Imprint - 13. Ch. 3 Part III, IV

III

He found Tallen on the second floor of the Archive, sitting under a table with a book in his hands; the boy was pretty good at making people think he was running in one direction before doubling back and going elsewhere. He could always find him though; thankfully, in his case, Tallen didn't mind.

He crawled under the table, sitting in the space that Tallen made beside him. He peeked curiously at the book of fables in Tallen's lap. “What are you reading?”

“Nothing, I'm just looking at the pictures.” Tallen closed the book over, “I don't know how to read. My father was teaching me, but it was a long time ago and I don't remember now.”

He nodded, “Elleth can teach you that, you know. She taught me.”

Tallen shrugged uncomfortably, “Maybe.”

He paused, “I could show you, maybe. I could try.”

Tallen smiled, “Okay,” much more enthusiastically.

“Why are you hiding here?”

Tallen's smile vanished, his eyes moved away, “Because I don't want to talk to them anymore. And I don't like that guy.”

“What guy?”

“The one that's hanging all over Elleth.”

“Dalan?” he frowned, “He's nice.”

“He's staring at me,” Tallen's hands curled into fists, “I don't like it when people stare at me.”

He frowned deeper, he had noticed people staring at Tallen since they came into the city; hard to miss when he was walking beside him. He reached out and put a hand on Tallen's knee. “I'm sorry.”

Tallen's eyes turned to him again, “The guy here was doing it, too. The one who, um, lives here.” He shook his head, “Its because I'm ugly.”

“No, you're not.”

Tallen looked at him, appreciating but disbelieving. He fiddled with his shirt sleeves, trying to pull them down over his hands.

“Do you want to come with me?” he asked quietly, “I could show you the city. And Elleth gave me some coin, I know a place where we can get sweets. They have these things I like, they're...like, bread and nuts and honey, they're really good.”

Tallen smiled, “I haven't had sweets in, like forever. My parents used to make this thing with frozen sweet milk, it was my favorite.”

“Maybe we could find that here?”

“Maybe,” Tallen thought about it, nodding reluctantly, “Okay, I'll go with you, but only if they're gone. Elleth and that guy, I don't want to talk to them anymore.”

“I saw them leave, they thought you ran out,” They would look but not be too concerned; Elleth learned to trust his ability to find Tallen, and that Tallen would never stray too far from him.

Curious, he decided to ask, “Why don't you want to tell Elleth where you came from?” A pause, then, “Do you not remember?” Tallen was often easily embarrassed by the things he didn't know or had forgotten.

“I remember what it was called,” Tallen mumbled, “I didn't tell her because there's no point. I have no home to go back to, everyone's dead, everyone but me.”

“Are you sure?”

Tallen stared down in his lap, “I saw it.”

He didn't know what to say, so remained quiet. Eventually Tallen spoke again, “Besides, its not like that's why Elleth wants to know. She just wants to point at the map, see how far it is.” He shook his head, running his fingers through his newly shorn hair; too short now he'd said, didn't like the feel of it. “Its not her business.”

“Was it far?” he asked.

Tallen paused and nodded, “I think so, I mean I don't really know. Felt like forever.”

“Will you tell me?” he asked, “You don't have to.” But he liked it that Tallen told him things he didn't share with anyone else.

Tallen watched him, thinking it over; the way his hands were gripping his thighs he didn't think Tallen would agree, then, “You won't tell, right?”

He shook his head; Tallen knew he wouldn't but he seemed to like to hear it.

Tallen reached out and took his hand, holding it in an iron grip. It still took him time to speak, eyes focused down in his own lap. “Alden Bay,” he finally said, “It was on the water, kind of like this but different. There were only like a few families that really lived there, but there was, like a dock and fishing boats would come in all the time. They'd stay for, like a night or a week or whatever, but there were always people there.” Tallen held tighter on to his hand, squeezing his fingers together. “Everyone thought they were fishers,” his voice very soft, had to move a little closer to hear it, “at first, and they pretended.” He shook his head, “Someone said he didn't think they were where they wanted to be, they kept thinking we had stuff that we didn't have. My father kept trying to tell them but they wouldn't listen, and then they got angry.”

Tallen was squeezing his hand too hard; he touched Tallen's shoulder with the other as a signal, the boy first jerking away from the touch then leaning into it. It still took some time for him to calm down.

“I'm sorry, I didn't hurt you, did I?” Tallen's thumb was stroking the fingers of his captive hand, which had turned first white then red, but was quickly going back to normal; Tallen's touch was gentle, feather light, apologetic.

“I'm okay,” he wiggled his fingers in demonstration.

Pine green eyes looked up at him, “I don't want to talk anymore, Frost, can we go out now, please?”

They crawled out from under the table, Tallen clutching the book that he waved in the air as soon as he got to his feet. “Got to put this back,” he said, “Wait for me?”

He nodded, “I'll go to the door.”

“Okay, but don't let that creepy guy see you, I don't want him staring at me again.”

“I won't.”

He wandered back to the first floor, right over to the wall where the maps were hung up, right up to the most recent one. His eyes scanned along the coast line, knowing he didn't have long before Tallen would come back, knowing he wouldn't want to see. He remembered Elleth speculating Tallen came from the north and focused his attention there.

Finally he spotted it, just barely, the print was very small. He lowered his gaze, looking for and immediately picking out the island; then back up. He touched one finger to the island, reaching up toward the name of the town Tallen was born; his small arms couldn't reach that far.

On the very northern edge of a completely different continent, half a world away. Very far indeed.

---

“Hey, there.”

He turned his head to see Zane cautiously approaching the fallen log he was perched on.

The boy was shy, wringing his hands together, never used to be that nervous; had to admire the persistence even if he didn't truly appreciate it. “I saw you come out here,” Zane said, “You come out here a lot, huh?”

He nodded; they'd tried to be subtle but it wasn't too surprising they'd been noticed, especially by Zane who seemed to pay even more attention to him lately.

