Colin and Jack both collapsed to the ground as the echo of the gunshot reverberated in the room. Ryan whirled and stared at them, watching as his best friend went down, with that other bastard on top of him. He could see Colin’s hand sticking out from under Jack, clenching and relaxing, reaching out like a man drowning. The gunshot had been amazingly loud up close, and Ryan’s ears were still ringing. He was aware of his own breathing rasping in his chest, but he couldn’t hear it. As he watched in horror, Colin’s hand twitched once more, and was still. Ryan could see blood beginning to stain Jack’s shirt -- but he wasn’t sure where it was coming from.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan saw Chris raising the gun again, and in a cunning move, he reached for the knife in the bastard’s thigh. Ryan twisted it viciously, getting a vindictive satisfaction out of hurting the man who had caused him so much pain. Chris screamed and clutched at the leg, giving Ryan the chance to grab the gun. He pulled it away sharply, and turned it on Chris, his hands trembling as part of his mind screamed at him to stop, don’t make the psycho angry, don’t fight him, what the hell are you doing?!
Colin and Jack were still on the ground, and as Ryan glanced at them, he could see bright red blood staining the ground beneath them. He turned his gaze back to Chris...to the man who had shot his best friend. The man who had brutally raped and tortured him. The man who was at his mercy. Ryan could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he looked down the barrel of the gun. It felt strange in his hands, heavy and powerful. He felt bigger for holding it. Chris was staring at him, that same cold command in his eyes, and Ryan had to struggle not to drop his gaze. He was actually looking the sadistic monster right in the eyes -- and it was terrifying.
“Put it down, pet. Do as I say,” Chris said calmly, never blinking. Ryan actually felt his hands dip a bit in automatic obedience, and he bit his bleeding lip, tasting the blood, feeling the pain. It brought him back a little bit, reminded him what that bastard had put him through.
“No,” he said, barely whispering the word, but getting it out.
“Now!” Chris snapped, and Ryan cringed. Oh shit, he’s angry, you made him angry, what the hell are you thinking, do what he says before he--
But no. It’s enough. Ryan couldn’t go through this anymore. And yet, he might have given in. Giving in was just so much easier. He was so tired, and so confused all the time; maybe it would be simpler to just let Chris take care of things. Let him win, because fighting was just so damn hard.
Then Ryan remembered Colin. Colin, who had charged in there and fought Chris, hurt him, made him stop. Colin, who was lying on the ground, covered in blood. Colin wouldn’t give up.
Ryan held the gun out with both arms, pointing it straight at his captor’s head. His hands were shaking badly, but at this range, he couldn’t miss.
“Ryan...don’t...” The voice was weak and muffled, but still unmistakably Colin. Ryan whirled, his eyes wide, hope rising in his chest. Colin was underneath Jack, struggling to push the heavy man off. With a final kick, he managed to free himself, and rose to his feet, his eyes fixed on Ryan’s.
“I know he deserves it, Ryan...but don’t sink to his level. You’ll never forgive yourself.” For a moment, Ryan wanted to hit him. What the hell did Colin know about it? He hadn’t been there; he couldn’t possibly imagine what Ryan had been through. Perhaps seeing the sudden bitterness in Ryan’s eyes, Colin held his hands out in a placating gesture, and then his eyes widened as he focused on something over Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan turned in time to see Chris swinging the razor blade in a high sweeping motion, and he ducked, catching a glancing blow on his shoulder instead of a direct hit. More blood welled from the new cut, but Ryan ignored it, too deep in terror and rage to feel anything so minor. He swung the gun like a club, hitting Chris in the side of the head. The madman crumpled to the ground, leaving Ryan standing over him, trembling and shaking his head in disbelief. It couldn’t be that simple.
Ryan began to shake even worse as everything caught up with him. Just a few minutes earlier, he had been on his hands and knees, being brutally raped yet again. He could still feel the pain from that latest assault. Then there was Colin rushing in and Ryan’s realization that it was real this time; that Colin was actually here. Ryan’s first reaction had been a deep shame at being seen like that as Colin’s presence made him aware of his own condition. He felt like sinking into the ground so he wouldn’t have to face Colin. He was painfully aware that we was only restrained by the single ankle chain, and that he wasn’t fighting. Colin must think he was a whore, a worthless slut to allow himself to be taken in that way. To sell himself for the meager cost of a little water and a little less pain. Ryan felt cheap. Then that feeling was swiftly followed by the sweeping relief of knowing that Colin was alive, and that he apparently still cared enough to attack Chris for him. Ryan had been so terrified that Colin wouldn’t want anything to do with him, now that he was...dirty.
Ryan shuddered again as he remembered fighting with the man he was so terrified of, because he *needed* to save Colin the same way Colin had just saved him. Needed to prove to Colin, and maybe to himself, that he was still worth something, that he could still fight. Then he had seen what looked like his best friend being shot, and had nearly shot Chris in return...the gun fell out of Ryan’s suddenly nerveless hands. It hit the ground with a soft thunk, and Ryan quickly followed, his knees buckling and sending him folding gracelessly to the floor.
Colin stared in shock, not sure what to do. The whole thing had happened so fast, and he still felt dazed and frightened. His gaze flicked to Chris, to Jack, and then back to Ryan’s still form. Ryan...his heart suddenly in his throat, Colin felt a jolt of panic surge through him, and he hoped desperately that Ryan was all right. Moving to his side, Colin rolled the tall, naked man onto his back. His eyes were closed, and when Colin lifted the lid, he saw only whites. Ryan was breathing just fine, but he seemed to be out for the count. Colin sat back on his heels, still flustered and confused, listening to Ryan’s steady breathing. The sound was soothing, and he concentrated on it -- he’s alive. He’s hurt, badly hurt, but thank God, he’s alive.
The quiet was a strange contrast to the chaos he’d been a part of only minutes before. He blinked a few times, staring at his trembling hands as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. Looking around in confusion, his gaze caught on the still forms of Jack and Chris, and he decided the first thing was to make sure they couldn’t cause any more harm. Part of him wanted to take the gun and finish Chris off. Just looking at the man was filling Colin with fury again as he remembered what Chris had been doing to Ryan. His hands clenched involuntarily as he glared at that psychotic bastard, and he had to look away.
He focused on Ryan again, carefully watching the steady rise and fall of the taller man’s chest. He had stopped Ryan from killing Chris, and that was probably for the best, but some part of Colin wished he hadn’t spoken up. What right did he have to deprive Ryan of his revenge? His justice? Because that’s what it would be. If anyone ever deserved to die, it was Chris. Colin put a hand on Ryan’s chest, calming himself by feeling the steady heartbeat. Ryan was alive, and that’s the only important thing.
A quick check of Jack confirmed that he was dead -- probably due to the ragged hole in his chest. Colin couldn’t help a little grunt of satisfaction at the sight. He had stopped Ryan from killing Chris, but it wasn’t like he had actually shot the bullet that had killed Jack. Colin wasn’t a murderer, but still, he was glad that Jack was dead. After sparing one last moment to glare at his tormentor, Colin turned his attention to Chris.
The leader of this merry band of psychos was very much alive. Keeping the gun trained on him, just in case, Colin quickly removed the chains from around Ryan’s ankles and put them on Chris. He was about to do the same with the wrist chains, when a thought occurred to him. Ryan was still naked, and Colin knew from hard experience just how unnerving that was. Colin winced in sympathy as he looked at Ryan’s body -- even in the dim light, the cuts and bruises were all too evident. Colin bit his lip worriedly, hoping Ryan’s fainting wasn’t caused by blood loss. There were so many cuts that the relative lack of blood seemed strange, until he realized that the burned in cuts didn’t seem to bleed very much. He wished that he could have gotten here sooner; spared Ryan some of this pain, but guilt would do him no good right now. All he could do was make Ryan as comfortable as possible with the means at hand.
Getting the shirt off Chris was a bit difficult, since he didn’t want to wake the man up. Colin managed though, and when he was done he quickly finished with the wrist chains. Now Chris was bound and naked, and Ryan was free. Colin moved to his friend’s side, taking a moment to do something he didn’t particularly want to do -- really look at him. He didn’t want to know how badly Ryan was actually hurt; didn’t want to see all the injuries he hadn’t been here to prevent.
Ryan was filthy with caked dirt and blood, covered in bruises, and strange ragged red lines. It took Colin a moment to realize the lines were caused by the heated straight razor. The worst of them seemed to be concentrated on his sides and close to his back, so Colin carefully rolled Ryan onto his side. When he got his first good look at the bare back, Colin sucked in his breath in shock. There, carved in painful, deliberate strokes, was a single word. ‘Chris.’
**Oh my God, he... he
fucking carved his name on your back!
Holy fucking shit, Ryan...
I can’t believe
that... Oh God... Fucking psychotic asshole!
I shouldn't have stopped you from killing the son of a bitch. I should’ve let you kill him...I didn't
know... My Ryan... God, what else did that sick fuck do to you? I'm going to
kill him... And I swear I’m going to take care of you. Anything you need, anything you want... God
this is all my fault... We’re going to get out of here and then I'll take care
of you. I'm never letting you out
of my sight again! Jesus fucking
Christ... I just can’t stand the sight of those marks on you! They're a
reminder that I... God, I couldn't stop this from happening. I need to do something to get rid of
them...anything so you don't have to bear them.
We have to...come on Ryan; wake up.
This isn't funny anymore; you need to wake up. We HAVE to get out of here. I need to get you
away from this shitty prison! I’m so
sick of being in this damn dark hole, trapped and helpless... helpless... couldn't
help you, couldn't stop them, couldn't handle it... I need to see the sunlight again, with you
SAFE. I need to see you smile, hear you
laugh, say something stupid, even sing a goddamn hoedown... I need to hold
you... but I'm so fucking scared, I don't want to hurt you. You've been hurt so much... I couldn’t stand
to hurt you, never. And I swear I will
never let anyone or anything so much as try to think of hurting you. I hope that motherfucking monster tries
something, just so I can kill him. Slowly. I want to make him suffer for this...want to
take the pain I see on your body and transfer it to him. But first I need to see your eyes. I need to know that you’re going to be
okay...my God, Ryan, I’m so scared. I
thought you were dead...thought I’d never see you again. I need to talk to you, to feel you...wake up
damn it!**
“Ryan? C’mon, come back to me, Ry. Please... Ryan, please, I need to see your eyes. Talk to me; tell me you’re all right. Okay? You are all right, aren’t you? Ryan? I got to you as fast as I could...I’m so sorry, Ry. So sorry I couldn’t stop this from happening. I’ll take care of you now, I swear. It’ll be all right. Just please, please, be okay.” Colin continued to plead with Ryan, muttering almost under his breath, not really aware of what he was saying. His eyes darted helplessly over the bruised, bloodied form of his best friend, and Colin swallowed hard.
Colin shook Ryan’s shoulder gently, trying to bring him out of the dead faint. He wasn’t sure if was emotional shock or physical trauma that had caused this -- probably both. Colin wanted to examine Ryan more completely, or at least clean him up a little, but in the dim light on the dirt floor, there was nothing he could do. Deciding he could at least make Ryan a little more comfortable when he did wake up, Colin grabbed the shirt he had taken from Chris. Doing something, taking action, was better than just sitting there and pleading with his friend to wake up. He pulled Ryan into a sitting position, letting the taller man lean into his chest, and rest his bruised face against his shoulder. He paused for a moment, enjoying the close, reassuring contact, and stroked his chin against Ryan’s dirty, matted hair. Colin brought the shirt up over Ryan’s back, and ran his arms through the sleeves. As he brought it together in the front to close the buttons, Ryan suddenly drew in a deep breath and jerked awake.
“No! Please no, you bastard, leave me alone, no more...please! I can’t...just fucking stop it...no more...” Ryan was struggling, thrashing around helplessly, tearing at the open shirt. Colin stared at him in confusion, trying to hold him still and soothe him at the same time.
“Ryan! It’s okay, it’s me, Colin! Can you hear me? Calm down, you’re all right...you got him! You knocked him out, he’s not going to hurt you anymore. Just calm down!” Ryan slowly stilled, and reached out with a trembling hand to touch Colin’s face.
“Is...is it really you? Colin?” Ryan’s eyes were wide, all hope and disbelief. Colin took Ryan’s hand in his own, rubbing his cheek against the long, soft fingers.
“Yes, Ry, it’s me. You’re all right now...its gonna be okay.” Ryan nodded, his eyes impossibly large, drinking in the sight of Colin like he was his last link to this earth. His hand was still plucking at the shirt, and Ryan looked down, frowning in confusion.
“This is HIS shirt. Why is it on me?”
“Well, you were naked...I know how that feels. So I thought--“
“No...it smells like
him. I don’t want it on my skin. Please,
“Now, now, pet, you know that’s wrong. I’m only doing this so you’ll learn. It’s for your own good.”
Then he would start again with the hitting, or the cutting, or God only knows what else. Ryan shuddered, unable to meet Colin’s eyes.
“Ryan...it’s okay. You don’t have to wear it.” The fear in Ryan’s posture tore at Colin. He gritted his teeth, glaring at Chris again as he wondered what Ryan had been put through to react this way. Colin helped Ryan remove the shirt, moving carefully around his many injuries. When it was tossed aside, Ryan stayed still and quiet, keeping his eyes down. Colin felt like crying as he saw this evidence of how Ryan had been forced into submission. The man who was usually a self-confident smartass was now trembling before him, clearly terrified of doing anything wrong.
