looks so nonchalant. As if Brian isn't within one hundred feet of me, fighting for his life. "You with Brian Kinney?"

I nod and feel a tear slowly make it's way down my cheek. I can't trust my voice though. No. Can't speak.

"I spoke with Ms. Marcus a few moments ago. Are you the friend or the partner?"

"P-Partner."

The doctor nods. "I figured." I look at him closely. He's young. Probably about thirty-five or so - Brian's age. Under other circumstances, I might be able to appreciate his soft green-blue eyes and his perfect bone structure. But as it is, I can hardly think straight at all. "Well, I can let you in for a few minutes."

I nod, close my eyes tightly and wipe the tears off of my face with my shirt sleeve. The doctor leads me down one hallway. Then another. Then another. Finally, he holds an i.d. badge up to a censor on the wall and two large double doors swing open, allowing us to pass through before shutting once again. "Margie, we have a visitor for Mr. Kinney."

I don't even look at anything beyond the sliding glass partition that comprises Brian's room. I see his name on the chart beside the door. However the curtain is partially drawn over him and I can't see anything but his feet, which are hidden underneath the thin blue hospital blankets. Without another word to the staff, I walk forward and pull the door open. They seem to know not to stop me, or caution me in any way.

I'm not out to harm. My only aim, only desire, is to see him. To know that the life force is still there, even if only contained within and sustained by the beeping machine at his bedside. The steady beep beep beeping, sets my nerves on edge and I watch for the longest time as the green line moves across the small monitor. Straight-jump-straight. I find that I have an irrational fear of this machine. I keep waiting, worrying, that the line that establishes Brian's life, will suddenly flatten. But this electronic lifeline is holding my true lifeline. It just can't fail me. Us.

As soon as I see my lover, covered in wires and tubes, a huge blackish, purplish, bluish, greenish...fuck - it's basically a bruise that runs the entire spectrum of color - on the left side of his swollen face, I feel on the verge of tears once again. He's still so beautiful to me, the distortion notwithstanding. Cuts cover his arms and face. Probably from glass. I wince and whimper at the mere sight of him. It hurts just to see it. But as always, I'm drawn closer. Never turning away from Brian. Never.

"Brian..." I breathe. My hand drifts about an inch above his face, his neck, chest, torso, legs, and back to his hand. Caress his aura. I don't touch him. Can't touch him. Can't risk hurting him further. He seems so damn fragile! I hate seeing him, looking so fucking helpless!

I don't know how long I'm there. Don't know how much time has passed since I began staring at him. Taking mental notes of every single centimeter of his beautiful body. Remembering every single scar and imperfection. I don't even want to think of why I'm doing this. Don't want to think that there is even a remote possibility of this being the last time I see him alive. Finally, the doctor taps discretely on the door and motions me out.

I take one last look at him and press my lips lightly to the inside of his right arm. It's the only spot that isn't covered in bruises or abrasions. I lean in and put my lips beside his ear, whispering, "I won't let them hurt you, Brian. Now...don't you leave me! I love you."

***

Michael:

"Michael?" Ben whispers, poking his head through the bedroom door.

I curl even further in on myself and pretend to be sleeping. Even though he backs out and closes the door softly, I'm pretty sure that Ben isn't buying it. I mean, I'm sure it's possible, but I've never been one to sleep eighteen hours straight. That's how long I've sequestered myself in our bedroom.

No eating, no speaking, nothing but staring at the ceiling. I just can't get it together. I mean...for fuck's sake! My best friend...he's in a fucking coma! And if that wasn't tragic enough, I'm the one that gets to decide if he gets taken off of the machines or not. I mean...that could kill him. Probably will kill him, from the way the doctors are talking.

After Melanie told me, I watched Justin run out and I ran the opposite way. I'll never forget the look on his face. Shock, betrayal, pain, utter vulnerability. I can understand that. I can. If I were in his place, I would be upset too.

But I'm not in his place. I'm in my own place. A place where Brian Kinney - my oldest and dearest friend - has entrusted me to know what to do. To pull the plug with no remorse and no hesitation. And this place is pretty damn upsetting too.

Dammit! Why was he driving back so late? Why didn't he just wait? I talked to him just that night and he said that he was ready to get home but he was probably just going to stay put for the night.

And that guy - the drunk driver - was held overnight in the county jail and released the next morning. How does a dick like that get off so easily? If Brian dies, Mel better nail that jerk's balls to the wall! If...If...If Brian...d-dies!

Why did I agree? Why did I agree to do it? Was I experiencing some sort of drug-induced euphoria? Yeah, I was happy that Ted was alive. Feeling a little immortal maybe. Hell, Brian always felt immortal. That nothing could touch him...unless...he wanted it to. It was the basis of his former lifestyle. Somehow he dragged me in with him. And I signed the papers. If one of us should need to be sustained by life support, we would make the choice for the other not to be kept alive artificially.