“What do you do out here?” Zane looked around, not finding any obvious source of entertainment.

He shrugged, avoiding speech when it wasn't necessary. They came out here so Tallen could practice, so they could be alone. Tallen was deeper in the woods collecting kindling, he would be back soon.

“I was working on my drawing,” Zane took a seat on the log next to him, “Elleth said when I'm done, Dalan could get a frame and she'll put it in it and hang it up in the dining room. Cool, huh?”

He nodded, watching out of the corner of his eye; Zane was too close, not close enough where he felt the need to move away, just enough where he was uncomfortably aware of it.

“Have you seen it, my drawing?” A nod, “Do you like it?”

He nodded again, this time managing a close lipped smile and some eye contact; he would've said yes regardless but he did mean it, he hoped the extras conveyed that.

Zane grinned, looking so happy by the simple compliment that he wasn't sure how to handle that. “Thanks,” he said, “I could make you something if you want, when I'm done.”

He nodded; sure, why not.

“Do you want to do something with me?” Zane asked now, “Like hide and seek or something? That could be fun, with all the trees.”

He felt some disappointment at the thought that his and Tallen's private space may soon disappear. He shook his head and tried to look regretful; he did wish sometimes that Zane would stop.

Zane didn't look so let down anymore, he was getting used to the no. “Okay. Can I sit here then?”

He was trying to think of what to say (actually say) to get him to go, when a third voice entered the fray. “Hey! What the fuck?”

He turned his head to face the exact thing he had been trying to avoid; Tallen dropped everything he was carrying, storming angrily over to Zane who was just getting to his feet. “What the fuck did I tell you?” Tallen raised his arms and shoved Zane back, “Stay the fuck away from him!”

Zane stumbled but didn't fall, glaring resentfully at the other boy; his being scared of Tallen ended some time ago, now Zane seemed determined to stand his ground instead. “You don't own him, Tallen.”

“Yes, I do,” Tallen replied, “He lets me, Frost wants to be my friend.”

“I'm still allowed to talk to him.”

“No, you aren't.”

“You don't tell me what to do.”

“Yes, I do,” Tallen grinned smugly, “Bitch.”

Zane looked confused, “What?”

“Bitch,” Tallen took a step forward, causing Zane to step back in return, “That's what you are, a weak little bitch. I'm bigger than you, what I say goes. You do what you're told, swallow what I give you, like a bitch does.”

“Swallow what?”

Tallen didn't answer right away, silently gloating, “You keep bothering Frost, its going to be sea water. Or sand.”

Zane glared, wrapping his arms around himself, “I'm not scared of you.”

“Oh yeah?” Tallen took another aggressive step forward, prompting a step back from Zane, “Come over here, let's see.”

“Why don't you shut up?

“Make me.”

“Stop,” he was on his feet now, too, looking pleadingly at the two; he could feel his heart pounding, adrenaline coursing through his system in sympathy, not something he'd learned to handle. “Please, don't...don't fight.” Hated that he had to speak, he looked right at Zane, “I'm...sorry. I – I want to stay...with him.”

Tallen looked triumphant, watching Zane with mocking eyes; not that the boy noticed, he was looking at him, concerned. “You don't have to, you know,” Zane said, an echo of statements he'd heard Elleth make, more and more often.

“I – know,” he stepped closer to Tallen, putting a hand on his arm to keep Tallen from acting further, “I know, I – I want to.”

Tallen took his arm away just to wrap it around his neck and pull him flush against his side, glaring at Zane, gloating again. “You heard him,” Tallen said, “Get the fuck out.”

Zane glared back, “No one's talking to you, freak.”

“Come closer to me and say that.”

“Stop,” he touched a hand to Tallen's chest, looking again at Zane, “I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize to him,” Tallen turned his head, squeezing his arm tighter, “You don't have to be his friend, and you don't have to be sorry just because you don't want to play.”

“I'm...not – for that.” But he didn't really know if that was true or not; Zane seemed sad, when people are sad you apologize, right? But what was he sorry for? Maybe Tallen was right on that, maybe he should stop.

He turned to Zane again, struggling for the right words this time, “I'm okay...I want to – stay. You should...go, back. With everyone.”

Zane again looked disappointed but not upset, except when he looked at Tallen's smug face. “Okay,” he finally said, defeated. Trying to brighten the mood, he went for a smile, “Have fun then.”

Tallen held him tighter, pointedly, reminding Zane he was the only one who could do that. “You keep bothering Frost like that, we're going to have a problem.”

Zane sneered, “What are you going to do?”

Tallen grinned, “Teach you how a bitch swallows.”

Zane just stared blankly for a minute, slowly shaking his head, “You just make this stuff up, don't you?” His eyes hardened, glaring, “Freak,” one last time before storming away.

Tallen held on to him even after Zane was gone; he could feel the boy taking deep breaths, trying to calm down. “I'm getting really sick of him,” Tallen mumbled to himself.

He turned under that arm so he could gaze up at him, “Its okay, really.”

“No, its not,” Tallen looked down at him, pine green eyes bright with anger, “He's trying to take you away from me.”

He shook his head, “No, he's not.”

“He is, Frost.”

“He's done this a lot. Before you.”

“But its gotten worse, you said that yourself.”

He thought about that, knowing he probably couldn't answer but guess, comfort. “Maybe its just...its worked once now, so he's-”

“So he's trying to take you away from me,” Tallen was trembling, holding him tighter still, fingers clutching at his arm.

“Well, he can't,” he didn't know if Tallen was right or not, it sounded too calculating for Zane; he didn't know that but he did know this much, “He can't – I wouldn't...”

Tallen's eyes searched his face, checking his sincerity, tried for a smile, “Thanks,” he said, “I still hate him.”

He couldn't understand that, why the powerful emotion was warranted. Still, “Okay.”

“I don't want to practice anymore,” Tallen's voice was stronger, all sign of upset draining quickly away as it usually did. “I'm too mad.”

