Restless - 1. Restless

Marcus was having a good week. Traveling as a part time stage hand and full time boyfriend of the lead singer in a famous band, he had dealt patiently enough with the long bus rides to city after city after city, either tucked beside Zeke in their little cot, or having crazy sex in the occasional luxury of a hotel room. He had done all the backstage work that he could, and had studied for school and played video games with the rest of the band when they had spare time.

But at the end of it all, he was anxious to get away from all the walls and the traffic and the crowds and so he enticed Zeke to take a couple days off before working on his new album to go camping. They hiked deep into the woods and set up camp near a stream. The first couple days had been nice; they had put up the tent and built a fire, gone for hikes and fishing in the stream, and had plenty of sex, both inside the tent and out in the wilderness.

It was their fourth night there, late and cold, when things took a horrible turn. Marcus had been in the tent with Zeke, straddling his boyfriend's lap and kissing him long and slow, running his hands through Zeke's hair while Zeke was busy unbuttoning Marcus' shirt. Zeke pulled away slightly.

"I'm going to go kill the fire," he whispered, dragging his lips over Marcus' again. "Don't you even think of moving until I get back," he added, giving Marcus' exposed nipple a light pinch before ducking out. Marcus grinned, and shimmied out of his shirt, tossing it aside. He laid back on the air mattress, sighing and stretching a little. He didn't realize how much those traveling days had worn on him. Being out here, under the endless sky, secluded from screaming fans and with total privacy, was incredible. All he could hear was the creak and chirp of nighttime insects, the gentle sway of the wind, the hiss of the dying fire and the gentle growl of a nearby animal.

And a second later, Zeke's screaming.

Marcus rolled off the air mattress, only pausing to grab the handgun out of Zeke's bag. A precaution that he secretly thought was a little ridiculous, but Zeke insisted on it, having seen too many stories of musicians being stalked or straight out assaulted by fans. He ran out of the tent, turning wildly to see where Zeke was. It was dark and without the illumination of a fire or even a flashlight, it was difficult to see. Growling in frustration, Marcus flailed back into the tent, emerging seconds later with a flashlight. He shone it around, his breath coming in gasps, before he heard another scream. Following it a few feet from the guttering fire, he saw a figure couching on the ground, with a large animal hovering over it, snapping and clawing.

"Hey! Hey!" Marcus shouted. He raised the gun and shot it into the air, hoping to startle or scare the creature. It lifted his head to stare at him, eyes glowing like hot coals in a lupine face with the ears laid back. A wolf. A low growl reverberated in the night air, and the wolf didn't retreat, instead it snarled and leapt at Zeke again, who was curled in a ball to try to protect himself.

God, it's rabid. Later on, Marcus would hate himself for hesitating, but he was so afraid of hitting Zeke. He settled for aiming at the animal's midsection and fired. He paused for a minute, not sure if he had even hit it or not. But the animal lifted its head again, blood shining on its teeth and darkening its muzzle. Marcus took aim again and fired. The wolf dropped with a small whimper. Marcus cautiously approached the animal, lying on the ground, whining, and shot it again, just to be sure.

He dropped the gun and turned to Zeke, kneeling down next to him and trying to see how bad the damage was. There was blood everywhere, most of it on his back and shoulders. "Baby, are you okay?" Marcus said, brushing his hair back. "Can you talk to me?"

"Wolf-" Zeke gasped.

"I know, baby, I know. I took care of it." Marcus helped ease Zeke down onto his side and took a closer look at his back. "We need to get you to a hospital," Marcus said. "I'm going to have to go find a phone so I can get us out of here, okay?"

Zeke just nodded, his face drawn up in pain. Marcus took the gun and left it with Zeke. It was slim protection, but it was better than nothing. Marcus hurried back to the campsite, gathered up his cell phone and the first aid kit. He was trying his best to remain calm, even though his thoughts were a screaming chaotic mess. Be calm, stay calm, sound calm. He had to take care of Zeke now. The panic and meltdown would have to wait.

He knelt down back down next to Zeke, shining the flashlight around nervously. Didn't wolves travel in packs?

"911," the voice on the other end said.

"Yes, we are out camping and my friend was attacked and I need to get him to a hospital."

"What was the nature of the attack?"

"He was mauled by a wolf. He's bleeding badly."