And I used to want that too. If I was in Brian's place, I would want to live or die naturally. Not having machines living for me. But it's a far different view from this side. From this side, I have to hurt Brian. And the people who love him.

Why?! I ask myself for the hundredth time, pulling the comforter tighter around me. Why, why, why?

***

Justin:

Two days. Two fucking days and nothing. No word. Michael seems to have disappeared off of the friggin Earth and I have yet to leave the hospital. Every time someone thinks they've convinced me to leave, I go to the hospital chapel until they leave. Which is where I am right now.

Since the doctor finally gave the okay for the family to see Brian - two at a time only - everyone has been coming in shifts. Right now, Deb and Lindsay are holding vigil in Brian's little glass room.

I'm glad for the break. I can feel my body beginning to tire. My eyes are heavy and my head is pounding in my ears. But I can't leave. Can't give up a single moment. If he wakes up... WHEN...WHEN he wakes up, I want to be there. So here I sit, in the chapel, steadily staring at the crucifix on the back wall.

"This seat taken?" I shift on the bench, making room for the woman that I would much rather not see at the moment. After a moment, she realizes that I'm not going to say anything so she begins. "I am sorry, ya know."

"Why didn't you tell me Mel?" I won't look at her. I know I'm being unfair. It's not her fault. But I have to blame someone. Michael's nowhere to be found and my lover has yet to regain consciousness. She's all that's left.

"It's not my place to tell things like that. It wasn't ever supposed to be needed. Brian wasn't supposed to be in the position to need the decision made for him. Wether he lives or dies."

I laugh tiredly. "Now I know how you felt with Gus." I finally look at her. Her eyes are so full of sorrow and hurt for me. Understanding. That's there within the depths of her dark eyes as well. "When you had no parental rights. No say over anything that happened to him. Even though you were his mother. Even though you had such a strong bond. You loved him with a love that knew no limits. And no one acknowledged it. No one gave a whit about some lesbian mother that was in no way related to Gus except by love and attachment. I didn't understand at the time. I knew it was unfair, but I didn't get it."

I shake my head, tears coursing down my cheeks. I'm surprised by this. I thought for sure that I wouldn't cry. Too numb to cry. "Now...here I am. And my lover - the man that I have put up with, loved and cherished, through thick and thin, through good times and bad - that man is lying there, possibly never to wake up again. And I can't even make the decision over whether or not he gets the chance." Why?! my heart cries. It never seems real until you verbalize it. I've just said what has plagued me for the past forty-eight some odd hours. Now...now I have to deal with the pain that I've held back as well. It attacks me, sapping my strength more quickly than I could have thought possible. I feel like one of those old wind-up toys whose gears are starting to slow. "And even..if...if Michael didn't...have the legal right..I would still have no say. It...It's not fair. I feel...Oh GOD! I feel so helpless!" My body is wracked with sobs and my words are broken and nearly indistinguishable through my heart-wrenching wails. I know I sound like an infant, bawling, my voice straining with each choking cry.

Melanie simply takes me into her arms and rocks me gently until the tears subside and I fall into a short but deep sleep.

***

Michael:

I called the hospital about an hour ago. Asked the nurse if anyone was in ICU waiting. She told me that Justin was sleeping on a cot in an extra room down the hall. But everyone else had gone for the night.

Perfect.

I grimace as my sneakers squeak on the linoleum. It's midnight and the place looks and feels deserted. I feel like any noise can be heard by the entire building. I press the buzzer on the intercom outside of ICU. The nurse is hesitant about letting me in at such a late hour, but she opens the door anyway.

"I need to see Brian Kinney."

"Seems like everyone does," she smiles softly. She jerks her head towards the room and I see Justin, his head resting on Brian's shoulder. I can see his shoulders shaking and he's holding Brian's hand tightly in his own. He's whispering. Whispering to Brian, probably love words or promises or any of the millions of things that one murmurs incoherently in times like these. Words that should be said every day but seem to be reserved until it's too late.

"How long has he been in there?"

The nurse checks her watch. "About three hours. I would have shooed him out, but I don't think he's stopped talking once. I believe people in comas can hear, ya know. So...I figured it was probably good that Mr. Kinney have someone to listen to.

I smirk. "If he can hear Justin, he's probably cursing that he has no means of escape."

The woman laughs quietly. "You can go in, if you want."

"Actually...I'll go to the cafeteria for some coffee. Is there anyway that you could come and get me when he's finished?"

"Sure. If I can't, I'll send someone."

