A/N: Thanks to some health challenges, it's fair to assume all of my fics are now on a rather sporadic schedule, but nothing is technically abandoned . . .

Chapter 5 - Awake

He heard the soft beeping before he felt the stiffness of his limbs, felt the stiffness before his eyes opened. Even when they opened, his surroundings were fuzzy. Too white, and the air smelled sterile.

"Good morning."

His eyes were slow to focus on the woman in front of him. Every nerve in his body sang with fiery pain, but for whatever reason, he didn't seem to mind it at all.

"I'm Dr. Lam. Can you hear me?"

He tried to nod, but his neck wouldn't move. He tried his voice, only to find he couldn't remember how to speak.

"Take your time. You've been out for a number of days."

"Y . . . ye . . ." He'd meant to answer her first question, but realized he had more important things to say. "Where . . ."

The doctor smiled. "Welcome back, Mr. Turner. Could you tell me your first name?"

"Jonathan," he said. His voice sounded scratchy and foreign, but the name had come reflexively, with no thought. He corrected himself, "Jon."

"Good. Do you know what year it is?"

He closed his eyes. "1997?" Each syllable took effort, but the challenge was more mental than physical, like he couldn't quite remember how to speak.

"Good, good. Do you know what happened?"

Images flashed back to him.

Fighting with Shawn. Needing to let off steam, taking off on his bike, barely strapping on his helmet before he hit the road, faster than he should have. The car coming out of nowhere . . .

"Shawn."

"He's here to see you, we just need to—"

"Get him."

"I will. Just need to know what happened."

"Bike. Crashed. Shawn. Now."

The doctor sighed, and she left the room. For the first time, Jon wondered what he looked like, whether he should be concerned about what Shawn was about to see. It was hard to see himself—something held his head in place. Blankets covered most of what he could see; there were a few scrapes on his arm, mostly healed. If he'd been out for days, though, Shawn had probably already been here. Come to think of it, Jon had a vague memory of hearing Shawn's voice, maybe even hearing him cry. It might have been a dream, though.

The door slammed open, and Jon's whole body jumped, igniting enough pain to break through the lethargy for a half second before the indifference settled back in. Familiar footsteps slapped against the floor, and then Shawn was standing over him, squeezing his hand. "You're awake!"

Jon wanted to say something witty, maybe tease Shawn about how he was never awake in class, or maybe even something as simple as You're not getting rid of me that easy. But that meant a lot of words. So he just said, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He didn't look fine. Jon knew how to tell. "Eating?"

"Yeah, lots."

Jon didn't doubt that. "Sleeping?"

"Not any less than usual." Shawn half laughed. "I survived before I met you, you know."

Survived was a strong word. "Good summer?"

"It'll be better when you get out of here." Shawn shook his head. "Hey. Don't worry about me, man. You're the one who almost died."

Jon focused his eyes as best as he could on Shawn's eyes. He had learned, over the past couple of years, how to see through his kid's façade. Shawn smiled and laughed both when he was happy and distressed, but there were subtle differences. Jon wondered if the doctor had given Shawn any estimate about when he'd be out of the hospital. "How long?"

"How long until you get out of here? I dunno, man. You were asleep for a week."

Jon's heart sank. He wanted to ask whether the social worker had gotten involved yet. His legal guardianship was official, but the nature of the legal guardianship was that it was still temporary. Jon wasn't Shawn's dad—as the kid was all too eager to point out, leading to their fight the day of the accident. Technically, Shawn's father could come back any time and take his son back. Jon knew it wouldn't go over well if he asked whether Shawn had tried to get in contact with his father yet, though. For now, their emergency arrangement was that if anything happened to Jon, Shawn would stay with the Matthews. "Thank the Matthews."

"The Matthews? Why? Oh! Uh...I'm not staying with the Matthews."

Jon felt like his face went cold. "Who?"

"Uh. Don't freak out, okay?"

"Your dad?"

"No, still haven't heard from him."

"A girl?"

"What? No! I wish. I'm...staying with Feeny."

Jon's mouth fell open. Shawn was messing with him. Had to be. "Shawn."

"I know, but he's not as busy as the Matthews. I get my own room, and he's available to take me to visit you every day instead of just once or twice a week."

Jon knew Feeny cared about Shawn. He wasn't sure Shawn knew Feeny cared about him, though, which meant that even if Shawn was physically safe, he wouldn't be emotionally safe. And Jon had learned that when Shawn didn't feel emotionally safe, he acted out in ways that endangered his physical safety, too. A million questions filled Jon's mind—about how Feeny was treating Shawn, about how Shawn was treating Feeny, about how they'd even come to the arrangement. But he couldn't get many words out. So he just asked, "Why?"

