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Chapter 7 - Heal Thyself.
Justin is asleep for the rest of the morning. I manage to catch a few more zzz’s while sitting in the chair beside his bed, my head resting on the edge of the mattress. It’s not comfortable or really restful, but whatever. It’s a good thing I’m there, too, seeing as Justin’s sleep - even sedated as he is - is agitated and punctuated by repeated bad dreams. Thankfully, I manage to soothe the nightmares away with a touch or a quiet word, and he settles down again. I’m afraid those bad dreams will be with him for awhile though.
Around noon there’s a quiet tapping at the door. I know it’s not one of the nurses coming in again, since they never bother trying to be quiet. I’m not surprised, therefore, to see Emmett’s uncertain smile peeking through the doorway a second later.
“Hey, Bri. How’s everything going?” he whispers. “Is this a bad time?” I wave him on in. “I brought you some clothes and toiletries. And some lunch.”
He holds out his offerings and I accept them with a smile. I motion for Emmett to take my chair as I get up and grab for the small gym bag he’s brought. Changing into some clean clothes in the small bathroom takes only a couple minutes. Justin’s still soundly asleep when I come out. Emmett immediately jumps up and gives me back my chair, and then busies himself puttering around, pulling the rolling bed table over to where I’m sitting, and getting out the food he’s brought me. I didn’t realize how hungry I was till I saw the food and my stomach starts growling. I immediately lay into the salad Em hands me, planning to get to the sandwich later. I eye the large, frosty drink container dismissively, but Em just pushes it insistently closer to me.
“It’s a chocolate milkshake and you could use the calories this once, Brian,” Em insists as he takes up a tentative perch on the foot of the hospital bed. “And if you can’t bring yourself to drink it all, maybe your blond can help you when he wakes up.”
I nod, conceding the point because I think ‘my blond’ might actually like that.
“So, how is he?” Em asks warily as he looks over at our sleeping beauty.
I shrug because it’s really too complicated to get into via a lengthy, whispered conversation. “He was awake for a while earlier, but the doctor sedated him so he could get some sleep,” is all I add.
“Well, that’s good news, right? That must mean that the injury to his head can’t be too bad. Does he remember anything, though?”
“We didn’t really get into it, but . . . yeah, I’m pretty sure he remembers at least as much as I do.”
There’s not much to say after that. Emmett sits quietly for the next few minutes while I devour my food; I even manage to down the fucking milkshake, I’m that hungry. I can tell Em is stewing about something, but at least he’s letting me finish eating before he lays into me. I’m too tired to get really worked up about whatever it is he’s mulling over, though. Whatever it is, I decide to simply wait and let him get to it in his own time.
“So, how long do you think Justin will be sleeping,” he finally asks when I’ve downed the last bite of delicious turkey-ness.
“Probably a while still. Why?”
“Because, I thought, if he’s going to be out for a while longer, this would be a good time for you to go back down to the ER and finish getting treated yourself,” Em states bluntly. I can see he’s got this determined set to his shoulders which does not bode well for me. “And before you even start trying to tell me you’re fine and you don’t need to finish up with the doctor, Brian, I’m going to cut you off. Because you really DO need to do this. I don’t know how badly you were hurt, but at the very least you’re going to need to be on prophylactic meds. This is important. I’m not going to let you put your health at risk because of this. So, if you’re ready, let’s go.”
“I told Justin I wouldn’t leave him,” I offer as my only excuse, already knowing as I say the words that Em won’t buy it.
“You won’t be leaving him, just stepping downstairs for a bit. We’ll let the nurse know where to find us if he wakes up. Now, come on; the sooner we go, the sooner you can get back to him.”
So, with only a glance back over my shoulder to make sure Justin is still sleeping peacefully, I let Emmett drag me out of the room and back downstairs to the ER. I really don’t want to do this, but Em is right for once. Damn The Sapp and the rest of his cronies to hell for forcing all this on me.
The doctor that saw me the night before is, providentially, just coming back on duty and is able to see me right away. Thankfully there isn’t much poking or proding that needs to be done, as most of that had already been done the night before while I was still unconscious. Still, it’s not exactly pleasant talking about this shit. It also makes it all seem much more real, and inescapable, than before. When I finally get to leave again, I’ve got a whopping list of follow up appointments for further testing and a stack of prescriptions to get filled at the hospital pharmacy.
