Chapter 38 - Deliverance.

Deliverance:  The act of being set free or rescued from danger or bondage.

~~*~~

Brian’s POV

~~*~~

I must have fallen asleep after Babbling Nurse left. I don't remember. But, the young man that's in my room now has to wake me up to take my vitals, which means I fell asleep, right? His soft brown eyes are restful but there's something nagging at the back of my mind that I'm supposed to be doing. What am I forgetting?

Brown Eyes is giving me that look. If I didn't feel like shit right now I might even take him up on it. He's got a great ass - at least from what I can see through those baggy scrub pants. Not as great as Justin's of course, but then nobody can compare with that hot little bubble butt. 

Justin! Fuck, what is wrong with me? I keep forgetting about Justin. 

I grab Brown Eyes' wrist as he starts to leave. "My partner . . . That Babbling Nurse was supposed to call him for me. What happened? Where is he? Please, I need to find him."

"Sorry, Vicky's shift ended about an hour ago. She didn't say anything to me about trying to contact your partner. But I'll get right on it for you. What's his name?" Thankfully, Brown Eyes is a much better communicator than old Babs had been.

"His name is Justin Taylor. I still can't seem to remember his cell number but if you can find my phone for me it's in there. I don't know where he is. I'm worried that something's wrong - he'd be here if he knew I was hurt."

"No problem. Just relax. I'll figure out what's going on and if Vicky was able to contact him or not. Just sit tight and I'll be right back, okay," Brown Eyes says, squeezing my hand in a friendly way as he frees his wrist and leaves the room.

This time I'm not going to let myself sleep. I need to stay awake and not forget. I make myself sit up. When I start to get drowsy again, I figure I'd better get out of bed altogether before I lose it. I'm scooting towards the edge and just about to try to stand, when Brown Eyes comes back in. He gives me the same spiel about getting dizzy and falling, etc. But, fuck it. I don't care about that. 

"What about Justin? Shut the fuck up about the dizziness and tell me about Justin," I order Brown Eyes, who looks a little abashed when I say Justin's name - he knows something.

"Mr. Taylor was in the car accident with you, Mr. Kinney. Don't you remember?" he asks and my heart almost drops out of my chest from the fear that statement engenders. 

"Is he . . . Is he okay?" I ask, scared shitless at the possible answer.

"He's doing better, from what I could find out. He's still here at the hospital, too. He wasn't as badly injured as you, but it seems he was . . . He refused to cooperate with the doctors. He wouldn't let anyone treat him. They had to sedate him and he's been admitted to the psych ward for evaluation," Brown Eyes finally spits it all out.

"The psych ward? Why? He doesn't like doctors, but I could have talked him through it. Who put him in the psych ward? He won't do well there. I need to see him. I need to straighten this out."

I start to get up again, but Brown Eyes stops me. "Mr. Kinney. Brian. You can't see him. He's been signed into the ward for a 72 hour evaluation. He's not allowed visitors. It's the rules."

"Fuck that. Who ordered this evaluation? I want to talk to the doctor who did this. It's totally unnecessary. If I could just see him, I know he'll be fine."

"If you promise me that you won't try to get out of bed again. I'll go page his treating physician for you. But only if you promise to stay put," Brown Eyes offers and of course I have no choice but to agree.

~~*~~

It's been almost an hour and Justin's doctor still hasn't shown up. I'm not going to wait much longer. I can't just sit here and wait while Justin's locked up somewhere. No one will tell me anything and I'm starting to get really, really pissed off. 

I hit the call button again and Brown Eyes comes back in with his apologetic look. 

"I paged Dr. Kauffe a second time for you, Brian, but I'm afraid he still hasn't called back. I'm sorry," he says.

"I'm tired of waiting. I'm going down there myself and I'll figure this out one way or another. Now, you can either just stand there and watch me - I might get dizzy and fall or something and then you can rest assured I WILL sue the hospital - or you can help me get to Justin by taking me down there in a wheelchair. Your choice, Brown Eyes. But either way I'm not waiting around here any longer."

