Assignment - Part 12:
Lessons Learned
Brian parked his black Jeep, which he only drove when it snowed, in the parking garage of the hospital. Climbing out of the car, he walked toward the elevators, his step unsure and hesitant.
This wasn’t the first time he had come to visit Justin since his rescue four days before. But every time Brian walked the route from the garage to the elevator and then from the elevator down the hall toward Justin’s room, it only became harder. The first time he saw Justin, the injured man had only just woken up. The drugs that he was administered kept him pretty out of it and Brian simply sat by his side, watching Justin sleep. That was the easy part.
The hard part came the next day when Justin was fully awake and it became obvious that he remembered each and every detail of his two day stay at Kissilyev’s mansion, filled with beatings and various types of torture. And every time he’d look over at Justin, the blond’s right side of the face completely swollen, Brian found himself speechless. Anything that came to mind, any words at all sounded stupid and pointless.
Yet, Brian still felt compelled to come and see his lover, to make sure that Justin was alright now, that he was safe.
Getting out of the elevator, Brian made his way down the hall. He stopped cold in his tracks in the entrance to Justin’s room, realizing that the blond was not there. In fact, the bed had been made and none of the well-wishing cards and flowers that Daphne brought him were on the nightstand.
Brian practically sprinted toward the nurses’ station.
“I’m looking for a patient. Justin Taylor,” he said to the nurse behind the counter.
She looked at him and smiled. “Agent Taylor checked out today.”
Brian had to repeat to himself what she had just said, wondering if he had heard her right. “What do you mean, he checked out?”
“Agent Kinney,” he heard behind him.
Turning around, Brian came face to face with Justin’s doctor. “Where’s Justin,” Brian simply demanded, not bothering with pleasantries.
“He checked himself out earlier this morning,” Dr. Kauffman said.
“How could he just check himself out?”
“I advised against it, but Agent Taylor insisted. He signed the papers and everything.”
“How could you just let him go?” Brian still couldn’t get his mind around this latest piece of news.
“This isn’t a jail, Agent Kinney,” the doctor responded. “If you wanted that, you should have checked him in one floor up.”
Brian scowled at the other man, but the doctor either was used to such outrages or simply couldn’t care less.
Realizing that he had only one option, Brian quickly made his way back to the elevator.
~~~***~~~***~~~
Twenty minutes later he pulled into the driveway of Justin’s townhouse. Justin’s Porsche was sitting outside. Turning off the ignition, Brian got out of the Jeep and walked toward the front door. Ringing the doorbell, he waited.
Half a minute later, Justin opened the door.
The two of them stood still for a few seconds – with Justin surprised to see Brian on the other side of the door and Brian trying to adjust to seeing Justin out of the hospital gown once again.
“Hey,” Justin finally said. Leaving the door open, he climbed the stairs up to the second floor.
Brian took that as his invitation to come in. Closing the door behind him, he followed Justin into the kitchen.
At first sight, the scene in front of Brian’s eyes wouldn’t surprise many people. There were bags with groceries lying on the kitchen counter and it appeared that Justin was putting the new purchases away. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except for one thing – Justin’s face was covered with bruises and cuts, as well as both of his arms, and his left wrist was wrapped in a brace.
“Doing a little shopping?” Brian asked, in disbelief at what he was seeing.
“Yeah, I’ve been away for a week. Everything I had went bad already.”
Justin’s casual response only irked Brian more.
“Shouldn’t you be taking it easy?” he offered, barely containing his real emotions inside.
Justin looked up, offering him a smile. “I’m fine.” He opened the fridge, putting a new carton of milk inside.
Brian took a step closer and closed the door of the fridge, finally getting Justin’s attention. “You don’t look fine.”
“Oh, gee, thanks,” Justin replied sarcastically. “You know how to make a guy feel special.” He turned away and walked over to the opposite side of the kitchen, leaning on the kitchen counter.
“You should be in a hospital,” Brian said.
“What for? So that they can poke and prod me only to tell me the exact same thing I already know? I’m not dying, there’s nothing seriously wrong with me, no fatal injuries or anything like that.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t need to be lying in a hospital bed staring up at the white ceiling all fucking day long.”
Brian was still not deterred. He knew first hand how hard it was for men like he and Justin to feel helpless or ask someone else for help. But the fact remained, that Justin needed it. “You’re hurt,” he pointed out.
