cat_geek (cat_geek) wrote,
cat_geek
cat_geek

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QAF fic

Er... Hi!

Hummm... so this is my first Queer as Folk fic.

Humm... I' ve been lurking for a couple of days and even posted a couple of comments, but I don't know the protocol here for newbies... so i think I'll just settle for the more domestic one and invite everyone to tea and cookies (sorry, I ran out of beers, besides, cookies are far more yummy than beer).
So please, come in, take a seat and gently turn off the cell phones while reading the fic.

This is somehow an AU, it refers to something from the series and actually tries to follow the canon but it's just my take at how something may have happened diferently... besides, english is not my first language so please forgive the BIG continous live threatening spelling errors this will have. I'm Beta-less, so if anyone has the free time and the grand heart to help me with the englisgh I'd be graateful forever.

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This little monster's been beta-ed/corrected.

I'd like to thank flamencanyc, who kindly offered to be my beta and corrected the fic so that I could re-post it.

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Title: "When he remembers"
Author: cat_geek
Rating: PG
Warnings: Angst. Violence.
Summary: When he finally remembers, he’s not doing anything special.
Status: One shot


When he finally remembers, he’s not doing anything special.

There’s no particular song on the radio. He’s not in a parking lot or wearing a tuxedo.

When he remembers, he’s home. Or in the loft -- you can call it whatever you want.

He’s going through the kitchen cupboards because Brian said he should go to the store down the street and get some fucking decent cereal, low fat, low cal, not the cardiac arrest in a box he usually eats, and he’s decided to check what else they might need.

He decides to buy some condiments, and stretches his arm out to close the door of the cupboard he’s just checked while bending down to get a look in the bread drawer. The door slips out of his hand and closes with a loud thud. Not THAT loud, but the loft is empty and the noise echoes, bouncing around the high walls and getting into his head. Repeating itself a thousand times.

Justin stands, not really sure what’s happened, just aware that he’s kind of dizzy, that everything’s blurry, and that what he knows is there, the loft, the kitchen, the painting of the naked guy, is not what he’s actually seeing.
Low ceiling, gray walls, columns and cars.

And echoing footsteps approaching him.

He blinks furiously trying to get a grip. The doctors said this might happen… they told him it would happen... and yet he’s not ready when Brian yells his name and he turns around. He’s not ready to see Chris Hobbs behind him. He’s expecting to see Brian, and Chris just doesn’t register. He’s not really there, there’s only Brian calling his name.

The bat registers.

For the smallest part of a second that lasts forever, it registers. And while he sees Chris’s hands gripping it, while he sees the hard wood coming at him, his body falls to the floor.

He wants to yell. He wants to raise his hands or duck... he wants to do something, but his body won’t move, and the only thing left is to watch the bat moving towards him, both too fast and way too slow.

Then there’s pain. His head explodes. Breaks in two. And the world turns white and insubstantial.

There are more footsteps and Justin’s sure that something else happens but he’s only aware of the pain that swallows him. His body won’t move, his mind won’t obey, and the last thing he notices is someone’s desperate voice. But that doesn’t matter because he’s not there anymore. And he won’t be for a couple of weeks.

But he is.

Because he’s not in the parking garage, he’s not really bleeding on the cold cement. He’s in the loft, on the floor... and the moment Justin notices it and tries to get a grip, to stand, everything rewinds itself and gets played again.

Low ceiling, gray walls, columns and cars.
And echoing footsteps approaching him.

The bat coming at him. Nothing else is real, just the bat connecting with his head and the white pain. The cement, the nothingness and again, the low ceiling, the gray walls, columns and cars.

Again the echoes, again the bat. And the image is stuck in his brain. The bat swinging and pain.

Swinging and pain.

Hard wood breaking his skin, cracking his bone.

There’s nothing else.

The loft is completely gone along with the condiments and the bread drawer. Eventually the parking garage goes away too, and so does Chris and the gray walls and the footsteps. Finally even Brian’s distant cry fades out of the picture.

Just the swift movement when he turned around, and the bat swinging. That noise.

Nothing else. No place to go, no way to dodge the blow. Just him, waiting helplessly for the bat to bash his head again.

And again.

A few years later, or maybe just a few hours... or minutes, Justin realizes he’s crying and shaking so fiercely he may even break a few bones. His eyes sting and his cheeks are wet. The bat’s still there, but slightly further away. He can see it, but now it’s not swinging at him. It’s swinging at prom Justin, who was more naïve and stupid than he is now, and had just had the best night of his life. Slowly he notices something else... he’s not on the kitchen floor. He’s lying on something more soft and comfortable, wrapped in a warm blanket that can’t stop his shivering but at least feels good.

And he’s not alone, and for the smallest fraction of a second his mind thinks of Chris Hobbs and Justin almost freaks out, turns and kicks him away with all his strength... which is none at all.

But he knows the arms wrapped around him. He knows who they belong to and he can feel his breath against his neck.
He wants to say something but his breath is too fast and he's sobbing, so he’ll probably choke to death if he tries to talk. Brian’s arms tighten around him and his ... partner? starts to whisper soothing words into his ear, and after a while he can understand them.

“It’s safe Sunshine, you’re fine... I’m here, just relax and try to breathe, you don’t have to worry, nothing’s going to happen to you, I swear you’ll be fine, but you have to relax. C’mon Justin, cry all you want, but for God’s sake relax or you’re going to bust an artery. You’re fine, you’re safe, you’re in the loft, with me, in our bed, I’m sure there are better things we could be doing than this, but first you have to break out of this. Listen to me, nothing’s going to happen, you’re okay, you’re getting better, you have to calm down and come back to me...”

The bat and the parking garage are fading away, so Justin somehow manages to move, to raise one hand and get a hold of Brian’s arm, hanging onto it for all he’s worth. Brian’s voice slows a little bit and starts making sense.

“Justin are you awake?”

Since he can’t exactly talk without restarting the whole mess, he just squeezes hard.

“Do you need anything?”

That’s a tricky one. Brian notices and rephrases it.

“Do you want some water? Painkillers?”

He wants water, and his head is pounding like a rave in hell, but when he squeezes Brian's arm again as he tries to get up, he just knows he’s going to lose it again the moment Brian's body is not completely around him. So he shakes his head and stops him from standing, moving to try to get even deeper into the embrace, pushing his back against Brian’s chest.

“It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere... I’ll get the water later.”

For a few minutes they remain silent and the bat keeps swinging but now the sound is muffled by Brian’s breath and the pain is dull instead of piercing. The images are blurry. With dark corners. Dissipating.

“Can you talk?”

Can he?

“Yes.” It’s hoarse and feels like talking with a cardboard throat.

“Do you want to?”

“No.”

“It’s okay... we can talk later. If you want to.”

Tired, Justin turns around and presses himself against Brian’s neck, feeling him shifting slightly to make him comfortable, one arm rubbing his back, the other caressing his hair. His mouth is still rambling softly about nothing, his breath still warm in his ear.

After a while the bat fades completely and he falls asleep, so tired he doesn’t even have the energy to dream, but that’s okay because he suspects it will be the last peaceful night he will have for a while. He feels the bat lurking in the darkness in his mind, waiting to come back full force and it scares him.

It fucking terrifies him.

But when the morning comes and Brian’s still all wrapped around him, the fear dissipates a little bit. It doesn’t goes away, time will do that, but it turns at least into something bearable.
Tags: bj_fic
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