Page 161 of Oddly Fine

“Beckett? You alright?”

He didn’t hear the words—nor anything else thereafter.

It was a while later before Beckett surfaced. It was like waking from an odd dream to find that he was tucked safely in his bed with Hayes wrapped around him. They were back at the small condo that they’d been using as home base and as he gazed out the window, he found that it was dark out. How long had he been conked out?

He looked up to find his boyfriend sitting up in bed, reading a book propped up against Beckett’s head.

“I feel used,” he complained.

“I would say properly utilised,” Hayes countered.

Beckett sat up slowly, surprised when he felt the pull of new stitches in his chest.

Hayes had changed into a soft grey t-shirt, and his hair was tousled like he’d also slept.

“You sewed me back up?” he asked, looking down at the new bandage on his chest. He was wearing sweatpants but nothing else. He was clean, though, so clearly, he’d been patched up and washed off while he was out of it.

“Glued and taped, actually,” Hayes replied with a smile. He ran a gentle hand through Beckett’s hair, trying to fix his bedhead.

Beckett moaned at how good it felt to have Hayes’ gentle touch on his scalp.

“I didn’t—” he stopped, testing his lungs again. His breathing was back to normal. He felt fine. “What happened?”

“You dissociated,” Hayes informed him calmly.

“Says who?” he snapped, not at all pleased with this sudden revelation.

“Your brother.”

“My brother? Franklin?” he asked in surprise.

“I certainly didn’t ask for Jackson’s opinion on the matter,” Hayes replied, frowning.

Beckett pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing as his bruised nose twinged and his eyes watered. He took a deep breath to center himself.

“You asked my brother to diagnose me?” he asked incredulously.

“He volunteered after Matthew dragged him out of the safe house,” Hayes said.

“He dragged—” Beckett shook his head and turned back to his boyfriend. “How do I not remember any of this? Did I pass out?”

“No—actually, you were perfectly compliant, for once. As soon as we left the factory—just—whoosh! Lights out, baby!” Hayes said, mimicking a curtain falling over his face.

“Dissociating,” Beckett said, recalling the word Hayes had used.

“So says Franklin.”

“That’s fucking embarrassing,” Beckett confessed as heat warmed his cheeks. He’d never dissociated before, whatever the fuck that meant. He’d lost his shit. Had panic attacks, threatened to murder his brother, but he’d never just—blanked out.

“Why? You led them out. You carried that girl around for an hour when she refused to be set down. You were a hero out there.”

And Beckett opened his mouth to protest but Hayes shushed him with a kiss.

“How long was I—non-annoying for?” Beckett asked, feeling a rising panic at how helpless he’d been.

Hayes glanced at his phone.

“Maybe 20 hours, give or take,” he stated casually.