“I thought that makes it easier.”

“It does, that's why. Makes it too easy. I'm trying to do it on my own, remember?”

He nodded, Tallen was getting better at it, too; still a struggle to start but the struggle was lessening with each time. It made Tallen happy, made him seem less scared.

“What do you want to do instead?”

---

He was surprised when Dalan, a very tired and bruised looking Dalan, came into the playroom to get him. He had been kept in there ever since they got back from the beach trip, which he had been ordered to attend; he knew the older kids sitting by the door had not been an accident, or Linnai jumping up every time he made a move in that direction, getting anything he wanted for him rather than him getting it himself. His questions were brushed off, they didn't know but they were sure everything was fine; the longer he was oh so subtly shut away, the less certain he became of that. Seeing Dalan in that state did nothing to help, if he hadn't been invited along he would've found a way to force himself out.

Dalan said nothing, brought him into the kitchen; he had a dirty bowl and spoon with him that he threw into the sink before retrieving a clean one and filling it with soup that was hanging over the low burning fire, just keeping warm.

The silence worried him, he had to speak, “Is it...things, okay?”

Dalan looked over at him, eyes red and exhausted; he had a roundish bruise on his forehead above his eye, scratches down his cheek, both his hands were battered. “Everything's fine, son,” his tone far from convincing, “Everything's fine. I'm going to take you to see your friend now.”

That was all he had been wanting to hear; he fell silent in line behind the older man, everything else could wait.

He was lead not to their bedroom but to a different part of the compound just past the kitchens and the wash room, to an extra bedroom used for when someone fell ill. He saw Elleth sitting in the hallway on a chair just outside the closed door, her head in her hands, her long hair unbound for once and hanging forward to pool on the floor.

She looked up when they came closer; her hands and forearms were also bruised and battered, her face had a few marks on it as well and she was not happy. “Gods within, Dalan, what is he doing here?”

“Calm down, Ellie,” a touch on the shoulder halted his progress, Dalan put the soup bowl he carried down on the floor and moved forward to talk with her, “I'm just bringing Frost here to see his friend.”

“I told you not to-”

“I know, darling, I know. But these two spend every minute of the day together, if Frost was going to catch it he already has.”

“That was not my concern, I don't want-”

Dalan raised a hand, asking for silence, glancing back at him with some concern. When the conversation continued it was in much lowered voices, still managed to reach his ears. “I know what you meant there, aye, but what else would you have me do? This isn't working, Ellie. Look at us, we can't do this.”

“So you would bring a child into it now?”

“Tallen has never raised a hand to that boy and you know it. Might be the only one here that could calm him down peaceful like. Its worth a try, see what he can do. We want this ended, aye? That's what's important now?”

Elleth looked quickly over Dalan's shoulder, right at where he was anxiously waiting, not pretending he wasn't listening; she seemed to be considering something, responding even quieter, could barely make it out. “I told you, Dalan, I have – concerns about...I don't know its wise to let them be-”

“I heard you and I don't disagree. Have your concerns but later, this is not the time.” A long pause, no answer from her. “If there's a better course, I'd love to hear it,” Dalan continued, calm and reasonable, “Not going to let him beat up on you no more, nor me. I don't want to have to tie him up neither, that won't do him no good now. Like to try something different first if I can, end this better before it has to get worse. Its for the best now, aye?”

He was trying to listen past them, to the room beyond. He couldn't hear anything and that worried him; their talk worried him too, that they wouldn't let him see Tallen after all.

He tip toed quietly closer to the other side of the hall, getting his hand around the door knob. “Hold up there, son,” Dalan's voice stopped him. He gave it a second's pause, didn't move, didn't take his hand away; he was going in that room, they weren't going to stop him.

Dalan gave him a weak smile, “My, if looks could wound.” The man knelt down in front of him, handing him the bowl of soup, “Here, son, make sure he eats something. And this,” Dalan held up a glass vial, leaning forward to slip it into his pants pocket. “He needs a whole dropper full, you can handle that, aye?”

He nodded right away, looking first at Dalan then past him to where Elleth watched the scene apprehensively; she was far from convinced he could tell, half a second away from calling the whole thing off, sending him away again. He went quick, before she could find voice to protest.

It took a moment to maneuver his way into the room; the door would only open part way, a gap just a little wider than his body, allowing him to squeeze past holding the soup bowl carefully above his head. Once inside he saw why, a dresser was partially blocking the way, a sight he was very familiar with by now. The room itself was torn apart, every piece of furniture overturned, the floor especially near the door littered with thrown objects; books, pillows, dishes, medicines, a lamp. He had to navigate past broken shards with his bare feet, trying to be silent about it.

At first he didn't see Tallen, but then spotted him slumped sideways in the far corner, a single blanket draped over his shoulders, his face pressed into the wall. It was easy to see how he had exhausted himself, Tallen's breathing sounded rough and his face that could be seen was flushed and sweaty. He was concerned but knew better than to rush over to the boy like he wanted to; the bed Tallen should've been resting on was knocked over on its side and pulled close to the wall so the legs boxed him in, the mattress itself a barrier and clear warning to stay back.

He tip toed closer, staying on the far side of the bed, leaning forward just enough that he could brush his fingertips down Tallen's leg. Tallen jerked awake, eyes wide and wild, fist instantly cocking back, he was clutching another book in his hand. He immediately ducked down behind the mattress, calling out, “Its me, its me!”

There was silence and no books went flying by. “...Frost?” the boy's voice was a croak, followed by a harsh cough. He sat back up cautiously, glad to see Tallen's relieved smile, the hands reaching out for him as the boy pushed off the wall toward him.

He climbed over the mattress to the other side, just in time for Tallen to grab him and pull him close. Tallen was hot with fever, sweating and miserable; Tallen pressed his face into his neck, he felt warm tears falling, wet eyelashes brushing, lips moving against his skin as he spoke, “They wouldn't let me see you.”