Emmett is still seated in the ER waiting room when I emerge and I’m ridiculously glad to see him. His quiet support is unexpected but more needed than I would have thought. I like that he doesn’t seem to need to talk about what’s going on - he just sort of takes charge and guides me on to the next thing. It makes it slightly easier to deal with all the shit I’m wading through. Not sure what I’m supposed to do when I finally leave this little bubble that I’m still hiding in, and have to go home to my real life where, presumably, I won’t have a supportive Emmett at my beck and call twenty-four/seven. But since that is out of my control, I push it out of my head and try not to think about it for the time being.
After we collect my prescriptions, Emmett walks back up to Justin’s room with me, but then leaves me at the door saying he’s got to go pick up Ted at the airport.
“You want me to come get you and take you home later?” he asks, with an assumed casualness that doesn’t fool me at all.
“No. I’m not leaving him, Emmy Lou,” I pronounce as if daring him to comment on my out of character actions.
“Good. He’s gonna need you, Bri. And you’re going to need him too, whether you know it or not,” Emmett states prophetically, before he leans in, pecks at my cheek, then steps back with a cheery wave of his fingers and a, “ta ta for now!”
Even though I’ve only been gone a little more than a half hour, I feel guilty when I enter Justin’s room and find him awake. He looks like he’s been crying, too. Damn it!
“Hey, what’s wrong,” I ask, quickly moving to sit on the side of the bed so I can take him in my arms.
He angrily swipes at the tears, trying to obscure the evidence that he’s not as strong as he’d like to be. It’s a gesture I recognize since I’d probably do the same. And while I normally wouldn’t be caught dead comforting a crying twink, it’s different with Justin. We’ve been through so much together, it’s like there’s a connection there I’ve never felt with any other guy. So I’m not even a little bit uncomfortable sitting here, holding him, and waiting while he collects himself.
“Sorry. I thought you’d left and I sorta lost it,” he explains and then adds, “just ignore me. I’m blaming it all on the medication.” I like that he’s somehow still got a sense of humor and reward him with a soft chuckle. “So, where’d you go?”
I pick up the small paper bag containing my prescriptions and shake it so you can hear the pills rattling in the bottles. “Speaking of medication, I had to go get my own.”
“Oh. Yeah. I guess that makes sense . . . Damn. I hadn’t actually thought about that part yet.”
“Lucky us, huh? Although, I imagine you’re already getting the same as they gave me, only you’re getting the IV kind while I get to swallow a half dozen pills a day,” I respond bitingly. “But it’s better than the alternative, I guess, so . . .”
“I suppose it goes without saying, but this whole thing really sucks, you know?”
I can tell he’s holding back more tears, and I’m halfway there myself, but mine are more tears of anger than anything else. Of course that anger is completely futile. There’s nothing either of us can do about it now. And that niggling little voice in the back of my head, repeating that I was stupid and it’s all my fault and, if I hadn’t screwed up so colossally, I could have protected us both, is insidious. So much for my old mantra about ‘no regrets’.
Luckily for everyone involved, my maudlin moment is cut short by yet another knock on Justin‘s hospital room door. The face that peeks around the jamb this time, however, isn’t smiling. I’m not sure our Gravelly Guy detective ever smiles much. I probably wouldn’t if I were in his line of business either.
“Detective Horvath, welcome back. I can’t say it’s nice to see you,” I extend the nicest greeting possible under the circumstances. “Please tell me you’re here to announce you caught The Sapp already.”
“Afternoon, Kinney. Mr. Taylor.” The cop nods at both of us with his cool, professional manner. “No, I’m afraid we don’t have Saperstein in custody yet. We think he’s hunkered down, hiding somewhere. There was no sign of him at the airport this morning. We also checked the local train and bus stations with no luck. But we’ve got an APB out on his car, so he shouldn’t be able to get far. We’ll get him eventually.”
Horvath sounds pretty certain, so I guess I won’t give up hope yet.