“I told you I’m fine,” Justin replied, a little too harshly for Brian’s liking. “I can take care of myself. I can do my own grocery shopping and get out of bed. I can even fuck.” He smiled at Brian, although the smile was more like a challenge than an honest emotion.
He closed the gap between him and Brian, stopping only when their bodies touched.
“What do you say?” Justin leaned his body against Brian’s. “Are you up for it?”
Despite himself, Brian felt his cock stir in his pants. Of course, this was not one of those times when he’d let his dick rule his life. He pressed the palm of his hand against Justin’s chest and carefully pushed the smaller man away. “Don’t.”
He tried to turn away, but Justin pressed him against the edge of the counter, leaning his face close to Brian’s.
“Come on, you know you want to.” His voice was so low, it was almost a whisper. “Fuck me so hard, I cry out in pain.” Justin’s hand slid down to cup the front of Brian’s pants. “You want to hurt me, admit it. You want to hear me scream.”
Brian swallowed hard as he once again pushed Justin away, this time increasing the distance between them.
Justin sneered at him. “Get the fuck out.” Even though the words were cruel, there was no harshness in the blond’s voice. It simply sounded tired. “I don’t need your fucking pity.”
Justin turned away, returning to putting his groceries away and Brian had nothing else left to do but leave.
~~~***~~~***~~~
“You want to tell me why you’re here, Justin?”
The blond turned to the woman sitting across from him. He wanted to tell her how ridiculous this whole idea was, but this was something that he had no choice over.
“It’s the policy of the Agency that all agents that had been kept captive and tortured go through a psych eval,” he repeated to her what Lindsay had told him two days before. It had now been a week since he had gotten out of the hospital and they made him come in and speak with the agency’s therapist.
“Is that the only reason you’re here? Because it’s the Agency’s policy?”
“Why else would I be here?”
“You’ve gone through a very traumatic experience. Being tortured, believing that you could die at any moment. Not a lot of people can deal with these issues on their own,” she said.
Justin turned his gaze back toward the window, focusing his eyes on the large grey clouds slowly moving across the sky. Whoever came up with the idea that talking about things actually helped was a fucking moron. Words didn’t fix anything. They didn’t change what happened, couldn’t change what he had gone through. That was what he wanted to tell her. Instead, he kept silent, knowing full well that without her approval, he would not be able to return to active duty.
“I’m fine,” he said once again, returning his gaze to her.
~~~***~~~***~~~
Brian walked out of the building intent on getting a cab and going home. He was at the Liberty Diner eating breakfast when he got called in and Ben offered to give him a ride, since the streets were still sleek.
He, however, quickly forgot about the cab when he spotted Justin heading toward the visitor’s parking behind the Federal building.
Picking up his pace, Brian followed Justin. He hadn’t spoken to the man since that day in Justin’s townhouse – the guilt and a complete feeling of helplessness overwhelming him and keeping him away. But now that Justin was here, Brian felt the need to see how his lover was doing.
“Justin,” he called as he followed the blond into the alley – a shortcut that led directly to the outside parking lot.
Justin stopped and turned around, waiting with an emotionless expression on his face as Brian quickly made up the distance between them.
“What are you doing here?” Brian asked when he was close.
Justin shrugged. “They had me see a shrink. You know, procedure and all that.”
Brian nodded. Even though he himself did not believe in the power of talking, he felt oddly relieved that Justin was forced into dealing with what had happened. Because what he had seen that day in Justin’s kitchen, proved to him that it was a little more complicated than taking a pain medication.
“How are you?” Brian dared to ask. Justin still had a nasty gash above his right eye and even though the bruises had begun to fade, they were still very visible against Justin’s pale skin.
“Fine,” came Justin’s predictable response.
At some point in time, Brian would have been amused by how much Justin was like him – just as stubborn and independent as he was. But at the moment, Brian wanted to shake the man in front of him in hopes of getting the real Justin out of the shell that he was seeing before him.
“Enjoying my time off,” Justin said, smiling for the added effect.
“Oh, yeah?” Brian smiled back, going along with the act the blond was putting on.
“Catching up on my reading and drawing and…”
The rest of the sentence had been lost in the havoc that suddenly surrounded Brian and it took the brunet a few seconds to process what the hell was going on in front of his eyes. Justin had a homeless man pressed against the wall of the building with one hand while the other one had a loaded gun pointed at the old man’s head.
