Standing on the Grave of Dreams 5/5

[turps]

"Ray and Bob can start once they've finished outside and we'll be back in a few hours." Ryan slows when he hears Lindsey, unsure if they should interrupt her conversation with Gerard. Then the choice is taken away when she sees them, greeting with a smile. "Hey, did you enjoy your walk?"

Ryan nods. It's a beautiful fall morning and he's been enjoying the warmth of the sun, slowly circling the house with Spencer before heading to visit Dobby. It's there that they've found Lindsey and Gerard and while Ryan would prefer to keep walking, he changes direction so he can lean against the fence. "It doesn't hurt as much today."

Both Lindsey and Gerard grin, looking genuinely pleased. "No overdoing it though," Lindsey warns, pointing at Ryan.

"He won't," Spencer says seriously, plainly meaning every word.

Lindsey's grin gets even wider. "You're good at that, I need someone like you to keep all my patients in line."

Gerard clears his throat. "I can do that."

Lindsey kisses Gerard's cheek, leaving behind a smudge of red lipstick. "You're the biggest soft touch I know. You'd let my patients go dancing on freshly broken legs."

"That happened once," Gerard protests. "I didn't know you'd already said no."

They're not arguing, Ryan knows that but he still feels awkward. Trying for a distraction he asks, "Are you going somewhere?"

"To see my publisher." Gerard pushes his hands deep into the pockets of his pants and sighs. "I tried to put him off but no go. Ray, Bob and Frank will be here, though."

Lindsey turns and looks past the donkey paddock. "Bob and Ray are working on the fence and Frank's waiting for an important call, but if you need anything just go find them, and help yourself to stuff to eat. Dinner may be late."

Spencer bites at his lower lip as if he's considering whether to talk, then says, "We could do that. I mean, make dinner. It's no problem."

"I'll be for a lot of people," Gerard warns, giving Spencer an assessing look. "But if you think you're up to it."

"We are," Spencer says, trying to look certain.

"Fantastic." Lindsey links her arm with Gerard's and starts to tug him toward the kitchen door. "Help yourself to whatever, Frank's vegetarian but anything goes for the rest."

A last smile from them both and Lindsey and Gerard go inside. As soon as they're out of sight Ryan rounds on Spencer, wanting to know what he was thinking. "We can't cook. The last time we tried we set fire to the cookies."

"We were eight then," Spencer says, and he sounds a little shaky, as if he's just realizing what he's offered to do. "We've grown since then, it can't be that hard."

Ryan isn't so sure, but he is sure of Spencer and if he thinks they can make dinner for a houseful of people Ryan believes him. Together they go into the kitchen and Spencer opens the fridge, looking inside. It's packed full of food, half of which Ryan doesn't recognize.

"Worst case we make sandwiches," Spencer says faintly, and Ryan's nodding his agreement when Brendon appears with Jon, joining Spencer and Ryan staring into the fridge.

"Why are we staring down the tomatoes?" Brendon asks, his eyes narrowed.

"I offered to make dinner," Spencer says and rubs his hand over his face. "I've got no idea what I'm doing."

Brendon grins and pushes past Ryan and Spencer, his upper body and head in the fridge as he looks at the contents. "I used to help my mom cook, I can help." He hesitates, his voice trailing off. "That is, if you want me to."

Spencer elbows Brendon in the side. "Are you kidding? Yes."

"Awesome." Brendon turns and looks over his shoulder. "I'm thinking something simple, like soup and rolls."

Ryan blinks. "You know how to make rolls?"

"I was making rolls before I could walk," Brendon announces grandly, and shuts the door of the fridge, clapping his hands once. "Jon, can you look for some pans, the bigger the better. Spencer, potatoes, they need peeling. Lots of them. Ryan, wash your hands and then sit down, you can do the carrots, I'll start on the onions."

It's interesting to see this side of Brendon. Ryan's seen him joking, scared and in pain, but right now he's perfectly confident in what he's doing as he issues orders and gathers chopping boards and knives, setting them down on the table. Once Ryan's washed his hands and dried them -- thankfully on an actual towel -- he sits where Brendon's placed two bulging bags of carrots. They've still got their tops and feathery fronds brush against Ryan's hands as he picks one up.

