Long Way Home

Part 2

The Hospital

Justin

When I came to my senses in the ambulance and looked into Brian's eyes, I had to say I was a little bit surprised. His gaze held not the blank, "forget about it," expression of my post-bashing recovery, but the hesitant, hurt look of a deeply wounded man. The same expression he wore that last time we made love when I first moved to New York.
It hurt me even more to look at him, so I closed my eyes and let my pain and the drugs carry me away.

When I opened my eyes again I was in the hospital. The first person I saw was my mother, looking rumpled and teary as she clutched a wad of tissues to her chest. Despite my raging headache I turned my head slightly to look at the other side of my bed where I was hoping Brian would be perched, and met his gaze. He shrugged minutely as if to apologize. He knew the last person I'd want to deal with right now was my mother. Just as he knew, that I knew there was no way to keep the woman away when she was determined. If you ask Brian he'll tell you it's a trait I inherited from her.

Mom finally looked up from her desolate stare and saw that I was awake. "Oh, Justin." She reached up to stroke my face, but I flinched away. Shit. She quickly pulled her hand back, trying to hide the hurt in her eyes, which looked exactly the same as they did when I came home from the hospital post-bashing. "How…how are you feeling?"

"My leg hurts," I answered flatly. "But I'm fine. I'll be fine."

She shared a meaningful look with my lover. "Do you…" she started and then sighed a little before she started again. "Do you remember what happened to you?"

I hardened myself, because I was not going to be the weak faggot in this scenario. No matter what. "Every fun-filled detail," I replied grimly as I turned my gaze to the ceiling.

"Fuck!" Brian exclaimed as he stood up quickly and moved to gaze out the window, which happened to have a lovely view of the other tower of the hospital. I suppose I should be grateful it was a private room, which I'm sure Brian probably had insisted on.

"Justin…" my mother started again, obviously trying to comfort me, but she trailed off, obviously having no idea what to say to me.

I focused my gaze on the back of Brian's head. "He used a condom," I told them.
Brian's shoulders sagged visibly and I could see him place his face in his hands for a moment before he turned to face me and nodded. "They suspected as much when they did the…the exam, but it wasn't at the scene, so we…we didn't know for sure."

"He did," I reiterated simply. "I guess he took it with him. No evidence to leave behind."

Mom suppressed a whimper and Brian shot her a look. "Jennifer." Her head snapped up and they locked gazes. Mom nodded at him. "I…I should go. I'll let everyone know you're awake."

I felt the panic rise in me. "I can't see them. Not yet."

"I know, honey. Not until your ready." I gave her a small smile and held up my hand. She gratefully gripped it for just a moment as she looked into my eyes. "I love you, honey."

For the first time since I woke up I felt myself starting to break, and I couldn't trust myself to speak so I gave her a small nod and a tiny smile.

When my mom was finally gone, Brian moved back towards my bed, but he stopped short before he got too close. I couldn't bring myself to meet his eyes. "So, you're here, and not out getting fucked up. Dare I hope that you're not riddled with guilt and blaming yourself for this?"

"Justin..." he started, but I held up my hand to stop him.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, Brian, but please not right now, okay? I can't do this now."

"I'm not going anywhere."

I nodded. "I know."

"The police wanted to talk with you when you're able."

This time I did bring myself to meet his gaze. "I know that. That's why I can't do this," I gestured between us, "with you yet." I couldn't help the tears that welled up, but fuck if I would let them fall right now. "I promise that I'll be fucked up six ways to Sunday for you later."

He couldn't help the small smirk. "I look forward to it." A tear escaped down my cheek and Brian stepped closer to me, but still kept his distance. "I'm here, Sunshine, however you need me."

I held up my hand to him like I had done with my mother, and he immediately took it and held on tight. The strong clasp of his warm hand almost undid me completely, and all I wanted to do was fall into his embrace, screaming and sobbing about the unfairness of all of this, but the doctor took that moment to come in. He explained the extent of my injuries to me, and then after, it was time to make my statement to the police. Wonderful. Brian held fast to my hand the whole time.
 

