Chapter 4 - The Hospital.

"I'm telling you Carl, something's happened to Justin. No one’s seen him or heard from him since last night, his apartment was unlocked, he left his art stuff a mess and there was bl-blood . . . " even saying the word out loud caused Brian's sense of panic to rise again, making the usually self-assured man stutter uncharacteristically.

"How much blood?" Carl asked, his voice and gruff manner betraying how weary the older detective was, even through the phone lines.

"Wh-what do you mean, 'how much'?"

"What I mean is - and I'm sorry but I'm too exhausted to think of a tactful way to say this right now - was there so much blood that it looks like he was murdered?" Carl asked bluntly.

"Fuck," Brian closed his eyes briefly and swallowed reflexively as the word 'murdered' caused bile to rise up in his throat. "I guess . . . Uh . . . No, there wasn't that much blood, but I still think . . ."

"I'm sorry, Brian," Carl interrupted before he could get anything else out. "Pretty much every available detective in the precinct has been pulled in to work on the bombing at your club. Two more of the injured died last night at the hospital - that brings the body count up to six. I haven't even made it home yet. I simply don't have the time or the manpower to go looking for missing boyfriends right now. So, unless Justin's been murdered, I can't help you."

"Fine. I'll find him myself," Brian growled into the phone before hitting the button to disconnect the call.

Brian scanned Justin's empty apartment again from where he was still standing next to the bloodstained support beam. He knew that something was wrong. Justin wasn't just off running some errand or taking a walk. His gut was telling him that Justin was in trouble. He knew that the police weren't going to be able to help. Brian was going to have to search for Justin on his own.

"If only I knew where to start looking, Sunshine," Brian mumbled in futile complaint.

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Hobbs stood looking down at the injured man who was still lying on the floor of the Cage. The scowling man kicked at the unconscious form a little. Justin's eyelids fluttered and he moaned, but otherwise he was unresponsive. Hobbs noted casually that his captive had moved a bit from the position he'd left him in this morning, so Taylor had to have been awake for at least a little while during the day, but the water bottle was untouched.

He tossed the greasy paper bag he'd been holding onto the floor next to the prostrate form and then exited and relocked the wire mesh door. Hobbs piled a couple of boxes up as a makeshift table and set his own bag of greasy fast-food take-out on top before pulling the old folding chair out from behind the door and making himself comfortable. He took the lumpy, squashed burger out of the bag and started to eat while he contemplated the defenseless man lying nearby.

It felt good to have Taylor at his mercy. Finally. He felt powerful and in charge. It had been a long time since Hobbs felt this much in control and he liked it. If only the little faggot would wake up, it would be perfect. He looked forward to making the man grovel at his feet and beg in utter humiliation. He’d been looking forward to this day for so long. Let’s see how Taylor liked kneeling at HIS feet and begging for HIS forgiveness.

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Remembering back to that cold night, more than a year ago, when their positions had been reversed, made Hobbs cringe. He hated remembering that night. The night that Taylor had ambushed him at his home, held a gun on him and humiliated him in front of one of Taylor's fairy buddies.

The funny thing was that prior to that night, Hobbs had almost forgiven Taylor. He thought he was starting to move on and wasn’t feeling quite as bitter. Granted, he’d missed out on the college scholarship, but now he had a good job as the assistant site manager at a high rise construction job downtown and he was making good money. He’d just bought a new truck, he was dating a hot chick, Sara, that he’d met through a mutual friend and life seemed okay. He’d even been planning on taking Sara out to meet his folks that weekend. He hoped that his Dad would finally be impressed. Maybe after seeing his son with the shapely, blonde bombshell, his dad would quit riding his ass for a while.

It was quite the surprise when Taylor and the other guy had turned up at the job site the day before. He honestly didn’t even recognize Taylor at first - his mind had been on other, more pleasant things, not his hated old high school nemesis. When he did finally put a name to the slight young man with the shaved head standing with gaping mouth in front of him, he’d laughed. Taylor was tongue-tied and clearly still frightened of him. Out of habit, more than anything, he’d taunted the little fairy and laughed even more when Taylor had run away. But Hobbs really hadn’t thought anything more about the man after Taylor had left. He’d gone out with his friends for a few beers that night, called Sara and spent time thinking about his plans for the weekend.