Colin gently lifted Ryan’s chin, forcing the tormented green eyes to meet his own. He slowly stroked Ryan’s face and hair, pouring as much love and acceptance into his gaze as possible. The tall, trembling man leaned in closer, desperate for comfort but afraid to ask for it. Colin pulled him in, putting his arms gently around the scarred back and pressing Ryan’s face against his shoulder. Closing his eyes in relief at finally holding Ryan in his arms, Colin rocked him slowly, still carding his fingers through the dark blonde curls.
He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually the dark, oppressive silence of the basement and the musty smell were no longer tolerable. Colin just *had* to get out of there, and he was sure Ryan felt the same way. Drawing back, he looked carefully into Ryan’s eyes, letting their foreheads touch for a moment.
“Want to go home?” Colin asked gently.
Ryan only nodded, swallowing and blinking rapidly. Colin rose to his feet and reached down to help Ryan up. The taller man turned slightly, suddenly ashamed of his nakedness. He was painfully aware of the scars on his body, marking him as a possession...a thing, not a person. Colin saw the movement and understood it all too well. He looked around for a moment, and his eyes fell on Jack, still lying in the exact same position. (Not that he’d ever move again.)
“Hey,” Colin said, pointing at Jack, “Okay with you to wear his pants?” Ryan nodded gratefully, and Colin made quick work of stripping the pants off the dead man. He handed them to Ryan, who immediately started putting them on. Colin looked at Jack, giving Ryan the chance to get dressed in relative privacy. He had seen dead bodies before, but only at funerals, and he had certainly never undressed one. Jack was still limp and just starting to cool -- Colin shuddered, wiping at the blood on his chest again. It was Jack’s, of course, and Colin desperately wanted to wash it off. It was because of this blood that Jack’s shirt was useless...that, and the big ragged hole in the back.
Ryan was staring up the stairs at the heavy metal door. Colin followed his gaze, and then looked at the still unconscious form of Chris. He could see the key hanging from its chain around the man’s neck, and he moved forward to retrieve it. Ryan stopped him with a soft touch on his arm, and then gave him an apologetic look.
“Let me...I have to...I can’t really explain it.” Watching the anger and pride flash in Ryan’s eyes, Colin thought he understood. Ryan *needed* to take the key away from Chris, to show he wasn’t afraid. He needed to take back some of what had been stolen from him. Colin nodded, hoping Ryan wasn’t taking on too much, and he felt a flash of pride in his friend as he gave Ryan an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
Ryan could feel himself trembling. Each step he took toward Chris was harder than the last. He kept expecting the man to leap up, with that accursed straight razor in his hand. Over and over, Ryan had been taught the price of defiance. Even though he knew Chris was chained and helpless, the fear refused to leave him alone. Some cowed, broken part of his mind was screaming at him, warning that he would be punished harshly for his audacity. Daring to steal the master’s key? Was he crazy? Did he *want* to suffer? Because that’s what he was asking for, and he deserved it for such behavior. Ryan mentally told the yammering voice to shut the fuck up already, biting his ragged lip.
His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t get the chain off. Being so close, actually touching him -- it went against all his training. He wasn’t allowed to touch Chris unless he was specifically ordered to do so...Ryan still remembered the first time he had tried it. It wasn’t even an attack, or an escape attempt. He had simply staggered, exhausted and starving, and automatically put out a hand to steady himself, bumping slightly into Chris. The punishment had been a particularly brutal rape, followed by what seemed like days with no food. Even as he reached out for the keys, Ryan kept his eyes down; touching Chris was bad enough, daring to look at him at the same time would probably get him killed. At least, that’s what the frightened, broken part of him believed.
Ryan looked back over his shoulder for a moment. Colin was right there, watching him with serious, intense eyes. When he saw the pleading glance, he gave Ryan a gentle smile, but made no move to help him. He knew Ryan had to do this on his own. It was hard though...damn hard to stand there and not respond to the fear he saw in Ryan’s eyes.
Strengthened by Colin’s faith in him, Ryan steeled himself and quickly yanked the chain away. Chris stirred ever so slightly, and Ryan cringed, taking two quick steps back. He was suddenly and completely sure that Chris was going to wake up and punish him for his disobedience. Ryan had actually *touched* him, tried to take the keys, dared to fight back... Ryan knew he was really in for it this time. Chris was probably going to kill him. Slowly.
He was unable to believe it was real when Chris lapsed back into stillness again. He wasn’t going to be punished? He actually had the key and was going to get away with it? Impossible. And yet...Chris wasn’t moving. And the key was sitting in his palm, undeniably real. Turning to Colin, he held up the key, feeling some of his pride return. Colin grinned at him, and Ryan smiled -- his first smile in quite some time.
Putting a gentle hand on Ryan’s back, Colin walked with him toward the stairs, gesturing for Ryan to precede him as they began to climb. Ryan felt that same submissive part of his mind telling him that the key wouldn’t work, that he would be trapped down here forever, but he refused to listen. Colin was here, and Colin would take care of things. Colin had rescued him, charged in like an avenging angel...Ryan felt his lips twitch into a slight smile at the thought. When he turned the key, his hands weren’t even shaking. The lock clicked easily, and Ryan pushed the door open, squinting against the bright light that burst through from the other side.
Colin turned to look at Ryan, reassuring himself that yes, Ryan was alive and yes, he was still there, still within arm’s reach. In the bright sunshine, the bruises and cuts on Ryan’s dirty skin were even more shocking. Colin felt anger flare up all over again as he saw the long, twisting red lines that were the result of that heated blade, cutting and burning at the same time. Ryan would have permanent scars from this experience -- and not just on his skin. Colin frowned worriedly -- some of those cuts were alarmingly red and looked swollen around the edges. Ryan was very pale, except for two hectic patches of color on his cheeks, and Colin’s frown deepened. Ryan was probably sick. God only knew what that bastard had done to him.
A welcome breeze blew through the open windows, making Colin take another deep breath, relishing air that didn’t smell dank and musty. Ryan shivered though, and as Colin watched in concern, the shivering got worse. Shirtless and barefoot, covered in cold sweat and dried blood, Ryan was looking alarmingly weak and shaky. Colin moved to his side, rubbing his arms briskly, trying to warm him, but found the skin already much warmer than it should be. Although Ryan leaned into the touch, he didn’t stop shivering. The sweat on Ryan’s skin only worried Colin more, because he was sure that it was water Ryan couldn’t afford to lose. Slipping off Ben’s jacket, Colin quickly wrapped it around Ryan’s thin shoulders. Ryan let his eyes slip shut for a moment in pleasure as he snuggled into the soft fabric, warm from Colin’s body.
Colin overlapped the jacket with his arms, holding Ryan as tightly as he dared while still being careful of his tender skin. To his relief, Ryan’s shivering subsided, and his breathing settled. Ryan’s head sank down to rest on Colin’s shoulder, and his body grew limp and heavy. When Colin lifted his head from Ryan’s shoulder to look at him, he noticed that the green eyes were dull and sleepy, with a glassy look that Colin associated with fevers. Colin knew that the fever was not a good sign, but he wasn’t sure how serious it was. Somewhere in the back of Colin’s mind, a little fact popped up: when people die of a high fever, it’s because the brain is essentially boiled in its own fluids. Colin shivered, wondering where he had picked *that* particular fun fact up.
Ryan certainly seemed out of it, barely awake, but that might not be due to the fever. Colin could understand that Ryan was exhausted -- hell, he was exhausted too -- but he didn’t know if Ryan should be allowed to sleep or not. Deciding to err on the side of caution, Colin shook him slightly, and talked to him to keep him awake.
“Hey, Ryan...you still with me, man?”
“Mmmm...yeah...”
Colin winced slightly -- speaking hurt his parched throat. That’s when it occurred to him that he didn’t have to live with that terribly thirsty feeling anymore. And neither did Ryan. Even with his meager store of medical knowledge, Colin knew that sick people should drink plenty of fluids. Now, at least there was one thing that he could do for Ryan that he could be sure would help. With a wide grin splitting his face, Colin turned and looked around, quickly spotting a doorway that opened on what looked like a kitchen. He could even see a shiny chrome tap hanging over the sink, and he licked his dry lips involuntarily. It seemed like he could smell the water from here. Colin started in that direction, but was pulled up short by a tight grasp on his wrist. He glanced at Ryan in confusion.
“Don’t go. Please...” Ryan’s eyes were huge, pleading. Even as he spoke, he ducked his head contritely, hunching his shoulders in anticipation of some punishment.
“Ryan...it’s okay. Come with me. Let’s go get some water.” Colin spoke as gently as he could, trying to keep his impatience out of his voice. He could feel his body begging for the water, and some basic, survival part of his mind wanted to yank his arm from Ryan’s grasp and run for that sink. He wanted to turn the water on and stick his head under the tap, let it run into his mouth, cascading over his head, washing away the feeling of sweat and too many unwanted touches. He could imagine how it would taste, cold and leaden, marvelously wet, and he swallowed, making a clicking sound in his dry throat.
“Water?” Ryan asked, his head lifting hopefully. “Could I...maybe...” He trailed off again, and Colin’s eyes widened in disbelief. Ryan actually thought he needed Colin’s permission to have some of the water. And he was actually afraid to ask. Ryan was gazing toward the sink now too, licking his cracked lips, with a tortured expression on his face.
“Come on! You can have some too, it’s okay, come on!” Pulling on Ryan’s arm, Colin all but dragged him into the kitchen. Ryan went willingly enough, but he still looked doubtful. Like he expected some kind of trick. Colin understood that only too well -- it had been one of Jack’s favorite games to offer him water and then pull it away at the last minute. In some cold, vindictive corner of Colin’s mind, he rejoiced in the knowledge that Jack was dead.
With a shaking hand, Colin reached out and twisted the cold water knob all the way open. For a split second he was sure that nothing would happen, and his chest tightened painfully, but then water gushed from the tap. Colin stared at it for a moment before giving into his body’s needs and sticking his head under the stream, mouth open, catching all that he could. It was just as he had imagined it would be, cool and sharp and incredibly good. Even though it had that flat mineral taste of city water, with all the added chemicals and the faint aftertaste of chlorine, he thought it was the best thing he had ever tasted. The soothing liquid ran down his throat, finally erasing the stabbing pain there, leaving only a dull ache.
He pulled back after several seconds, sputtering, blinking water from his eyes. It ran down his face and chest, soaking his hair, feeling wonderfully refreshing. It also reminded him of how dirty he was, and for a moment he nearly stuck his arms under the tap in an effort to get clean. Then he remembered that Ryan was still waiting for a drink. Colin ducked his head guiltily, knowing that with his fever, Ryan probably needed the water more than he did.
“Go on, Ry, you need this more than I do,” Colin said softly, gesturing to the running water. Ryan looked at it longingly, his lips parted. He looked helplessly at Colin for a moment, obviously wanting the water. Something was holding him back. In his mind, Ryan could see Chris again, setting a cup of water on the ground in front of him and then telling him not to take it.
“Just don’t take it, pet. I’m going to leave for a little while, and if it’s still there when I get back, maybe I’ll let you have it, plus a little more. But if you take it...”
He hadn’t needed to finish the threat. Ryan already knew the price of disobedience. Then Chris had left, and Ryan had stared at the water, mesmerized, swallowing and helplessly licking his dry, cracked lips. He thought he had never wanted anything so badly in his life.
The first time Chris did that, Ryan couldn’t help himself. He took the water as soon as that bastard left the room. But the punishment had been particularly brutal, and it was followed by an even longer period of time without water. Eventually, Ryan learned to let the water sit there, and was allowed to drink it when Chris returned, provided that the sadistic asshole was in a good mood.
“Ryan? Go on...here. How about this?” Colin asked, as he grabbed a plastic cup that was sitting on the counter. He quickly rinsed it and filled it with the water, then held it out to Ryan. His friend’s eyes fixed on the cup, and one hand started to go out, before pulling back. Ryan looked at him pleadingly, and slowly shook his head.
“I’m not supposed to... it has to be given.”
Colin blinked in confusion. Given? He was giving the cup to Ryan, holding it out, offering it -- how else could he possibly give it? He looked up at Ryan, frowning, and Ryan opened his mouth a little more, tilting his head toward the cup. Colin suddenly remembered the way he had been forced to eat from Ben’s hands, and he had the sinking feeling that he knew what this was about. Chris must have given Ryan water by hand, and somehow tortured him into thinking that was the only way he could have it. Ryan was still looking at him with those pleading, desperate eyes, and Colin gritted his teeth. If he ever needed another reason to hate Chris, here it was.
“It’s okay, Ryan. You can take it. No one is going to hurt you.” Colin spoke slowly and deliberately, but Ryan only shook his head miserably. The taller man was trembling, apparently fighting some internal battle, but he couldn’t bring himself to take the cup. Colin looked at him sadly for a moment, and then sighed and brought the cup to Ryan’s lips, carefully tipping the water into his friend’s mouth. Ryan drank greedily, gasping as the cold wetness hit his dry throat. He sucked the whole cupful down quickly and his eyes slipped shut as he moaned softly in relief. Colin smiled -- he understood the feeling.
