If Not Now...

By Clarity Scifiroots
Disclaimers Apply
Fandom: The Dead ZonePairing: Bruce/Johnny
Summary: A head injury leaves Bruce with amnesia and Johnny at a loss for what to do.
Rating: Teen
For crowie's cliché request. g I realized I could do my crack! plot element of amnesia. Not quite what I wanted, but as you can tell by the time stamp, I was in a bit of a rush.
Twenty-Third day of June!fic
Edited July 20, 2006

------

"Excuse me, but the sheriff's here to see you again. Should I let him in?"

The man propped up in the hospital bed nodded wearily at the nurse. She smiled sympathetically and went back outside. A moment later, Sheriff Bannerman walked into the room fiddling with the wide-brimmed hat he held in his hands.

"Hello, uh, again. How are you feeling this morning, Bruce?"

"If you mean do I remember anything, I don't." Bruce crossed his arms over his chest and stared coolly.

Bannerman winced. The hospital room was fairly small, but a single. Bruce may have forgotten many personal details with his concussion, but he did know that a single room was near impossible to obtain. Someone else was paying for it—he'd found out from the nurse who wouldn't stop giving him sympathetic looks. His mysterious benefactor apparently was the blond man he'd woken up to see at his bedside yesterday, a man by the name of John Smith. Bland name, attractive, but average features, and noticeably absent since the amnesia was diagnosed.

"Is there something I can do for you, Bruce?" Bannerman asked, his gaze meeting Bruce's for a moment. "Is there anyone you'd like me to call?"

Bruce closed his eyes and sighed impatiently. "As far as I know, there's no one to call. That shouldn't surprise you," he added wryly.

"No, I suppose not..." Bannerman cleared his throat. "But we could get a hold of your mom if you'd like... She'd probably like to know what's going on?"

"Momma?" Bruce felt a strange wave of warmth followed closely by chills prickle his skin at the memory of his home. He hadn't been back since he'd first left years ago, searching for something beyond the Midwest and the sermons he no longer believed in. Hesitantly he nodded. "Okay, I'd like to talk to my folks. Is there a way I can get a phone in here?" he asked, eyeing the bedside table that was suspiciously empty except for a fancy bouquet of flowers.

Bannerman grinned a little at that. "I'll see what I can do. Rest easy."

Bruce didn't respond, knowing that he'd be seeing more of this man in the future. Apparently he was rather well known in the community of Cleaves Mills. He wasn't sure yet why that was, but he bet he could get the answer out of one of the nurses. They all seemed to go out of their way to make sure he was recovering comfortably.

As he settled back against the pillows, he thought about how the sheriff had specifically mentioned Bruce's mother—even after he'd indicated both parents. The chilly feeling rushed through him again and he shivered.

------

Johnny paced the floor in front of the nurse's station under Walt's watchful eye.

"You want to sit down, John?"

"No," the blond snapped irritably.

"I think maybe you should. You know, take a break for a little while. I bet Sarah's on her way over here with some lunch for you. Frankly, even I'm a little worried about you."

"I'm fine. I'm not the one with the head injury and eyeing everyone suspiciously." Johnny stopped in front of Walt. His eyes were slightly wider than usual and an air of desperation surrounded him. "How could he lose so much time?"

Bemused, Walt remarked, "You know, you lost six years yourself..."

"Yes, but I never lived that. I wasn't awake. He's been here for years, lived each day." His torn expression said the rest: How could Bruce forget his life in Cleaves Mills? How could he forget playing sidekick to a psychic? How could he forget his lover?

Walt rested a steady hand on Johnny's shoulder comfortingly. "We gotta be patient. It's likely this is just temporary, anyway. Right now you need to take care of yourself."

A shout from down the hall ruined any chances of Walt getting Johnny to calm down. Cursing under his breath, he followed after Johnny and swung through the doorway in time to see Johnny stop short a couple of feet away from the bed where Bruce was hunched over, face scrunched in pain. The doctor sitting on a stool by the bed looked up at the new arrivals in some confusion.

"Bruce, baby..." Walt realized that Mrs. Lewis was connected through the speakerphone that had been moved into the room.

"But I don't remember—how could I forget his funeral?" Bruce asked beseechingly, his fingers tangling the sheets over his legs.

"It's alright, honey. That's okay. These things happen. The doctor says that you're recovering well?"

"Just a headache..." Bruce muttered.

"Sit tight, honey, I'm going to fly out as soon as I can."