However uncomfortable, he wrapped his arms around the boy, holding him loosely. “I wanted to,” he said, “They just let me.”

“They let you?” he was held tighter, that hot, wet face burrowing into the crook of his neck, “Please don't leave me.”

“I'm not...going anywhere.”

“Don't leave me alone in here,” Tallen pulled back and stared at him with bright eyes, tears dripping unnoticed down his cheeks, “They said I'll make you sick, but I won't, I promise. And if I do, by like accident or something, I'll take care of you, I'll make you soup and rub your feet and stuff. Just...stay, please?”

He frowned, worried now, more so than before, “What's wrong?”

“I don't like being alone,” Tallen's eyes shifted down, he ran a hand back through his sweaty hair then scratched hard at his scarred cheek, leaving red lines down his face, “I can't sleep without you anymore. Please don't leave me alone in here, please?”

That quiet desperation was not something he could've ever ignored; even if there was any concern for himself, it would've been forgotten. “Okay,” his fingers clenched harder at Tallen's clothes, trying to avoid skin contact for now, “I'll stay, I won't – won't let them make me leave.” It had to be easier to stay in one place than trying to get to that place when so many people conspired to keep you away.

“I won't let them take you,” anger darkened Tallen's voice, “I was trying to find you, they wouldn't let me. They were trying to hold me down, pour poison down my throat.”

He blinked at that, doubting it, not knowing what to think. He thought back to the overheard conversation. “I think, maybe, if you're good and you do what I tell you, maybe they'll let me stay.”

Tallen watched him, suspicious but willing to listen, “Do, like what?”

“I brought you something, hold on.” He had to clamber back over the bed to retrieve the bowl he'd set aside, coming quickly back and placing it before Tallen. “Here, I brought food.”

Tallen eyed the bowl carefully, “What is it?”

“Its soup,” he picked up the spoon and took a sip before Tallen could protest, “Its good.”

Tallen considered this a moment before reluctantly nodding, “Okay, I'll eat it.” His first few bites were tentative, by the end he was drinking desperately right out of the bowl, wishing there had been more.

“Oh,” he pulled the glass vial out of his pocket and handed it over, “You're supposed to take a dropper full of this, too.”

Suspicious again, “What is it?”

“Medicine.”

“Medicine? Sure?”

He nodded, “Yeah, they give it to the kids who are sick, all the time.”

“Have you had it?”

He shook his head, “I haven't been that sick yet. If I was I would take it.”

Tallen watched him quietly, reaching out and taking vial, “Okay then.”

He smiled, “Can I put the bed back?”

Tallen nodded, “Okay. Its heavy though.”

“That's okay. I can call them, they're right out-”

“No!” Tallen first shouted, then calmed himself, “I don't want them in here. Not right now.”

He nodded agreement, climbing back over the mattress to instead collect all the thrown pillows, tossing them back over the make shift barrier. Tallen arranged them on the floor, holding out an arm and beckoning him over to lie down together.

He found himself half tucked underneath Tallen's too warm body, Tallen's face centimeters from his own. He wiped drying tears from under Tallen's eye, then, unable to help himself, traced his thumb along the ropey, pink-purple slash across his cheek. Tallen shied away a little from the touch but ultimately allowed it as his thumb moved to the second scar, first up toward short golden hair, then down and around to the edge of his lip.

“Did it hurt?” he heard himself asking.

Tallen paused and nodded, slowly, “Yeah,” he said, “Infection was worse.”

He laid his hand over Tallen's cheek, feeling the difference between scar and skin, the texture, the slight elevation. Tallen carefully searched his face for any sign of judgment, but he had never looked at the boy the way other people did; that was why Tallen allowed contact from him and no one else.

Tallen shifted closer, his fever hot forehead leaning against his own, uncomfortable but endurable. “Thanks. For staying.”

He paused, waiting for...something, he wasn't sure what. Nothing else happened; he nodded slightly. “Okay.”

---

IV

Night, snow, pristine white as far as the eye could see; still, silence unbroken. Perfect.

He stared up at the sky as he walked idly along, a sky that seemed so vast, so close, so different than what he saw in the city. The stars were bright and his eyes traced patterns with them, picking out unknown and maybe non existent constellations with ease.

(the Watcher's Eye...)

Breathed in fresh, cold air; could almost feel it burning his lungs.

(...do you know this place?)

He turned his head left, right; nothing distinctive anywhere in sight.

...no.

(...you really don't, now)

He took another step forward, stopping suddenly short when, out of nowhere, there was a door less than a foot from him.

Not just a door, it was attached to a building, something small and vaguely primitive looking, constructed of stone. There was light shining from underneath the door, warm and flickering; he could feel the heat when he put his hand up against it.

(...do you know what this is?)

He thought, running his fingers along the unvarnished wood. Its a...sauna...?

(that's right)

There was a simple latch holding the door closed; his fingers walked down to it, wrapped around it.

(...why do you want to go in there?)

He thought about it, feeling certain there was an answer, a correct answer, even if he didn't know what it was. Because...because, something is – wrong. Something is wrong, and I want to know...want to know that...

(...do you know what is wrong?)

...the sun isn't out...?

(...do you know what that means?)

It was the first thing that popped into his head; he glanced up at the night sky, but that seemed too obvious an answer.

(...never mind)

He pulled the latch up, heard a faint click, felt the door start to give, push inward.

(He will be angry, you know, when he finds out)

...who?

(its too late already...go inside, that's what you do...never could help yourself)

He let the door push inward, stepping over the threshold into light and warmth and...

...and fell forward onto his knees in the snow, dark and cold again. He braced himself up on arms that wouldn't stop shaking; his heart was racing and he couldn't catch his breath.

What...what the – what happened? What was...

His fist curled and his thumb tried to find his ring; he wasn't wearing it, not here. He looked over his shoulder and saw it, the stone building behind him now, the wooden door he'd just opened latched shut once more.