Taking the empty cup, he turned to the sink and refilled it, then held it back out to Ryan. The taller man looked at it and parted his lips, licking them eagerly, but Colin didn’t put the cup to his mouth again. Instead he reached out and took Ryan’s hand, bringing it to the cup. He pressed the cool plastic into his friend’s palm and curled the long fingers around it, holding Ryan’s hand between both of his own. Ryan was shaking his head, his eyes wide, and he tried half-heartedly to pull away.
“No...I can’t...he said--“
“Yes, Ryan. Take it. You don’t have to do what he says anymore.” Colin held onto Ryan’s hand for a few moments, staring into his eyes. Then, he carefully removed his hands, leaving Ryan holding the cup. Ryan stared down at it miserably, wanting to drop it but at the same time unwilling to let go of precious water. It’s amazing how you don’t realize how much you need something until you don’t get enough of it.
For a moment, Colin thought he would have to actually force Ryan’s hand up to his mouth, but Ryan started moving on his own. Ryan’s shaking got worse -- water was actually slopping over the edges of the cup as it approached his lips. He gritted his teeth, remembering how he had taken the key away from Chris. How he had stood up to him when that bastard had the gun turned on Colin. He could do this. He needed the water, and he was going to take it. Ryan shuddered, taking a deep breath. Finally he tipped the water into his mouth and swallowed it quickly, almost desperately. He looked like he was afraid the cup would be taken away any second. Colin only smiled at him in approval and gently stroked the back of his knuckles down Ryan’s cheek, trying to reassure him.
“See, Ryan? Nothing bad happened. You don’t have to be afraid of him anymore. You’re free now.”
Ryan stared at him in disbelief, but when Colin refilled the cup for him again, he drank from it with only a little hesitation. Still, his shoulders hunched and he looked around nervously, expecting to be caught and punished. Colin shook his head sadly and got a cup for himself, sucking down more of the cool water. He felt like he could never get enough. Common sense told him that if he took it too fast, he would make himself sick, so Colin reluctantly turned the water off and led Ryan back into the living room.
The water had revived him, and he could feel his body responding to the influx of fluid. He felt more awake and alive than he had in...days? Weeks? Who knew? Colin swallowed, relishing the ability to do it without pain. Ryan looked sleepy again, but Colin was sure the water had been good for him. However, he was still bleeding from a dozen places and swaying slightly on his feet, and Colin decided it was time to get the hell out of this house.
“We have to figure out where we are, and you need to get medical help.” Colin looked around, spotting a phone mounted on the wall. Remembering something he had seen on TV about police being able to trace calls, he figured he could get some help even if he didn’t know where the hell he was.
Colin walked Ryan with him over to the phone, afraid if he let the swaying man sit down, he would pass out again. Ryan stood very close to him, leaning gently against his side, which was fine with Colin. As far as he was concerned, he never wanted to let Ryan out of his sight again. He couldn’t help shooting Ryan a worried look though -- he could feel the heat rising off the taller man in waves. He was really burning up. Colin picked up the phone with one hand and dialed 911, letting the other hand gently stroke Ryan’s hair. His hand was cool and damp from the sink water, and he pressed it to Ryan’s hot forehead, hoping to cool him slightly. Ryan’s eyes were drooping again, but they lifted marginally when he heard Colin’s voice.
“Hello? We need some help...no, I don’t know where I am. We were kidnapped, and my friend is hurt, we need an ambulance, and there’s some really bad guys tied up in the basement...I told you, I don’t know! Can’t you trace the call or something?”
Pause. Exasperated breath.
“Well, they brought us here blindfolded in the back of their van, that’s how. You think I’m making this shit up?”
Longer pause.
“Yes, okay, that would be great. I’m sorry I was...you know...this has all been really -- yeah, okay, we’ll be right here. Can you hurry? My friend is -- oh, they are? All right, thanks. Bye.”
Colin shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment in silent exasperation with bureaucracy in all its forms. Lifting Ryan’s chin to wake him slightly and get his attention, Colin said, “Okay, they’ll be here in a few minutes. We just have to sit tight for a little bit. How you doing, Ry? You okay?”
Ryan nodded automatically, leaning forward to rest his cheek on Colin’s shoulder for a moment before straightening again. Colin was both touched and worried by Ryan’s apparent need for constant reassuring contact. Ryan was normally independent and most definitely *not* touchy-feely. His change in attitude was an indicator of just how deeply this had affected him. Remembering the scene he had interrupted just a little while ago, Colin shuddered and thought they hadn’t even scraped the surface of how badly Ryan had been damaged.
“Should prob’ly call Drew,” Ryan murmured, still sleepily stroking Colin’s arm with a hand that trembled ever so slightly. Colin raised his eyebrows; surprised that Ryan was able to think so clearly. Colin himself had been so wrapped up in his worry over Ryan and his relief to be free that he hadn’t even thought of that. Of course, Drew must be worried sick. Colin wondered fleetingly just how long he and Ryan had been trapped in that dark place.
Shrugging off such depressing thoughts, Colin dialed Drew’s number from memory, wondering what he was going to say. Instead of the stocky comedian’s familiar voice, he got a recorded error message. Frowning in confusion, Colin stared blankly at the phone for several seconds. His own exhaustion and stress was catching up to him, and right then Colin felt about as smart as a potted plant, and considerably less energetic. Finally, it clicked that he needed to put in the area code -- they had traveled so far in that damn van that the call was long distance. Wondering again just where the hell he was, Colin dialed the number again, this time with its three-digit prefix.
Through this whole process, Ryan remained silent, seeming content to trace his fingers over the back of Colin’s neck and occasionally rest against his shoulder. Much as Colin was enjoying the contact, and as much as he needed the reassurance too, he was really beginning to worry about Ryan’s clinginess. This was probably not a good sign for his mental health.
Drew answered on the third ring, sounding out of breath and impatient. “Yes, what?”
“Drew? Its Colin--“
“Colin! Oh my God! Where are you? Is Ryan with you? Are you all right?”
A little overwhelmed, Colin blinked a few times before answering, “Um...I don’t really know. We were, um...I guess you’d call it kidnapped.”
“I saw the house, we thought something like that must have happened. Did they get both of you? Are you guys okay?” Drew’s voice sounded tired and very worried.
“Yeah, Ryan’s here too. I’m okay, and he’s...well, it’s a long story. He’s hurt. But I already called 911 and they’ve got help coming for us.”
Colin could almost see Drew nodding as he listened to the pause at the other end of the line. After taking a moment to assimilate this, Drew asked, “Who was it? Was it that creepy guy who wrote that letter?”
“Yeah...and a couple of his friends.” Colin tried to keep his voice level -- Drew was already worried, and he didn’t want to make things worse by letting his emotions show through.
“What did they want? Did they hurt you?” Drew was speaking softly now, perhaps hearing Colin’s frayed nerves over the phone line despite his efforts to sound calm.
“They wanted Ryan. Or rather, HE did -- Chris. Fucking vicious, sadistic, manipulative son of a bitch!” Colin suddenly snarled, and then stopped short, surprised at himself. He knew he was angry with that bastard, of course he was, but he thought he had better control than that. Ryan was looking at him with wary eyes, and Colin smiled gently at him, cupping the back of his neck with one hand and bringing their foreheads together for a moment.
“Col? You okay?” Drew sounded cautious and concerned, knowing Colin was not given to sudden outbursts of temper.
“Yeah. I...yeah. I’ll be fine. I guess this all got to me a little more than I realized. That bastard -- Chris -- he did things to Ryan. He hurt Ryan really bad, and I couldn’t get to him, I couldn’t stop it...I wanted to so much but I just couldn’t get there... Chris fucked with his head too. Made him think he’s...well, he’s just not thinking right. I...they wouldn’t let me see him...I didn’t even know if he was alive or what, I only heard him screaming that once and then it just stopped and they kept coming in to fuck around with me, messing with my head and...and *touching* me and I couldn’t make them fucking stop and--“ Colin’s voice broke and he stopped abruptly, suddenly realizing he was on the verge of tears. His breathing was rapid and uneven, and he could feel his heartbeat thumping in his chest with an almost painful intensity. Ryan was rubbing his back, nuzzling against his neck in an effort to calm him. Colin took a deep breath and closed his eyes, leaning into Ryan’s embrace until he felt like he could talk again. Drew was silent, waiting patiently for Colin to get it together.
“Sorry. I’m...this is all just...God, I’m so fucking tired, Drew. It was...it was really bad.” Ryan nodded his agreement, still keeping his face buried in the hollow of Colin’s shoulder and his arms wrapped around the shorter man’s body.
“It’s okay, man. I’m glad you’re all right. I’ll make some calls, find out what hospital they’re taking you to, and I’ll get there as soon as I can, all right?” Drew’s voice was quietly sympathetic, and deeply concerned. Colin nodded for a few seconds before his tired mind remembered that Drew couldn’t see him.
“Yeah, that’d be great, Drew. I could really stand to see a friendly face, y’know? Just...just you, for now, okay? I don’t think Ryan is really up to seeing a lot of people right now. And...I don’t think I am, either.”
“Sure, Col, whatever you want. You’ll be okay...do you want me to stay on the phone with you until the help gets there?”
Colin’s first impulse was to say yes -- he was feeling very unsteady and Drew’s voice was like a lifeline to someplace sane and solid. But a breeze blowing across his bare damp torso made him shiver and reminded him that he was still half-naked. After spending so long trapped in that chilly cell with no clothes at all, Colin wanted nothing more than to be fully clothed and warm again.
“Nah, Drew, thanks for the offer, but I want to find a shirt before the paramedics get here.”
Drew blinked, wondering why Colin was shirtless. It seemed like an odd thing for Colin to say, and he sounded so calm and rational all of the sudden. This, right after he had nearly broken down talking about how he couldn’t get to Ryan and how they wouldn’t stop touching him. It was like Colin was surrounded by a thin layer of ice, and occasionally anger and fear would break through. Drew recognized the behavior as classic shock from his military training with the Marines. He was glad they had medical help coming already -- from what Colin had said and the way he said it, they both needed some help.
“Okay, man, I’ll see you at the hospital. Hang in there, all right?”
“Yeah, I will. And Drew...thanks.”
“No problem. Bye.”
And just like that, they were alone in the house again. Colin took a moment to stare at Ryan, knowing he was being ridiculously needy but not caring. He just had to see those sweet, familiar features -- the green eyes, sleepy but alive and aware; the soft curls of dark blonde hair; the slim lips that he had kissed so often on stage, but never in real life. Colin lightly traced his fingertips over those lips, feeling strangely bewitched. Another shiver raised goose bumps on his skin, reminding him that he still needed a shirt.
“C’mon, Ry, help me find a shirt, okay?” Colin asked, leading Ryan by the hand to what he presumed were the bedrooms. Ryan went easily, still very clingy and compliant. Colin was afraid of finding out what had been done to make his normally stubborn and unshakable friend so docile. He missed the old smartassed, sarcastic Ryan...the one who could take anything and dish it right back out without blinking. This Ryan was quiet, and all too submissive -- it made Colin uncomfortable.
Walking into the first door in the hall, Colin entered what appeared to be a guest bedroom. There were very few personal touches in the room, but the closet held a few shirts. Colin grabbed one, guessing by the size that it had probably been Jack’s. Well, he wouldn’t be needing it anymore, would he? Colin smiled grimly, while a small part of his mind watched nervously, wondering just who he had become. Someone who took pleasure in the death of another human being? No matter how vile he had been, no matter what he had done, some part of Colin was appalled that the rest of him was happy the bastard was dead.
Colin slipped the shirt on with a sigh of relief, glad to be dressed again. He turned to Ryan to say as much, and felt his stomach lurch when he saw only an empty space next to him. Ryan had just been there! Panic tried to jump up his throat, and Colin choked it back down, telling himself he was being ridiculous. Ryan was fine. Just because the last time they had been separated, Ryan had been tortured and raped, that didn’t mean anything. Completely failing to convince himself, Colin looked around frantically, and spotted a shadow moving in the hallway. He stepped into the hall just in time to see a silhouette disappear into another bedroom.
No! Chris couldn’t possibly have gotten free. There was no way.
Right?
End part 6
* * * * *
Colin could see Ryan lying on the floor, dark red blood rapidly soaking into the carpet beneath him. He was curled on one side, scrabbling helplessly at his midsection with bloodied hands. Chris stood over him, still grinning that shark-like grin, holding his knife. The knife glinted coldly in the unforgiving fluorescent light; and, like Ryan’s hands, it was covered with blood. Ryan’s breathing was ragged, and strangely wet. Colin could hear it bubbling, almost, and he could see why when Ryan flopped onto his back. There was a great rending tear across his abdomen.
It wasn’t like looking at a medical picture, or even like watching those surgery shows on TV. Those were always clean and sterile. This was shockingly real, bright and messy and still moving. Colin could see the blood spurting up in time with Ryan’s heartbeat, could see the hint of glistening pink coiled intestine, the dark red-brown of his liver. Ryan was clutching at the tear, actually trying to put everything back in. Released from the constraint of skin and muscle by the sharp blade, his internal organs were rapidly becoming external.
Colin shook his head violently, rubbing his eyes and trying to banish the gruesome image from his mind. He could see it in vivid detail; could hear Ryan’s ragged, desperate breathing and Chris’s mocking laughter. When he skidded into the room where he had seen the silhouette, he fully expected to see Ryan lying curled on the floor, bleeding and dying. Instead, he saw Ryan...everywhere. He was on the walls, small and big and every size in between, laughing and smiling and goofing around, posing or on stage, and there was one life size model standing in the middle of the room, staring at the rest.