* * *

Brian

Justin listened carefully to the doctor as he described all his injuries, only showing emotion by clenching his jaw and squeezing my hand hard when Dr. Townsend got to the part about the small tear in his rectum. The most important thing was that his wounds would heal, and the attacker had apparently worn a condom. The doctor had already guessed that this was the case due to the lack of semen in Justin's rectum, but it was a huge relief to hear it from Justin himself.

He was so strong through all of it, really. The police came in and immediately asked me, the evil faggot boyfriend, to leave, but Justin was having none of that. The first words out of his mouth were, "It wasn't him." I won't pretend I wasn't just a little smug about the slightly disappointed looks on their faces.

Carl had been to the hospital earlier, before Justin had woken up, and explained that he would certainly be helping with the case, but that it might be better for Justin to tell his story to strangers. I wasn't so sure, but I trusted his judgment, and by the time Justin was done, I understood what he meant.

I almost wished he had let the cops kick me out, because, God, when I heard that Justin's attacker had actually used my name, had called Justin my whore, it sent ice through my veins. This guy knows me. He knows Justin, and he knows enough about us to be able to hurt us. It took all my concentration not to crush Justin's hand as I listened.

Justin began to sweat, and I could tell the pain was starting to take over. I think the cops could tell too, and they quickly took their leave, promising to let us know if they got any leads. Unfortunately, Justin never got a look at his attacker's face, so I wasn't terribly hopeful that the rapist would ever be caught, but I would never voice that out loud.

I called a nurse, who took Justin's vitals and got him some more meds for the pain. Christ, he was being strong. It seemed there was literally no end to his strength. Oh, I knew he'd make good on his promise to fall apart later. I'd seen that side of him quite a few times as well, and right now I'd almost welcome it. This robot, pod Justin was a little unnerving, but at the same time I was really fucking proud of him.

Jennifer poked her head back in, and I felt Justin tense beside me. "Honey, I'm going to go home and get some rest." She had been there ever since I called her at midnight, which was when we arrived at the hospital. It was about ten in the morning now, so I knew she must be exhausted. "I made everyone else go home too. They're happy that you're going to be all right and they all send their love."

"Thanks, mom," Justin said around a yawn. The drugs really were kicking in now.

She used his slightly groggy state to lean in and kiss his forehead; a gesture I knew was more for herself than him. She leaned in and kissed my cheek as well. "You get some rest, too," she whispered to me even as she stood up and exited the room.

I nodded, gesturing my head toward the narrow window seat that would be my bed until we got out of this place, and realized exactly how bone deep tired I really was. Justin's comment about him being fucked up six ways to Sunday was going to apply to me very soon too, if I didn't get some sleep. I just hoped we both didn't lose it at the same time.

Justin's IV alarm went off and a nurse came back in to change the bag. "I think they'll let him go home tomorrow or maybe the day after."

Justin's eyes flew open and, though they were glazed over, there was no mistaking the panic there. "Go home?"

"Shh," I grabbed his hand again. "Don't worry about it. We don't have to go to the loft. I can take you back home to New York." Where you'll be safer. I kept that thought to myself.

I wouldn't have thought that, when he left for the city eighteen months ago to make his mark on the art world. I was so fucking worried about him being alone there that I think I made it two whole days before I broke down and called him. Fuck the brave speech I made about it only being 'time'. I missed him all the fucking time, and I worried about him all the time. Since that first call we spoke everyday, and tried to see each other at least once a month, usually more.

Usually I longed to have him home in Pittsburgh, but now I couldn't wait to ship his ass back to New York. Where this rapist wasn't.

"Hmm, I don't have my apartment in New York, anymore." His lids drooped down again. "I let it go. I was coming home to stay this time…to be with you."

He passed out, and the nurse left quietly, leaving me suddenly feeling very out of control of everything in my life. I hate that.

 

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