Marcus followed the operator’s instructions to apply pressure, but there were so many spots where Zeke was bleeding that it was hard. He gave the operator their location the best he could and was reassured that there would be a helicopter arriving to airlift Zeke to the nearest hospital soon.

The wait seemed to take forever, Marcus dividing his attention between giving information to the 911 operator, tending Zeke's wounds and worrying about attracting more wolves.

After Zeke had bleed through all the absorbent gauze pads that Marcus used, he pressed a pillowcase over his wounds, because it was all he had left and draped a blanket over Zeke in case he was in shock. He set the phone aside, and spoke softly to Zeke, who would moan occasionally in pain, but otherwise was silent. He passed the time waiting for the helicopter by praying and playing a desperate bargaining game with whatever higher power that was out there. He would do anything if Zeke would be okay, anything if Zeke would pull through this, if the damn helicopter would get here...

Eventually the helicopter came and Marcus found himself in the emergency room of a nearby hospital, trying to explain what had happened to the attending physician on duty. After that he was left to wait while the physician and nurses clustered around Zeke. He sat in the waiting area and called the other members of the band, letting them know where they were and what had happened, then called Zeke's mother. He couldn't help but be relieved to receive her voice mail and left a short detailed message for her as well. He considered calling his best friend, Sherrie, and talking to her but he knew he wouldn't be able to hold it together if he had to recount the story again that night. He put his phone away.

A short time later, while Marcus was filling out insurance paperwork with numb fingers, the doors to the ER swung open and Daniel, their lead guitarist, came in with their drummer, Boozie, whose real name was long forgotten, in tow.

Daniel's sharp eyes picked Marcus up and he crossed the busy chaotic room to wrap Marcus in a hug, thumping him on the back with one fist. Marcus felt tears spring to his eyes at the friendly, warm gesture. He was perilously close to breaking down and his emotions, normally kept so carefully in check, were swamping him.

"John will be in soon, he got stuck in traffic," Daniel told him, drawing back slightly. He looked at Marcus, worry creasing his handsome face. "How is our boy?"

Marcus shook his head. "I haven't heard anything from the doctor yet. He lost a lot of blood."

Daniel swore softly and Boozie fidgeted. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Marcus said. "I was inside the tent and Zeke went to put out the fire before coming in for the night. The next thing I know, he was out there, screaming. I went looking for him, and it was dark..." Marcus swallowed. "It was a wolf. It was already all over him by the time I got there. I tried to scare it away, but it wouldn't...it wouldn't stop-" His voice cracked and the tears came, blurring his vision and tightening his throat. "I had to shoot it. They went back for it after they dropped Zeke off here so they could run some labs to see if it was rabid-"

Marcus couldn't continue and, to his humiliation, found himself unable to stop the tears or the convulsive sobs that shook his body. Daniel pulled him into another hug giving Marcus a place to hide his face as he struggled to pull himself together.

God, he has to be okay, he just has to... Marcus pleaded again. Please...

John had joined them by the time the physician came out to report on Zeke's progress. He had stabilized, the physician told them, and although there had been extensive damage to his skin and muscles, his vital organs were unharmed and functioning normally. He would require several days of hospitalization for the wounds he had received. Some had been stitched closed, but others had to be left open, the doctor explained, and would need to be monitored until they healed to prevent infection. There would be scarring, they were told, but they would attempt to keep it minimal. Zeke would also be receiving several transfusions over the next several days as well to compensate for blood loss.

"We can donate, if we need to," Daniel offered. "I have the same blood type, so does Marcus."

The doctor gave them a somewhat sarcastic smile and told them they would keep it in mind.

"Can I see him?" Marcus asked.

"Briefly, and only one at a time. He is heavily sedated, so he might not be able to say much," the physician told them.

John and Boozie went to secure a hotel room as Daniel waited for Marcus. Marcus went into the room, where Zeke was lying on his left side, hooked up to several monitors to measure his oxygen and blood pressure. He saw a patchwork of bandages covering Zeke's back and right side, with a large device he later learned was a wound vac on one of the larger wounds. Zeke had his eyes shut and was breathing steady, looking to be asleep. Marcus sat down in a chair next to the bed. Zeke looked pale and small in the maze of tubes and bandages, a state that didn't suit the broad shouldered, tall musician at all. Zeke exemplified strength and sex, the kind of raw aggressive male sexuality that made Razor's Edge such a popular band. Seeing him like that was just as surreal as the rest of the night had been. Marcus took his hand, needing a physical reassurance that Zeke was okay. Zeke's eyes fluttered and opened, focusing on Marcus. He smiled a little, but said nothing.