Colin had been so certain of what he was going to see, it took him a moment to realize the life size model wasn’t a model, but the real thing. Closing his eyes in relief, Colin quickly stepped forward, hugging Ryan from behind and laying his head gently against the sore back. He tightened his arms as much as he dared without hurting Ryan, still trying to shake off that vivid imaginary picture of Ryan bleeding on the floor. He could feel how thin Ryan was, and the unnatural warmth of the fever, but at least he was *alive.* Colin felt a twinge of irritation with Ryan for running off like that and scaring the hell out of him, but it quickly melted away. He was surprised to feel the tall, slender frame trembling badly.
“Ryan? What’s wrong?”
“It’s me...they’re all me...” Ryan was still staring at the room, feeling fear reach up and claw at him, threatening to drag him into hysteria. Some of the pictures were glossy publicity shots, while many others appeared to be computer printouts of screen captures from the show. A few were enlarged to poster size and tacked everywhere -- walls, corners, overlapping others; it didn’t seem to matter. In one corner there was something that looked like a cross between a shrine and some kind of voodoo thing. Here, all the pictures had clearly been taken in the basement, because they showed Ryan naked, bruised and bleeding, and in several of them Chris was either cutting or raping him. Or both. The pictures were accompanied by several bowls and vials of different colored fluids. Ryan recognized blood, which Chris had collected from him over the course of his ‘training.’ Some appeared to be the acid that Chris had so enjoyed dripping on his legs, while still others were unidentifiable. To complete the ensemble, there were several candles, and a cloth doll with bits of Ryan’s clothing sewn to it and a lock of his hair on the top.
Ryan took it all in, feeling like he was drowning. His throat seemed to close to a pinhole and it felt like all his skin had just gotten too tight. He thought that Chris was insane, and his obsession with Ryan was certainly clear, but to see it like this -- so glaringly real, so painstakingly constructed... Ryan was just beginning to realize the kind of man he had escaped. Make that narrowly, barely escaped. If that bullet hadn’t missed, if Jack had gotten in a good hit with his knife, if *anything* had happened differently, Colin could be dead right now, and he’d still be in the hands of that madman. Ryan felt his chest tightening with panic, and he struggled for breath. He was dimly aware that Colin’s arms were around him, that Colin was saying calming, reassuring things to him, but it didn’t matter.
He could still feel the touch of those sure, steady hands -- cutting his skin, or caressing it possessively; the touch was the same either way. Chris always knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. Ryan remembered the first time he had been taken by force: the pain, the sense of terrible intrusion, of being violated in the most personal, hurtful way, the helpless fear and despair, the useless anger that had only earned him more punishment... Ryan shut his eyes, trying to block out the memories, but they only came harder and faster.
“Feel that, pet? Yes, feel it, it’s me, you’re mine now,” Chris hissed in his silky voice as he pushed into Ryan’s body. Ryan could feel himself tearing on the inside, but the pain wasn’t the worst part.
Far from it.
He was aware of something warm and wet running down his inner thighs, and some coldly logical part of his mind told him it was blood, but the rest of him didn’t want to hear that. The rest of him was sure that this was all a nightmare that he would wake up from soon. There was no blood. There was no monster forcing his dick into Ryan’s body. None of this was happening.
Eventually, Ryan had let go of the nightmare theory, but by then it didn’t matter. Reality had gotten blurry. Maybe it was a dream, maybe it wasn’t. Maybe his whole life up until that point had been a dream, and the basement was the reality. It just didn’t matter. Now, the blade, that mattered.
The hot razor edge, sliding through his skin, the high, stinging pain and the soft hissing sound as his skin burned -- he could actually smell it; could see a little tendril of smoke. Oddly enough, it reminded him of barbecued ribs, before the sauce was put on. A sweet cooking meat smell that drifted across the air in the summertime. It got so he hated the hot blade not just because of the pain, but because it reminded him how hungry he was.
He could remember being forced to beg for his food until it became second nature, until he begged for everything, and thanked Chris for every moment he was allowed to spend without pain, because every such moment was a gift. There was nothing he could do to earn such a respite -- the only way he ever had a chance to rest or a second without pain was by the generosity of his master. Gratitude was expected and demanded, and Ryan learned to give it without being asked, and to beg without being prompted. The training, the torture, and the rape...it all spun around in Ryan’s mind as he stood in the room where his tormenter’s madness lived.
Colin was getting desperate. Ryan’s shaking was getting worse and worse, and his eyes were somewhere far away. No amount of pleading was getting through, and the emptiness in those green eyes was scaring the hell out of Colin. He pulled at Ryan’s arm, yanking him out of the crazy Ryan-room, in the hopes that being away from all those pictures would snap him out of his shock. But nothing changed -- Ryan wasn’t looking out anymore, he was looking in, at his memories. The pictures had just been the catalyst.
Ryan staggered, and Colin hurried to support his weight, startled to feel just how easy it was. Either his fear was making him stronger, or Ryan hadn’t been fed much. Probably both, but it didn’t matter right now. Colin half walked, half carried Ryan over to the couch and sat him down, still trying to reach him with words and touches.
“Ryan? Please, listen to me! It’s all right now! You’re here, you’re safe with me...oh God, Ryan, come back, you’re scaring me! I’m right here with you...I love you...please, Ryan?” The words were honest and heartfelt, but they hadn’t worked the first ten times he had said them, and they didn’t work this time either.
Colin held Ryan close, trying to soothe his violent shaking, staring into his lost eyes in an effort to make contact. He traced the features again, his own hands trembling. He could still feel the fever baking off the taller man, and he frowned worriedly, wondering if Ryan was becoming delirious. There had to be something he could do to help his friend. Some way to cool him down, or wake him up, or...something! He couldn’t just sit here and worry and do nothing. Colin’s soft fingertips found the lips again, and he lingered there, watching for any sign of a response. Ryan was still gone, his eyes frighteningly blank and glassy with fever, his skin hot and flushed.
Colin lightly slapped at Ryan’s cheeks, trying desperately to bring him around. Nothing was working, and Colin started to think that this was dangerous. What if Ryan got trapped, somehow, in his mind? He wasn’t sure how something like that worked, but it seemed possible. Ryan had been through so much... There had to be something he could do. Some way of snapping Ryan out of it, something that would startle him, wake him up, but not hurt him. Colin shook Ryan’s shoulders gently, making his head wobble back and forth bonelessly, but got no response. He put his face close to Ryan’s, staring in his eyes, trying to see any sign of awareness. Then, on a sudden impulse, he leaned forward and kissed Ryan firmly, holding his head in both hands. It was just like their famous Maltese Burger kiss, except this time it kept going.
Colin was losing himself in the sensations. The reality of it was so very sweet. Knowing that Ryan was there and alive, touching him, and feeling his breath made it so much more than just a physical thing. This was assurance that Ryan was alive and real, that he was going to be all right. Ryan’s soft lips, so familiar and yet so new...they had kissed so many times on stage, but never like this. The sweet, salty taste, the intoxicating scent, the feel of Ryan’s breathing fluttering against his lips -- Colin was swept away. Ryan’s lips were yielding, compliant, but not responsive. And then, suddenly, they were. For the briefest of moments, Ryan’s mouth came to life and he returned the kiss reflexively, leaning into Colin to increase the pressure in a purely physical reaction. Colin felt his whole body tingle in response, and then Ryan suddenly pulled away -- no, make that *vaulted* away, his eyes wide and frightened.
Ryan stared at Colin in shock, his mind spinning with conflicting emotions.
//Fuck no! Not again, please no...too much, I can't take anymore...Oh God, Colin, you...you're supposed to help me, not turn on me. Colin wouldn't...he wouldn't kiss me. I'm dirty, worthless...no one would ever want to kiss me; I'm just a thing to be used and hurt. Colin...I held on for you, I fought him for you. Why the FUCK do you want to hurt me?
...
Because I'm not worth
anything more, it's my place, it's my only purpose...but I'm so freaking
SCARED. It's Colin, at least he'll be
gentle, no cutting, maybe I should just let him...he'd be gentle...I know that...don't
I? God I don't even know
anymore...Colin's never shown any interest in me before. Chris was right; I am a worthless slut. I've been touching him and clinging to him,
freaking leading him on.
He's not the bad one. I am.
It's all my fault, led Chris on, led Colin on...and I dare to complain,
I dare to be scared... God I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don't mean to. I'm so fucking scared of what will happen to
me. Even if it is all my fault...how can
I be so selfish? I should just give
Colin what he obviously wants, not force him to hurt me too, like I forced
Chris to hurt me.
I will NOT! What the fuck
am I thinking? If he comes anywhere near me to hurt me again... I won't let
him!
Not like I can stop him
really, not in the state I'm in. I
should just...avoid getting hurt any more than I already am...but I'm scared,
I'm so fucking scared...//
Colin watched as Ryan shrank away, his tear-filled eyes frightened and miserable. He could see Ryan’s expressive face working, flitting from one emotion to the next with startling speed. There was betrayal and disbelief first, and Colin swallowed. It was the same way Ryan had looked at him when Chris had forced the situation that led to Ryan’s hand on his crotch, and Colin had responded.
Now, given what he had just done, Colin expected the betrayal, and understood it, but the fear that followed it made him flinch. He hated seeing Ryan look at him with fear, and hated even more that he deserved it. Colin shook his head, feeling like kicking himself for being so stupid. He was angry with himself, but still, the sudden flash of anger he saw in Ryan’s eyes surprised him. It was actually reassuring to see the spirit there, the resistance, but it melted away far too quickly. Then, there was only fear again, and a miserable kind of resigned acceptance.
He lifted a hand to the trembling man, wanting to stroke his back, give him the reassuring touch that he needed so much, but Ryan flinched, making Colin’s hand freeze in mid-air.
“Ryan...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...I was just trying to make you wake up. You know I would never hurt you.” Ah, but did he know? Colin winced when he saw the unmistakable flash of doubt in his friend’s eyes. I put that there, he thought. I screwed up and now he doesn’t trust me.
Colin wanted so badly to hold Ryan again, but the fear in his friend’s eyes kept him at bay. Ryan didn’t respond to his assurances; he simply kept a wary eye on Colin and sat still, looking forlorn.
Colin was mentally yelling at himself for kissing Ryan. He was filthy, bleeding, feverish, half-starved, scared out of his mind, and probably mentally unbalanced after everything that psychotic son of a bitch had put him through, and then Colin had to go and KISS him? He was about to say something -- anything -- to take that awful lost look out of his friend’s eyes, when he heard voices outside. Ryan heard them too, and looked up in alarm. Colin turned in time to see the door burst open, and three uniformed policemen stepped into the house, followed by a couple paramedics.
Colin stood, looking at them uncertainly. One of the cops stepped forward, and asked, “Are you the one that placed the 911 call?” When Colin nodded, the paramedics moved forward, unceremoniously elbowing the cop out of the way. They stopped at Colin’s side, and began briskly examining him. The looks on their faces made Colin aware of his filthy, bruised condition, and he realized he probably looked worse than he was. Trying not to let their professional touches bother him, he looked over their shoulders and addressed the cop.
“The men who did this are in the basement...that way,” Colin said, nodding toward the still-open basement door. The cop nodded to his two men, and they headed for the door, quickly disappearing into the darkness behind it. Colin pulled away from the paramedics, eliciting several mumbles of protest. One of them -- the bigger one, Colin noted with a tremor of unease -- held on to him with a gentle, but firm grip on his upper arm. Colin felt his irrational fear at being touched and restrained in any way rising up again, and he swallowed, trying to remain calm.
“Um, I’m alright. Really. Can you please help my friend? He’s hurt pretty bad, and he’s got a fever,” Colin insisted, gesturing towards Ryan. The taller man was still perched on the couch, having been silent the whole time. He was staring at the strangers with frightened eyes, looking like a trapped animal. The paramedics exchanged a glance, and then released Colin, moving slowly and non-threateningly toward Ryan. Colin watched carefully, worried about what Ryan’s reaction would be. He was still kicking himself for screwing up earlier, and he wasn’t sure how Ryan would handle these strangers. He quickly found out.
Ryan sprang up from the couch and took several steps back, never taking his eyes off the paramedics. They stopped advancing, and Colin realized they probably dealt with this kind of thing all the time. He just hoped that Ryan would allow them to give him the medical help he so clearly needed.
“Hey, buddy...it’s all right. We’re not going to hurt you. We just need to get you some help, y’know?” Ryan looked utterly unconvinced, and the bigger paramedic took a step forward, saying, “Look, Ryan...it is Ryan, isn’t it?” Caught by surprise at the use of his name, Ryan nodded. “Okay, look...you’re obviously hurt, and you need some medical help. We’re going to check you out, make sure you’re okay. See, my name is Larry, and my partner here is Mike. And you’re Ryan...I know you from TV. So, we’re all friends now, right?”
Deciding it was time to help, Colin walked to Ryan’s side, and put a gentle hand on his back. Ryan accepted the touch; he had already decided to let Colin do what he wanted. He deserved it, after all, for leading him on. If Colin wanted that from him, he could have it. Ryan kept his eyes carefully downcast and bit his lip to keep silent. Colin would at least be gentle with him -- or so he hoped.