"I'll get the chair," he acceeds a little too easily - I think Brown Eyes is sweet on me. 

Ten minutes later Brown Eyes is wheeling me up to a desk outside a set of large double doors. There's a large woman seated behind the desk who looks like she would have fit in well in any eastern block Olympics team from the cold war era. Fuck. Her biceps are almost as big around as my thighs. I'm really hoping this doesn't come down to me having to physically push my way through those doors, because she could take me, easy.

"Hey, Cece," Brown Eyes says to the Behemoth. "This is Brian Kinney, the guy I told you about. We've been paging Dr. Kauffe for more than an hour now without any response. Brian's really worried about his partner. What can you tell us?"

"Nothing. Dr. Kauffe hasn't checked in with me either. He's supposed to be on call tonight, but if you ask me, I'd bet he just turned his pager off and is catching up on his beauty rest," the Behemoth says with a large guffaw. 

"Can I just see Justin for a few minutes? I only want to see if he's okay," I try the Kinney charm, but I'm not sure it'll work on this mountain of a woman. "This concussion has me a bit scrambled still and I can't remember the accident at all. I only want to see him and once I know for sure he's okay, I'll be able to rest. Won’t you please help me, Cece?"

"Sorry. It'd be my job if I did that. No visitors. No exceptions," the Behemoth croaks back at me.

"Fine. Can you at least tell me who ordered this 72 hour psych evaluation thing? Did some doctor order it? Doesn't Justin have to consent to something like this unless it's a medical emergency or something? It just doesn't make any sense."

"Come on, Cece. You can look in the file for us for that much, can't you?" Brown Eyes adds his plea to mine. "We don't even have to look in the file ourselves. You just look up this little bit of info and maybe inadvertently let it slip in conversation to me and maybe a patient like Mr. Kinney accidentally overhears. . . "

"Okay, Jason. But you owe me," the Behemoth finally gives in to Brown Eyes, aka Jason.

She pulls out a binder from the cabinet behind her and spends thirty seconds looking at it. She frowns. She looks up at me and then back down at the binder. Then she closes up the book and replaces it in the cabinet.

"It looks like the patient was non-responsive when he arrived at the hospital and he wouldn't let the ER doctors treat him. The hospital contacted his next of kin, a Craig Taylor - the boy's father according to the file notes. Dad was the one who authorized the doctors to sedate him and asked for the psych eval."

"Holy Fuck!" I'm yelling before the Behemoth is even done with her explanation. "Give me your phone," I demand of her. "I need a phone right this fucking instant. Give. Me. Your. Fucking. Phone."

I'm sort of surprised when she gives in and hands me the phone so easily. I guess I'm scarier than a Behemoth right now.

"Ted, it's Brian . . . I don't give a fuck what time it is, Theodore. I'm in the hospital. Justin was hurt too. We were in a car accident, but that's not important. I need Justin's Power of Attorney form right away. Didn't you file it with Allegheny General already? Well, they must have lost it or something. The asswipes here contacted Craig Taylor as his next of kin instead of me. . . Yeah, it's pretty much Justin's worst nightmare come true. Craig had him fucking committed. . . No. I'm not fucking kidding. They won't let me in to even see Justin. I need that form right now. The original is in my safe at the office. Get it and get down here. I'll be in the administrative offices at whoever's desk I need to be at to shove the fucking POA down their throats in order to get Justin out of there. Thanks Ted."

"Brown Eyes, wheel me to the admin offices please," I order. "Thank you, Cece. I'll be right back as soon as I get your fucking bosses fired."

~~*~~

Ted is here in record time with the POA in hand. The hospital security guard, who was called down to the hospital's front desk when Ted threw a fit after being told he wouldn't be allowed to come meet me since it was after visiting hours, brings him right to the Patient Advocate's office where I'm waiting. The PA looks at the document for ten seconds, scans it into the computer database and then hands it back to me.  

