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Chapter 23 - Never Been Better.

“I don’t understand,” Jennifer Taylor jumped in at that point, looking back and forth between her son and the police detective. “How are you involved in all of this, Justin? A kidnapping and a shooting and assaults and everything else? Is this . . . Is this about when you skipped school on Friday to help out that art teacher of yours whose child had gone missing? How does that tie into this - What did you say his name was? Kenny? - this Kenny person? I assume he’s the man your father keeps having runs-ins with, right? But that doesn’t explain the rest of it . . . How in the world did you get yourself into this mess, Justin?”

Justin grunted and struggled to shift so he was sitting up straighter, thinking he wanted to be able to look his mother directly in the eye when he came clean. “It’s a long story, Mom. See . . .” he began, and then faltered, because where did you start?

He wasn’t at all upset when a knock on the door of his room announced another, well-timed visitor. “Knock, knock,” a sophisticated contralto voice announced as the door swung inward and a blond woman peeked around the corner. “Justin? Are you feeling well enough for another visitor?” Before he could say yes or no, Lindsey entered carrying a tiny, well-bundled figure. “Gus wanted to come by and personally thank his hero,” she announced.

“Awww, Gus!” Justin held his arms out, allowing the mother to place the baby in them. “Hey there, Gussie. I’ve been so worried about you.” The youth looked over to where Lindsey and Mel were now standing next to Debbies’s chair. “Is he okay? They didn’t hurt him, did they?”

“He’ll be just fine,” Mel assured everyone. “The doctors checked him out thoroughly and except for an ear infection, a nasty case of diaper rash, and some minor dehydration, he’s good. Not that I still won’t sue the fuck out of those two bitches that took him, mind you.”

“Spoken like a true lawyer,” Lindsey teased her wife good-naturedly. “Me, I’m just happy to have my Lambskin back in one piece. And the police told us we have YOU to thank for it, Justin.”

“Me? I didn’t do anything,” Justin demurred with a blush that showed even through his bruises.

“You’re the one who called the cops and told them where to find Gus,” Mel backed up her better half. “Unlike that idiot, Kinney, who went tearing off on his own, almost getting himself killed, without doing the sensible thing and waiting for the police. Serves him right he got shot.” Then she added under her breath, “fuck knows I’ve wanted to shoot him enough times myself.”

Justin was too busy admiring the baby to take Mel to task for her comments. “Aw, poor kid, ear infections suck, don’t they,” he crooned to the half-asleep infant. “No wonder you were crying all the time. Your daddy is gonna be so happy to hear you’re okay.”

“I still can’t believe it was Brian’s own sister that took him,” Michael finally chimed in again, a new wave of jealousy overtaking him as he watched Justin apparently bonding with Brian’s son, and prompting him to divert everyone’s attention back to himself. “How fucked up can one family be, huh? And I thought his abusive, drunken dad was the worst of the lot.”

Horvath interrupted the silence that followed this comment by asking, “what I don’t understand is, how come none of you recognized the sister? She had to have been stalking you for weeks to pull this thing off; there’s no other way she’d have known about your morning jogging route.”

“I’d never met any of Brian‘s family, except for that one time, last summer, when we all went to Brian’s dad’s funeral,” Lindsey explained. “I doubt I’d recognize Claire even now.”

Now that Horvath had brought up this point, Justin realized his suspicions about Michael were completely groundless. No doubt Lindsey would have noticed if one of the gang had been following her around, stalking her. The empath had to acknowledge, to himself at least, that he’d let his own negative feelings about Michael influence his assumptions. It wasn’t hard, though, when the man - even now - kept bombarding him with all these feelings of envy and resentment. Justin didn’t know this guy, David, that Michael was dating, but he really hoped the relationship would pan out, if only because it might put an end to the man’s infatuation over Brian. Brian was his now, and Justin wasn’t going to put up with Michael’s shit for long. But that was a struggle for another time; Justin was struggled out for the day.

For the next several minutes everyone cooed over the baby until Gus eventually fell asleep. Justin’s head was pounding again, and he really, really wanted to follow the infant’s example. Now, if only his posse of well-wishers would leave, or at least shut up long enough for him to get some rest. 

However, it simply wasn’t meant to be.

Right about the time Carl Horvath declared he would be back the following day, when Justin was feeling better, to take a formal statement, the merry group overflowing the room was interrupted yet again. “Special delivery for Justin Taylor,” a man wearing the hospital’s standard royal blue scrubs announced before pushing the extra-wide door all the way open.