Feeling gratified that Ryan didn’t shy away, Colin cautiously put an arm around the slim waist, and pulled their bodies together. Looking up at Ryan earnestly, he said, “Listen to them, Ry. They’re here to help us.” Ryan nodded obediently and allowed the two men to approach him. Colin stayed by his side, gently stroking his back and arms in constant, reassuring motions.
Nodding to his partner, Larry gently turned Ryan from side to side, examining him closely while touching him as little as possible. Mike lifted Ryan’s wrist to check his pulse, and shined a light into the frightened green eyes. They were very calm and professional, and Ryan’s trembling eased somewhat. Larry’s eyes narrowed as he spotted the lines of blood showing under Ryan’s too-small, borrowed jacket. Gesturing to Mike, he pointed them out, and they both raised their eyebrows. Larry pursed his lips and whistled, low, under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.
Colin felt strangely vindicated -- he wasn’t sure why, but it had something to do with his feeling that they had gone through hell. He felt like he wanted those experienced paramedics to be impressed with how much they, and especially Ryan, had suffered. He didn’t want to be taken lightly. Unless...what if that wasn’t why they looked so shocked? What if there was something wrong with Ryan that he wasn’t seeing? Colin glanced quickly at the paramedics, then back at Ryan, wondering what he could have missed.
“All right, Ryan, we need to take a look at your chest and back. I’m going to have to take that jacket off you.” Larry was speaking softly, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. It didn’t seem to work though, as Ryan stiffened and shook his head vehemently. He glanced from the paramedics to Colin, and then back to the strangers. Neither of them seemed safe at the moment, but at least he knew Colin. But... Colin had... he wanted the same thing... just like Chris. He couldn’t just let that... but... Ryan closed his eyes briefly, trying to sort out his tangled thoughts.
Colin wanted...that thing...from him, but he had already decided to let Colin have his way. At least he wouldn’t get cut that way... probably... Ryan had no way of knowing how the paramedics would treat him. So, somewhat reluctantly, Ryan pressed against Colin’s side, hoping for some kind of protection from the advancing paramedics. Mike, who was apparently less experienced than his partner, moved forward impatiently and pulled at the jacket, holding Ryan still with his other hand.
“No! Get the hell away from me! Don’t touch me! Just leave me the fuck alone!” Ryan shouted, jerking out of Colin’s arms and backing across the room. Looking like a hunted animal, his gaze darted from one man to the next, his eyes flashing anger and fear. Colin stared at Ryan in surprise, and then frowned worriedly, knowing Ryan needed this medical treatment. There had to be some way to calm him, to make him accept the help. He was looking shakier by the minute, and Colin was afraid that he might collapse at any time. And yet, he was strangely pleased to see Ryan show some spirit.
“Ryan! Listen to me...you know me, right?” Colin asked, trying to hold Ryan’s gaze. Ryan nodded automatically, giving him a pleading ‘help me’ look. “Okay, now trust me, Ryan...these men are here to help you. Just let them look at you -- I won’t let anyone hurt you. Never again.” Ryan swallowed and hunched his shoulders, then quickly hurried back to Colin’s side, ducking his head sheepishly. Disobeyed him...shouldn’t have done that. He said to let those men look, should’ve just stayed put, now he’s going to be mad, just look at him, he looks mad... You’re in trouble now.
Colin felt another flash of anger as he remembered watching Chris raping Ryan, and cutting him with that hot blade. He gritted his teeth in determination, knowing if anyone *did* try to hurt Ryan, he was going to make them pay for it.
Allowing Colin to approach again, Ryan stood still, trembling but not running. When Colin asked permission with his eyes, and then began removing the jacket, Ryan stood still and allowed him to do it. Ryan had to bite his lip again to keep from reacting. Colin wouldn’t... not in front of the paramedics. Right? Ryan didn’t *think* he would do anything, but he really couldn’t be sure. As the jacket was removed, he shivered again, the cool air drawing goose bumps from his feverish skin. Ryan wanted to grab the jacket back, feeling cold and exposed, vulnerable, but that would be disobedient. Colin wanted the jacket off. And Colin was in charge here.
Colin held the jacket in one hand, glad that Ryan trusted him enough to let him take it. Ryan had his head down, but then he looked challengingly at the two paramedics, as if daring them to make a comment about his badly scarred body. They didn’t say a word, but Colin noticed the younger one, Mike, paling slightly. He felt a strange pride, knowing he and Ryan -- especially Ryan -- had endured somethingg terrible and lived through it.
The paramedics moved forward again, carefully examining Ryan’s bare torso, touching lightly here and there. Colin could see that the touches were scaring Ryan, and hurting him slightly, but the tall, trembling man held firm, his chin thrust out defiantly. For the first time, Colin felt like Ryan was going to be all right.
“Hi there, pet.” The voice came drifting from the open basement door, familiar and terrifying as ever. Chris stood there, his hands cuffed behind his back, with one of the cops keeping a firm grip on his arms. They had allowed him to put his pants back on, but other than that, he was bare. There was a fair sized bloodstain darkening the fabric over his thigh. Despite his captive state, he still managed to project an air of dominance and malice. His cold blue eyes were fixed on Ryan, and a slow grin stretched his lips, baring his teeth wickedly. He took a limping step forward, obviously still affected by the knife wound in his leg. The cop prevented him from moving any more, but that didn’t change Ryan’s reaction.
Ryan seemed to curl in on himself. His eyes dropped immediately to the ground, and he hunched his body, making himself look smaller. Ducking his head, he cringed back, and Colin could hear his breathing change to short, terrified gasps, making little whimpering noises in his throat. Colin was torn between his desire to comfort Ryan and his burning need to run across the room and tear that son of a bitch apart. Just seeing Chris again was filling Colin with fury, and his fists clenched in frustration. He wanted so badly to hurt that sick bastard, to make him suffer for the way he had abused Ryan.
“Get that fucking psycho out of here,” Colin snarled, glaring venomously at Chris. The cop nodded and began ushering Chris toward the front door, pushing him roughly. Chris never took his eyes off Ryan, who was still hunched over, frozen in place. Colin smiled grimly at the way Chris was limping -- he hoped the knife wound hurt like hell. It wasn’t enough though...nothing could ever be enough. No amount of pain and suffering could possibly make up for what that monster had done to Ryan.
Colin followed Chris with his eyes, watching him warily in case he even considered trying anything. He hoped that Chris would struggle and try to escape, so the cops would be forced to shoot him. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to see that sadistic freak dead.
The other cop followed with Ben, who was also handcuffed, and wearing nothing but his underwear and his raggedly cut shirt. Colin tried to be angry with Ben, but the honest confusion on the man’s face left him feeling only pity and disgust. Besides, he didn’t have time to think about Ben. He had to deal with Ryan, who still hadn’t moved. He had remained in the same cowering, submissive position since the moment he had heard that hated voice. Colin gently touched his shoulder, and Ryan flinched, moaning softly under his breath. Colin bit his lip -- it hurt so much to see Ryan like this, and it hurt even more to see Ryan shy away from him, hunching his shoulders and trembling at his touch.
“Ryan? It’s okay...he’s gone. You’re safe now...” Colin repeated this several times, speaking softly, moving closer to Ryan. He carefully put his arms around the trembling man, still whispering reassuring things in his ear. At first Ryan remained stiff and unresponsive, but gradually his body relaxed and he leaned into the embrace. He had to do what Colin wanted, respond to his cues, and make him happy. Maybe if he behaved, Colin wouldn’t hurt him. If he just did what he was supposed to do, and didn’t force Colin to punish him the way he forced Chris to do it... no. Better not to think about that. Colin wouldn’t let Chris get him again. As long as he did what Colin wanted, he would be okay.
Ryan’s long arms wrapped around his friend, and he buried his face against Colin’s neck, rubbing his cheek on the shorter man’s shoulder as if he was trying to get inside his skin. Colin could feel tears dampening his neck, but Ryan remained completely silent. That was the rule, after all. Be quiet, and do what you’re told. If he could just concentrate on that, he’d be okay. Blinking back his own tears, Colin gently stroked his back, wincing as his fingers felt the many cuts. He could still feel the heat baking out of Ryan’s skin; the man was like an oven.
Ryan’s body was growing heavy and limp in his arms, and Colin pulled back slightly. He was alarmed to see that Ryan was nearly asleep, his eyes half-lidded and his body swaying. Colin looked over his shoulder at Larry, who saw the confused expression on his face and moved forward.
“This is okay, it’s normal. It’s not just the fever, although that’s part of it. He’s probably exhausted, and his body is shutting down. It’s a shock reaction,” Larry said, and Colin nodded, relieved that Ryan was going to be all right. Well... physically, at least. “Walk him out to the ambulance, and we’ll get going,” Larry instructed, moving to Ryan’s other side. When the big paramedic tried to help by supporting some of Ryan’s weight, the scarred, trembling man whimpered in protest and shrank against Colin, squeezing his eyes shut. Colin wanted him to stay close, and he wasn’t going to screw up such a simple rule. He didn’t know what these strangers wanted with him, but he knew that doing what Colin wanted was the safest way to go. So far, he hadn’t been hurt...but of course, that could change. And it would, if he messed up, and forced Colin to discipline him. Larry backed off, and allowed Colin to take Ryan out the door by himself.
When they stepped into the front yard, Colin paused for a moment, staring up at the sky. It was wonderfully big, and a welcome change from the dark closeness of the basement. He nudged Ryan with an elbow, and gestured to the open sky with a grin. Ryan blinked a few times, staring sleepily up at nothing, and then he smiled softly at Colin. He didn’t have to fake it. The sky really did look wonderful after so much time in that dark hole. The shorter man returned the smile, and then watched, bemused, as Ryan’s eyes drifted shut again and his head dropped back onto Colin’s shoulder. He smiled and ran a hand through Ryan’s hair, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.
Looking forward, Colin saw the two paramedics raise their eyebrows slightly but he didn’t care. Ignoring them, he walked Ryan to the back of the ambulance and helped him in. Colin climbed in after him, settling his friend’s long, lanky frame onto the hospital-style bed.
“Um...we don’t normally let non-family members ride in the ambulance. The police can take you to the hospital.” This came from Mike, who was climbing into the driver’s seat and looking back at the two bruised men. Colin stared at him, giving him a ‘just try and make me move’ look.
“I’m staying with Ryan,” Colin said, his tone brooking no argument. He picked up one of Ryan’s large hands and held it, letting his other hand rest on the gently rising and falling chest. Ryan was deeply asleep, he had knocked out completely from the moment his head hit the pillow. Colin was tired too, and watching Ryan sleep peacefully was making him even more so, but he was determined to watch over his friend. Mike seemed ready to argue the matter further, but another stony look from Colin closed his mouth, and he simply turned around, facing forward again.
Larry climbed into the back of the ambulance, pulling the doors shut behind him. His beefy frame was a tight fit with the other two men already in there, and he sat down on a box of equipment, looking at Colin over Ryan’s sleeping form. Colin met his eyes challengingly, daring the other man to say anything about his continued presence in the vehicle.
Larry apparently recognized the futility of argument, because he didn’t say a word. He simply began the process of putting an IV in Ryan’s arm. Colin watched him like a hawk. No one was going to hurt Ryan again, not while he was around. He could see Ryan’s even breathing lifting his chest in a reassuringly consistent way, and Colin smiled, gently squeezing the hand that he held. Ryan was going to be okay. That’s all that mattered now. They were finally out of that place, and Ryan was safe. Colin was finally starting to feel like this was real. They had really made it out.
He moved the hand on Ryan’s chest up to his neck, feeling the steady pulse, and the heat of the fever. Colin almost felt like crying every time he looked at his friend. It had been so bad in there, for both of them, but especially Ryan. He was going to make sure that Ryan got better. He was going to stay by his side, no matter what. And God help anyone who got in his way.
Larry’s technique was quick and experienced, and he slid the needle in smoothly. Ryan stirred slightly, murmuring in pain, and Colin shushed him, stroking his hair reassuringly.
“What are you giving him?” Colin asked, as Larry hooked up a bag of fluid to drip into Ryan’s vein.
“Just saline solution for now -- he’s dehydrated. We’ll probably put some other things in later...painkillers, antibiotics, sedatives, that kind of thing. I can’t give him any drugs until we know his medical history.” Colin nodded at the logic of this, and looked back at Ryan. His friend was still deeply asleep, and Colin found his own exhaustion getting harder and harder to fight. There didn’t seem to be anything he could do for Ryan at the moment, so he leaned back against the wall of the ambulance and rested his eyes. Just for a few seconds...
* * *
Colin woke up when someone tried to pull his hand away from Ryan’s. He sat up straight in confusion, looking around. The doors to the ambulance were open, and Mike was standing behind it, looking in. Larry was the one trying to make his fingers release their hold on Ryan’s, and Colin pushed ineffectively at the big man.
“Hey...what’re you doin’?” Colin asked, still half asleep.
“He needs to be seen by the doctors -- and so do you. I know you want to stay with him, but you can’t right now. You’ll see him again later.” Larry’s voice was patient but firm, and he clearly meant it. He pushed Ryan’s bed toward the open doors, and wheeled legs dropped from under it, turning it into a gurney. Colin jumped up, watching in alarm as Ryan was wheeled away from him. He started forward, unwilling to let Ryan out of his sight, but Larry stopped him with a firm hand on his chest.