“In the meantime, though, we’ve turned up loads of fingerprints and DNA evidence from the party house you led us to, Kinney.” Now Horvath looks like he’s actually gonna smile. “We hit the motherlode there. And you’d be surprised at some of the prominent names that are coming up as we run those samples. It’s looking pretty much like a Who’s Who of Sexual Predators for the Pittsburgh area. Ziva and Matthews have already started pulling them in for questioning. The ones we’ve talked to so far have all been more than happy to sing in the hope that we’ll keep their names out of the spotlight while they point fingers at all their buddies. When this shit does come out, it’s going to rock the city. We’ve got business executives, doctors, lawyers, even a judge.” Now the Detective is outright grinning. “Just between you, me and the fencepost - and you better not repeat this to anyone else until we’ve got all our ducks in a row and are sure the evidence is enough to get an indictment - it’s possible we might’ve even caught a well known mayoral candidate who’s not only ‘straight’, but an outspoken anti-gay activist. I can’t wait to see the shit fest that’ll bring down among his potential constituents.”
“Damn! Since I’m pretty sure you’re not referring to Deakins - who’s about as gay-friendly as you can get without taking it up the ass - that means you’re talking about Police Chief Stockwell? How the fuck do you expect to indict your own boss?”
“Very carefully,” Horvath answers with a saucy little wink. “But that’s why it’s imperative we do this investigation by the book. And I also need both of you to commit to testifying on this one. Because I’m not sticking my neck out here unless I’m sure I’ve got solid eyewitness testimony to back up the circumstantial evidence. Now, I know that’s a lot to ask - fuck knows I wouldn’t want to be in your position - but if you two aren’t willing to stand up and testify in this case, it isn’t going anywhere.”
Fuck. Testifying? That means going public . . . With everything . . . Can I do that? Can I really go on the record and tell the entire world that I let somebody . . . I mean, I still can’t even really THINK about what they did to me, let alone fucking TALK about it. And Horvath thinks I’m gonna want to get on the stand in a courtroom somewhere and spill everything? Fuck that!
“They’re going to get away with it, aren’t they?” Justin asks in a voice that’s just this side of devastated. “Powerful men like that? There’s no way they’ll be held accountable. Even if I can . . . If I could find the strength to testify about it - if I go out there and humiliate myself in front of the entire world by telling how they . . . how they hurt me - it won’t matter. Nobody cares about a nobody like me. Fuck it all. I wish they had just killed me and been done with it . . .”
Justin turns his head into my shoulder and his whole body sags against me in defeat.
And I fucking hate it. I hate hearing the defeat in his voice. I hate feeling the way his body is trembling with fear and disappointment. I REALLY hate hearing him say he’d be better off dead.
I hate all of that so much more than I fear outing myself for having become a . . . Damn, it’s hard to even think the word . . . For having become a RAPE victim.
“Don’t you ever fucking say that again, Justin. You are NOT better off dead. You hear me?” I pull away from him just far enough that I can look in his eyes. “Now, you listen to me. Are you listening?” Justin sniffles and nods his head. “Fuck The Sapp and all his powerful friends. We’re not going to let them get away with this. We’re not going to let them win. We’re going to stand up to them and prove that we’re stronger than all of them put together. We can fucking do this, Justin. I promise you. You hear me?”
“That mean you’re willing to testify?” Horvath asks point blank.
“If that’s what it takes to put ALL these creeps behind bars, then yes. It’s gonna fucking suck, but I’m not going to let them get away with what they did. I won’t let them make us disappear like they did to those others - the boys they killed. I won’t let them win,” I state, hopefully sounding more sure of myself than I feel, because inside I’m scared shitless.
Justin finally looks up at me and I can see my fear reflected in his eyes. But maybe I’m a better actor than I think, because he sniffles and then nods his head. And with a big sigh he moves so he’s facing Horvath again.
“Brian’s right. We have to at least try,” Justin says in a shaky voice.
“Good. Then I’m going to need complete statements from both of you.” Horvath pulls up the guest chair, plops himself down, pulls out his phone and the little notebook, and then looks up at the two of us still sitting on the bed. “Who wants to go first?” he asks as he taps at the button to start the recording function on his phone.