He tried to speak but his lips were numb; he didn't know what he'd say anyway, there was no one to listen. He put his hand to his chest, felt his rapidly fluttering heartbeat, tried every calming trick he knew to regain control but it wasn't working, nothing was.

(...don't worry, the fear doesn't last long...later, you'll think it over again and you'll feel differently...)

What?

“Landon?”

(but it will be too late)

What do you-

“Landon?”

(because he will be angry when he finds out)

“Landon, are you awake?”

“What the hell are you doing? I told you not to wake him up.”

“This is not your concern, now go back to your bed.”

“The hell it isn't, you're not helping here.”

Blinking slowly, he's disoriented again; dark now, but warm, dry, lying in a bed. What...where...

“-iel, if you don't stop right now-”

“What? You'll what? Give me a time out? Its three o'clock in the fucking morning.”

“If you don't stop, I'll write this up and they can deal with you in the morning.”

“Fine, fine, you do that. Go on out there and write down all the mean things I said to you, quick before you forget. There was, what was it? A dozen fucks? A couple shits? Oh, and one huge fucking asshole.” A door slams shut, “Fuck you.”

There was a long pause where nothing moved; his room mate stood by the door, listening, giving it a minute for the woman to leave, waiting for his chance. He himself laid back in a bed, in a group home room from near ten years ago and tried to understand.

Not...I'm not...here, I'm here, this is – this was real, this is...

“Hey,” a hand on his face, warm and solid; that initial hesitance was a thing of the past by now, “You okay?”

Am I? Have I ever really been?

He moved his hand to lightly clasp the other's wrist. Still can't speak, can't connect that well, but he has gotten better with the willful movement, the occasional contact, communicating more than words could. He shifted his eyes to the right, the dark shadows hovering near by; can't see very well, light hair, watching eyes, teeth flashing in a grin.

“Hi there,” fingers rubbed his cheek affectionately. “Sorry, I – I told that bitch not to touch you, I told her it wouldn't help and I'm the one who'd have to deal with it, but...well, you know, she's spent no time with you and she took a psychology class once, so what do I know?” Fingers stroked his hair back, a gentle thumb ran under his eye, “But you know, when you start screaming like that, its kind of hard to keep the vultures away.”

He wanted to speak, wanted to; won't, can't, hate that it doesn't work. His mouth opens, trying anyway, force any sound to come up, any way to tell him...

“Sshh,” another hand on his other cheek and then the warm press of lips against his own; that is becoming more common now, “Sshh, its okay. I'm here.”

His eyes were open before he quite realized it; his head turned, staring out his window. Grey sky, billboard in the distance illegible from here, the building across the way; his gaze traced over the graffiti there, idly wondering at the meaning of words and symbols and why someone went out of their way to mark them there for all to see.

(here...I'm here...here, now, nothing's changed...)

He sat up, heartbeat loud in his ear, a slight tremor in his hands. The clock said he'd slept in half an hour later than was usual.

...I have to stop doing this.

---

Marie was back at work that day, for which fact he was surprisingly grateful. They weren't friends but didn't dislike each other either, and she was familiar to him by now; he knew how she behaved, she knew his boundaries. Rachel hadn't been the problem he'd half feared, but this was a normal sight in a time when little felt normal, it was welcome.

Or so he'd thought upon first walking through the door, but it quickly became apparent even to him that there was something off about her. Initially he assumed it had to do with having been ill, but then thought it had to do with him; she seemed to be avoiding him more than usual, even the standard fleeting eye contact and polite nods he would be graced with were absent, she seemed more cold than indifferent.

Nothing he couldn't live with, though it was confusing; halfway through the day when he came out for a cigarette and she was brushing past him likely going to the restroom, he caught Sophie watching the exchange, giving him a sympathetic look. Against his better judgment, he decided to ask.

Sophie was evasive, waving a dismissive hand. “Oh, don't worry about that, its...not a big deal.”

He frowned, stepping a little closer to her while keeping an eye on the other customers, ready to retreat at an approach. “But, it is...me?”

Sophie looked like she was debating giving an answer, lowering her voice as she did, “Its not you, sweetie, not really. She's just...not happy with how things turned out, you know.” She shrugged, “She thought it was her, she wanted it to be her because I think she liked Tallen. So she's just being pissy right now but she'll get over it.”

His frown deepened, connecting all the dots. “That's...the bet?”

Sophie nodded then shrugged as if in apology for the less than dramatic explanation. “What can I say, I guess her pride was wounded. Probably didn't help that Chad was blowing this up into some who do you think is hotter kind of thing.” She shook her head, “Thing is, if it had been me, I don't think she would've cared. She gets it, we're different, we attract different men, no big deal. But it was you, so that's a whole other thing.”

Again, curiosity got the better of him. “How?”

Sophie gave him a look of apology, hesitating before replying, “Well...its because she's always seen you as an asexual wallflower, and she can't quite get how someone can look past her and notice you.” She winced, visibly uncomfortable, “Sorry, no offense, right?”

He shrugged, unable to argue with the assessment; he didn't understand Tallen's attention either.

“I've been trying to tell her its probably a plumbing issue, you know?”

He blinked, confused at the sudden subject change, “Plumbing?”

“Yeah, you know, like maybe Tallen likes his outdoor plumbing?” she gave him a strange smile before shrugging, “Doesn't work anyway, Marie swears up and down he's bisexual at least, so...”

Bisex-...oh. Right. Plumbing...

“Like I said, she'll get over it. Just give her a couple days to be pissed, then everything should be fine.” She looked over at him with a smile, “Give her a few more days to feel well enough to go out dancing and all will be completely forgotten.” Sophie laughed, waving that dismissive hand again, “I didn't say that, never mind me.”

He didn't say anything, but silently wondered yet again how the two of them were friends; wondering what Marie might say about Sophie when the girl wasn't around.

Sophie glanced over at him, frowning now, “You okay, Frostie?”

He nodded, “Yeah, I'm just...I was going to...” he gestured toward the door.