"Well, Mr. Kinney. It looks like you were right," PA Sorryass says with a sickly sweet conciliatory smile. "I'm so sorry about the confusion. Clearly, you do have a valid POA and have every right to rescind the psych evaluation request. I'll get right on that paperwork for you. As soon as Dr. Kauffe signs off on it, we will release Mr. Taylor into your care."

"No. You will not 'get on the paperwork' or wait till Dr. Missing-in-action shows up to 'sign off on it'," I tell her in my seriously pissed off voice - the one my employees know to cower from when they hear it. "YOU will be coming with me right now back up to the psych ward and YOU will personally get Justin out of there NOW. Do you understand? You can do the fucking paperwork later. But Justin isn't spending even one more second locked up in your psych ward."

"Let's go, Brown Eyes," I tell my charioteer. "PA Sorryass, are you ready?"

Somehow it works. PA Sorryass follows behind as Brown Eyes pushes my chair towards the bank of elevators. Theodore follows the PA and, just for good measure, the security guard brings up the rear. This little parade should do the trick, I figure, as we head back to talk to Cece the Behemoth.

And I do it all while dressed in one of those ultra-thin hospital gowns with my ass hanging out the back.

~~*~~

Justin's POV

~~*~~

My right shoulder hurts. It hurts a lot. Why? I try to move to reach it with my left hand but I can't. I can't move my left arm at all.

My head feels fuzzy. I have a dull pounding headache too, but the ache in my head isn't nearly as bad as the ache in my shoulder. I open my eyes but I can't see much - they're as fuzzy as my head. If I could move my arm I could rub the fuzziness away from my vision, but I can't so I guess I just can’t see. I just have to wait, I guess. Hopefully someone will come help me soon.

~~*~~

"Justin? Hello there. I thought you might be waking up. I'm Dr. Kauffe. How are you feeling?" a tall, thin, dark blob says to me

"My shoulder hurts and I can't get my arms free," I tell the Doctor.

"Your arm was dislocated in the car accident. Do you remember the car accident, Justin," the Doctor blob asks me. 

The car accident? I don't remember any accident. I remember another car ramming into the Jeep twice, but it wasn't any accident. It was done on purpose by my father. But if that's what the doctor is referencing, then, yes, I remember that.

"Yes," I give him the short answer. 

"Good. Very good, Justin. Now, Do you remember what happened when you arrived at the hospital?" the doctor asks next.

"No." I don't remember anything between the Jeep and when I first woke up, which I think wasn't that long ago. 

"You refused to let either the paramedics or the ER doctors treat you. When they tried to touch you to examine your shoulder, you shouted at them not to touch you and you struck out at them even. You don't remember that?" the doctor person asks - his voice is starting to annoy me the way it's so condescending. 

"No, I don't remember that," I answer, wondering if I should tell him a little more in the hopes of getting him to give me more info in return. "I don't like doctors much and sometimes I get sort of panicky when I think about them. Maybe I was just panicking."

"That was more than just a little panicky, Justin. And I'm concerned that you say you don't remember what happened. Do you often have memory lapses?" he asks in an even more demeaning tone, and I decide I'm really not comfortable with this doctor person.

"Where's Brian?" I ask instead.

"Brian who?" he asks back.

"Brian Kinney. He's my . . . He was in the car with me. Is he alright?" I need to get to Brian and away from this person asking me questions.

"I'm sorry, Justin. I don't know anything about this Brian Kinney. I can check on him later for you. But right now, I need you to talk to me some more. Your doctors and your father have both agreed that your behavior is a bit erratic and they've asked me to see if I can help you. So, can you please just answer my question; do you often have lapses in your memories?"