"Ro—Mrs. Lewis," Johnny broke in gently. "I'll see to it that you catch the next available flight."

"Johnny? How are you holding up?"

"I'm... alright. Let's worry about Bruce for now, okay? I'll go see about the arrangements and call you as soon as I have the news."

"Thank you. I'll be there soon, boys. Honey, don't worry, I'll be there soon."

Bruce quickly shifted his gaze from where it had fallen on Johnny moments ago. "Sure... Okay, Mom."

Once the call ended, the doctor rose to his feet and looked between the three men. He coughed uncomfortably and then headed out of the room. Johnny kept staring at Bruce and Walt could tell that he wanted to get closer but understood that he shouldn't, given his current stranger status.

"I don't know why—" Bruce cut himself off and shook his head. "Thanks."

Johnny nodded silently and turned away.

------

The next day, Bruce was released from the hospital under supervision and strict orders to report in. Rose Lewis had arrived the night before and was there in the morning to pick up her son.

"How about stopping at the grocery store to pick up some things?" she offered as she climbed into the driver's seat of a shining PT Cruiser. She smiled warmly as he ran his fingers over the dash with the sense of familiarity. "My boy knows his car," she teased.

"It really is mine?" Bruce questioned, not quite convinced.

"Yeah, baby, it is. Now what would you like from the store?" She navigated the hospital parking lot with amazing ease and pulled out onto a surprisingly empty street. "We can get anything you'd like. I'm not too sure what exactly you have in stock at... home." Her slight pause caught his attention and Bruce glanced at her suspiciously.

"What's wrong?"

Rose smile turned apologetic. "I guess everything's a bit of a surprise right now. I'm not sure how to handle this... You really don't remember anything about your life here?" At a stop sign she turned to face him fully.

Shaking his head, he said, "No. I've gone through this with everyone—"

"Okay, baby," she soothed. "Then let's start with where you live. You remember Johnny from the hospital? Well, he's a good friend of yours. Many years ago you were his physical therapist as he recovered from a coma. Eventually, because of how much room he had, and how often you visited, you moved into the, ah, mansion."

"Excuse me...?" Bruce stared at her in shock.

She took one hand from the steering wheel and patted his thigh. "It's a nice, big place. You can have solitude or company as you want it.

"Mom... maybe I just—aw, hell, can we just go home?"

She shoot him a look for swearing. "You gonna be okay, honey?"

"You're staying with me, right?" At her nod, Bruce let loose a sigh of relief. "Then I'm okay." He didn't feel comfortable explaining it, but Johnny Smith sparked a peculiar warmth in his chest and butterflies in his stomach.

------

For two days Bruce kept mostly to himself, usually sitting in the library or den since both felt familiar and comfortable—unlike his so-called bedroom that was sadly lacking in personal effects. He found that strange since he had long prided himself on his sense of self and individuality. His room would never be so bare. The suspicions that raised from his observation were quickly squashed under heel when the anxious butterflies threatened to escape his belly. Rose kept him company and tried to encourage his interaction with Johnny, who was hesitantly moving around his own house as if he were the stranger there. Bruce resisted the attempts, too unsure of his reactions to the man; not that he could avoid the blond completely.

During his quiet observations, Bruce made note of a handful of unusual moments where Johnny seemed to freeze in place and "zone out". His eyes unfocused and his body tensed—usually a hand was touching something—leaning on a counter or holding an object. He couldn't figure out why it happened or what was causing it. He did know that it was remarkably familiar. When he saw it happen, it was on the tip of his tongue to ask "What did you see, John?" despite having no idea why he'd want to say that.

On the third day Sheriff Bannerman turned up on the doorstep looking for Johnny with a grim expression. Bruce watched, unseen, from the top of the stairs as the two men discussed a recent robbery and a man who'd ended up in the hospital with a bullet in his leg.

"Think you can help us out?" Bannerman asked.

Johnny turned his head in the direction of the den before nodded shortly. "Yeah... I won't exactly be missed around here."

Bannerman grimaced. "I'm really sorry, John. Wish there was something I could do."

Johnny waved him off. "Let's go. I told Rose I'd probably have to go once I realized you were coming over."

"What about Bruce?"

With a wistful smile, Johnny shook his head. "Doesn't' matter too much."

Bruce slowly sank to the floor to sit and think about what he'd just heard as the men walked out the door.