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The process of giving our statements lasts the rest of the afternoon. It’s an exhausting and emotional process. I feel totally wiped out and I can tell just by looking at Justin that he’s the same. Horvath is fucking relentless though; he pries at every single detail, pushing us to remember more, even where there are large blank gaps caused by all the drugs we were given. Justin’s better than me at recalling descriptions of the men, but I’m better at keeping the timeline straight, and together we garble together a pretty complete story.
Regardless, it’s not easy. But, just when I think I’m about to lose it, we are saved by the arrival of the nurse. She immediately kicks the cop out so she can tend to her patient. Horvath says he’ll probably need to talk to both of us again, but he has enough to go on for now. He leaves with a thank you to us both and a promise to keep us informed how the case is proceeding.
I take the opportunity, while the nurse is doing embarrassing things to my blond, to pop out and run downstairs to the coffee shop for an Americano and a power bar, in lieu of dinner. By the time I return, Justin is all cleaned up, bandages replaced, and seated in bed with a cup of soup, some jello and apple juice for his own dinner. I’m not sure if it’s the unappetizing food or just fatigue, but he doesn’t seem very interested in eating. I probably should have let him have that milkshake Em brought me earlier.
After all the talking we’ve just been forced to do, it’s not surprising that neither of us seem to feel like saying anything more. I’m just sitting here in the guest chair, staring blankly into space, while Justin sips at his soup. It feels like so much has happened in such a short period of time. I’m not sure it’s all sunk in yet. Maybe I don’t want it to sink in, though, because then I’ll have to think about it all. And maybe that’s what’s eating at Justin, causing him to not eat his food. Eventually, though, he simply pushes the tray away, giving up on eating altogether.
“I really appreciate you sticking around all day, Brian. I don’t think I could’ve gotten through all this without you. Especially not talking to Detective Horvath. That was . . . Fuck.” I can empathize with his sense of frustration in finding a word to describe just how unpleasant that part of the day had been. “Is every day going to be this bad from now on?
“Don’t know,” I answer. “I couldn’t say; I’ve never been in a situation like this before. But it seems like it’s gonna pretty much suck for a while at least.”
“Yeah . . .” He sighs and slouches even deeper into the pillows behind him. “So, I know I’ve only been awake a total of maybe five hours today, but It feels like it’s been a thousand years. I think I’m going to call the nurse and ask for another dose of that stuff that’ll knock me out for the rest of the night.”
That’s probably not a bad idea. The kid looks totally wiped out. The big bags under his eyes make the bruising on his face look even worse, if that’s actually possible. And considering what he’s been through, not to mention that he got his head bashed in less than a day ago, I’m surprised that he’s held up this long.
I feel pretty exhausted too, even though it’s not even seven in the evening. Of course, that realization immediately brings to mind the prospect of going home to my own bed and getting some sleep myself, which is followed a second later by an almost visceral wash of panic at the thought of being alone in that big, empty loft. I know it’s not rational. I know it’s just some fucked up reaction to everything that’s happened to me this week. But even though I KNOW this reaction is stupid and irrational, I can’t stop feeling totally freaked out at the prospect of leaving here and facing a whole night all alone.
“Brian?” Justin interrupts my moment of unreasoning dread, and the note of uncertainty and barely veiled pleading in his voice instantly gets my attention. “I realize I have no grounds to ask anything more of you. You’ve already been fucking amazing; you not only freed us from those monsters, but you went and got help for me, and then you’ve stayed with me all day. And, you know . . . feel free to say ‘no’, because I wouldn’t hold it against you. And I’m sure you’re more than ready to get away from here and go to your own home . . . But, well, um . . .”
“What?” I prompt, trying to cut through the nervous babbling.
“Damn. I feel like such a baby saying this but . . . Oh, fuck it all! I just can’t bear to be alone, damn it! I know it’s stupid, but I’m scared shitless by the mere idea that you’ll leave me here alone and something will happen, or The Sapp will somehow find me again, or that you’ll disappear and I’ll never see you again, or . . .” He stops his list of catastrophic possibilities when I start laughing. Huffing at me angrily, he adds, “I know it all sounds ridiculous, but you don’t have to laugh at me. I can’t help it that I haven’t yet had time to deal with all this shit.”