“Who are you?” Justin demanded loudly. “Answer me, who the fuck sent you?”
Brian’s shock was only intensified by the stranger’s look of complete terror as Justin pressed the gun right against his forehead.
“Justin,” Brian called, cautiously moving closer. The other agent didn’t seem to hear him, or even know that he was there. “Justin,” Brian tried again, louder this time.
Brian watched in relief as Justin loosened his grip on the homeless man’s neck, slowly moving backwards away from him.
Even from where he was standing, he could see that Justin was shaking. He made an attempt to move closer to him, but Justin bolted, running down the alley and away from Brian.
With Justin out of his sight, Brian turned his attention to the other trembling man crouched on the ground, scared for his life. Not that Brian could blame him. The brunet pulled out his wallet and grabbed a couple of twenty-dollar bills.
“Here,” he said softly, careful not to scare the man more than he already had been. The homeless man looked up at him, taking a moment to consider taking the money. Brian moved his hand closer, silently letting the man know that it was ok.
While Brian knew there was a risk that the man would go running his mouth off about some crazy man with a gun, there was little risk that anybody would believe him. So, after handing the man the money, he walked back onto the main street in search of a cab.
He wasn’t, however, going to pick up his bike. He had to find Justin. To make sure he was ok. Finally, getting in the cab, he gave the driver Justin’s address. While he realized that the blond could have been anywhere in the city, that was the only place he knew to look.
~~~***~~~***~~~
When the cab pulled over in front of Justin’s townhouse, Brian paid the guy and got out of the car. His instincts were correct. The black Porsche was parked outside, which meant that Justin was home.
Brian climbed the steps up to the front door. He was about to ring the doorbell when he realized that the door was open. Instinctively, he put his one hand on his gun while slowly pushing the door open. He stepped inside the dark house. Deciding to check upstairs first, Brian began climbing the steps, coming to a complete stop when his eyes fell on a slim form of his lover – sitting in the corner of the living room, legs pulled up to his chest, gun gripped tightly with both hands and pointed straight ahead as if he could see something there, something attacking him.
Brian moved as slowly and as carefully as possible, making sure not to startle the other man and get a bullet or two in his chest in the process.
“Justin,” he said, his voice very quiet. “Justin, it’s me.” He moved to the side, out of the immediate line of fire. “Justin,” he said again, slowly kneeling beside the blond. He could feel Justin’s whole body shaking violently, his breathing ragged.
“Justin,” he whispered, moving closer yet and slowly raising his hand toward the gun. “Give me the gun, Justin. Come on, give me the gun.”
Brian’s long fingers covered Justin’s smaller ones. He felt Justin take a deep breath in and let go of the gun. Quickly, grabbing the handle, Brian tossed it to the side, away from both of them. He then turned his attention back to his lover, shocked to see a tear roll down Justin’s beautiful, but battered face.
“Shhh, it’s ok,” Brian said softly, wrapping his arm around Justin’s shoulders and pulling the man closer. “It’s ok,” he said again, running his fingers through the light, silky strands. “It’s over now.”
Justin’s body was rocked by loud sobs, but Brian only held him closer, a part of him relieved that Justin was finally dealing with what had happened.
~~~***~~~***~~
Justin stared as the clouds floated slowly and aimlessly across the sky, going wherever the wind would direct them, just following the laws of science.
“Justin?”
He turned his gaze to the woman sitting across from him.
“Can you tell me what you were just thinking about?” the doctor asked.
He wished he could have told her that he felt better after his little breakdown. That somehow it made it easier – dealing with what had happened, with the nightmares and anxiety he lived with every day of his life. But it wasn’t.
“The first thing they teach you when you get to the Farm – really the first two things – is don’t get caught and don’t trust anybody.” His gaze dropped down to his hands that were clasped and resting in his lap.
“You break the rules, you get hurt. That’s just inevitable.”
“Is that what you think? That what happened was because you broke the rules?” the therapist asked. “That somehow it was your fault?”
Justin looked up, meeting her eyes. “I trusted someone. I trusted the man who I thought was my friend. And because of that I got caught.”
“We need to trust, Justin. It’s a part of being a human being – the need to belong, to connect with another person, to form ties, relationships, friendships.”
Justin shook his head. “Not in my world. I learned my lesson well.”
“What did you learn?”
The man turned his gaze toward the window, watching the clouds once again. “Don’t trust anybody.”
Go to Part 13