Everything had changed the next night when a new, improved and much more aggressive Taylor had shown up at his home.

He could still remember the feel of the gun's oily steel barrel being shoved into his mouth as Taylor loomed above him. He’d been so fucking scared. Taylor had forced him to get down on his knees and grovel. He’d been forced to apologize for things he blamed on Taylor. Meanwhile, the other guy was standing in the background urging Taylor on and daring him to pull the trigger. Hobbs could sense Taylor’s index finger start to contract at one point and he just knew he was about to die. Hobbs had been so terrified that he actually shit his pants.

Then, that fucking, condescending asswipe, Taylor, had just walked away. The fucker had totally humiliated him and then, with a superior look on his snide little puss, he’d walked away, while the other idiot was yelling at Taylor to come back and finish the job. Hobbs was so demeaned and ashamed - his muscles were shaking and he could barely get up and walk away even after Taylor had left - that all he did after he got in his house was crumple in a little ball and cry like a fucking baby for hours afterwards.

Hobbs had hid in his house the rest of the night and all the next day, afraid that Taylor would change his mind and come back to kill him. He was too humiliated to tell anyone else what had happened and he was too anxious to even go outside. He’d missed work the next day and hadn’t even had the strength to get up and call in sick.

But, the worst part wasn’t the fear. It was the degradation and the feelings of powerlessness that he just couldn’t shake, that caused the most damage. Taylor had already taken away his dreams of football and college. Now Taylor had taken away his sense of control over the rest of his life. Hobbs felt hopeless and depressed. It seemed that meeting Taylor had repercussions that he would never escape.

When he didn’t shown for work on the third day, his boss called and left him a message saying he was fired. By that point, Hobbs really didn’t care. Unfortunately, the owner of the company happened to be a friend of his dad’s. The following day, Dad had shown up at his house demanding to know why his son was such a total fuck up that he’d thrown away a perfectly good job. Hobbs had spent the better part of the next hour being yelled at by his unappreciative father and told that he needed to get his act together, that he’d fucked up for the last time and that the family wasn’t going to bail him out again. He hadn’t even bothered to try to explain to his father what had happened. He’d already been told after the trial that his Dad didn’t ever want to hear anything more about Taylor.

At the end of the tirade, Hobbs looked up at his father’s angry, red face and all he could do was laugh at the ridiculous and hopeless situation. His father didn’t really take being laughed at very well. Dad had stormed out after telling Hobbs not to bother coming around the house until he’d straightened himself out. Hobbs just couldn’t stop laughing though, cackling uncontrollably like a lunatic until long after his father’s car had driven out of sight.

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Now, however, he finally had a chance to turn the tables on Taylor. He was the one in control now. He was the one with the power while Taylor was locked in a metal cage, completely at Hobbs’ mercy. But Hobbs wasn’t going to waste his time with idle threats. Taylor had stripped him of his friends, his family and his self-respect. Now he was going to do the same in return.

Hobbs wadded up the empty fast food wrappings and tossed the refuse into the far corner of the room. Time to get on to business. He pulled Taylor’s cell phone out of his pocket and pushed the button to relisten to the voicemail message that had come in last night while he was still in the taxi with Taylor on their way here.

“Hey, baby. It’s Emmett. Just checking in to see if you’re okay. I’m still here at the hospital with the gang waiting to hear about Michael. They took him into surgery about an hour ago and there’s still no word. I’ll let you know as soon as we hear anything. Call me and let me know you’re alright. Bye!”

Michael. Right, that was the name of the one who was hurt in the bombing last night. Hobbs thought that was as good a place to start as any. He knew where this Michael would be and that the man would be in no shape to fight back. Michael would be the first of Taylor’s friends to be removed.

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Emmett was just getting ready to head back to Deb’s house. He’d been at the hospital all last night before finally breaking down and allowing Ted to drive him home at dawn. He was scared for his friend and didn’t know how to handle the anxiety that was overwhelming him. If it hadn’t been for Drew, he’d probably still be huddled on the couch watching old movies and eating ice cream out of the carton. But, after a lot of persuasion, his sweetie had talked him into coming back to the hospital once they’d heard that Michael was awake and doing better.

Just as he was gathering his coat and scarf from the table in the waiting room, he felt his phone vibrate and pulled it out of his jeans to see who was trying to reach him. There was a new text message from Justin. ‘How’s Michael?’

