Daniel watched unnoticed from the door. He could see his mom hold her son’s hand, blinking steadily as she catalogued every single scratch and mark and bruise. The cuts on his chest were bandaged, but every other injury was open to the world, for Sue to touch gently, tears on her face and her hands trembling. Don had taken Megan to the restaurant for coffees, and that left Mark, hunched on a chair next to his brother. They talked softly, their voices filled with disbelief, and Daniel stood and listened quietly at the door. Waiting for the conversation to turn to him.
"Maybe Daniel knows something?" Mark finally ventured, wringing his hands, his voice low and gravely.
"What? He was at home; he wasn’t there?"
"Maybe, 'cause of… you know… how he is… Maybe he has been threatened, and Jamie stepped in. He would do that; he would protect Daniel."
"Yes, he would. Maybe that is what happened." Sue appeared thoughtful.
Daniel didn’t want to break the illusion. He knew Jamie would have protected him, but he had to say what he knew.
"No one threatened me," Daniel said quietly, moving fully into the room. "No one knew. Only you and Steve. I hadn’t said anything to anyone."
Sue jumped up, gathering Daniel into her arms. "Daniel, are you okay?"
"M’fine." He crossed to Jamie, his hands clenching and unclenching in a frustrated rhythm, wanting to shut his eyes, not wanting to see, but refusing to close them. He deserved to see this, to see how Jamie had been hurt.
It was so wrong. Jamie never stayed still this long. Even in sleep he moved, his long limbs taking up the bed, tangling sheets, but this stillness was awful.
He had to do something, see something. He focused on Jamie’s face where bruises were starting to form around the cuts and abrasions, evil marks. They wanted to stop him. He sensed Mark moving. He heard Sue’s intake of breath, but he held up one hand as he lifted at the corner of the taped bandage, pulling the tape back to reveal the deep cuts under it, orange with antiseptic, the word raw and jagged, letters not even formed properly, red against Jamie’s pale, pink skin.
"Will it scar?" Daniel said softly.
"The doctor said it was unlikely it would scar as recognizable letters if it was looked after."
"But it will scar?" Daniel persisted, determined to hear the worst, determined to accept full blame for the worst.
"It may, yes." Sue moved to stand next to him, pulling his hand gently away from Jamie, pushing the bandage back in place, and holding Daniel’s hand in hers. "Sit down, Daniel. He’ll be awake soon, and he will want to see you here."
He won't; it’s my fault.
It took Jamie another eight hours before he finally came round. The specialist in charge of his care had been just on the edge of worried and was talking solutions like keeping Jamie in an artificial coma to give his head time to heal and offering possible scenarios if he didn’t wake up. Added to that was the conversation he’d overheard between the two officers outside of Jamie’s room, talking softly about manslaughter, murder, if Jamie didn’t wake up.
Jamie was going to wake up; Daniel wouldn’t leave his side until he did. He didn’t repeat the conversation to Sue or to Don. He just spent time trying to understand why he wasn’t thinking of them as Mom and Dad but as Sue and Don as they stood next to Jamie watching him slowly die.
It was nearly morning, dawn creeping into the room, when Jamie’s first words split the silence. "Mom, Dad…"
There was a flurry of movement, the family banished from the room for a few moments before the doctor declared that Jamie was “holding his own”.
"I don’t remember. I didn’t see anything," Jamie said to anyone that asked.
* * * * *
Before
"I’ve got something I need help with, Dan."
Daniel looked up from his biology homework, his eyes unfocused, blinking at the light falling from the hallway.
"Yeah?"
"Can you talk?"
"Uh-huh."
Jamie came into the room fully, pushing the door shut behind him.
"Is it one of those 'is it appropriate to wank in the shower' talks or a 'how far shall I go with Liz—Anna—Jane' talks?"
"No."
"What’s up?" Daniel turned away from his homework.
"I’ve been thinking…" Jamie started, kind of nervously.
"Never a good thing." Daniel snorted.
"I’m sixteen, right?"
"Is that a trick question?" Daniel laughed, stretching back in his chair, that thin strip of skin between jeans and T-shirt flashing at Jamie. Jamie coughed, tearing his eyes away from his favorite view and floundered on into what he really wanted to discuss. His kind of weird attraction to his brother would just have to wait for another day.
"So yeah, sixteen, and a sure thing for basketball captain, yeah? Scouts have already talked to Dad from two colleges. I’m cool with a scholarship I think."
"Yeah, that’s good," Nothing Daniel didn’t already know. Jamie had been approached for his skill in basketball as Daniel was for his proficiency in music. Talent put both their names on people’s lists.
"No, it’s not good," Jamie said, sighing and slumping onto Daniel’s bed.
"Okaaaaay… and a scholarship to a good college is a bad thing how?"
"What if it isn’t what I wanna do?"
"Basketball is your life Jamie."
"No, not really. It’s my skill; I’m tall."
"Freak."
"Shortass… anyway, I’m tall, and I’m good at basketball, but it isn’t what I wanna do."
"So umm… what do you wanna do?"
"Act, become an actor, or maybe a drama teacher, I dunno."