“For me?” the patient asked, completely perplexed

When the orderly started to wheel another bed into the room, however, Justin began to get excited. The orderly proceeded to push the new arrival over to the empty space in the far corner of the double hospital room, parking the new patient just a few steps away from where Justin was now bouncing in his bed; to hell with the pain his abrupt movements were causing. For the moment, he was feeling no pain at all. His overwhelming joy was eclipsing all other sensations. Because the person in that new bed just happened to be the only person in the world he really wanted to see right then. 

The one person with whom he had an unquenchable affinity.

“There you go,” the orderly in charge stated as he got the bed situated in the right spot and all the tubes and wires hooked up. “Your friend here made us promise to put the two of you in the same room and he wouldn’t let the OR nurse start the IV for his surgery until he had everything set up the way he wanted it.” The man turned to the barely conscious patient with a humorous smile. “This to your liking, Mr. Kinney?” 

Brian looked around the man, who had been blocking his view, and donned a pained smile. “Hey, Sunshine,” Brian rasped in a shaky voice.

“Hey!” Justin responded in a more exuberant vein. “How are you feeling?”

Brian moaned and made a face as the attendant moving the equipment around the bed caused him a moment of discomfort. “I’ve had better days. You?”

“I’ve never been better!” Justin enthused, regretting only that his broken foot probably wouldn’t let him jump out of bed and fly to his lover’s side. 

“Twat,” Brian declared and then, finally, acknowledged all the other faces in the room. “Looks like you’ve got your entire fanclub assembled. Anybody you know who ISN’T here, crowding into our fucking hospital room?”

“Well, just Daphne,” Justin replied with a teasing smile, “but I haven’t had a chance to call her yet. She’s gonna be so pissed at me that she missed out on all the drama. Although, I bet, if I play up the poor, pathetic, injured friend thing, I can probably talk her into bringing us some of her world-famous peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. Actually, that’s a great idea; I should call her right now. By the way, when do they serve dinner around here . . .”

“You and your damned bottomless pit stomach,” Brian complained in an effort to mask the obvious affection he felt for the boy. 

“So, are you gonna lie there flirting with the boy all day or are you ready to say ‘hi’ to the rest of us, asshole?” Debbie interjected with her usual salty demeanor.

Much rejoicing followed, with all Brian’s friends giving him shit and sympathizing over his injuries in pretty much equal proportions. Brian got to hold Gus; even the non-empaths could sense how much he loved the boy and how relieved he was to have his son back. And all the while Justin and Brian were communing privately, their empathic link once again at full strength, making them both feel like they were finally whole again. It felt really good. Justin felt complete. He felt like he could finally rest and heal now that he was sure Brian was going to be alright.

The nurse came in again a little while later and warned them that she would be kicking everyone out in about fifteen minutes so the patients could get some rest. Most of the crew started to pack up and leave. The girls were the first to head out, stating they wanted to get Gus home to bed. Michael and Deb were next to say their goodbyes, after Brian insistently declined Mikey’s offer to stay longer if his best friend needed him. 

“Well, I should get going too.” Horvath was the next to depart. “I am NOT looking forward to all the paperwork I’m gonna have to do to clear this case off my desk,” he grumbled with a shake of his head. “Before I go though, there’s something I haven’t been able to figure out yet. How did you two figure out that Claire was the kidnapper?”

Brian and Justin shared a charged glance. Justin gave a little head tilt, meant to convey that he’d go along with whatever Brian was comfortable revealing. Brian nodded resolutely before offering as much of an explanation as he was willing to disclose.

“The more I thought about seeing Claire at the museum - shit, was that only this morning? It feels like a year ago - the more it made me wonder,” Brian explained. “And I know I said that she and my mother probably didn’t even know Gus existed, but after I got home I remembered that she’d been moonlighting for this janitorial service, working nights and weekends to make up for the fact that her ex was fighting her about the child support . . .”

“That’s where I remember seeing her from!” Justin chimed in. “The night Gus was born. We ran into Claire at the hospital as we were leaving. She was dressed in a hospital uniform and you almost tripped over the cart she was pushing . . .”

“Exactly,” Brian confirmed. “She was working there the night Gus was born. After she saw me, she must have snooped around and figured out why I was there and found out I had a kid.”