"Hey baby," Marcus said, forcing a smile. He rubbed Zeke's hand, hoping to comfort both of them. "You're safe now. Don't try to talk, or anything, okay? Just rest."

Marcus could see that Zeke was struggling to stay awake, so he bent forward and kissed his boyfriend gently. "Go to sleep."

Marcus left the room and Daniel glanced up as Marcus came down the hallway.

"He's sleeping," Marcus said quietly. Daniel nodded.

"The doc said that Zeke was on some pretty serious pain meds. Come on, the guys have a room reserved right across the street. You're exhausted."

Marcus thought he would have difficulty falling asleep, but as soon as Daniel let him into a cool, dimly lit hotel room and his body was enfolded in the crisp cotton sheets, he quickly succumbed to exhaustion, the panic and adrenaline that had fueled him earlier long gone.

He slept well in the next morning, blinking sleepily as the sunlight flooding the room finally coaxed his eyes open. He checked his watch and was surprised and slight dismayed to see that it was already one o clock in the afternoon. He sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Daniel was nowhere in sight, but the warm scent of coffee filled the air and Marcus got up to take a quick shower and pour himself a cup. He found that someone, probably Boozie or John, had gone out to where they had been camping and had brought back most of their gear, stacking it in the corner of the room. Marcus searched through his bag for clean clothing and was lacing up his boots when Daniel came back inside.

"Hey, you're awake," Daniel said, smiling.

"Yeah, I'm going to go see Zeke," Marcus said, standing up. The room swam briefly before his eyes and he planted his feet, blinked a few times until the world righted itself.

"Easy buddy," Daniel said, picking up his truck keys. "Come on, let's get you something to eat and then we'll head on over to the hospital."

"I'm not-"

"Yes you are," Daniel said. "Can you even remember the last time you had some food? Come on, eat first, then I'll drop you at the hospital. John was there this morning, and Zeke is awake and doing fine. He'll have my head if he finds out that we aren't taking care of you though, so let's go."

Marcus reluctantly let Daniel take him to the nearest restaurant, a Waffle House and ate a quick lunch there, before arriving back at the hospital. Zeke had been moved from the ER to a regular room on the surgical floor. When Marcus went inside to see him, Zeke was sitting up in his bed, wearing a gown and watching television. He saw Marcus enter the room and smiled.

"Hey baby."

"Zeke." Marcus breathed the name like a sigh of relief, moved forward to kiss the injured man. He wanted to hug him, but restrained himself, remembering the thick mesh of bandages that had covered him the night before. "God, it is so good to see you. Are you okay? Are you hurting?"

"Not bad," Zeke said. "They've got me on some good stuff at the moment."

"When do you think we can take you home?" Marcus asked, pulling up a chair and sitting next to the bed. He gripped Zeke's hand, holding it with both his own.

"In a few days," Zeke said. "They want to keep an eye on a couple of spots where the wolf got me, because they are worried about an infection developing. Apparently wolves don't have very clean mouths."

Marcus was silent for a moment, rubbing Zeke's hand gently between his own. Then he asked softly, "What happened?"

Zeke started to shrug, then stopped and winced slightly as it pulled on his stitches. "I don't know. I didn't see anything when I went to put out the fire. After the fire was out, I walked out into the woods a little bit to take a leak. I was just turning around to head back when something large and heavy hit me from behind. I couldn't see well enough to get a good hold of it and fight it off. Then you came."

"I shot it," Marcus said. Zeke leaned forward, ignoring the pull and strain and kissed Marcus on the top of his head. "Yes you did, and thank God. That thing was ready to rip me apart. You saved my life." He settled back against the pillows. "I don't remember much after that, just a lot of noise and people when I got here."

Marcus stayed with Zeke for several hours, talking to him, and talking to the nurses and the doctors when they came into the room. He brushed back Zeke's long hair into a ponytail and brought him some magazines and candy from the gift shop downstairs. He only left when Zeke's mother showed up, letting Daniel take him back to the hotel for some more sleep and food.