“Yeah, I figured,” she said, “I meant are you feeling okay? You look...I don't know, tired?”

He raised a hand to touch his face, as though expecting to find evidence; he hadn't thought he looked any different than usual, it disturbed him that she saw something he had not intended. “Long night,” he muttered, “...its okay.”

Sophie nodded slowly, maybe not believing but not arguing. “Not saying you look half dead or nothing, its just usually-” She stopped, looking up at the faint sound of the door opening; a small grin spread across her face, “Oh look at that, good timing.”

He glanced around, seeing that Tallen had just come in; not too surprising, this was at the early end of the time frame he'd come to expect him in over the last week. The man hadn't noticed them yet, his attention was focused on a cell phone in his hand; flipped open, his thumb was moving very carefully over the keypad.

Sophie snorted, speaking at her normal volume again, “Oh, so you do have one of those. I was beginning to wonder, you know?”

Tallen looked up quickly with a grin, “I do, I just don't use it very often.” He started making his way over, thumb still typing slowly away.

“That must explain why you haven't upgraded in a hundred years.”

“A hundred years? Is that when I bought this thing?” Curiously, he peered closer at the black flip phone in Tallen's hand; he thought it looked a little bigger and thicker than what Sophie and Marie owned, but he didn't really know what he was looking at and couldn't be sure.

Sophie glanced back and forth between them, shaking her head, “The two of you, such a pair,” she said, “You know, Frostie here doesn't even own a cell phone.”

The typing thumb paused and pine green eyes raised and focused on him, smiling. “Shocking. He seems like such a phone person, too.”

He wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel embarrassed, if they were poking fun at him. He was smiling before he realized it.

Tallen leaned against the counter, eyes still on him. “Hey you,” he said, “How you doing?”

He shrugged, working to pull up words; harder than usual with so many people, even if most were paying no mind. “Okay...I was, um, just going to...uh...” he gestured toward the door then held two fingers near his lips, helpless to do anything else.

Tallen was unfazed, he nodded, “Okay, cool, I'll join you. Just, uh, give me a minute.” Green eyes shifted away, turning toward Sophie, “Coffee, please, I'm dying here.”

He heard Sophie laughed, “Well, you know I did always want to spend my life helping people.”

“Oh you are, you are. I'd give you a fucking medal.”

He stepped back to allow Sophie room to work, slowly walking around the counter to stand closer to Tallen. The man had turned back to his phone, thumb resuming its careful typing.

Sophie glanced over at it with mock disapproval. “Texting through quality time,” she shook her head, “So rude. No wonder Frostie's so articulate with you, huh?”

Tallen looked up, feigning offense, “Hey, Frost is perfectly fine with me, I think you're making him nervous.”

“Oh, am I now?”

“And besides, this isn't just texting, I'm doing important crisis intervention here. Lives are on the line.”

She raised a skeptical brow, “Really?”

Tallen chuckled, his voice losing some of its humor, “Kind of, yeah.” His attention turned back to the phone, “Besides, I'm wrapping up here.” A few more thumb taps and he snapped it shut again. “I hate this shit,” he said, slipping the phone into his pants pocket, “Typing on that fucking thing, too small, I'm not good at it.”

“Yeah, I noticed. Its like watching my father text.”

“I'm sure it is, I just can't get used to it.”

“Then why not just make a phone call?”

“I normally would, but its not my choice.”

He watched the banter between them, the friendliness, the familiar ease. He hadn't thought the two had spoken much before, in the beginning there, when Sophie wasn't sure what to make of him and Tallen had trouble remembering her name. That seemed to have changed over the week; he wondered if that was a good thing, or if it would just end up being trouble for him.

Marie wandered back out, absentmindedly tucking her dark hair back behind her ears; she still didn't look well, tired herself, and he remembered that her son had been sick as well. Marie paused visibly, seeing them all standing there; Tallen greeted her with a smile, seeming not to notice. “Hey, you're back. How you been doing?”

Again she paused, debating, and he thought she almost answered, almost smiled back. But then her eyes flickered between him and Sophie and she seemed to think better of it, instead making a few quick hand gestures that he could read easily enough: okay, don't worry about it, I need to go over here. And she quickly wandered away over toward a customer, offering assistance unasked.

Tallen's eyes followed her retreat, the smile quickly disappearing. “What's up with that?” he asked.

Sophie put his coffee down on the counter in front of him, waving her hand. “Oh, nothing. She's still not feeling all that great, that's all.”

“Uh-huh,” Tallen turned to look at him, “That's not true, is it?”

This felt like something he didn't want to get into, but nor could he lie so easily; he shrugged and shook his head.

Tallen nodded slowly, lips pressed tight together, “Yeah, thought so. Great.”

“Don't worry about it,” Sophie insisted again.

Tallen politely waved her off, touching him on the arm, pulling him toward the door.

Outside, seated side by side on the steps, he noticed Tallen watching him; nothing unusual, Tallen was often looking at him, even during those times they didn't speak but attended to their individual work. This gaze felt more searching though, “You okay?”

Second time, less troubling than when Sophie did it, but still, “I'm fine.”

Tallen reached out and ran a thumb under his eye, so gentle it was barely felt. “You look tired.”

Still in shock from the touch, the truth popped out, “I didn't sleep well.”

“Bad dreams?”

He nodded confirmation.

“Does that sti- does that hap-happen, a lot?”

He thought about it, shaking his head. “No. It – it used to. Not for a while though.” A pause, “It should pass.”

Tallen looked troubled, but he nodded, “Well, I hope so,” smoke streamed out his nostrils; he was growing to love that pleasant scent. “Do you, like, have anything that helps with that?”

He shrugged, “Its been a long time, I don't have a...routine, in place.”

“...what about before?”

(“sshh...its okay, I'm here.”)

(what do I say? what is allowed?...never been this confusing, learning the rules...)

“I...well, I don't really...”