“Let me go! I can’t...I have to stay with him!” Colin knew, intellectually, that the hospital staff was doing the right thing. He knew that Ryan needed medical care, and that his presence would be a hindrance. He knew that he probably needed a little medical help himself, and that he should go get it. Knowing all these things didn’t change the way he felt about it, though. Every time Ryan left his sight, something terrible happened to him. Colin was terrified that he would never see Ryan again -- and knowing his fear was irrational didn’t make it go away.
“He’ll be fine. Now come on, there’s a doctor waiting to see you,” Larry said firmly, escorting Colin out of the vehicle and into the hospital. Biting his lip in worry, Colin allowed himself to be steered down the labyrinthine halls. The antiseptic smell and chilly air of the hospital did nothing to comfort him, but Colin knew this was necessary. He would just have to wait to see Ryan again, and try to be content with the knowledge that his friend was being cared for by experts.
* * *
Three hours later
Colin sighed and looked at the clock for the fifth time in as many minutes. It was one of those impossibly sterile clocks that adorn hospital walls, stark black and white, clear and somehow uncaring. Colin wondered how many people had died in this blindingly clean room. He could just imagine a doctor glancing up at that coldly logical clock to fix the time of death for the record.
There were two beds, both covered in the crisply white hospital sheets. He sat down on one of them for a moment before giving it up as a bad job and rising to his feet again. He just couldn’t sit still. Ryan...dammit, where was Ryan? Why was this taking so long? Maybe...maybe they had found something wrong with him. Maybe the fever was more serious than the paramedics had thought.
No. Ryan was fine. He hadn’t lived through all that crazy shit that Chris put him through only to succumb to a stupid fever! That would be so far beyond unfair that Colin refused to contemplate it. Ryan would be okay. The doctors were probably just looking him over, making sure, who knew. Maybe he needed stitches for some of those cuts. He had been hurt worse than Colin, after all, so it made sense that it would take longer to look after him.
The exam Colin had been through had taken about two hours. He had been thoroughly poked, prodded, and questioned, which was a rather unnerving experience. Telling the story to a calm, detached doctor and impassive police detective wasn’t easy, but he had done it. In between questions, they had cleaned him up and done several tests. He had been given antibiotics and anti-nausea medication -- the latter after he had lost control when his story reached the scene he had walked in on. Colin thought there was nothing quite so embarrassing as throwing up in front of a roomful of strangers. Except, maybe anything else about the whole experience. By the time the story was through, Colin was humiliated and even more exhausted than before.
They had loaned him some hospital scrubs, since the clothes he had borrowed from Ben were dirty and didn’t fit very well. Besides, they had admitted him for at least one night, and that meant wearing the thin cloth garments that marked him as a patient. The doctor had frowned over his bruised ribs, saying that two of them appeared to be cracked, and given him some painkillers. So, he was clean and relatively numb, which felt good. However, he was also emotionally drained and shaken from recounting the events, and very impatient to see Ryan again. Leaving him alone was the worst possible thing that Colin could do. At least, it seemed that way. He *needed* to see Ryan again, to see his eyes open and alive, to see him breathing, to touch him and know he was real.
But he couldn’t, because he was stuck in this damn hospital room, pacing impatiently and fiddling with his IV. They wanted to keep him overnight and give him fluids intravenously -- apparently he was dehydrated and malnourished, and the doctors wanted to keep an eye on those ribs. The bed looked inviting, but Colin was too worried to lie down. There was no way he could rest until he knew that Ryan was going to be all right. Until he could see it with his own eyes, and be sure. His need to see Ryan seemed to get stronger by the minute, and no amount of deep breathing calmed his worry.
“Excuse me, sir...” Colin turned to see an orderly standing in the doorway, and he quickly stepped forward, dragging his wheeled IV pole behind him.
“Yes? Is Ryan done being examined? Can I see him?” Colin asked anxiously. The orderly nodded, and Colin breathed a sigh of relief. Finally! “Where is he? Take me to him, please.” The orderly blinked a bit at Colin’s rapid words and insistent tone, but he seemed to understand. Stepping out of the doorway, he led Colin down the hall and around several corners until they arrived at another door. He opened it for Colin, and gestured inside with a smile.
Colin brushed by, his eyes trained on the single occupied bed. As he drew closer, he recognized Ryan’s lanky form, and he sank down in the chair next to the bed, staring raptly at his friend. Ryan was breathing slowly and deeply, his chest moving in a steady rhythm. He was clean, and dressed in a hospital gown, covered to the waist with a blanket. The thick stubble that had coated his face had been shaved cleanly away; presumably by the same people who had cleaned him up. Colin could see the shapes of bandages under the thin material of the hospital gown, and he supposed they were covering Ryan’s burned-in cuts. He wondered what the doctors had made of the name carved in Ryan’s back. The thought made him shudder, and he shook it off, concentrating on Ryan’s steady breathing. He was okay, alive, safe. Thank God. Some part of him still thought that all this was a crazy dream he was having, and he was really still stuck in that damn hole, but the disbelief was fading.
An IV bag identical to his own hung over the bed, and a tube dripped clear fluid into Ryan’s arm. Colin took Ryan’s hand and folded it over his own, rubbing his cheek against the warm, smooth knuckles. It felt incredibly good to see Ryan again, and to touch him...Colin kissed the hand he held gently, then let his cheek rest on it again. The sound of a cleared throat behind him made him turn, and he saw the orderly still standing there, looking bemused.
“Yes?” Colin asked pointedly.
“Well, just so you know, the doctors say he’ll be fine. The damage really wasn’t that bad,” the orderly said, managing to sound patronizing and reassuring at the same time. Colin felt his shoulders tense up in reaction to the young man’s casual words.
“Not that bad?” His voice was ominously low, and the orderly stood up a little straighter, maybe realizing how he had sounded.
“Well...I mean...” Colin waved a hand at him, stopping the young man in mid-stutter. It didn’t really matter what this kid thought. Ryan was alive, and he was going to be okay. That’s all that mattered.
“Has he woken up yet?” Colin asked quietly, keeping his eyes on Ryan. He was really there, really alive, looking so calm and peaceful...
“Um...yeah, he woke up,” the orderly answered, looking away nervously. Colin narrowed his eyes as he noticed the movement.
“What? Is there something you’re not telling me?” Colin asked, looking at Ryan again as if his condition might have changed. The image that flashed through his mind was the same one he had seen earlier -- Ryan with his middle cut open, spilling blood and internal organs onto the floor.
“Well...he woke up when they tried to take his pants off, and I guess he got really upset...he was asking for you.” Colin felt a twinge of guilt when he heard this, and he held Ryan’s hand a little tighter, giving the sleeping man an apologetic look. “Anyway,” the orderly continued, “he was trying to get away, and they were afraid he would hurt himself, so they gave him some sedatives. He’ll be fine, he’s just going to sleep for a while.”
Colin nodded and looked back at Ryan, tracing his fingertips over the familiar features. He let the back of his hand brush gently at Ryan’s cheek, and then tucked an unruly lock of hair behind his ear. “I’m sorry Ry, I should have been there,” he whispered, still carding his fingers through Ryan’s hair. Colin leaned over and pressed his face into the hollow of Ryan’s throat, holding him as close as possible considering their awkward positions. He heard the door close as the orderly left, and he closed his eyes, breathing in Ryan’s familiar scent. His body was warm and inviting, and Colin felt his eyes slipping shut again.
Being with Ryan, he was able to forget his humiliating experience with the doctors and the police, and his semi-sore ribs. Images from the time he had spent in the basement circled in his mind, trying to tear away his sense of comfort and security, but he just snuggled in a little closer to Ryan and blocked them out. Exhaustion finally won the battle with his emotions, and Colin drifted away.
End Part 7
* * * * *
A gentle hand on his shoulder woke Colin, and he lifted his head from Ryan’s chest, blinking sleepily. He slowly straightened, wincing as his back, neck, and bruised ribs complained about sleeping in that awkward position. Rubbing blearily at his eyes, Colin managed to focus on his company -- and found himself looking into the worried eyes of Drew Carey.
“Hey, Drew,” Colin said, yawning. Drew perched on the edge of Ryan’s bed and gave him a sympathetic look.
“Sorry for waking you, but that looked really uncomfortable,” he apologized, gesturing toward the spot on Ryan’s chest where Colin’s head had been lodged. Colin nodded, rubbing at his sore neck. Drew was watching him, no doubt taking inventory of the various scrapes and bruises visible on Colin’s skin.
“S’okay, I’m glad you’re here,” Colin replied, giving Drew a weak smile.
“So...are you okay?” Drew asked, looking worriedly at his friend. When he had first walked in the room, he’d thought the image of his two friends all snuggled together was cute, but the smile had slipped of his face when he saw the way they looked. Both of them were noticeably thinner, and the bruises and cuts were all too visible against their pale skin. He was also startled by the growth of beard on Colin’s face -- he’d never seen the man anything but clean-shaven, and it looked very odd. He’d been worried sick ever since their disappearance, and he was very happy to see them both, but shocked by the little bit he knew of what they had been through.
“I’m all right...doing a lot better now,” Colin added, glancing at Ryan again. Drew wasn’t sure if that meant he was better now that he could see Ryan, or now that he had company, but he shrugged it off.
“Do you...do you want to talk about it?” Drew asked hesitantly, and a shadow passed quickly across Colin’s eyes.
“I...yeah, I guess I do,” Colin answered after a moment. Drew was looking at Ryan, frowning at the bruises and bandages. Colin followed his gaze, and said, “Ryan’s the one who got hurt the most. They were really after him, I was just there for...control.” Colin’s voice thickened; became short and bitter.
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” Colin paused, trying to work out how to put this, and then continued, “Chris wanted Ryan to cooperate. He was such a fucking control freak, so damn manipulative...” Colin paused, and took a steadying breath. “So he threatened me to make Ryan do what he wanted.”
“What did he want?”
“To control him. To hurt him, and rape him, and break him.” Colin felt anger rushing up again as the memories came back. Drew put a hand on his shoulder, and Colin looked at him, lifting his hands in a gesture of frustration. “I just wish I could make that fucking psycho suffer for what he put Ryan through! I wanted to take that damn razor away from him and cut his dick off, I swear... I didn’t think it was even possible to hate someone so much!” Colin was shaking, and Drew scooted a little closer, rubbing at Colin’s shoulder with his hand. He wondered briefly what razor Colin was talking about, but didn’t ask. He would probably find out soon enough.
“What kind of sick freak would do something like that?” Drew shook his head, narrowing his eyes. “Look, why don’t you tell it from the beginning?” Drew asked, keeping his voice calm and understanding. It took an effort -- he was seething inside at the knowledge that his friends had been so mistreated. Seeing them bruised and battered, with needles and other hospital paraphernalia adorning their too-pale bodies, made Drew’s stomach tighten in anger and shock. But he stayed cool on the outside, knowing Colin needed to get this out.
He was worried that his friend was focusing too much on Ryan and ignoring his own obvious trauma. Not that he wasn’t worried about Ryan too, but he couldn’t do anything for the sleeping man right now. Drew could do something for Colin though, and he felt pretty confident in his ability to handle the older man. Colin had been in shock when he made the phone call that brought Drew rushing to the hospital, and it looked like that hadn’t changed. The calm, sympathetic approach was effective though, because Colin nodded, and began.
“We went to Ryan’s house to get some things, and they broke in. Snatched us out of the house, and threw us in their van...it was all really fast. We never had a chance to get away -- fucking son of a bitch knew exactly what he was doing. I’m guessing it was his house we went to, cause the basement had...special features. They took us down there--“
“They?” Drew interrupted.
“Yeah, Chris was the boss, but he had Jack and Ben...Benny...with him. They were supposed to deal with me, I guess, cause he never let them touch Ryan. Ryan was his. Called him his ‘pet.’ Fucking possessive little shit...couldn’t even let Ryan keep his own name!” Colin paused and shook his head angrily, then looked at Ryan and gently brushed a hand down his cheek. The touch seemed to calm him, and he continued, taking a deep breath. “Anyways, they tied us up down there. And Chris made Ryan...made him go down on him.”
“What? How the hell did he do that?” Drew asked, his eyes wide.
“By threatening me, that’s how,” Colin answered, guilt coloring his voice. “Jack cut me with the knife, and they held me, and Ryan did it so they wouldn’t hurt me anymore. It really messed him up too -- afterwards, he just kinda hid in his mind for a while. God, I was so fucking scared.” Colin shivered, remembering how guilty and helpless he had felt. Drew moved closer again and patted his back, earning a grateful look from Colin.
“Must’ve been hard,” Drew observed, still concentrating on calmly drawing the story out of his friend. Colin nodded miserably. It had been more than hard, seeing his best friend being forced into something like that...but it was over now, Colin reminded himself. He looked at Ryan again; and again, the sight of him sleeping peacefully was a calming influence.
“That wasn’t all, though. Fucking bastard was just getting started,” Colin growled, narrowing his eyes. “The next thing he wanted was to force me to...to rape Ryan.”
“What the fuck?!” Drew exclaimed. “You would never do that!”
“Of course I wouldn’t!” Colin replied, and then bit his lip, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. “Well...not if I had a choice. But he didn’t give me a choice. He was going to kill Ryan if I didn’t cooperate.”