Zeke's hospital stay was longer than either of them anticipated. Zeke tested negative for rabies, but the large bite wound on his lower back was taking longer to heal than the doctors liked, and they were concerned about infection. Marcus was determined to stay with Zeke through his wound cleansing and bandage changing, but he saw that although Zeke was in considerable pain, he was struggling to keep a straight face as to not alarm Marcus. Feeling like that was doing more harm than good, he soon got into the habit of leaving during those times and returning once it was over. It was obvious that enduring the wound care was hard enough, he didn't want Zeke to feel like he had to hide the fact that he was in pain for Marcus' sake on top of that.

Zeke was a good healer however, and was eventually released and Marcus was hopeful that things would return to normal. Once home, Zeke started working on writing songs for a new album, and Marcus was content to take care of Zeke while going to school. One afternoon he returned home to find Zeke pacing the floors restlessly. Zeke, normally laid back and cheerful, was frowning and Marcus didn't like the jerky nervous way he was moving.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sliding his backpack off his shoulder and setting it on the floor. Zeke shook his head and resumed his anxious pacing around the room.

"Are you in pain?" Even through all the physical therapy and manipulations to break up scar tissue, Zeke had refused the pain medication that the doctor had prescribed for him once he was out of the hospital.

Zeke shook his head. "No. I feel…strange. Like hungry, almost."

"What do you want to eat?" Marcus asked, moving towards the kitchen.

Zeke shook his head. "No, not hungry like that. It's like--I don't know--" Zeke growled in frustration and ran his hands through his hair. "I'm going to take a walk."

"Wait a minute and I can go with you," Marcus said.

"No," Zeke actually took a step back from him, than turned towards the door. "No, I'll just be gone for a few minutes. Gotta blow off some steam."

Marcus watched, stunned, as Zeke threw open the door and disappeared. He had never seen Zeke act this way. And Zeke had never refused his company, ever. In fact, Zeke was the one who came searching for him most of the time before going out on an errand.

He's been through a lot, Marcus sternly reminded himself. He's allowed to be moody every once in a while, like everybody. Marcus lifted up his backpack and pulled his books out, sitting them on the table to start on his homework. Zeke probably just did need to blow off some steam, like he said. Going for a run was one of the ways Marcus preferred to release some stress, maybe that was all Zeke needed. But he remembered the nervous, jerky movements of Zeke's body as he paced and was more worried than reassured.

Marcus' anxiety held steady for the first 30 minutes that Zeke was gone, than increased as the minutes continued to slip by. Late afternoon had melted into twilight for the last hour and Zeke was still gone. One hour lengthened and crept into 2.

A few minutes, my ass! Marcus thought, getting to his feet. He walked out the door and looked around, not seeing any sign of Zeke or even a hint as to which direction he had headed.

Marcus stepped further out and glanced around the encroaching gloom, trying to figure out if he should go out looking for Zeke, or stay inside. Finally he scribbled a quick note and headed out. He would take a quick walk around the neighborhood, which was relatively well lit and look around for Zeke.

When he returned 30 minutes later with no sign of Zeke, Marcus was equally pissed off and worried. He called the other band members to see if Zeke was with them. Daniel and John both said that they hadn't seen or heard from Zeke all day and Boozie didn't answer.

Maybe he is with Boozie, Marcus told himself, not believing a word of the empty reassurance. Maybe he just went out to have drinks or something and forgot to call. Since he didn't take his cell or his wallet. He left a message for Boozie on his voicemail, just in case.

Four hours later and Marcus was driving through town, scanning the streets and sidewalks for Zeke's familiar figure. He returned home alone, feeling more desperate and helpless than ever.

He lay awake for a long time that evening, looking at Zeke's empty side of the bed. He reached over and grabbed Zeke's pillow, pulling it up to his face and inhaling deeply. The faint scent of him still clung to the fabric. Marcus pulled the pillow to his chest, wrapped his arms around it holding it tight because right now, it was the closest to his missing lover that he could get. A shallow comfort, but the only one he had.

In the morning, Marcus was trying to remember how long a person had to be missing before he could call the police. Zeke was a public figure and Marcus would hate having to bring the police into this (along with the inevitable media exposure) but he was way beyond angry and into worried. Zeke had left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the shoes on his feet, where the hell was he? He had heard terrifying stories of celebrities that had been kidnapped or even killed by fanatical fans...what if Zeke was in trouble?

Panic tightened his stomach into a miserable knot. Marcus finally picked up the phone and called Daniel.

"Hello?"

"Dan, it's Marcus."

"Hey. Did Zeke turn up?"