One thing he said sticks in my thoughts - 'your doctors and your father' he said. My father? My father is here? This man is talking to me because my father asked him to? My FATHER? Fuck. I need to get out of here, now!

I try again to get my left arm free, but it won't budge. There is something holding it down. I crane my neck up and I can see that there are leather belts strapped across my chest holding me down. Fuck. I have to get out of here. I have to get away. Why am I tied up here? Where is Brian and why won't they let me talk to him? I have to get free. I can't stay here. My father will find me. I have to get free. 

"Justin, I can see you're getting agitated. I need for you to calm down. You'll hurt your shoulder again if you keep struggling like that. Please, Justin, calm down and relax," the Doctor is saying to me.

I try to be calm. It's difficult because the feel of the leather straps on my arms reminds me of bad things. But if I can stay calm, maybe I can explain and he'll let me see Brian. Brian will help me. Brian will explain to him what I can't say. I have to stay calm till Brian gets here.

"I need Brian. Please. Brian will explain," I tell this doctor. 

And then I remember the paper about the medical decisions. I chose Brian to be my person. He's supposed to make medical decisions for me. The doctor should know about that - why doesn't he know about that paper - I forget what it's called, but didn't Brian tell me that it was filed with all the local hospitals in case I was ever hurt so they'd know to call Brian, not my father?

"I have a paper. It's says you're supposed to call Brian Kinney if I'm hurt," I try telling this doctor. "The hospital is supposed to have it. Please, just call Brian. He's supposed to make my medical decisions. I need Brian."

"Do you mean a Power of Attorney Designation? Hmm? Well, there's nothing in your file about a POA. It says here that the hospital showed no POA on file and had to contact your next of kin, Craig Taylor, for treatment authorization," the doctor says, looking in a book while he speaks.

I'm trying to stay calm. I'm trying the breathing exercises that Brian showed me from Ben's research. Breathing is supposed to keep you calm when you have to face a trigger. That's what all the papers said. It's not working though. I need to get free and get out of here.

"Brian!" I'm yelling now - I can hear myself but I can't stop it. 

"Justin, please try and calm down. Okay? I'll go check again with the records department for any POA you might have. I'll be right back. Just try to stay calm until then."

I wish Brian were here already. I'm trying to stay calm, but its not easy. Where is he? He wouldn't just leave me in a place like this. Would he? He wouldn't. I know he'd be here if he could. 

Shit. Maybe he's too badly hurt to be here. I remember in the Jeep, he was bleeding and he wasn't conscious. I don't remember what happened after that, though. I hope he's okay. What if he's badly hurt? 

"Brian, please don't be hurt. Please. I need you. Brian," I'm sort of chanting it now, a combination of prayer and pleading, directed to whatever person or power or god might be listening. 

"You stupid little faggot perv. What are you doing, crying for your faggot boyfriend to come save you?" I hear a nasty, angry voice say close beside my ear and I open my eyes to see the last person I ever wanted to see again in my life standing next to my hospital bed. "He can't save you now, Justin. He's fighting for his own life right now down in the ER. So, that means you're stuck with me. I hope he dies. You know what I'm going to do to you then? *He he he* I can't wait to show you, faggot. And, when I'm done with you and your pederast boyfriend, I'll show that bitch, your mother, a thing or two as well. How dare you try to get revenge on me. I'll show you what happens to faggots and traitors - just as soon as I get you out of here and back home. Just wait and see Justin. Wait and see.

"Mr. Taylor, there you are. I'm so glad you haven't yet left the hospital," I can hear the doctor's voice saying as he comes back towards my bed. "There's been a question about your son having a Power of Attorney appointing someone to make medical decisions for him. I can't find anything in the hospital's records, though. Do you know if Justin has a POA?"

"Not to my knowledge," my father tells the doctor.

"Oh well. I'll just continue then according to your authorization," the doctor states.

