You Get Full Credit For Being Alive

Chapter Five

I could hear Janich's voice from twenty feet down the hall, rough and urgent. "You need to tell me what you know. Can't you make a mark, or something? What's the last thing you remember, Shawnie?" Shawnie? That sounded like a politically incorrect stripper name. I gave up on my half-formed plan to listen in and decided to enter instead. I'd be exposing my face, but this cover was fairly complete and most of the staff could vouch for me. Plus I had a dog. Friendly dogs inspired trust.

"Hi!" I said brightly as I entered the room. Janich was trying to force a pen into Shawn's fingers and Shawn looked uncomfortable. Then he saw me and his look turned flat amazed. Janich wasn't nearly so pleased, and I knew I had to speak fast.

"Wow, you're awake!" I said to Shawn, happy surprise coloring my voice. "It's so great to see you recovering! I'm Reggie, and this is Della." I gave her a signal and Della lifted her paw and batted at the air in an imitation of a wave. "We've been visiting you for a while." I turned to Janich. "And you are?"

"His boyfriend, and we were having a private conversation," Janich said tightly. Shawn frowned at him. "But I guess it can wait," he amended. "Shawnie, I'll be back later, okay?" He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in and pressed a kiss to Shawn's lips. Then he left without another word, ignoring me completely. Perfect.

"Hi," I said again, softer this time. I moved into the chair Janich had abandoned and took the pen out of Shawn's lax fingers. Della peeked over the edge of the bed, sniffing interestedly. "Do you remember me?" I took Shawn's hand in mine. "Do you recognize me?"

He nodded, a little hesitantly. His fingers clenched, and I relaxed a little, thinking maybe I was holding him too hard. But instead he used his thumb to slowly, carefully brush the letter J into my palm. I smiled with genuine delight this time.

"That's right," I said. "I'm Justin." I repeated the trace with my index finger against his own palm. "People call me Reggie when I look like this, but for you I'm Justin. Just for you."

Shawn shook his head a little. "I know, it's complicated." I sat back a bit but kept a hold of his hand. "Do you know that you were attacked?" A hesitant nod. "Do you remember it at all?" A head shake this time, very firm. "That's not surprising, given how badly you were injured. Someone dumped you in the woods behind my house. I found you and brought you here, but no one knows that." His eyebrows quirked quizzically. "I have a problem with authority of any kind knowing my whereabouts," I explained. "I'm a private guy. Did anyone tell you the details of your attack?"

Shawn nodded, and gestured slightly towards his still-bandaged head. "Right, you were hit in the head. You were hit really fucking hard, Shawn. When I found you, you were bleeding out fast and I could see part of your skull. You're lucky the bone didn't fracture." The look he gave me was a little suspicious. "That's what the doctors said, anyway."

He traced a question mark into my palm. "What, how do I know what the doctors are saying?" Shawn nodded emphatically. "Oh, I've got a little recorder set up in here. I've been listening in practically every night since you first arrived." He looked a little offended at that. "I did it to keep you safe, Shawn. Everyone assumes this was a hate crime. You had the word "fag" spray painted on your chest."

Shawn's eyes widened. Apparently no one had told him that part. "Yeah, it's not very pretty." I didn't tell him my suspicions yet, but I had to ask... "So, how long have you been with Detective Janich?"

Shawn opened his mouth, shut it again and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling in frustration. "Sorry, that's not a yes or no question," I apologized. "Hang on." I reached for the sheaf of forms attached to a clipboard at the foot of his bed, turned one of them over and jotted a few words down on the back. Weeks, Months, Years. I held it up where Shawn could see it and moved my finger along the three. "Nod when I get to the right one." He nodded on Months. "More than six months?" A head shake. "Five months. Four. Three." He nodded there. "Three months, then. Not so long, in the grand scheme of things." That might explain the detective's brusque manner, but it didn't explain the phone call he'd made on Shawn's first night here.

I had more questions, but Shawn's hand was trembling, and he looked tired. I put the clipboard aside and held up the copy of Slaughterhouse-Five that we'd finished just last week. "I suppose you don't recall me reading any of this to you." Shawn shook his head, but he looked interested. "I don't have any problem with starting over," I told him honestly. "I'd like to be able to discuss it with a more attentive audience, anyway."

Shawn looked away from me then, but I saw the shame in his eyes, and in the hunch of his shoulders. "Nonsense, of course you can still discuss things," I told him. "We just need to figure out a system that lets you. It's a problem to be solved, nothing insurmountable. Don't mope before you know it's going to be an issue. In fact, don't mope at all. It's not very attractive."

Shawn looked at me like he couldn't quite believe I was real. It wasn't the first time I'd gotten that reaction, but it was the first time I'd gotten it without a gun in my hand. I smiled at Shawn. It was startlingly easy to smile at him. "We can hold off on the reading, though. Della's been waiting very patiently to be introduced to you." I made space between the chair and the bed and let Della prop her front half up on my knees so she could see better. Her tongue lolled, and when Shawn's hand stretched out to her she licked it eagerly.

"I think she's part Rottweiler, part lovebird," I said with mock despair. "Della, it isn't nice to slip in tongue on the first date."

Shawn smiled, which was the whole point. It was only coincidence that his happiness coincided with a spread of warmth through my own body, making me feel a little foolish. This wasn't about my happiness; it was about Shawn getting the chance he needed to make it. My concerns were secondary.

"You look like you need to sleep, and I need to keep making my rounds," I told him, standing up. "I'll see you again tonight." He raised his eyebrows again. "I work as a janitor here at night." Understanding dawned in his face. "Yeah, from last night, that was me too. I'm a man of many names, but for you I'm Justin, okay? Only for you." He nodded, and his eyes drifted shut. He snapped them open again, but I knew he needed the rest. "I'll be back later," I assured him. He accepted my words, and this time his eyes stayed shut. I watched his chest rise and fall for a few minutes, still feeling stupidly happy. Della looked like she'd be content to stay too, but we had a job to do, so after another long glance we left, heading down the hall for Kip's room.