"No," Marcus said, "he didn't come home last night and I haven't heard a thing from him. He doesn't have his cell phone with him or his wallet. I'm really freaking out here. I'm wondering if I should call the police."

"Stay tight and I'll come over there, okay?"

Marcus brewed a pot of coffee as he waited for Daniel to arrive. He had always liked Daniel the most of all of Zeke's band members. Boozie was just as friendly as Daniel, but he lacked the ability to take anything seriously. He would have treated Zeke's entire disappearance as a big joke and would expect Zeke to show up somewhere unexpected as a punchline. But that wasn't Zeke's way. Zeke liked jokes and pranks as much as the next person, but he wouldn't be inconsiderate enough to make Marcus worry. And John...well, there had always been tension there. Marcus found out shortly after starting to see Zeke that John had an unrequited crush on the lead singer as well and while the feelings had never been reciprocated, there was a coolness in his interactions with John that wasn't present with other members of the band. But Daniel was calm and comforting, good at taking charge of a situation. He would know the next step to take.

Marcus found Zeke's address book and flipped through it, trying to figure out if there was anyone else he could call, anywhere else that Zeke would go. He was still studying it when Daniel rapped on the door and Marcus let him in.

"Are you sure he didn't take anything with him?" Daniel asked.

Marcus shook his head. "No, his phone, wallet, car keys, all still here. He didn't even take a house key with him. He seemed like he was irritated over something and left to take a walk. He made it sound like he wouldn't be gone for very long. A few minutes, he said."

"And he was irritated?"

"Maybe more like annoyed," Marcus said. "He was pacing and...um he said something about being hungry but he didn't want food. Then he said he was going to go for a walk. I offered to go with him, but he refused, said he wanted to blow off some steam."

"That is weird." Daniel agreed. "It doesn't sound like Zeke at all."

"I know. And I didn't like it. But I thought I was just being paranoid, so I let him go. But he never came home."

"And how long has he been gone?"

"At least fifteen hours, maybe more."

Daniel sat down with him and called an officer on the force that the band knew who agreed to make some discreet inquiries and keep an eye out for any news. Then he went through the address book with Marcus, and later on they drove through town and checked all the places that Zeke had frequented in the past. The second day of searching was as fruitless as the first, but it was a little helpful to have someone else there. He had overheard Daniel talking to the cop on the phone that evening, after a tense, tasteless dinner. Daniel obviously thought that Marcus was upstairs, speaking in a low voice.

"No... no news from anyone. No ransom note, no phone call. I already checked with the manager and the other members...yeah, I knew you would. I doubt it. That's not his way. Absolutely. I can't read his mind or anything, but he has a good career, a fantastic boyfriend...no, none of that. No drugs. Zeke doesn't do that, he takes care of...I don't know. I don't think so..." There was a sigh and a creak of floorboards underneath his feet as Daniel shifted his weight. Marcus pressed himself against the wall in the other room and continued to listen. "I really don't know. He doesn't seem depressed. He has a couple nightmares about what happened in the woods, but aside from that...I don't know, I'd have to ask his boyfriend...no, no, God I hope not..."

Marcus was feeling sick and he stepped into the room so Daniel would know he was here. It was cowardly and foolish of him, but he wanted Daniel to stop saying those things, those horrible disturbing things that made his stomach twist in fear and dread. Daniel glanced up and cursed quietly, quickly wrapping up the conversation before hanging up the phone.

"Zeke is going to be okay," Daniel tried to reassure Marcus, but his words lacked conviction.

"So what is the leading theory right now?" Marcus asked. "Kidnapping or suicide?"

"We don't think that," Daniel said quickly. "Officer Hartman just needs to explore all possibilities."

"Zeke wouldn't do that to me," Marcus said. "He's stronger than that. And he isn't depressed."

"I know," Daniel said. He was frowning and Marcus could hear the strain in his voice. He sighed and leaned against the wall. "We'll find him Marcus. And when we do, I'm going to kick his ass for worrying you so much."

"And you," Marcus added.

Daniel gave him a grim, tight-lipped smile. "Get some rest, okay? We'll talk in the morning."

Daniel agreed to spend the night at the house, staying in one of the guest rooms. It didn't help Marcus, who spent another long night in their lonely bed, watching the light from the moon spill into the room as the hours rolled by.