Horvath murmured his acceptance of this new fact. “That makes sense. It also confirms something we heard from the janitor at the museum. We finally located him after you left this morning, Kinney, and the guy told us that a co-worker had tipped him off that the trash can in front of the building needed emptying right before the fire alarm rang. How much you wanna bet, when we pull Claire’s employment records, it’ll tell us that she & our museum janitor work for the same agency, huh?” All three men nodded, having come to the same conclusion. “I’ll have my guys go back and question him again - I suspect janitor guy might know more than he admitted to earlier. I’m betting he saw Claire make the ransom pick up. Oh, and by the way, we found a black Ironmen hoodie in the suitcase that was waiting in the car your mother and sister were about to take off in. I’d say it’s a pretty safe bet she was our anonymous fire alarm puller.”

“Alright folks. Time to go. Visiting hours are over,” the nurse advised, bustling into the room before Horvath could ask any more pressing questions.

“I was just leaving,” the detective assured the woman, but then turned back for one last word with his victims. “Rest up, because I’m gonna need you both to give a full statement tomorrow . . . Oh, one more thing, Kinney. You’re gonna have to tell me sometime how, exactly, you knew that Taylor had been beaten up back at the school AFTER you’d already been shot. I mean, we found the kid’s phone a couple dozen meters away from where the assault happened, and I’d been listening in on the line the entire time until we arrived, so I know he didn’t have time to call you. Care to explain?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was psychic?”

“Try again, Kinney,” Horvath replied with a hearty chuckle as he walked out the door. “See you boys tomorrow.”

Then the police detective was gone, leaving only Mrs. Taylor, who had planted herself in the chair next to her son’s bed and didn’t seem like she intended to leave any time soon.

“You don’t need to stay, Mom,” Justin insisted. 

“I don’t know,” she waffled, eyeing Brian suspiciously. “I think I should stick around for a while still. I haven’t even talked to your doctor yet.”

“Mom, please,” Justin began, but then stopped when he realized he sounded like a whiny kid - not something you wanted your thirty-year-old lover to witness - and modulated his tone before continuing. “I’ll be fine. And I’m sure I’ll get more rest without you hovering nervously the whole time.”

“But, I . . .” Jennifer stuttered, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of leaving her little boy in the presence of a known reprobate who’d somehow gotten him involved in a kidnapping and subsequent shooting, but unsure of how to politely voice such concerns.

Jennifer didn’t get a chance to rethink her position, however, because just then the room was invaded by yet another visitor, this one much less welcome than any of the others. 

“I don’t give a damn what your visiting hours are. I want to see my son. And since I’m the one who pays for the insurance that covers all this crap, you damn well better step aside and let me in!” Craig Taylor’s voice carried even through the closed hospital room door, so you could tell it was likely booming down the otherwise quiet halls.

“Sir, please. This is a hospital and you’re disturbing our patients.”

“To hell with your fucking patients,” Craig hollered and barged into the room. “Justin? There you are. What the hell is going on? Your mother left me a message saying you were attacked at school? If this is true, I’m going to be having a long talk with Principal Perkins. We pay a pretty penny for that place and I expect them to take the safety of their students seriously . . .”

“It wasn’t the Principal who was so late picking up his son that the kid was left standing there alone, at the mercy of the school bullies, while someone was off shtupping his secretary,” Brian drawled from his spot off to the side where Craig hadn’t yet noticed him.

“You!” Craig immediately bridled, covering up his discomfort at being called out for his marital improprieties with misdirected outrage aimed at the accuser. “What the hell is HE doing here? I told you, you weren’t allowed to see this pervert ever again, Justin! How dare you defy me! I won’t have it, I tell you! I won’t have it!”

Justin was on the verge of speaking up when his mother - surprise, surprise - actually beat him to the mark. “Wait just a minute,” Jennifer exclaimed, moving around so she was standing directly in front of her husband. “You mean to tell me that Justin getting beat up was YOUR fault? He was waiting around for YOU when those bullies set on him? Seriously?” Jennifer leaned in and sniffed at Craig’s collar, wrinkling up her aristocratic nose at the scent she found there. “And now you have the temerity to come in here - more than an hour after I called you saying it was an emergency, by the way - smelling like cheap perfume and whiskey? And you’re yelling at our injured son, who’s lucky to be alive, after what YOU did? How dare you, Craig! How dare YOU!” 

Jennifer paused, waiting for a response, but apparently Craig was caught speechless for once; he just stood there, looking embarrassed. Jennifer continued to glare at her philandering hubby. Justin held his breath, wondering what the hell was happening. 