I thank her and make my way to the bottom floor. The last thing I need is caffeine. I've been awake for nearly forty hours. Still, it'll warm me and I'm cold. So cold.

It's about an hour or two later when I see a nurse step off of the elevator. "Are you Mr. Kinney's friend?"

I nod, my mouth feeling like cotton, even after three cups of coffee.

I arrive back in the ICU and look around, just to make sure that Justin has indeed abandoned his post for the time being. I just need five minutes.

This is the first time I've seen him since it happened. He looks so...asleep. Only he has this huge tube in his mouth and another running under his nose. Another inserted into the top of his hand. Several wires sprout from beneath his gown. His face is slightly puffy and a huge fading bruise covers one entire half of his face. There are small red lines all over him, which I can only assume are cuts. It seems as though they are closing up. Healing properly. A good sign, considering.

"Hey. I...just...um, needed to talk to you for a sec."

All I get in return is the annoying beep of the heart monitor.

"You remember that time, when that guy Kip brought that bullshit sexual harassment suit against you? And...I came over to the loft with like, three of everything from every fast food restaurant on Liberty? We just ate, and drank and...talked. And it seemed like the problems just went away. Even if it was only for a little while, you didn't have to think about it. Didn't have to worry about it. I...wish....I wish we could do that again. So I could forget for a little while. So I could just have fun with you instead of being stuck in the reality of having to...pull your fucking plug."

"Plug." I laugh. "Remember that? Butt plug! The magic words that are supposed to sweep me out of an uncomfortable situation. Well...butt plug-butt plug-butt plug!"

I sigh and collapse heavily into the chair at Brian's bedside. "Sorry. I...I'm bitching. I know. I want too much to get out of this and not make the decision at all. I've been thinking about it. Ya know, what we promised. I'll pull your plug if you pull mine." I remember us laughing at the joke. How long ago that seems. "That seemed much funnier at the time. But...anyway, I just wanted..."

What do I want? Why had I come here? To say goodbye? To ask what I should do? To ask forgiveness? "I just wanted to say that, no matter what, you are and will always be my best friend. And my brother. And I love you, Brian."

***

Justin:

The next day. That's when Michael finally makes another appearance. I grit my teeth to keep from making any disparaging remarks. He's Brian's only hope at the moment.

As he and Ben pass me, like prisoners taking their final walk along death row, Ben glances down at me and frowns. Almost...apologetically. And I know. I know what Michael is about to do.

"No." I breathe. Then louder, "NO!"

"Justin..." Ben puts up a hand, to ward me off. I won't advance anymore. I won't resort to a physical attack. Not until that's my only option. Michael won't even look at me.

"Michael, don't you fucking dare! You have no right to do this!"

His eyes find my shoes, about as much of me as he's willing to face. "Justin, he would want me to-"

"Michael...you made the pact when you were what? Thirty? Five years. A lot can happen in five years! He has a son. He's a partner in his agency. He has friends. He has a lover...a love-" I break off as Gus tears away from his mother's hold, to grab onto my leg.

"Justin! Don't use mad words."

I drop to my knees and embrace the boy, the little clone of Brian Kinney, until he begins squirming in my arms. Something about children, can give you strength that doesn't even seem humanly possible. The boy looks around and for the five-hundredth time since he's been there, he asks "Where's daddy?" in his soft, questioning voice. I hug him tighter and then release him back to his moms.

With such a simple question, Gus has given me the resolve to do what I have to do to stop Michael. To give Brian more time.

My voice is steady now. Steady and reasoning but there is no mistake that there is a razor edge on it. "He has a lover, that would gladly die in his place. A lover that will do whatever it takes...to make sure that he'll have the chance to live.."

"But that's not living. Even Brian would say that! Hooked up to fucking machines? A giant artificial lung in the corner of your room, breathing for you. Even a machine that fucking pisses for you, since you can't even do that!" Michael began to choke up and Ben pulled him close. The taller man gave me a warning look. I dismiss it easily. He might be worried for his own lover's health, but that's all the more reason for him to understand the rightness and reasoning behind what I'm doing.

"Michael, I'm serious. You even think about it and I will do whatever it takes to stop you. Just try me."

"Is there a problem here?" An orderly approaches us, suspicious of the three men facing off in the middle of the ICU waiting area.

"Yes. This man is threatening me."

I gape at Michael. "You little SHIT!"

"Is this true sir?" I ignore the orderly.

"Michael, I swear, if you do this-"

In the back of my mind, I do register the orderly giving hasty instructions into a walkie-talkie. He's calling for backup. No. I can't leave! Can't leave Brian! I feel strong, hands on my upper arms and I instinctively buck forward in hopes of release. Security holds me in an iron grip and I look at my friends pleadingly.