Daniel convinced Marcus to go back to class the next morning, although it was a fruitless effort. He spent the entire class period obsessively checking his cell, hoping desperately for a call or text. He didn't remember a word of the lectures he sat through. He spent the rest of the afternoon driving back to all the places he and Daniel checked yesterday, than returned home. Daniel had no news for him and Marcus, frustrated, went for a run. He almost didn't want to return home, to the empty bed, and the cold silence of the middle of the night. He pumped his arms as his heart raced along at an urgent clip, breath puffing in and out of his lungs. By the time he returned home, his body was dewed with sweat, his chest was burning and his muscles were drawn up in tight wires of pain, spasms gripping the muscle that had been pushed too far. He stretched a little, but preferred to keep the pain there, to blot the fear and the panic and the never-ending sense of dread. Was this what it was going to be like? Feeling this way everyday for the rest of his life, waiting for Zeke to come home? Always wondering, worrying, never knowing? He took a shower and then started cleaning the house, because it was all he could do. Better than sitting there, useless, helpless, waiting for Zeke to come back because that was all he could do. They had looked and they had failed. Zeke obviously did not want to be found.

Even as he hated himself for considering it, he wondered if Zeke had left intentionally. If he had gotten tired of being shackled to a dumb down on his luck college kid that he had met by pure chance and coincidence. Maybe Zeke had figured out that he could find an easy lay anywhere he wanted and just decided to take off. Just got tired of him. It was a ridiculous thought; Zeke was not impulsive or reckless enough to run away with no resources and not irresponsible enough to worry his band mates or family. But alone with his own insecurities, it was a thought that plagued him.

That evening, Daniel fixed Marcus a cup of tea and sat down with him at the table.

"Listen, I've talked to Officer Hartman again this afternoon...and I think that you should come and stay with me at my place for a little bit."

Marcus glanced up, a hint of worry and suspicion in his eyes. "Why?"

"Well, Hartman says that if Zeke doesn't show up in the next 24 hours, we have to file an official missing person report. And if Zeke was specifically targeted, you could be in danger too."

"Targeted?"

"Kidnapped."

"But we haven't gotten a ransom note."

"Whoever has him might not want money. Listen, I'm not trying to scare you or anything. But it's getting to the point where it's hard to believe that Zeke went somewhere intentionally. I just don't think it's a good idea for you to be here by yourself."

"I'm not leaving. This is our home. And I need to be here when Zeke comes home."

Daniel nodded. "That is what I expected you to say. But I still don't like you being alone here, so I will stay with you for the time being, okay?"

Marcus nodded.

He slept poorly again that night, tossing and turning in the bed, his mind tormented by the anxieties that Daniel's words had caused. When his alarm went off, Marcus slapped it off impatiently, then went down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee and debated whether to try going to class again. There was a sharp knock at the door and Marcus looked around for Daniel, remembering his worry about the previous night. His heart knocked painfully against his ribs in his chest. Would it be someone with a ransom demand? Would it be a stranger with a gun?

Would it be Zeke?

The knock came again and Marcus gripped the doorknob and opened it.

Zeke, wrapped in a brown blanket, stood on the other side. Next to him was a police officer. He heard Daniel approach from behind him, but barely registered it or the officer's voice, explaining how Zeke has been found wondering along the side of the highway, naked and disoriented.

Zeke took an unsteady step forward, into Marcus' arms that were already open to receive him. Marcus held him tightly, almost unable to breath as the relief crashed through him and that fierce, aching, beautiful need was finally fulfilled, which was Zeke, here, with him. The other man was shaking slightly, leaning heavily in Marcus' embrace. Marcus tilted his head up and kissed him, pressing his mouth against Zeke's, drinking him in, then pulled back, his eyes worried. "You're so cold," Marcus murmured, placing a hand on Zeke's cheek. "Come on, let's get you a hot shower." He left Daniel to thank the officer, all of his attention on Zeke. He lead him upstairs and into the bathroom, turning on the shower and hugging Zeke as he waited for it to warm up, rubbing his arms through the rough blanket. He pulled the blanket away, studying Zeke. His body was dusky with dirt and scored with numerous scratches and cuts, along with his other previous scars.

"Come on," Marcus said, quickly stripping down and pulling Zeke into the billowing heat of the shower. Zeke started to shiver again under the onslaught of water, but ducked his head under the spray to let it wet his hair and run over his skin. Marcus helped wash his hair and scrubbed the dirt off of his body, then slid in close to him and hugged him again under the spray, pressing his lips against Zeke's chest, the faint taste of him mostly erased by the water flow. Marcus turned the water off and wrapped them both in a large towel. He was relieved to feel Zeke wrap his arms around him.