------

"I'm back!" Johnny called as he entered the front hall. As he shut the door behind him he got a flash of Rose exiting the house the same way. "Anyone home?" he asked, moving slowly towards the den.

He nearly jumped when Bruce suddenly appeared at his side. "Momma went out." Johnny found it hard to breathe as he lost himself in the penetrating gaze fixed on him. "I startled you...? Ah, sorry about that."

"No it's—it's okay," Johnny said quietly, blinking and shaking his head just slightly to break the connection.

"How can I do that when you, uh—" Johnny looked up in surprise as Bruce wriggled his fingers in the air. "You know, you see things."

"Did you—?" Johnny felt a surge of hope.

Bruce shook his head and let his arms drop. "Figured it out."

"Oh."

Johnny looked down at his hands, pale and trembling minutely. His dead zone had been on high alert today—providing a variety of visions that had led to the perpetrators Walt had been pursuing. Meant a quick wrap-up for Walt and a massive headache for Johnny.

"Did I," Bruce started hesitantly and Johnny swallowed nervously, "help you or something?"

"Yes, why?" he asked softly.

Frustration lacing his words, Bruce said, "I see you tense up and want to... ask all these questions."

That startled a laugh out of Johnny. He looked up with a grin into Bruce's surprised gaze. "Yeah, you're good at that." His grin faded into a gentle smile. "You keep me focused so things don't get so mixed up."

Bruce stared at him silently. After a while he licked his lips and his gaze darted down for moment before nervously searching Johnny's gaze. Johnny held his breath as familiar heat rushed through his system. He recognized the look behind the nervousness, but he wasn't sure if he dared to hope—

Before the thought could finish, he felt the press of his lover's lips closing over his mouth. His eyes closed reflexively and he leaned into the kiss, overwhelmed by relief and satisfaction. His hands clutched at thin air for a moment before sliding onto Bruce's hips and rubbing slowly. He groaned quietly and parted his lips, thrilled when he felt Bruce's tongue snaking into his mouth. As their tongues met, he felt a gust of wind blow sharply past him, jolting him into awareness.

Dizzy from the sudden change, Johnny found himself standing in a church he'd only visited once before. Looking around he was surprised to see that the pews were empty. Near the pulpit he could see the open casket and beside it, another version of himself stood. A dread-locked Bruce entered from a partially hidden door with an exhausted expression.

"What is this?"

The unexpected question turned him around to find "his" Bruce sitting on the edge of one of the pews that had previously been empty. His dark eyes flickered from the scene at the front to Johnny and back again.

"This is... it's a vision," Johnny explained. "I've never—we've never shared one." He looked over his shoulder in confusion and saw the moment where Bruce touched his father and the vision Johnny touched Bruce. Around him he saw the changes signaling a vision but didn't feel it happening. He suddenly realized that this had been what Bruce had experienced at the time.

With some awe, he murmured, "This was when you had a vision..."

"Was this my daddy's funeral?" Bruce asked quietly, inching closer. Johnny watched him with concern. "It's... I don't remember. But this doesn't feel new."

They both raised an arm as a burst of white light pulsed from some unknown source. As their vision cleared, Johnny recognized the embankment he stood on. He pointed out to Bruce their vision selves walking up the grassy incline towards Walt, who waited patiently on the street next to a familiar PT Cruiser and another car. The vision Bruce had his arm wrapped around Johnny's waist and the vision Johnny was leaning heavily against his partner.

"Um... I've been meaning to ask you," Bruce started quietly, still staring at the vision. When the scene changed again, he merely cringed at the burst of light. As things cleared again they found themselves standing in Johnny's bedroom, the large bed obviously occupied. With a nervous laugh, Bruce said, "Okay, maybe I don't have to ask anymore?"

Johnny's face flushed with heat. "About that..." The gasps and moans of passion were distinctive from the two men entangled on the bed. "I, uh... Well, yeah." He braved a glance at Bruce. "Yes, we were."

Bruce studied him carefully, then nodded at the two men shifting position on the bed—pale legs raised to hook over dark shoulders. "We are."

The corner of his lips quirked up in a bittersweet smile. "Maybe. If you remember."

Bruce touched his elbow gently, eyes warm. "Even if I don't... I feel it." He leaned in and captured Johnny's lips. Johnny let himself fall back into his lover's embrace. He had to have faith. The history he'd shared with the man in his arms had been too important to be so easily forgotten.

Patience, he reminded himself.

In his mind he could see Bruce grinning at him knowingly. No rush, John.

Fin