“I’m not laughing at YOU,” I reply, grabbing his hand to calm him down. “I’m laughing at myself. I was just having pretty much the same mini-freak out in my own head, like, ten seconds ago.” I am rewarded for my admission with one of Justin’s huge smiles, which is only partially marred by his torn and swollen lip. “At least I know I’m not the only one totally screwed up around here.”
“So, if I ask you to stay, you’re not going to think I’m a totally pathetic loser?”
“Maybe, but I promise not to say it out loud,” I tease him, Getting the first laugh I remember hearing out of him, which does something weird to my gut and makes me feel lighter somehow.
Right as I’m pulling up my chair closer to the bed, prepared to settle in and make myself as comfortable as possible, he stops me with a hand on my forearm. “You can’t sleep in that chair all night. Your back will give out and you’ll never be able to walk again come morning.” Then he reaches across his body and lifts up the blankets on his right. “Come on, get in here already, Big Guy.”
“Pretty sure that big nurse that just came on duty won’t approve,” I caution him.
Justin pats the mattress to hurry me along and I obediently start to slide in under the covers. “Yeah, well, Psycho Nurse can bite me,” he adds.
“Psycho Nurse would probably like that, but it’s too kinky for me. I’m not into that kind of three-way, Angel,” I comment snarkily before I even think about the words.
Then I freeze. I can’t believe I said that. Except when talking to the hospital staff or Detective Horvath, neither of us has said anything about what happened or even mentioned sex at all. And even then it was always done in a clinical, detached, manner. I’m pretty sure that neither of us is ready to actually joke about it yet. Definitely NOT in the context of a three-way. That’s just something the old me - the me from before this horrible, nightmare of a week - would say. I just wasn’t thinking. Fuck me.
“Shit. I didn’t mean that . . .”
“It’s okay, Brian. I know what you meant,” Justin absolves me as he scoots closer and makes himself more comfortable with his head nestled into the hollow of my shoulder. “For what it’s worth, she’s not my type either. Now, stop talking and be a good pillow.”
*****Flash*****
It’s daylight out, which is good because they mostly don’t bother us until night falls.
I’m groggy but can’t sleep because it’s fucking cold in here. Yesterday we tried breaking down some of the cardboard boxes to use as a barrier between us and the cold cement floor. We’ve made piles of the used clothing that was in the boxes to create a sort of makeshift mattress atop the cardboard. But it’s still not enough to stave off the bone-chilling numbness that seeps up from the concrete beneath us.
I can tell that Justin is cold too because he’s shivering in his sleep. We are huddled together amid our nest, but body warmth alone isn’t getting us very far. Without waking him, I manage to reach over, grab a random old sweatshirt, and drape it over his shoulders. I also try rubbing his arms to generate a little friction. He automatically snuggles in closer to my chest, his head tucked up under my chin.
If I close my eyes and block out the cramped little closet where our captors have us stashed, concentrating solely on the warm, yielding body I’m holding in my arms, I can almost forget the random aches and pains in my own body. Lying here with a sweet little blond wrapped around me is actually kind of nice. I’ve never been much of a snuggler; I was always more of the ‘slam, bam, thank you, man’ sort. But this . . . this is nice.
The random thought that, if we manage to survive this shit maybe I wouldn’t mind occasionally doing this kind of thing more often, invades my brain. Normally, I would have immediately banished that idea and mentally chastised myself for even thinking such lesbianic bullshit. But, since I’m laying here with nothing better to do, and trying NOT to think about the next sadistic thing that my captors are going to inflict on me, I actually let the idea percolate in my consciousness. And it doesn’t really scare me at all. I could probably deal with it. I wouldn’t want it to get around that I was open to the idea of cuddling, but . . .
Justin mewls in his sleep, his hand curling around my wrist. He’s warmed up enough that he’s no longer shivering. His breath is warm against my collarbone. I like the weight of his body pressing against me. It’s comforting.
This is nice.
*****Flash*****
Finally a flashback that doesn’t make my stomach roil. If anything, it imparts a little bit of a happy glow. And, since nobody’s looking, I decide to let that happy push out the fear and pain a little. Because, holding Justin like this as we both relax towards sleep, really is kinda nice.
So, this is snuggling, huh? It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I can definitely do this.
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