"What happened baby?" Marcus asked, finally, rubbing Zeke down and using the towel to dry his hair. Zeke shook his head, staring at Marcus through tangled strands of his long blond hair.

"I don't know," he said, speaking for the first time. His voice was desperate and a little afraid. He stepped closer to Marcus, burying his face against Marcus's damp hair. "Where was I baby?"

"I don't know," Marcus said. He didn't think it was possible for him to be more worried about Zeke than he had been over the last couple of days, but he was. "Why don't you lay down for a while? You look exhausted. Then I'll fix you some lunch okay?"

Zeke did look exhausted; there were deep brown rings under his eyes and new lines on his face. He went to the tousled bed, evidence of Marcus' rough nights and fell into the mess of sheets without complaint. He was asleep before Marcus left the room.

Daniel was waiting for Marcus when he came back downstairs.

"The officer that found him was from another county, but knew to contact Officer Hartman who told him to drop Zeke off here," Daniel said. He nodded towards the stairs. "He okay?"

"I don't know," Marcus said. "He doesn't talk much and all he said was that he doesn't remember what happened or where he was. He was filthy and looked a little beat up, with a lot of bruises, cuts and scrapes. He's sleeping now." Marcus looked up at the ceiling, concerned. "And his clothes...God, I hope he wasn't drugged."

"Do you want to call a doctor?" Daniel asked.

Marcus shook his head. "Not yet. Let him rest and then we can see what he wants to do."

Zeke slept for a long time. Marcus went up to check on him several hours later, and lay next to him for a while, watching him sleep. He brushed Zeke's hair back, studying his face, the lines and planes of it, committing it to memory. He had been so afraid that he would never see it again. Even though he wanted to let Zeke sleep some more, he couldn't keep himself from leaning forward and pressing his lips over Zeke's, just one little kiss. But that little kiss lingered and the next thing Marcus knew, Zeke's eyes were opening, dark with lust and then strong arms were around his waist, holding him close. Marcus deepened the kiss as Zeke rolled on top of him, pinning him down on the bed. Zeke ran impatient hands over Marcus' body, slipping underneath his shirt to stroke his chest and stomach, then pulling it up to taste his skin. His lips painted a blazing trail up his chest and neck to his mouth, claiming it roughly. Marcus responded eagerly, wrapping his arm around his lover's neck. They definitely needed to talk, but right now, Marcus wanted this as much as Zeke did. He needed this, the physical contact, the feel of Zeke's body against his and the sensation of Zeke's hands on his body. He caught Zeke's mouth with his again, not resisting as Zeke's impatient hands removed his pants. He registered the familiar burn and stretch of Zeke's fingers, preparing him. Marcus shifted, impatient with need, gripping Zeke's ass with both hands, urging him forward, into him until Zeke was buried inside him, the heat and pressure filling him up. He groaned, tilting his head back as Zeke's teeth scored his neck, and continued to urge him forward, thrust after thrust, building him up, building that heat inside him that was ready to erupt. His hands gripped aimlessly, finding purchase on Zeke's back and hair, drawing him closer, deeper, and pressed his lips against his boyfriend's skin. He couldn't get close enough to Zeke; he wanted to devour him, drown in him, and eliminate every molecule of space between them. He wrapped his legs around Zeke's body, pushing his hips up to met Zeke's, breath catching in a series of frenzied gasps as he felt himself approaching the brink of that consuming, blinding pleasure. He arched back, legs tightening as he came, cum wetting his stomach as Zeke thrust deep several more times, then came as well, grinding himself against Marcus. They melted together as the pleasure cooled, Zeke resting his head against Marcus' shoulder. Marcus stroked his hair, his neck, breathing in the scent of them two of them, blended together in an erotic perfume.

"I love you," Marcus murmured.

Zeke's mumbled affirmation in return was everything he needed to hear.

Marcus cleaned up and went downstairs a short time later, walking through the kitchen, and trying to think of something for Zeke to eat. Something that was quick, but wholesome and comforting. He preheated the oven and got out ingredients for upside down Shepherd’s Pie. Daniel approached and sat down at the table.

"So?"

Marcus glanced over. "So what?"

"So where the hell was he?"

"Why don't you ask me?" Zeke asked, coming into the room. He was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and aside from the deep circles still under his eyes he looked almost normal.