Shawn looked him in the eyes. "It was my choice, Jon. Really. Mr. Feeny offered. And look, I'm in one piece! He hasn't made soup out of me or anything."

"Yet," Jon teased. But Shawn's words had put him at ease, at least about one thing. He still wasn't convince Shawn and Feeny wouldn't kill each other, but at least the Matthews hadn't kicked Shawn out. That meant Shawn still had a place to go if things got bad.

"I mean, it's only been a day. He asked what your rules were, and I told him. I didn't lie or anything, figured you'd eventually wake up and set him straight if I did."

"Yup." Jon said it as firmly as he could: "Behave."

"I will! Well, I'll try. I'm still gonna hang out with Cory every day, you know? And I'll come see you every day, and the Matthews were going to take me to the beach with them at least once, and Feeny said he'd teach me to play the piano."

Jon smiled, even though he was starting to feel the fatigue wash over him. It was always good to see the kid excited about something, especially if it wasn't his latest 7-day girlfriend. Jon knew he didn't have long before he drifted back into sleep, though—he could only imagine what kinds of pain meds he was on—and he still had to do something important. "Feeny," he said.

"Yeah. Maybe he's not so bad."

"Here?"

"Yeah, he's out in the waiting room."

"Here."

"You want to talk to him?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Uh...okay."

"Thanks."

"I'll come back tomorrow, okay?"

Jon lifted his hand, meaning to stroke Shawn's hair but unable to lift it nearly high enough. He ended up patting Shawn's arm, and Shawn gave one last smile before heading out of the room.

Jon hardened his resolve. He needed to be firm about this next part, even if he couldn't get many words out.

Feeny peeked his head in the door before stepping inside. For a moment, his hard exterior cracked, eyes filling with compassion, and Jon wondered if this was the first time his boss had been in this room. "Oh, Jonathan," he said softly, before he straightened his back. "I did speak with your doctor. Your prognosis is very good. You're young, you'll heal quickly. I'm sure you'll be out of here in no time."

Jon gave him the best look he could.

"Well. Maybe not before the end of the summer. But you'll be there to see Shawn walk the stage at graduation, and you'll be with him long before then, I'm sure. Let's focus on getting through the summer."

Jon pulled in a breath and hoped Feeny would be patient enough to let him get his words out. "Have to be . . . patient with Shawn."

"I'm aware of that."

"No. Can't . . . snap at him . . . for everything. Needs some . . . freedom, choices. Space."

"I understand," Feeny said.

"Sleeps late . . . summer."

"Ah. So he was telling me."

"Need to let him . . . go on dates . . . Normal kid."

Feeny all but rolled his eyes. "Yes, of course."

"He'll be . . . honest with you . . . if you make him . . . feel safe."

Feeny stared at Jon a long moment, then he nodded. "I will make sure of it."

Jon finally let his breath out. He could tell by the look in the older man's eyes that Feeny got the message. Of course, Shawn might still play some of the same tricks he had when he'd first come to live with Jon. He might be able to save Feeny a few headaches. "Tell him . . . I said . . . you can ground him."

Feeny nodded. "Yes, well. In my experience, boundaries are part of what makes a child feel safe."

"Not long. Day or two . . . in summer . . . makes impact."

"Yes, yes. Your boy is a fragile kitten, I'll keep it in mind. Now, get some rest, Jonathan, you're going pale. I'll take good care of Shawn. If I abuse my power, I'm sure you'll hear all about it."

He had a point. Shawn wasn't exactly the type to refrain from complaining. At this thought, Jon lay back and relaxed.

He was out before Feeny had fully left the room.

George closed the door to Jonathan's hospital room gently as he stepped back out into the waiting room, where Shawn had already picked up a magazine and was flipping through. George could tell he was trying hard to feel unaffected, but he knew the boy all too well, had known him since he was young. Shawn was only barely holding it together.

In that moment, George caught himself making a resolution. He wasn't just going to help this boy survive this summer. He was going to do absolutely everything in his power to make it a good summer.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

Shawn set down the magazine. "Yeah. Hey, I was thinking, can we drop by Jon's apartment? There's something I was going to leave over there, during the summer, but I think it might be a bad idea."

"Nothing alive, I hope," George said drily.

"Uh."

George blinked. "What is it?"

"Little Cory."

George had seen Cory at the Matthews. "How did Cory get into Jon's apartment?"

"No, uh, I named my . . ."

"Your what?"

Shawn's eyes begged. "Look, I swear he's really well behaved, and I've trained him and everything, and I take care of him, Jon barely even helps, so you won't have to do anything. I promise."

George raised his eyebrows. He had just sworn to himself he'd do everything in his power to make Shawn happy . . .