Brian, though, apparently found it all eminently amusing and snorted with laughter. “Looks like you’re the one who’s about to be grounded this time, Craig.”

“Nobody fucking cares about the opinion of a pedophile,” Craig rounded on his critic. Then, ignoring a glaring Jennifer, he looked over his wife's shoulder and continued taking his bad mood out on his son. “And besides, why I was late has no bearing on the fact that Justin has again defied me. I’m sick and tired of this, Justin. I’ve already given you plenty of warnings. This is your last chance, young man. You need to decide; either respect my authority and follow my orders or else!”

“Oh, fuck this!” Brian spoke up before anyone else could say a word. “Hey, Sunshine, you wanna shack up with me so you can tell your bigot of a father to go fuck himself?”

“Hell, yeah!” Justin answered immediately without even having to stop to think about it. “When I talk to Daphne I’ll ask her to go over and start packing up my stuff so I can move in as soon as they let us out of here.”

“Justin, Honey, please. I’m sure we can work this out. No need to be so hasty. You don’t need to make such a big decision right this minute. You should take your time and really think about this,” Jennifer tried to intervene, only to be cut off by her head-strong son.

“Sorry, Mom, but I don’t need to wait. I already know what I want.” And, despite his bruised and swollen face, Justin managed to direct a pretty sunshiny smile Brian’s way. “Besides, you might as well get used to the idea of me and Brian being together because, he might not know it yet, but someday I’m going to marry him . . .”

“Twat,” Brian declared with a huff and a shaking of his head. 

Although, tellingly, Brian did NOT actually deny Justin’s assertion; a fact Justin made note of for later contemplation.

“What the hell is going on here? This is total bullshit! I won’t have it!” Craig blustered and spluttered while his face turned an apoplectic purple.

“Oh, fuck off, Craig,” a fed-up-beyond-the-point-of-propriety Jennifer ordered as she gathered up her purse and coat, heading out the door. “Go back to your mistress already; she’s probably the only one who cares what you think.” As she was walking out, she added over her shoulder, “you'll be hearing from my divorce attorney in the morning.” 

Then Jennifer was gone and Craig scurried out of the room after her.

When the elder Taylor contingent was gone, and the room finally settled into a peaceful quiet, Justin sighed with relief. Maybe now that everyone was gone and he knew Brian was safe, lying securely in the bed next to him, he could finally get some rest. Hopefully, by the time he woke up, his brain would no longer feel like it had a heartbeat of its own and was trying to pulse out through his ears. Then he’d be able to start getting seriously excited about the prospect of moving in with the man he loved. Right now, though, he was just too wiped out to truly appreciate that amazing development. 

The nurse, who must’ve seen Jennifer and Craig leaving, came back in and gave both men their next dosage of meds, advising them that the doctors would be by for rounds in about an hour so they should sleep while they could. Justin would be happy to obey that directive. Even Brian didn’t bitch about the suggestion, proving that he was at least as ready for a nap as his roommate.

But, in an effort to find a more comfortable position so he could follow the nurse’s instructions, Justin tried to shift his weight around and in the process got his injured foot caught in the blankets. When he attempted to tug it free, he jarred his busted ribs. And, as if in sympathy with his other injuries, his hand decided to start aching too. It was all too much for the teen, who couldn’t hold back a little sob of pain.

“Hey, Justin?” The other occupant of the room cut short the boy’s struggles to resettle himself. “I gotta say, I did NOT enjoy watching you getting pummeled by that Hobbs guy. And I REALLY don’t enjoy feeling your pain on top of my own. So, can you do me a favor? Can you please NOT get beat up by homophobic bullies ever again?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Justin responded with an amused huff. “But, yeah . . . As long as you promise you’ll never, EVER, tell someone to go ahead and shoot you again.”

“Yeah, well, that might not have been my most brilliant move ever,” Brian conceded. Then he added, his voice getting so quiet that, if Justin wasn’t empathically linked to him, he might not have understood the words. “But I couldn’t just sit around there, locked up in the fucking basement all day, could I? You were being hurt; I had to get Gus and get out of there . . . I had to get to you.”

Justin smiled so hard that he cracked open one of the smaller cuts on the corner of his mouth but he didn’t care. “How about we agree that neither of us will ever get hurt again and we just move on to living happily ever after?’

Brian gave a mental shrug, which Justin could feel all the way over in his own bed, and then answered with typical Kinney succinctness. 

“Deal . . .”

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