Desperate Measures ~ 4/?

[hemrage]

Masterpost for the verse: here.

A/N: Sorry about the wait. I've been sitting on this chapter since Wednesday because I didn't think it was ready to post. It's really hard to get back into the swing of writing on a regular basis, but since I'm determined to post at least one chapter every week I'll do my best to do it on the same days every week. Hopefully it won't be a whole week until the next update.
Oh - and thanks for the virtual gifts and birthday wishes.

Chapter 3

The dark smothered him as the weight of a faceless body held him down. As large hands curled round his hips, forcing his legs wider, higher, until his muscles screamed complaint and his brain tried to hide from what it knew was happening.

The pain, when it came, seared along every nerve. His heart threatened to burst from his chest as he bit back a scream. His tongue split, blood flooded his mouth and his back arched.

Eventually the body above him shifted, gentled, and fingers wiped away his tears. Softly whispered words were unrecognizable.

The pressure within transformed.

Something moved…

grew.

He felt sick but could do nothing to rid himself of the invader as its movements gained in intensity, as his flesh shifted to accommodate it.

Gentle hands disappeared as his body was restrained.

Blood, so much blood, as he was torn apart and the squirming invader was released.

The screaming woke him.

His screaming.

He closed his mouth to cut off the one that attempted to break into the newborn silence.

He stared at the ceiling, shadows morphing from one imaginary form to the next. His breath evened out before he noticed the man sitting on the other bed, back pressed against the wall while the faint light from the shrouded window caught his eyes. “You want to talk about it?”

He dropped onto his back, expelling a breath and restraining the sigh. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.” His voice was rough, like he’d been screaming for a while before he finally woke. It was a wonder there hadn’t been someone pounding on the door, threatening them with the law… or more likely with eviction. Few would intercede to stop a crime in this neighborhood, but there’d be more than one person begrudging a disturbed nights sleep.

“Was already up.”

Waiting for him to freak out, no doubt.

The nightmares had invaded his dreams the first night he’d been on the road and hadn’t given him peace since. So yeah, Mike was probably already up because he was waiting for the nightly chorus of screams that came soon after he closed his eyes.

He watched as Mike climbed off the bed and padded barefoot over to his jacket. Sweatpants, already hanging low on his hips, slipped lower as he bent over and fished cigarettes and a lighter out of the pocket.

Ross felt guilty enough not to object to him lighting up.

“We’ve been in Texas two days.”

He focused on the glowing end of the cigarette as it moved around with Mike’s expressive hand.

“There’s no-one waiting for you is there?”

The question hadn’t exactly come of nowhere, and he couldn’t see the point in denying what was looking more and more obvious, but he wanted to.

“See, here’s what I figure. You were so beat up when I met you, you had to be running. Either from something or someone. Now I don’t blame you for not telling me the truth back then, but you know you can trust me now, right?”

He didn’t reply. Didn’t know what the hell Mike wanted from him. If it was the truth, well, he couldn’t give him what he didn’t have.

The glow of the cigarette flared brighter as Mike inhaled.

The first time he’d lit up in his presence Mike’d had to stop the car on the side of the road so Ross could empty his stomach. Though it didn’t complain every time, there were still occasions, like now, when his last meal threatened to reintroduce itself.

He concentrated on breathing. In through his mouth and out through his nose as he fought to keep the nausea at bay. Mike’s hand was resting on his shoulder before he’d even noticed that the other man was perched on the side of his bed.

“Trust me. Please.”

The plea was so heartfelt he was tempted to comply. Mike hadn’t done anything to earn any trust, but he hadn’t done anything to prove he wasn’t worthy of it either.

He moved away long enough to flick his cigarette through the open window. “Can’t even tell me that turns your stomach, can you?”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Ross. Talk to me.”

“Like you talk to me, you mean? I know nothing about you other than the fact you were supposed to be in New York the best part of a month ago and still haven’t gotten any closer than Cleveland. You make phone calls you don’t want me to know anything about, and I get that. There are things I have no right to know. But tell me, why should I trust you, Mike? Why should I trust you when you so obviously don’t trust me?” He hated the desperation he could hear in his own words. Hated the way he needed to make a connection. Whoever he was in his previous incarnation, Ross felt he was a man who needed other people. Alone didn’t sit right with him, and he’d been feeling so damned lonely since waking up on that abandoned stretch of road.

Mike shifted, moved so that his legs were up on the comforter. Ross moved to give him room as he shuffled down the length of the bed, rested his head on a spare pillow and began making faces at the ceiling. “New York’s down to an uncle who told a few people that I have skills they may find useful.”

“He got you the job?”

Mike’s top lip disappeared into his mouth as he swept his hand up, over his face. “It’s not a job I want, but you know what it’s like. It’s not easy to say no to an official request.”

“Official?”

“It’s a government job.”

The explanation seemed plausible, if a little vague. The desire not to work for the government was more than understandable and if Mike didn’t want to part with the specifics of the position he’d been given, well then it was likely it was something he either didn’t want to do, or wasn’t proud he could do. Either that or he really did hate this mysterious uncle.

Mike chuckled. “Those phone calls are from my mother, by the way. It seems her brother’s been pestering her because he can’t get a hold of me.”

Ross searched for the humor in Mike’s predicament. “I take it you didn’t want me to know that your mother’s giving you a hard time?”

“Exactly. I mean, I’m a grown man. That shouldn’t bother me, right?”

Ross laughed in sympathy. “Oh, I don’t know. Moms can be kind of forceful.”

“Sounds like you’re talking from experience?”

“You could say that. Hell, when I was sixteen she convinced my dad that the only car that was safe for me to drive was his new one. He ended up having to drive the heap of junk my brother passed on to me until he was able to convince her otherwise. Took him six weeks.”

He stopped, froze. The sudden return of the unbidden memory a complete shock to the system.

He couldn’t remember her face or her name but he remembered that his mom was overprotective to a fault. He remembered how everyone in his family not only tolerated her behavior, they supported it. Understood her need to do it. And what the hell was he? Some weakling who couldn’t take care of himself and needed his mommy to do it for him?

The anger was irrational and he pushed it to one side, concentrated on the miracle of recall. But searching further, trying to delve deeper inside his head, brought failure. There was nothing else there, nothing he could reach at any rate. But at least he was remembering something. One memory meant more could, should - would - follow.

“So, you in the mood to share?”

Keeping his gaze locked on the darkened ceiling he could ignore the strangely comforting presence of Mike lying next to him, waiting. Was he in the mood to share? Yes. He needed to share. Needed to talk to someone before he collapsed under the pressure of holding everything in. Before the constant fear and confusion broke him.

He imagined telling the shadowed room about waking on the side of the road. About discovering a name but not feeling like it belonged to him. He imagined telling the dark room everything - about the way his body bore scars that unnerved him, about the nightmares and the terror that chased him into the waking world…

He was asleep before his imaginings became reality.



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