"Jamie, is this 'cause of your crush on Mrs. Monroe? You do know she is married, yeah?"
"Daniel, no, I just… fuck, I don’t know… but I need help."
"Medical help?"
"Ass, help to tell Mom and Dad."
"No.”
"Seriously, dude, if you just cry or something…"
"I am not going to cry."
"Well, look supportive then?"
"I could do that I suppose."
"You suppose?"
"I’d need some kind of motivation."
"The undying respect of your brother?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of exclusive use on the PS."
"Shit, you’re just going to practice level twenty-six so you can steal my high score."
"Deal or no deal."
"Shit."
* * * * *
Now
Jamie was aware of the people who had been in the room; he knew Mrs. Monroe had been in, her eyes suspiciously wet, her hands resting on his arm as if she needed physical contact to reassure herself that he was alive.
His mom and dad were a constant, and he knew Megan and Mark came in when they could, or more likely when they were allowed to. It was Daniel that was suspiciously absent. Daniel did visit. He visited with Mom, with Dad, with Mark and Meg, just never on his own, and the frustration of not being able to talk to Daniel alone was driving him insane. Today, the doctor had cleared him for going home the next day. He had been in hospital for four days, and not once in the time he had been conscious had Daniel mentioned anything about anything to do with the assault or their new feelings.
Tomorrow he would be going home, and it seemed as soon as Daniel heard this news, the tension in the room ramped even higher. It was just Daniel and Mom, and damn it, he needed to talk to Daniel. When they went to leave, Jamie asked Daniel to stay back a while. His mom frowned, her eyes flicking from Jamie’s bruised face to Daniel’s half-lidded eyes and back again.
"I’ll meet you at home, Daniel," she said gently, dropping a small kiss on Jamie’s head and promising to be there at ten a.m. on the dot for his release in the morning. She left, hesitating briefly outside the door. Evidently she was weighing up wanting to respect the privacy of her boys against wanting to unashamedly eavesdrop. She decided against listening and moved off down the stairs to the exit.
* * * * *
"Jamie," Daniel said softly, "I’m sorry you got hurt" was all he could say, was all he wanted to say, as he began to back away to the door, almost reaching it, Jamie watching his every move. Jamie pulled back the covers, wincing at the pull in injured muscles, swinging, as much as he was able, his feet to the floor.
"What’re you doin’, Jamie?" Daniel said nervously, watching as Jamie grimaced in pain at every movement he was making.
"Followin’ you. If you’re leaving, I’m following ’til we talk," Jamie managed to say, his voice gravely and low, his larynx still swollen and bruised.
"Jamie, please." Daniel could hear himself begging.
"M’not jokin’, Dan." Jamie started to push himself up off the bed with his good hand, and it was all Daniel could do not to scream for a nurse.
He made a move toward Jamie, his hand out. "Jamie, no, I’ll stay, okay? I’ll stay and talk. Just, for God’s sake, get back into bed." At his final word, he was at Jamie’s side, helping him in, feeling the tension in Jamie’s rigid form. When he had finally got his brother’s gangly frame settled, he heaved a sigh of resignation. He had been trying to put this conversation off for days. It was going to be hard, but it needed to be done.
"Where is your head at?" Jamie asked suddenly. "Why won't you look at me, talk to me?"
Oh God. So Jamie leaps in with the really difficult question to start. "In a bad place, Jamie. You know as well as I do this was somehow attached to me, to us."
"No one knew about us," Jamie said softly
"Except Steve," Daniel blurted out.
Jamie smiled and shook his head. "Steve wouldn’t say anything. He kind of knew anyway, about how I felt, and what he knew certainly wouldn’t provoke him to assault me."
"I know but—"
"Dan, who doesn’t matter. If you think about it, why doesn’t matter either. All that matters is that we deal with this and move on."
"How? How do we move on when those… whoever hurt you… when they did it for that reason? How could I ever think that being honest would ever be the right thing to do?"
"Please don’t, Daniel."
"Please don’t what?"
"Don’t leave me; don’t go."
"I wasn’t going to—"
"Dan, I know you. You think if you aren’t here, that what? I wouldn’t still want you? That I wouldn’t want to spend time with you… together?"
"Yeah, maybe." Daniel’s voice held a strange kind of aggression, not directed at anyone in particular, just at the world in general.
"Yeah, well, that is not going to happen. If you go, I’ll find you, and we will sort this out."
"They won't want me to be here anymore, Jamie."
"Who? Our family? You think our family will cut you out?"
"They aren’t—"
"Aren’t what? Aren’t your family? This is bullshit, Daniel."
"Will you let me talk, Jamie, please?" Daniel was close to crying. How the hell could he make Jamie understand this was his fault? That Jamie had nearly died because of him?
"Then talk, Dan, but for fuck’s sake, try and make sense."
"Jamie, you… you nearly died…" He moved closer, his palm flat on Jamie’s chest where he knew the scarring would be. "F-A-G. They carved that into you, so deep that some of it might scar. They left you nearly choking to death on your own blood. Tell me how you can rationalize that kind of hate, Jamie."