"Please do, doctor. I want you to keep Justin here as long as you need to. You have my full authorization to do whatever you want to do to treat him," my father says, smiling down on me from above. "Bye, Justin. Good luck."

I'm not sure what happens after that. The last thing I remember is my father's sneering face as he walks backwards away from my bed, waving a little mocking goodbye as he leaves.

~~*~~

Brian's POV

~~*~~

Cece hands Justin's chart to PA Sorryass as we all file through the now unlocked doors of the psych ward. 

"He's in room 32C. Which should be this way," PA says turning to the right down one long hallway. "Yes, here we are. Cece, can you unlock this room for us?"

Fuck. It's worse than I thought. They've got him strapped to the bed with leather restraints. His right arm is trussed up in some sling that is restricting his movement on that side, while one leather band goes across his chest and another across his stomach. His left wrist and both ankles are tied to the bed rails with padded leather cuffs. Essentially, the only part of his body that he can move is his head. 

It's completely unnecessary, though. I can tell from the way he's staring blankly at the ceiling that he's not really here at all right now. He's gone, disappeared, the way he only gets in the depths of his worst panic attacks. He couldn't move right now anyways, so what's with the fucking restraints?

"Justin," I moan at the pitiful sight. 

I stand up, ignoring Brown Eyes' objections and almost run across the room to Justin's bed so I can immediately start to remove the restraints. Ted is right behind me and he helps by taking off the ankle cuffs while I'm removing the wrist cuff and large straps. As soon as Justin is free, I get up in the bed with him and gather him into my arms. 

I stay that way for a long time, heedless of the five people staring at us. I don't care. All I can focus on is Justin and somehow getting through to him so he knows I'm here now. But what can I do to help him when he's basically disappeared?

"Hey there, Sunshine," I whisper to him, saying the usual nonsense I always babble when he's like this. "Time to wake up now. I need to get you out of here. You've gotta help me though, Sunshine. You've got to wake up and show me that big sunshiney smile of yours so I know it's all gonna be okay . . .”

After a while of this my audience starts to dissipate. PA Sorryass leaves first with the security guard in tow, saying that she needs to get going on that paperwork. Then Cece takes off to do whatever large heavy tasks her job requires of her. Ted holds out a little longer but I send him home when his yawns threaten to split his face in two. He says he'll go by the loft in the morning and be back with clothing for both of us first thing. 

Brown Eyes finally interrupts saying that it's time for me to return to my room, too. Apparently it's almost time for my doctor to do her rounds and she'll be more than pissed off at Brown Eyes if I'm AWOL when she gets there. He's been great to me all night, pushing my chair wherever I order and helping me out with Cece and PA when he could. I don't want to get him in trouble. But I'm not leaving Justin either.

I concede by starting to get up out of the bed with Justin still in my arms. I'm still not feeling incredibly strong though and I don't want to drop him or fall myself. All I can do is scoot us both to the edge of the bed and then steady Justin while I quickly move into the wheelchair. Then I pull him onto my lap. Thankfully, even after all these weeks of trying to feed him up, he's still thin and small, so both of us together in the chair are still pretty manageable for Brown Eyes. The last thing I do is pull the blanket off the bed and wrap it around Justin to keep him warm. 

"We're ready, Brown Eyes," I inform my driver. "Back to my room, please."

Fifteen minutes later, I'm back in my bed as if I'd never left and Brown Eyes is about to leave. Justin is curled up next to me. I think maybe he's sleeping now - normal sleep finally. Altogether it was a fairly successful rescue mission. 

"Hey, Brown Eyes," I say as he's about to leave. "You were an excellent sidekick tonight. Thanks. I couldn't have saved the princess without you."

"You're welcome, Brian. It was a kick. It was the funnest shift I've had in years. I hope Justin's okay."

"Me too. But without you, he definitely wouldn't be okay, so thanks again." 

Brown Eyes leaves and I finally let myself rest knowing that I have Justin back, finally, and I think he’ll be okay.