His stuttering was interrupted by a loud vibration coming out of Tallen's pocket. He quickly pulled his phone back out, flipping it open, eyes scanning whatever was on the screen. Tallen let out a short laugh, thumb moving along the keypad again, typing out a short message. Green eyes glanced apologetically over at him, “Last one, I promise.”

Secretly grateful for the distraction, he brushed that away, “Its okay.”

“Its really not.”

He wasn't going to argue, but it did make him wonder; it was probably okay to ask, Tallen seemed to like questions. “Is it...important?”

Tallen shrugged, still focused on the screen. “I guess it depends on how you look at it.” Finished, he closed the phone and tucked it away again, turning all his attention back on him, “A friend of mine, from work. His, uh, room mates, kind of driving him nuts.”

He nodded to show he was listening, turning his body slightly to face Tallen on the step next to him.

“You know how these things go, big projects, deadlines, lots of work, long hours, fine details to hammer out, stressed out and tempers flare. Its like a fucking war zone over there, and my friend just gets sick of being in the middle of it while trying not to join in.”

“Is it...bad?”

Tallen laughed without humor, “Ooh, it can be, believe me, I have had the misfortune. I don't know how he does it, they can be a lot to deal with on a good day.” He shook his head, “Anyway, when shit gets like this I usually try to get him out of there, for a few hours or a few days. That's what I was doing here, just telling him to go to my place and wait for me.”

He nodded, “So are you...leaving then, or-”

“He has a key,” Tallen answered, “Last time we had some big project he practically lived with me for a month, I never took the key back.”

He nodded, wanting to hear more, actual details, but uncertain if he should ask; some things Tallen was open about, others he kept so vague they were near meaningless. He didn't know if there was a reason, didn't know if he should draw attention to it or keep pretending he didn't notice.

“He's just a friend.”

He frowned, confused by Tallen's quiet tone, the sudden guilty look. “What?”

“He's just a friend,” Tallen said again, “That's all, just...he stays over, but there's – there's nothing going on, never has.”

It took a moment for him to put it together, and even still he was confused, “I – I didn't, say anything.”

“I know,” Tallen looked down, watching the cigarette in his hand, “I just – just wanted to say it. Just in case. So you don't think...I'm not that kind of guy, you know.”

(“That's how you see me. You think I'm a whore?”)

“I don't – I don't, think that,” he looked away, uncomfortable.

(don't know what to say to that..)

Didn't know what to do now, he was slowly warming up to the occasional casual touch but he was nowhere near able to reach out on his own; even if part of him felt that he should, that it would be wanted, maybe needed, he just couldn't do it. It was an awful, helpless feeling.

Eventually Tallen looked up at him, maybe reading his intent, smiling softly in return. “Sorry.”

“You didn't...do, anything.”

“I kind of killed the mood.”

“Its – okay.”

“I guess, before I try and cheer you up, I should tell you I'm not going to be here tomorrow.”

His first reaction was disappointment, that was probably a good thing; he didn't protest, it was clear Tallen wasn't happy about it either, so he just nodded acceptance. “Okay,” then, “Can I...ask?”

“Oh, sure, its not big deal. I got to run an errand, for work, you know. Got to drive way the fuck out there, leave early and I probably won't get home until late night. And that's if everything goes well, and it won't because it never does, so it will be more like the next morning when I get home. But I will be here the day after, whatever happens, and I'll probably need a hug.”

He could feel a smile at the last comment, didn't know if it was appropriate or not. “Is it – bad?”

Tallen groaned, running a hand back through his hair, “Oh gods, you have no idea. This is one of my least favorite business contacts for a fucking reason, he's a nightmare every time.”

“Why?”

“Because Daven is a prick, a stupid prick. He wants everything his way but he doesn't seem to get how things work and the limits I come in with, he doesn't want to listen to anything and I, somehow, have to work things out with him anyway.” He shook his head, “I've never come so close to gouging out my own eyes, but the last time I was there, I swear for a while, it seemed like a good idea.”

He raised a hand to cover his mouth, certain (hopeful?) that Tallen was exaggerating, but knowing he still shouldn't grin. “That sounds...bad.”

“Does that mean I might get that hug?” Green eyes watched him optimistically.

He lowered the hand, knowing it was all right now, “...think about it.”

Tallen smiled back, “Well, that's progress.”

He thought back to something Sophie said earlier, rather suddenly, compelled to speak it, “Sorry, I don't – have a phone,” he brought his cigarette to his lips, inhaling slowly, “You could've called, if you needed a break.” Strange, he never thought that way before.

Tallen smiled, “That's sweet, but its okay. I wouldn't get a signal out there anyway.”

He frowned, “Where – are you going?”

Tallen shrugged dismissively, “East Sheepfuck Nowhere, I don't know. He's got one of those horror movie cabins out in the woods. I have this theory there used to be a whole village there, but he drove them all to suicide.”

His shoulders shook slightly with laughter at that, good thing Tallen didn't seem to mind. “What about today?” he asked without thinking, “How long do you have?”

“Aside from a cranky friend, no pressing business for the rest of the day,” Tallen flicked his cigarette away, “You inviting me to stay?”

He shrugged, embarrassed all of a sudden under the attention, “If – if you want.”

“Maybe I can coax another couple smiles out of you, you look much less tired now, you know.”

Shameless...that's what Sophie would call it; he didn't try to stop it though.

(its been a long time...I missed it...)

---

Snow, pristine white as far as the eye could see; falling down around him in slow, lazy flakes. He walked along the featureless landscape, no stars to watch this time, the sun trying to shine through a thick layer of clouds, waiting to see what would pop out at him this time.

Peaceful and perfect; until snow white turned red.

In small drops at first, spattered along the covered ground, growing in size and frequency with every step; stray drops to steady drips, violent spray to medium puddle and then all was red. Dark liquid and blackish chunks scattered all about him, piles and smears of human debris.

His eyes surveyed the gory landscape dispassionately; unconcerned and unmoved at the sight of this mess that had once been a man...or an army of them.

(...why?)