"You can't, Dan." He placed his own hand over Daniel’s, pressing down against the bandage, knowing the hate that had been cut into him. "You will never be able to rationalize hate like that for religion, sex, gender. You can’t rationalize what is inside someone that makes them want to hurt or want to kill." Daniel flinched at Jamie’s words.
"I can’t do it; I can’t put you in this situation again."
"You didn’t put me anywhere, Daniel. I chose where I wanted to be. Do you doubt that?" That was the problem; Jamie knew Daniel doubted Jamie had made the choice of his own free will.
"Maybe if I wasn’t… maybe if I hadn’t tried…" Daniel didn’t know what to say.
"I was fourteen, Dan," Jamie blurted out suddenly, realizing this discussion was going nowhere.
"Fourteen?" Daniel wasn’t following this new twist in the conversation.
Jamie blushed. "That is how old I was when I first realized I was maybe different. I felt strange. I saw how much I was part of you and you were part of me."
"You never said anything, Jamie."
"Neither did you, Dan. You never once mentioned you wanted me? I didn't know you were gay. Jesus, I didn’t even know I was gay, not really. I just knew I wanted to get a lot closer to you than we were. I wanted to touch you, taste. Jeez, every fantasy I had in my head involved you."
"You were so young," Daniel mused softly, his hand warm under Jamie’s.
"I was, I still am, we still are, Dan, and we have a whole life ahead of us."
"How long, Jamie? How long until someone guesses our secret and decides their hatred justifies violence again?"
"You can’t tell, Daniel, what people are like; we can’t tell. We don’t know who did this to me. Who knew, who found out, who hated me this much? So what do we do? Get girls, go to college, live expected nine-to-fives, be unhappy?"
"Be safe," Daniel said stubbornly.
"Safe? Safe is dead, Dan; it is not living."
"I’m not brave enough, Jamie," Daniel said, trying to pull his hand away.
"I can help you, Daniel. We can be brave together."
"I… I…" Daniel stuttered, tears in his eyes. "I wasn’t there when you got hurt; I wasn’t there."
"And I am glad you weren’t. I wouldn’t wish this on you, but I’m glad it happened."
"Glad? Jeez, Jamie."
"Listen, if this hadn’t happened, our secret would have gone with us to college. This way we can come clean, tell Mom and Dad—"
"No."
"Dan."
"No, I’m not… we can't… it’s my fault…" This time he really was trying to tug his hand away, but Jamie refused to let it go, his nails digging into Daniel’s skin. Daniel flinched but finally relaxed his pull.
"I want to look at it again," Jamie said, using Daniel’s hand to pull the bandage back, Daniel trying to back away, shaking his head frantically.
"You can’t. You can’t see, Jamie, please don’t."
"Get me to the mirror, Dan," Jamie insisted, his chest bare, his feet already swinging to the floor again, his body unsettled and swaying against Daniel. Daniel just held on tight, tears freely flowing down his face now. He didn’t want Jamie to see what they had done, how his attacker had marked Jamie’s chest with their hate. They reached the mirror, the taller boy stooped and clinging to Daniel tightly. They looked, at the red marks, at the cuts, the scabs, the stain of antiseptic.
Jamie considered the scar thoughtfully, his eyes heavy with much-needed sleep, his skin pale and wan.
"Daniel, promise me something."
"What, Jamie?" Jamie’s tone of voice was scaring him.
"Promise me you don’t give up on us, that we don’t let them win?"
"I’ll try, Jamie, I’ll try."
"Daniel, something else."
"Yeah?"
"Can you help me back to bed? I think I’m going to pass out."
"Shit, Jamie, you dick." Somehow they managed to get Jamie back into bed, and it was with a certain amount of amusement that, when Mom came back in the room, the detective in tow, Jamie was half in and half out of bed. Daniel was swearing, and Jamie was muttering in pain.
"Boys," she said sharply.
Daniel turned a guilty face.
"I needed the bathroom, Mom." Jamie smirked, and between her and Daniel, they finally got Jamie back into bed.
"I wanted to be the first to say we have two people in custody for your assault," the detective said when Jamie was finally settled. "We have a—"
"It’s Lucy and Greg." Sue was visibly vibrating with emotion.
Daniel paled, and Jamie looked disbelieving.
"Lucy?" Jamie stuttered. "Why would Lucy do this?"
"She hasn’t said to date," the cop intoned, "but Greg has accepted his part in this and has been held over pending—"
"Pending what?" Jamie said suddenly. "What if I don’t press charges?"
Sue gasped. "Why wouldn’t you press charges?"
"In cases like this—" the cop started conversationally, but Jamie interrupted.
"Mom, no, I’m not looking for revenge here." Jamie looked at Daniel, his forehead creased in worry, his blue eyes bright with emotion.
"It’s not about revenge, Jamie," Daniel said. "It’s about accountability. Whatever the motivation, there needs to be some…" He watched Jamie’s eyes fill with tears. All this time, he had never seen Jamie look so destroyed. "Jamie?" he said softly.
"Dan, you don’t see, do you? If this… I don’t know… people will know…"
"Jamie."
"Dan, they’ll know about us, and you’ll run, you’ll go. I can see it now."
Silence descended.