"Okay," Daniel said. "So where the hell were you? You had us both worried. Marcus was losing his damn mind over you, you selfish prick."

"Daniel, stop," Marcus said. "This wasn't his fault."

"Baby, can you get me a beer?" Zeke asked, easing himself down into a chair. Marcus got one for him and opened it, set it down in front of him before returning to the stove, packing mashed potatoes into a deep pie pan with a wooden spoon. He was quiet, listening to Zeke talk.

"The day I left, I wasn't feeling well," Zeke finally said, after taking a drink of beer. "I thought that I might be coming down with something. But I just kept feeling worse. I felt hot and I was getting a headache. Then there was this feeling--it was like having a crazy itch somewhere, but being unable to scratch it. It was something deep inside, but I didn't understand it. I was restless and I couldn't stand still. Literally, I could not. I tried, but the need to move, to talk or to run was overpowering; almost involuntary. It was freaking me out and the headache was just getting worse and worse. Then Marcus came home. I decided to go for a walk, to clear my head and try to figure out what the hell was bothering me. That was why I refused your company, by the way." Zeke glanced at Marcus as he made that last statement. "Once I got out there and started walking, I thought I would feel better, but I didn't. Then I started running. In the woods, moving faster than I ever have. In a second, I understood why Marcus loves running so much. After that, it gets a little blurry. All I can remember is...the moon."

"The moon?" Daniel asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Yeah. It was just so big and bright."

"So you must have been outside, wherever you were," Marcus said.

Zeke shrugged.

"I think you should see a doctor," Marcus said, still busy at the stove. "And maybe look into finding a lawyer."

"Why?"

"Well, this sounds like a bad deal. You went for a run and something happened. Maybe you really were sick and passed out. Or someone drugged you. Either way, you were held somewhere for several days and you don't remember any of what happened. That's pretty serious. I wouldn't be surprised if a Billy Jean turned up a little later with a Zeke junior, asking for child support."

Daniel leaned back in his chair. "He's right you know. Maybe a doctor can figure out what it was that you were given. Or check your noggin."

Marcus came over and gave Zeke a kiss. "Don't worry about it now. We'll get it figured out."

In the end, Zeke did none of those things, anxious to resume songwriting and recording. Marcus, frustrated and worried, finally relented but kept a vigilant eye on his boyfriend. Zeke, despite his cavalier attitude, woke up several nights from a tangle of nightmares of the moon and night sky. It was only a few weeks later when Marcus came back home to find Zeke in a similar mood as he did the last time he disappeared. He wasn't pacing this time, just standing in the kitchen, staring out the window after sunset, watching the deepening night of the sky, his hands gripping the granite countertop. Marcus could see the tight lines of tension in his shoulders, arms and neck.

"What is it?" Marcus asked.

"I'm scared," Zeke admitted. Marcus raised his eyebrows, surprised by this revelation. Zeke had never confessed to being scared before. Not of anything, even when recalling the wolf attack.

"Of what?"

"The moon," Zeke said. "She hates me. She wants to hurt me."

Marcus wrapped an arm around Zeke's waist and pressed a kiss to the back of his shoulder. "It's just the moon baby. It can't hurt you."

Zeke turned around and gazed at Marcus. "That feeling is back. That hunger."

"Okay. So what do we do?"

Zeke shook his head. "I need to go. To run."

"Alright. We'll both go."

"No. You should stay here.

"Like hell. Last time you felt like this you were gone for three nights! I'm going with you."

"Baby, I don't know what is going to happen."

"It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, I'm going to be right there with you."

Zeke gave him a long searching look, then kissed him fiercely. He abruptly turned and stepped through the door, then broke into a run. Marcus followed.

It felt like they ran for hours. Marcus was keeping up with Zeke, but just barely. The light was failing quickly and the forest floor was full of roots and undergrowth that targeted Marcus' feet and ankles.

Zeke abruptly dropped from sight and Marcus slowed, looking around, his eyes straining against the darkness. He saw a figure, writhing on the ground, crying out in inarticulate pain. He started to approach, but the creature stilled, then stood. Marcus drew in a sharp breath, and took a step back. A wolf, bigger than the one that had attacked Zeke, golden and beautiful stood washed in the light of the full moon staring out at him with Zeke's liquid amber eyes.

"Oh shit."

It looked like their relationship was about to get a little more complicated.

**END**

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