It was two days, three maybe even, before Justin really spoke of it at all, beyond bile and bitterness and self-recrimination. JC spent a lot of time petting him, trying to coax him to uncurl, to eat and to drink. Mostly, Justin slept.

When he wasn't taking care of Justin, he was keeping Joey from going after Chris. It was hard, because he, too, wanted to demand answers, reparations. He knew Chris, though, better than he knew Justin, even, and suspected what would come of it. Chris, when backed into a corner, fought like a rat. Justin, he thought, was just another corner of Chris.

Justin remembers thinking a lifetime ago that getting inside Chris' defenses would be like going home. As he sits on the sofa in JC's clothes, holding Lauren's tea and sipping slowly, he realizes it was. But his home's pretty much always been a battlefield. He's not sure why he thought Chris would be different.

He hadn't said much since he's been here, and he knows that they want him to, want to know what happened. He's lived with silence too long, though, so he's letting them draw their own conclusions.

He goes over things in his head, hour after hour, and tries to figure out what he could have done to make a different ending. It's an old game, he's played it ever since he can remember. This time, the only thing he would change is the end. He shouldn't have lost his temper. He shouldn't have punched. It scares him more than he can say that he's his father's son. They'd have no connection but this-he had his father's nose, once, but it was broken long ago. Like he had broken Chris'.

He doesn't want to tell them what happened in part because he thinks Joey at least, and maybe JC, will applaud his violence. He can't hear that, it would make him hate them the way he hates himself. He'd like to apologize to Chris for that.

He wonders how long they'll let him stay, how long before he hears noises about jobs and rent and leave, little boy. He thinks the silence might last as long as the bruises. He knows he should motivate, start making plans. But he's so tired, too tired, so he naps and he eats and he dreams bad and good and he continues to play games with himself. He still doesn't win.


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