“You...you didn’t...right?” Drew asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“No, I didn’t! But...I was going to -- to save his life! I had to!” Colin sounded defensive, and Drew rubbed his back reassuringly, nodding his acceptance.
“But it didn’t happen?”
“No, it didn’t...but I was going to. Even if he was going to hate me for the rest of his life, I didn’t have a choice. But he...he forgave me. Do you have any idea how hard that must have been? When he knew that I was going to go through with it? That I was going to... God, I still can’t believe he forgave me. He was so fucking scared of me, Drew...and I just couldn’t take it. I completely lost it.” Colin felt his throat getting tight at the memory. “I was trying so hard to make him see, begging and pleading and...fuck, even crying. I just had to make him see that I was doing it to save his life...and he believed me! Can you imagine that? I was telling him that I was going to rape him for his own good, and he actually believed me. He trusted me that much.” Colin swallowed and blinked rapidly, looking at Ryan with amazement. He wondered what he had ever done to deserve Ryan.
Drew nodded his understanding, still rubbing Colin’s back in slow, soothing strokes. He glanced at Ryan again, raising his eyebrows. He shuddered slightly as he pictured the scene that Colin had just described, and then asked with some trepidation, “So...what happened next?”
“And then...then it just stopped. There was that terrible screaming, and then...nothing. I didn’t know if he was alive or dead, or what that bastard was doing to him, and I was completely fucking helpless.” Colin shivered and Drew pulled him in to a one-armed hug, which Colin accepted gratefully. With Drew perched on the edge of the bed, he was sitting higher than Colin, and it was easy to let his head rest against Drew’s side as he continued.
“I don’t know what happened to him after that. I mean, I do, but not the specifics...how long were we gone?” Colin asked, needing a breather from the memories for a moment.
“Nearly a month,” Drew answered, wondering why Colin was changing the subject. Colin just blinked, trying to understand what Drew had just said. A month...to his surprise, he didn’t really have a reaction. The word was meaningless. A logical measure of time meant nothing when held up against the crazy, nightmare-like basement. A month down there could be a year, or a day, or anything. A month...
“What happened to you after they put you in that room?” Drew asked, interrupting Colin’s thoughts.
“Um...they, uh...” Colin ducked his head, hunching his shoulders in embarrassment. Drew felt his stomach tighten nervously; he had a good idea of what was coming. He felt a rush of anger at the bastards who had put his friends through this.
“Its okay, Col, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Drew said softly, patting Colin’s shoulder reassuringly.
“No...I...I have to. It’s just...it’s hard.” Drew nodded -- he knew just how hard it was. When he wrote his secret into his book, it had been very frightening -- like showing the whole world his weakness and vulnerability. When he had spoken to Colin on the phone, and heard him talk about ‘they wouldn’t stop touching me,’ Drew’s heart had leapt into his throat as he assumed the worst. He was keeping his responses minimal and his reactions sharply in check because he knew Colin needed a calm listener right now, not anger, frustration, and shock.
From the moment Drew walked into the wreck of Ryan’s house, he had been running on worry and caffeine. He had, of course, contacted the police, but there was very little they could do. He had showed them the creepy letter, but it came up negative for fingerprints and the envelope hadn’t been sealed, so they couldn’t get DNA from the saliva. There had been a search of the house for evidence, but it was merely a formality. Anyone who took that kind of precautions with a letter wasn’t likely to leave fingerprints and such at the actual crime scene. Drew had even hired a private detective, but had gotten the same results. It chilled him to know that if Colin and Ryan hadn’t escaped on their own, they would never have gotten out.
Now, seeing his close friends battered and traumatized, he wanted to either let himself fall apart or run down to the police station and kill that crazy motherfucker. But he held on for Colin’s sake, waiting with forced patience for him to find the words.
“They got me in that room...and they took my clothes off,” Colin began, pressing his head against Drew’s side. It was easier to tell the story when he didn’t have to look at his listener, and leaning on Drew was like leaning on a big teddy bear. Ridiculously cutesy, but true.
“Jack was pissed off at me...I bit him earlier, when Chris was making Ryan...making him...you know. Go down. I...I guess he wanted to hurt me, so he talked Benny into...groping me. You know what I mean? At first, that’s all it was...but they kept doing it more, and I couldn’t make them stop. I wanted to yell at them to get their fucking hands off me, but every time I said something, that asshole just twisted it around and used it against me. I couldn’t do anything right! Everything I did just got me fucking deeper...I didn’t know what to do. I had no control over the situation, y’know? It was just...I couldn’t...” Colin trailed off, breathing rapidly as the memories sent him sinking into panic. Drew was right there, stroking his back, rocking him gently. Ryan’s hand was still in his, and Colin squeezed it as he buried his face in Drew’s chest.
“Its okay, man...take it easy...you don’t have to say anymore. You’re safe now, Col, you’re okay. I’m right here...just hush now,” Drew murmured, holding Colin against his chest. His fury at those bastards grew with every trembling word out of Colin’s mouth, and Drew gritted his teeth in frustration. There was nothing he could do about that right now; all he could do was try to make things easier for Colin. “Just relax, Col, I don’t need to hear the rest--“
“No. I have to finish,” Colin said, his voice muffled against Drew’s chest. “It gets worse. They...um, they got me on the floor...on my hands and knees.” Drew found himself picturing the scene -- Colin, naked and scared, forced to the floor by two faceless men, being pawed at and groped relentlessly -- shaking his head quickly, Drew tried unsuccessfully to dismiss the images. “Jack was holding me, and Benny kept trying to...to get inside me. He didn’t, but he...um...he got his...his...”
Colin trailed off, unable to say it. His voice had gotten thick and choked, and he had to force the words out past a lump of emotion. Drew patted his back encouragingly, and Colin closed his eyes and made himself finish. “He got his fucking fingers in me... I was thrashing around so hard, trying to kick those bastards, but I couldn’t... I couldn’t fucking make them stop, there was nothing...I just wanted to make him get the fuck out of me! I had to make him quit touching me, and I...I just...” Colin’s tenuous control snapped, and he burst into tears, sobbing in Drew’s arms. Drew felt his own chest tighten as he held Colin, and he found himself remembering that long ago childhood violation. He knew just how Colin felt, and he rocked the shaking man, looking at him with compassion.
“I know, Col...it’s okay, you’re all right. It wasn’t your fault...nothing you could do. You’re safe now...right here with me and Ryan. You’ll be okay.” Drew continued to repeat his calming words, and Colin’s sobbing quieted after a few minutes. Colin’s chest kept hitching, and he sniffled slightly, taking long, ragged breaths. He let his eyes stay shut as he lay in Drew’s embrace, enjoying the reassuring contact. In his worry over Ryan, Colin he had forgotten all about what had happened to him.
Drew’s warm presence felt amazingly good, and Colin let himself relax into it, making pleased little murmurs in his throat. Feeling Ryan’s long fingers still entwined with his shorter ones, Colin was reminded that the worst was yet to come. What had happened to him wasn’t important. Ryan...God, he must be so much worse off than Colin was. Colin felt guilty even complaining about what Jack and Ben had done to him. It was *nothing* in comparison to what that crazy son of a bitch had put Ryan through. Steeling himself, Colin opened his eyes and lifted his body slightly, still leaning on Drew but not as much.
“They didn’t actually...you know. God, this is so fucking hard... They would have,” Colin said, his voice still rough with tears. “Chris interrupted them just before they would have... He said...he said they should go see what he was doing to Ryan. Said it would be a ‘learning experience.’ God, Drew, that guy was so fucking nuts! He said Ryan would either be broken, or...or die. And yet he stopped them from raping me. Fuck if I know why! Anyway, they didn’t try that again. They messed with me...teased me, made me beg for food, that kind of thing, but they didn’t try to rape me again. I was going mad. Truly insane just... wondering and worrying and I was so fucking scared of what Ryan was going through... I didn't hear the screams again. I didn't know if he was alive and I kept... wondering if I was going to see him again, and if I would recognize him... I mean, I was scared he'd take my Ryan away and I'd be returned with nothing but a shell, like he'd done after the first time he was... forced...” Colin paused and lifted his head, twisting to look at Ryan again. Once he had reassured himself that Ryan was still there, and still sleeping peacefully, Colin let his head drop back against Drew’s side.
Drew took another look at the sleeping man, taking in the heavy bruising and the strangely puckered looking cuts. Other than the physical damage, Ryan looked like himself. But that could all change when he woke up, and Drew bit his lip in worry for his friend.
“How did you guys get out of there?” Drew asked, hoping to hear something that would cheer him up.
“I conned Benny into letting me out of the chains -- he’s not exactly the brightest crayon in the box, y’know?” Colin said with a smirk. Drew was heartened to see a hint of humor in Colin -- it showed that underneath all the bruises, Colin was still fundamentally the same. He only hoped Ryan would turn out the same way.
“Anyway, I knocked him out, and took his clothes,” Colin continued, earning a grin from Drew. “I went looking for Ryan, and...” He faltered, his free hand clenching into a fist so tight that the knuckles turned white. Colin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to get a grip.
“And you let him go, and got the hell out of there?”
“No...no, that’s not what happened,” Colin answered, glancing down at the hand he held. He focused on it, making himself see this clean, smooth hand, safely tucked into his, rather than the filthy hand pressed into the dirt floor, supporting the bleeding, battered body of his best friend. “When I found him, Chris was...hurting him. Forcing him to...well...you know. Forcing himself on Ryan. Oh hell, the bastard was fucking raping him, okay?” Colin’s voice rose as he saw the scene in his mind again. Drew’s eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed again as Colin continued to speak. His words came out almost mechanically, sounding forced and somehow...absent. Like he wasn’t even thinking about what he was saying, but pushing it out anyway.
“That motherfucker was raping him, and Jack was watching. Ryan was totally quiet -- and I mean, totally. Not making a fucking sound. He was obviously hurting, I could see the pain in his face, but in complete silence...it was creepy. I mean, shit Drew, what the hell did that son of a bitch do to him to make him like that? To make him just...take it that way? I wanted to stop it so bad, so fucking bad...it was all I could do to hold back, to wait... Then, he made just this tiny little sound, and Chris stops, and reaches for this straight razor...”
Colin had to stop for a moment as the memories threatened to make him fall apart again. He swallowed hard, taking quick, even breaths in an effort to maintain control. Setting his jaw in grim determination, Colin forced himself to finish the story. “He gets this straight razor, and it’s been sitting with the sharp end in a candle flame, so the metal is red-hot. He takes it, and he...and he cuts Ryan with it, real slow. Just slices right into him, and the motherfucker is *grinning* can you believe that? He was actually fucking getting off on it! I can see that hot blade burning the skin, and it’s gotta hurt like hell, but Ryan *still* isn’t making a sound, he’s actually biting his lip till it fucking bleeds to keep from crying out. And I just fucking lost it.” Colin could feel the anger again just talking about it, and his breath hissed rapidly between his clenched teeth. Drew was beyond simple tension; he could feel his heartbeat hammering in his chest and he clutched at the bed sheets to keep from hitting something. All he wanted was to hunt down that psychotic fucker and kill him. Slowly.
“I hope you hurt that son of a bitch. I hope you hurt him really fucking bad,” Drew snarled, clenching his fists tightly.
“I did, but not as much as I wanted to. Nothing could ever be enough for that bastard,” Colin replied, his eyes narrowed to slits. “I had Benny’s knife, and I ran out there, screaming my head off. It got kinda crazy from there...everything happened really fast. I remember seeing Ryan... like that... and... God... Ryan... I... I got Chris in the leg, I think. I know he pulled away 'cause Ryan and I just... you know, we just looked at each other for a second. I was so... I was so happy to see him alive, but at the same time, I felt so awful for not stopping this sooner, for not being there for him. God, I could see how he was hurting, so bad, and I just... I swear I felt it too.” Colin trailed off, his voice thick with emotion as he remembered the long look he and Ryan had shared. The heady current of feeling that had passed between them in the space of a heartbeat. Colin turned to gaze at Ryan again, and Drew raised an eyebrow at the pure love he saw in Colin’s dark eyes. He wondered if Colin even knew how clearly his feelings were showing.
“Then Chris picked up his gun,” Colin continued, still keeping his eyes on Ryan. “He pointed it at me, and he was so close, I didn’t have a chance. Ryan saved me...after everything he’d been through, he jumped up and knocked me out of the way, and put himself between us. Chris had that gun pointed straight at him, and Ryan just stood there, naked, bleeding, shaking like a leaf, but staring him down just the same.” Colin’s eyes flashed pride in his friend, and Drew nodded, giving Ryan an impressed glance.
“Jack grabbed me, and I was fighting with him, and Chris almost shot Ryan...God, it was so close. I could’ve lost him just like that, right before my eyes.” Colin shivered, his mind conjuring up an image of Ryan being shot: the spray of blood flying into the air, the shocked pain in those green eyes, the long, lanky body collapsing to the ground as the chest rose and fell for the last time. Shutting his eyes and burying his face against Drew’s chest again, Colin tried to banish the haunting image. Drew held him, his own mind creating similar scenarios. As one, both men turned to look at Ryan again, in an effort to remind themselves that he was still breathing.