Emmett started to type as he walked towards the elevator where Drew was waiting for him, answering the text from his friend. ‘He’s going 2 B ok! He’s moved up to Rm 542. Call me, Baby!’

Neither Emmett nor Drew saw the tall, dark blond man standing, partially hidden by the vending machines near the rear exit of the hospital, as they got off the elevator and headed for the door. Emmett pushed the ‘send’ button to dispatch the text to Justin as soon as the elevator doors opened and he got a clear signal on his phone. Drew held the exit door for his lover, ushering the ebullient man out the door towards the parking lot as Emmett burbled on about how relieved he was that Michael was doing better, that they really should stop by and see Justin on the way home, that they should think about stopping by the apartment to get fresh clothes for Ben later, etc. Drew didn’t say much but he smiled at his man as the two walked away arm in arm.

As soon as they were out of sight, the lurking blond man shuffled out from his hiding spot and headed for the elevator. He double checked the text message on the phone in his hand and smirked. As he got into the elevator along with a doctor wearing light blue scrubs, the other man asked him politely what floor he wanted.

“Fifth floor, please,” Hobbs responded with a simpering smile, leaning back against the rear wall, trying to act casual.

Hobbs spent a moment reading the directory signs on the wall across from the elevator as soon as he reached the fifth floor. Once he’d oriented himself, he headed down the corridor towards room 542. There was a large waiting area with comfortably padded benches just down the hallway from the room he wanted. It was mostly deserted at the moment, fortunately, with only one elderly couple sitting together quietly in the far corner. Hobbs seated himself at the end of the row where he could just see the doorways to the rooms on the south side of the building if he leaned out from his seat a little. He picked up a nearby magazine and settled in to watch and wait.

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Brian had wasted nearly an hour calling everyone he knew, asking if anyone had seen Justin. He’d talked to several people and left messages on several more voicemails but so far he’d had no luck. No one had any idea where Justin was. Nobody had even talked to the man since last night. Brian was getting more and more uncomfortable and worried with every call. He was just about to give up and head out of Justin’s apartment, thinking he’d simply drive around town and see if he could find his missing twink that way, when his phone rang. He was disappointed to note from the caller ID that it was only Emmett.

“Hey, Brian. You rang?” Emmett drawled out in his campiest southern belle voice.

“Em, have you seen Justin?” Brian asked, getting straight to the point, too worried to deal with small talk.

“No, I haven’t, Honey. Not since last night. But I did just get a text from him. He wanted to know how Michael was doing,” Emmett answered informatively.

“You did?” Brian asked incredulously. “Did he say where he was at? Was he going to the hospital?”

“He didn’t say - he only texted, Sweetie. I never actually talked to him . . .” Emmett was still talking when Brian hung up on him.

Brian was typing on his phone within seconds. ‘J, Where RU? Call me ASAP! B’. He sent the text and paced anxiously while he waited for a reply. Ten minutes later he still hadn’t received any response. He’d been holding his phone while he paced back and forth, his eyes almost glued to the display screen. He was so fed up that he growled and was about to throw his useless phone against the nearest wall, when he had an epiphany and slowly lowered his throwing arm.

“Fuck. Why didn’t I think of that in the first place,” Brian berated himself as he scrolled down the screen looking for the software application he wanted.

He and Justin had gotten these phones last year, just before the blond had taken off for his stint as a big shot Hollywood Creative Consultant. On top of buying the insurance and loading the phones with all the other bells and whistles he could think of at the time, Brian had signed them both up for a lost phone tracking service. Neither of them had ever had to use the app for a lost phone, but he had used the service several times when he’d been missing his Sunshine out in L.A. He’d surreptitiously tracked Justin’s whereabouts all the time when he was living the wild life in the City of Angels, feeling like he was still connected to the missing twink as long as he knew precisely where the little twat was. All he had to do was punch one little button on his phone and it would instantly pull up a GPS map that would tell him exactly where Justin was at any given moment.

The app took only moments to activate. Brian stared at the screen with joy. The colorful map of downtown Pittsburgh with the pinpoint locator arrow clearly showed that Justin’s phone, and therefore presumably Justin, was now at Allegheny General Hospital.

Brian ran for the door, wrenching it open and tearing down the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him, headed for the hospital and his errant boyfriend.

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