Maria (slave_o_spike) wrote,

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Brian/Justin standalone "And now, here, at the end of it all"

Here's that zombie fic I promised.

I'm just on one of those horror kicks. And no, this is not crack.

It's angst. Like to the power of 10.

Title: And now, here, at the end of it all
Pairing: Brian/Justin (natch)
Summary: Based on the movie Dawn of the Dead. What would be the one thing the great Mr. Brian Kinney would regret the most when faced with his own mortality?
Rating: R
Warnings: It's a zombie fic - character death
Timeline: Between Season 4 and season 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the boys. Cowlip does. I do not own the idea of the flesh eating zombies from the Dead movies that can be taken down with one shot to the head. George Romero does and oh how we love him for that. :P

Brian wondered, now at this moment in time, and no doubt soon to be his final moment in time, when the first time was that he could have honestly told Justin that he loved him.

He could have told him right after that amazing dance they had shared at Justin's prom. After all, that was when he first knew for sure.

He knew and had almost wanted to shout it out to a skipping Justin, happily swinging back and forth as he walked out of the garage. And then Chris Hobbs had taken that moment away from him in an instant.

Not that it mattered.

He wouldn't have said it anyway. He had been rooted to the spot between that moment in time before Hobbs had swung that stupid bat and the moment where he had kissed Justin. Words might have come out of his mouth had he opened it, but it wouldn't have been 'I love you.'

But would things have turned out better had he held onto the scarf wrapped around his young lover's neck, leaned in and had whispered, "I love you?"

He could have even added "twat" to the end of the sentence to make sure Justin knew it was really him.

But he hadn't then. And he hadn't yet again when Justin had been discharged from the hospital.

Brian looked out the window of the loft.

What had been the tag line of that 1977 Romero classic, Dawn of the Dead?

Oh yeah.

When there's no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth.

Well, hell may not have been too crowded in the late 70's, but it must have been overflowing as of the past week because that was what the streets were packed with now.

The walking dead.

And the dead had not just been satisfied with the lot that had already been dead to start with, but adding to their masses. Out of the humans left the flesh-eating monsters had not torn to pieces to devour, there were the once living which had been turned.

A bite was all it took.

Brian hoped there was still a small part of the world somewhere where people weren't fighting for their very survival against the zombie hordes that walked the earth today.

He somehow doubted it though. The news, when it had been broadcasting, had reported outbreaks everywhere. No living soul was safe.

Looking over at the bedroom, he recalled some of the events that had transpired only since yesterday. Everyone he had once known, either dead or...worse.

"Brian!" Justin rushed out frantically.

"Justin! Oh God. You're okay." Brian had ran his hands up and down the young man's arms to make sure he was real.

"Debbie. Oh God, did you see what they did to Debbie?" the young man cried.

"And Michael! I can't believe Ben had to...had to..."

Brian leaned his head against the wall when he remembered what Ben had had to do to Michael.

One shot to the head.

Michael went down. Well, the thing that had been Mikey had gone down.

Of course, Ben couldn't just have shot Michael and then run for his life. He had taken a moment, a fraction of one really, to take in fully what he had just done. That was when a small mob had overtaken him. He had yelled to Brian and Justin to run, which Brian had done, dragging Justin behind him of course.

But they had still managed to look back once at Ben, before the zombies had torn him limb from limb, the whole time Ben cursing the ghouls with the disease that had plagued him while he had lived.

Turning to look out the window again, Brian thought back to when the next time he could have told Justin he loved him. He remembered when he had made love to him, that first time after the bashing. He would have meant it sincerely then too, had he been able to utter the words.

If not that time, he could have told him while dancing in the streets after Pride.

Or that morning when he had gotten out of jail because Mikey (don't think about Mikey) had a big mouth and Brian knew, he just knew, that Justin had taken the money for college because that asshole Sap had tried something.

"I love you," he could have said as he grabbed onto the lad for dear life, grateful that he wasn't any worse for wear after one of Sap's little 'parties.'

But he hadn't then either and things had gone to shit after that what with the birthday party and the fiddler..

Brian peeked around the wall and looked at a sleeping Justin on the bed.

"We got away. Holy shit! I can't believe we got away. But Ted...oh God..."

"Don't think about that. Shit!" Brian panted, "I was so fucking worried when I couldn't see you..."

"I'm okay Brian. We're okay," Justin soothed as he walked over to Brian and wrapped his arms around his neck.

"Justin, what is that?"

He could have said it when he got Justin back. When he had him in the loft all those numerous times during and after the Stockwell fiasco.

He could have told him when Justin didn't take off after Brian's financial ruin.

Or when he had stuck by him while he set up Kinnetik.

"I love you."

So simple.

He could have shouted it out when he had been drunk at Babylon, when he was high at the loft. He could have whispered it to him in his sleep.

He could have done it when he was going through his cancer scare. Claimed he wasn't in his right mind afterward.

But Justin would have known.

"What Brian? What's what?" Justin asked, his voice shaking.

"That," Brian said, as he pointed to the nasty scratch on Justin's arm, his sleeve torn revealing the wound in all its gruesome glory.

"Oh that? Just a scratch," Justin replied while swallowing.

"Justin," Brian said, a little more worried.

"Just a scratch Brian."

"Maybe we can clean it," a ray of hope sounding in Brian's voice.

Brian had poured every bottle of alcohol and hydrogen peroxide he had over the flesh wound.

When Justin was there, after that stupid bike ride, he could have fallen into his arms and said it then.

"I love you."

It would have been quite dramatic. A lesbian moment if ever there was one.

But now...

Brian turned slowly around when he heard the thump coming from the bedroom.

And then another.

Sweat broke out upon his brow as he listened to the floorboards squeak as the sock clad body made its way out of the bedroom.

Justin was awake.

Well, whatever it was that had once been Justin anyway.

Because, Brian thought, this was in no way, shape or form the young man he had been remembering. The young man who had pursued Brian without a care in the world, who wouldn't stop until he got what he wanted. Who didn't back down from anything.

Who had made Brian a better man, in spite of himself.

Not that it seemed to matter anymore.

"I love you."

Brian had picked that moment, as he stared at the thing standing before him, to utter those three little words. They sounded flat and hollow, and echoed back to him in the room devoid of any warmth, of any signs of life.

And it had fallen on deaf ears.

He finally said it. He had finally found the ability to open his mouth and say the words.

And it didn't fucking matter.

Raising the gun, a 9mm automatic Brian had taken off a dead body back in the diner, he took careful aim.

He only had two bullets left. The news had reported, back when the news had still been able to report, that it would only take one shot to the brain and the zombie would drop dead, real dead, not walking dead.

Brian fired the gun.

Despite the fact that he had not much practice in firing weapons, he was pleased that his speedy lessons, lessons learned on the field in the past few days, had stilled his hand so he could make the shot.

Right between the eyes.

The thing that had been Justin dropped to the ground.

There was one bullet left.

Brian slumped down in the corner, rocking back and forth, convincing himself the thing he had just killed was not the same man he had once loved.

It wouldn't be long now. He couldn't hold up here forever. He remembered sadly how Justin had complained quite a few times that they never kept enough food around to eat.

And during any of of those times, Brian could have grabbed the young man by his face, held him close and said those three little words, while of course making fun of his bottomless stomach.

And it may have seemed like a stupid thing to regret now, here, at the end of it all, but it was the one and only thing that was on his mind, the only thing that his mind could process.

That and the fact that there was still one bullet left and the barrel of the gun felt so cool against his temple.

The one thing he could never regret was that he was a damn good shot.


Feedback is welcome

*runs and hides*

Tags: b/j standalone,  zombie fic
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