He passed by only one body recognizable as such and even that was only half of one; bisected at the torso just under the rib cage, arms also hacked off at the elbow, missing parts nowhere to be seen. The upper half was covered in the tattered remains of a uniform of some sort; the face was obliterated, smashed in, nothing left.

(bastard...hope you suffered...)

Past the lone torso and the sea of blood seemed to stop, red fading back to pristine white; foot prints in the snow, a single set, clearly visible leading away.

(...and what about this? Know this?)

A pine tree appeared on the landscape, not far from where he stood at those foot prints that pointed right to it; tall, its bright green needles a harsh contrast against the dim gray sky, as the blood on the ground had been, harsher even...

His heart was pounding in his throat.

(no...no, please...please, not – not...)

(...what are you afraid of? Does it matter now?)

(yes, it – it does...I don't – I can't...don't want to see...)

(...you don't have a choice)

In a single blink he was standing beneath the boughs of the tree, without even time enough to wonder what, to hope for nothing. And of course there was no hope, never was before.

Tallen was there, lying on the ground in front of him, just within the circle of shade beneath the tree, safe now from the carnage behind him. He looked to be wearing some sort of hospital scrubs, as white as the snow he rested on; arms stretched out to either side, bare of any markings, his eyes were open and fixed blankly up at the sky; empty and unmoving.

He stood frozen, unable to look away, his vision burned and blurring. Part of him wanted to rush forward, drop to his knees before the other, curl up beside him and just stay there...or touch him, shake him, grab him by the collar and just throttle him, hit that face as hard as he could, over and over again until

(how could you do this? After everything you said, how could you leave me...)

He watched as a particularly large snow flake drifted downward, see-sawing through the air currents before coming to land gentle on Tallen's golden eye lashes.

And the eyes closed.

Tallen's chest moved, expanding slowly as he took a deep breath in, lungs filling to capacity, then out through slightly parted lips. Small tics and tremors passed through formerly still limbs, fingers curling into loose fists before relaxing again.

Green eyes opened once again, head turning to the side in his direction. Looking at him, seeing him, smiling, “Hey you.”

He couldn't move, couldn't speak, staring back into those beautiful eyes, alive, aware and happy to see him.

“Been waiting for you,” Tallen lifted the arm that was closest to him, a few inches up off the ground, fingers beckoning, “Come here.”

The request seemed to break the spell and he was moving forward as he had wanted to, reaching out and grabbing hold of that offered hand that closed tight around his own; warm, and this time it was a welcome thing. His body lowered, kneeling down in the snow as Tallen sat up to meet him halfway.

Tallen's free hand ran through his hair, brushing away snowflakes caught in golden strands; the hand trailed down the side of his unmarked face, rubbing tenderly along his neck. All he could do was watch silently, eyes burning again, relief was overwhelming.

(never again...never, I can't do it...won't come back from it again...)

“That was uncomfortably familiar.”

(…?)

Fingers tightened around his own. “Don't you think?”

(...what...?)

(...what do you mean, what?)

Maybe sensing the question, maybe hearing it somehow, Tallen's head turned, looking back along the direction he'd come from. Green eyes glanced at him, deliberately, before moving forward again.

Confused, he turned his head to follow Tallen's line of sight, uncertain what he was supposed to see that he'd missed before, what meaning could be found in anonymous death. His eyes found the landscape changed.

(...what?)

A tall white birch, icicles hanging like fruit from its branches, stood against a clear blue sky; he saw a frozen pond beside it, fishing holes cut in through the ice.

(...do you really not know?)

And blood in the snow, a single spreading pool with a comet like tail sprayed out, pointing at them like an accusing finger.

(...do you think you can hide?)

(“You see what you made me do?!”)

Tallen's fingers were squeezing his own, the man was watching him again. The pine tree was gone, mountains loomed in the background; the clouds had broken and the sun shined brightly, its light warm and friendly in contrast to the scene it looked down upon. He wasn't sure he knew the emotion in those eyes that watched him openly, calmly, trusting

(ignorant)

“Don't let him hurt me again.”

His breath caught

(who?...who?)

(...did you really not see?)

(“Don't talk back to me, you little shit! This is your fault!”)

“He hates me, Frost.”

(“I told you to stay away, that's all you had to do!”)

“You have to help.”

(“You did this, not me. Its your fault.”)

(...you think you could run?)

“...I don't understand,” the words ran from his unfrozen lips, finally allowed to speak, “I don't know who – what – this-”

(…but is that true?)

“I don't know what you mean. Who? What do you-”

(lie to yourself all you like, you won't escape. You wear your guilt as a brand upon your soul. Anyone with eyes could see...)

Tallen watched him sadly, not answering, heading turning away again; his eyes were compelled to follow, turn back and...

...was the blood closer now? Was it...

(I don't understand, I don't...why does – who is...why am I here?)

Tallen leaned closer, warm and comforting, whispering in his ear.

It is...it did, it moved...

“Don't let him take me away from you.”

Moving, crawling, creeping over the snow...

Tallen's lips pressed below his ear, body leaning lightly against his.

He saw, and it knew he saw.

“I love you.”

And just like that there was no need to be subtle, the stain shooting forward through the snow, speeding toward them both like an arterial burst-

“Don't let him do this.”

-that comet spray tail jumping off the ground, extending outward, reaching, clutching, an arm of blood and ice. A broad, clawed hand seized him roughly, wrapping around his throat and squeezing.

Can't struggle, can't escape; he grabbed hold of the frozen wrist on instinct, trying uselessly to pry it away. He could feel it, pulsing under his fingertips like a living thing, choking and throttling him. His chest was on fire...

(...no more running)

He was in the bathroom with no memory of having gotten there, in the middle of vomiting as conscious awareness returned and the nightmare faded. His fingers clutched the edge of the toilet seat, he couldn't stop shaking.

At some point he stopped, empty of thought, curling into a ball on the cold tile floor, silent tears pouring down his cheeks. There would be no more sleep that night.