“Chris and Ryan were struggling for the gun, and I was fighting with Jack, and Chris tried to shoot me, but Ryan pushed him at the last second, and he hit Jack instead. Bastard took me down with him though...he died right on top of me. He was on my chest, looking straight at me, and then suddenly, his eyes were still open, but they just weren’t looking at anything. I could feel him bleeding all over me, and his body...changed. It got heavier, somehow. I guess that’s what they call dead weight,” Colin added with a short laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Drew shuddered at the description and hoped that was the last hideous thing Colin had to tell him. He wasn’t sure how much more of this story he could take.
“Ryan got the gun away from that crazy bastard, and turned it on him. He was shaking all over, and his eyes...I’ve never seen Ryan look that way. He was ready to kill Chris, I’m sure of it. And there’s no doubt in my mind that he deserved it -- no fucking doubt at all. But I couldn’t let him. I thought I was helping...thought I was doing the right thing, but now I’m not sure. It just...I wasn’t even sure then, not really. But I told him not to, and he turned to look at me, and that’s when Chris came at him from behind. Ryan saw him just in time, and hit him in the head with the gun. Chris went down, and Ryan just stood there, shaking. Then he dropped the gun, and collapsed. I swear my fucking heart just stopped for a second. I didn’t know if he was okay, or he just dropped dead or something; I was so freaking scared.” Colin’s voice broke for a moment and he brought Ryan’s hand to his face, rubbing his cheek against the smooth knuckles.
“Was he all right?” Drew asked anxiously.
“Yeah, he woke up a little later, and we got out of there. Went upstairs, got some water, called the police...and that’s when we called you too. But he’s...he’s different, Drew. The things Chris did to him fucked up his mind somehow. He’s not my Ryan anymore.” Colin’s voice was flat, low and depressed. He sounded empty. Drew raised an eyebrow at the phrasing...my Ryan? He knew Colin and Ryan were close, but, not for the first time, he wondered just how close they were. Colin’s story finally seemed to be over, and Drew let out a long breath, slumping on the bed. Listening to all that had happened to two of his closest friends had really drained him. If the proof wasn’t before his eyes in their scarred, pale bodies, he would have dismissed the whole thing as a nightmare.
“He was so fucking crazy, y’know?” Colin said suddenly, his eyes dark and frightened. “Chris had this room in his house...it was all Ryan. Pictures, and other weird shit...when Ryan saw it, he freaked out again. Just went away somewhere in his mind, and I couldn’t get him to come back. I can’t...I keep seeing it all in my head, y’know? Those pictures, and Chris raping Ryan, cutting him, the pain in his eyes, and the nothingness there when he hides from reality...” Colin trailed off, lifting his hands in a gesture of helpless frustration. His mind flitted from one image to the next, leaving him lost in a wash of memories. Now that the story had been told, Colin had nothing to concentrate on, and he drifted aimlessly, getting more and more upset. Every time he thought he had successfully dismissed one horrifying memory, another popped up to take its place. Seeing Chris force himself into Ryan’s mouth...feeling those horribly invasive fingers enter his body...the blood on Ryan’s chin as he bit back his pain...the barrel of the gun widening like a black hole to pull him in...the fear and self-loathing in Ryan’s eyes after they kissed...
Drew looked at Colin in alarm, feeling the older man shake violently against his chest. Colin’s wide, dark eyes were filled with anguish; his mouth set in a tight line of tension; he stared at nothing at all, shaking his head slightly and making little whimpering noises in this throat.
“Colin? Are you all right? Col?” Not getting an answer, Drew gently turned Colin’s face until their eyes met. For a moment, the intense eyes seemed to look through him, and then Colin focused. Pure misery radiated out through a sheen of unshed tears, and Colin’s mouth worked as he tried to find the words.
“They...hurt him...hurt me...I couldn’t...oh, God, Drew...” Collapsing under the onslaught of emotions and memories, Colin burst into ragged sobs and clung to Drew’s solid warmth. Drew held him tightly, stroking his back and trying to control his own reaction. Hearing the story, and seeing the physical evidence before his eyes, had tested the limits of Drew’s self control. The last month loomed over him, day after day of worrying, wondering, and thinking about what could be happening to his friends. And now, he had found out that the truth was far worse than anything he had imagined -- except that they were alive. He glanced over at Ryan, looking so frail and innocent on the bed; he always looked childlike when he slept. That quiet vulnerability was the last straw, and Drew pressed his face into Colin’s shoulder and wept.
At that moment, a nurse poked her head in the door to check on Ryan, only to be confronted with a rather unusual scene. The patient was fine, still peacefully sleeping off the sedatives. However, his two visitors were anything but fine. She thought the two men clinging to each other and crying like children looked slightly familiar, but she couldn’t quite place them. Glancing down at the chart in her hands, she saw the name of the patient -- Ryan Stiles. Then it clicked, and she grinned in amazement, staring at Colin and Drew. The hospital scrubs on Colin had thrown her at first, but now he was easily recognizable. The nurse quietly shut the door and skipped down the hallway to tell her friends.
Drew and Colin never noticed their audience of one. Drew calmed down relatively quickly, perhaps because he had only heard the terrible story instead of living it. He continued to hold Colin, whispering soothing nonsense in his ear and stroking his back. Colin’s tears tapered off after a while, and he just lay still for a few minutes, with only the occasional hitch in his chest and watery swallow. Physically and emotionally exhausted, he relaxed into Drew’s warm embrace and felt himself drifting away.
“Thanks Drew...needed that...” Colin murmured sleepily, only partially awake. Drew patted his back, feeling the older man slump against him as he sank deeper into sleep.
“No problem man...think I needed it too,” he replied quietly, with a deep, ragged sigh. Colin was already fast asleep, and he didn’t answer. Drew looked around the room, knowing he couldn’t sit in this awkward position and hold Colin for much longer. Noticing that the room held two beds, and the other one was empty, Drew carefully picked Colin up in his arms like a sleeping child and rose to his feet. It was a slight strain, lifting the other man, but it should have been much harder. Colin was far too thin. Colin’s head nestled into the hollow of his shoulder and his arms wrapped themselves loosely around Drew’s neck. Hooking a foot around the rolling IV pole to keep it with them, Drew made his way over to the other bed and carefully set Colin down. He felt almost birdlike, light and fragile, and Drew shook his head in sympathy, thinking they must not have fed his friends nearly enough.
When he let go of the sleeping man, Colin frowned slightly and curled on his side in a protective gesture. Drew stroked his hair gently, and the frown smoothed out, but Colin still managed to look forlorn. Biting his lip, Drew tried to think of a way to con the nursing staff into letting him stay. Then, inspiration struck, and he realized that Colin didn’t have to be alone -- Ryan was right here. Drew looked down, and sure enough, the beds were on wheels. He quickly pushed the two beds together, and draped Colin’s arm across Ryan’s body. Immediately, Colin scooted himself closer and Ryan shifted slightly, turning to the side. Drew watched, bemused, as even in sleep, the two men arranged themselves in that classic ‘spooning’ posture. He couldn’t suppress a grin, and wished he had a camera to capture the cute moment. He was sure Ryan and Colin would be embarrassed to hear about it later, and it would be nice to have photographic proof to tease them with.
“Excuse me...” Drew looked up to see a young woman in a nurse uniform standing in the doorway.
“Yes?” he replied, shifting to the side in an effort to block her view of Ryan and Colin. He wasn’t sure, but the hospital rules probably frowned on the patients spooning.
“I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over, and--“ The nurse stopped suddenly, getting her first good look at the two sleeping men. Her face split into a wide grin, and she tilted her head, giving them an ‘awwww’ look. Drew recognized the look of a fan immediately, and he grinned, thinking he just lucked out.
“Look, I’ll go, but can you let them stay together? They’ve been through a lot, and I think it would really be better for both of them...” Drew trailed off, watching the nurse’s reaction.
“Well of course! They are just SO cute...oh wow, I can’t believe I got to see Ryan and Colin. Wow! And Drew too!” she added, looking at him and giggling. Drew chuckled, thinking that for once, being a celebrity had paid off. The nurse was actually kind of cute, and she was giving him that rapt star struck look...raising an eyebrow, Drew thought that his day had just gotten a lot better.
“Listen,” he began, walking with the nurse out of the room, “when’s your next break?”
* * *
Ryan woke first, and stiffened, not knowing where he was. His body felt strangely numb, and he was wearing some unfamiliar garment that left him chilly. The room was darkened, but he could see enough of it to know he had never been there before. Fear was just beginning to set in when an arm tightened across his chest. Ryan recognized the touch immediately as Colin’s, and he stiffened for a moment before forcing himself to relax into the embrace. If Colin was holding him that way, then that’s where he should be. Don’t fight it -- fighting only leads to pain. Besides, there was just something about being held that way, feeling the warm presence against his back; that made him feel safer.
Chris had certainly never touched him like that, with such gentleness. He wasn’t sure what Colin was going to do, what would be demanded of him; but for the moment, the touch felt good. And it had been a very long time since he had felt safe. As long as Colin was happy with him, everything was fine. He was doing as he was told, and not being hurt. He didn’t think of anything more complicated than that, and he easily slipped back into sleep.
It wasn’t so easy for Colin when he woke up a couple hours later, shaking and gasping from a nightmare. He didn’t remember the images, only that they had been terrifying and had something to do with Ryan being cut into pieces while he watched helplessly. Colin shivered, and held Ryan a little tighter against his chest, burying his face against the soft brown hair at the nape of his neck. The familiar, intoxicating scent calmed him, and he felt the fear of the nightmare beginning to fade.
He was briefly puzzled to find himself apparently sharing a bed with Ryan, but after a few moments of thought he realized Drew must have put them together. It had been good to tell Drew the story. Colin felt lighter -- cleansed, somehow. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sleeping, but he didn’t feel tired anymore. However, he had no intention of leaving the warm bed or letting go of Ryan, so he simply lay there with his eyes open, thinking.
**Safe. We're safe.
I'm not cold or hungry. I'm not naked or alone. Ryan is with me...
We're safe, we're
okay; we made it. Maybe if I repeat it enough times, it'll start to sink in. It
feels so good to finally be with Ryan...not only that, but I'm in a warm bed,
with a full stomach and I'm holding Ryan. I can’t get enough of touching him.
He's with me. *With me.* Not in some
Godforsaken place, cut, bleeding and hurting, he's with me. Safe. We're free. I
don't know what to think. I don't know which is the dream.
Maybe Jack killed
me and now I'm in paradise. Yet, maybe Chris was the dream, maybe I'm just
finally waking up where I'm supposed to be. With Ryan. But I can still see the
marks on him. The name on his back. That
fucking asshole! If I snuck out of the hospital, bought a gun and shot him in
his cell, would anyone care?
I would. I'd be fucking
happy.
Just look at what
he did to Ryan. God! The way he was acting, so frightened and submissive
and...what did that fucking bastard do to him? How can I help? I just want to
help Ryan. I want MY Ryan to come back. Want to argue with him about the latest
news, play a game of chess and lose miserably, want him to tell me to "sit
the fuck down Colin,
I'm not finished
with you" when we're disagreeing. I want him to hold me in his arms and
tell me everything is going to be okay. Want him to take over again. Damn it I
want my best friend back! And I know MY Ryan is still in there somewhere; I
know it.
I just have to find
him, get through to him...God, I don’t even know what I’m talking about. How am
I supposed to be any help? That
motherfucking son of a bitch...Why? I keep wondering just...why? He had no right to go screwing around with
Ryan’s mind. Or his body! What if he pushes me away? What if things don't work
out? What if he...tries to hurt himself. God, what if he pulls back from
reality again? Just closes up like he did the first two times...
That scares the
living shit out of me. God the last time he did this...when he saw those
pictures, and that fucking altar of Chris's...I thought...I thought he was gone
for good. I found a way to bring him back...When I kissed him...what the FUCK
was that all about? He pulled away like I was poison. And that...hurts. Even if
I should've known better, it still hurt. For a second, he kissed me back. I
don't know if it was a purely physical response but it felt...right. I’m so
damn confused...I don’t even know why I did it.
I wanted to get through to him, but I should’ve known better than to
fucking kiss him! Even the world's greatest
IDIOT knows not to have sexual contact with a...rape victim. That's what he is, isn't he? ... How fucking
stupid can I get anyway? And then the way he looked at me...I thought I'd
promised never to make that look to appear in his eyes again. But I did. It
was...something akin to betrayal, but so much worse. I don’t know what it was,
but it hurt like hell to see it.
I swear, Ryan, I'll
prove you can trust me. I’ll take care of you, and somehow, I’ll find a way to
bring you back. We’ll get through this together, because there’s no way I’m
letting you out of my sight ever again.**
Ryan shifted slightly, moaning in his sleep, and Colin stroked his chest, making little shushing noises in his ear. He could feel Ryan’s heartbeat speed up under his hands, and he tightened his arms a little more, rubbing his cheek against Ryan’s neck. Gradually, the taller man responded to Colin’s ministrations, relaxing into deeper sleep again. Colin smiled, feeling proud of his ability to soothe his friend. It was kind of an ego boost to know that his touch and his voice meant ‘safe’ to Ryan. He blinked slightly, realizing the room seemed lighter than before. Turning his gaze to the window, Colin saw the sky brightening as dawn stole over the horizon. He held Ryan and watched the sun come up, enjoying the moment of peace. Colin knew there was a long, difficult recovery ahead for his friend, but in that moment, he could believe they would make it -- together.
End Part 8