Each face looks as awestruck as I feel. Gus begins to cry out for me, but everyone is frozen to the spot. Finally Vic and Emmett chase after us, urging the two burly men to let me go. Telling them that I didn't do anything.

The men ignore them. We're in the elevator but the doors haven't closed yet. I can still see Michael. Slowly, he looks up to meet my eyes.

No! Don't do it! You love him too! Please don't take him from me! I plead with my eyes. The guilt that I see in his eyes haunts me. Chills me to my very soul. The doors close and for the first time since I arrived two days prior, I'm leaving Brian behind.

***

I don't have a watch. It's all I can think about. I don't have a watch on. I have no idea how long they've been up there. No idea how much time has passed. No one has even come out to talk to me.

I can't think about what's happening. That at this very moment, my first and only true love could be slipping away. Slowly dying. Without me. I'm not there. Not there!

I need to find a way back in. Tried to. But they've posted guards at every entrance. I've tried to tell them that I'm not a threat. I just have to be with him. If they can't give me more, at least I could be with him.

"I'm so sorry!" I hear the voice. I even see the figure streaking towards me. But...no. No...why? Suddenly, Michael has my shirt clutched tightly in his fists. His tear-stained face is buried in my neck. Unsure as to why, I actually put my arms around him and together we sway gently like the breeze. "I'm sorry!"

My heart actually lurches. He sounds so hurt. So guilty. And I know he's right. Brian...Brian would have told him to pull the plug no matter what. I shouldn't have made the decision harder for him. But...Dammit! BRIAN! What will I ever do without Brian? My mind races and the two sides of reasoning intertwine and jumble my thoughts until I can no longer even comprehend the situation.

"I couldn't!"

My eyes fly open and I push Michael backwards until I can see his face. "Couldn't what, Michael?" I can hear the desperation and fear in my own voice. Feel it in my skin. Should I even allow myself to hope?

"I couldn't sign the papers. Couldn't do it." He's shaking his head and I can feel him shaking beside me. I'm temporarily blinded and I hold on to Michael's waist as I sink down to my knees. I can't even speak. "I'm so sorry for what I said, Justin!"

"Michael," I gasp. He kneels beside me, holding my weight up with an arm around my shoulders. "Thank you, Michael. Oh thank you! You won't regret this!"

He smiles through his tears. "Yeah well...we'll see about that. Brian will probably kill me when he wakes up." We look at one another at these words and begin laughing. Hysterically. The kind of laugh that is an unburdening of the soul. And that's how they find us. The group comes outside to make sure there is no bloodshed and they watch as Michael and I sit sprawled out on the hard concrete, hugging and laughing uncontrollably.

"Guess they're okay then, huh?" I hear Ben ask.

***

It's been a week. And I've just spoken with the doctor, who has seen fit to inform us that Brian is beginning to wake up. I slump in my chair, overcome with exhaustion. I begin to cry, for what must be the millionth time since Mel finally broke me. Only this time they are tears of relief. Joy.

He's not out of the woods yet. But...he's waking up. He's halfway there. And I know it will be downhill from here. Brian's a fighter. Brian won't give up. I know he won't because I won't let him.

I finally push myself out of the chair and walk mechanically towards the glass room. Before I go in, I look back to see Michael's eyes on me. He looks a little sad. I think he thinks I'm still disappointed with him. That Brian may be too. I want to talk to him, tell him it's okay. Tell him that I know. I'm not exactly sure what I know, but I know it, all the same.

I smile and he relaxes just the tiniest bit.

A few hours later, Brian's eyes flutter open. The bruise on his face has faded and the swelling has subsided. His hazel eyes are rimmed with red, but they're the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. "Hi," I say softly.

I feel him squeeze my hand. "Hi yourself." His voice is raspy and quiet, but it's music to my ears.

I look down at him and sigh. Close my eyes. Open them. Sigh again. He's still there, staring up at me. Small frown tugging on his lips. Probably in a little pain. The heart monitor is still beeping and Brian scowls at it momentarily.

I can't stop smiling. I know he's going to have a million questions. He's going to bitch and moan about the pain and the restrictions that the doctors will place on him. But...I don't care. I have him. That's all that matters to me. My own lifeline is still intact.

***

We all have to make choices. I made the decision to come home early. That prick made the decision to get drunk and plow into me. Justin made the decision to fight for my life. Michael made the decision to not do what I had asked him to. They're each very separate choices, fused together by cause and effect within circumstances. And no matter what choice we make, we have to live with the consequences. Now I choose. I choose to move on with my life. With Justin. And I choose to forgive Michael for keeping me alive. And finally...I choose to make Mel the new executor of my living will. Because, I know she would be more than happy to pull my plug.