"You need to peel and chop them into rounds," Brendon says from where he's washing his own hands. Once he's done he sits opposite Ryan and pulls a bag of onions toward him. Selecting one from the bag, Brendon efficiently slices off the top and bottom before peeling away the skin. The kitchen fills with the sharp scent of onion as he starts to chop. "When I made this with mom I always sliced the potatoes, I had my own special knife, one without a sharp blade."

Ryan looks up from his own cutting, concerned with how fast Brendon's chopping. "You do know how to use that, right?"

Brendon grins and holds up his hand, wiggling his fingers. "I haven't lost a finger yet."

"I've got pans," Jon announces from where he's been crouched over, looking in one of the low cupboards. Setting the two pans on the table he asks, "What can I do?"

Brendon looks around, considering. "You should help Ryan, it's going to be next week before he's finished with those."

Ryan frowns and continues to chop, ensuring each carrot round is the same width. "It won't take that long."

"Long enough," Brendon says with a laugh. "Mom always said it didn't matter what the stuff looked like going in, as long as it tasted good."

Jon pulls up a chair and steals a bag of carrots and a knife. "Your mom's a wise lady."

"She is," Brendon says, and then his grin fades. "About most things."

Before Ryan would have run from this subject. Never asking personal questions was one of the unspoken rules of the fair, but they're not at the fair now. He's talking to Brendon and not Apollo, and Brendon is Ryan's friend.

Hesitantly, Ryan asks. "Is that why you left? You had a fight with your mom?"

Brendon keeps chopping the onion, until it's little more than mush. "Sort of. My family is religious, like a lot. They fully believe the new teachings, that things changed because the world had become immoral. The whole crazy scripture, fire rain and radiation sent by a vengeful God." Brendon scoops up the onion mush, dropping it in the pan. "They're not bad people, you have to believe that. It's just. They're set in their ways and couldn't cope that I didn't think the same. So I decided to go."

Spencer turns from where he's peeling potatoes at the sink, his hands muddy and his shirt wet through at the front. "They threw you out?"

"I ran." Brendon ducks his head and swallows before grabbing another onion. "I had no choice, I couldn't keep pretending I fit in."

"I'm sorry," Ryan says, and Brendon looks so sad Ryan wishes he hadn't asked the question.

Brendon acknowledges him with a flash of smile, says, "If I hadn't ran I'd have never met Jon, and if I hadn't met him I wouldn't have met you all."

"I am kind of amazing," Jon says, and starts laughing when Brendon grabs a carrot by the fronds and launches it at Jon's head. Who promptly snatches it out of the air and throws it back, hitting Brendon square on the forehead. Seeing Brendon's O of surprise, Ryan can't help laughing, and realizes for the first time in a while, at this moment he feels genuinely happy.

~~~~

"That smells amazing."

Ryan looks up from where he's trying to scrape dough off the table top. Frank's lifted the lid of one of the pans, head close to the simmering soup.

"You made this?" Frank replaces the pan lid and then looks inside the oven, blinking against the blast of heat. "And rolls?"

"Helped make them, Brendon's the cook," Ryan corrects. He glances around but he's still alone with Frank, the other three not back from taking out the trash and feeding carrot tops to Dobby. Ryan wishes he'd gone now but his back's aching and someone needed to watch the soup.

Frank grabs a glass and pours himself some water, then sits at the table with a sigh. "Schedules make my head hurt."

Ryan isn't sure if he's allowed to talk about saving slaves, but Frank looks tired, and it's awkward sitting in silence. "Is everything okay?"

"It is now." Frank takes a long drink and then sets down the glass. "One of the engines broke down and threw the connections into chaos. I managed to arrange a replacement but it means some people won't go until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Ryan says faintly, already half-standing. "I need to tell Spencer."

"Hold on, kid," Frank says, holding out his hand. "That doesn't include you, or any of your friends. You're not well enough to travel and even if you were you'd go a different route. It's too risky to travel cross-country with your brand."

Ryan feels stupid as he sits. "Sorry, I thought..."

Frank waves off the apology. "It's my fault, I wasn't thinking straight. Two hours finding a new engine is fucking ridiculous. Then the bastard tried to overcharge."

"Sorry," Ryan says. It's all he can think to say and looks at the tabletop as he rolls a small ball of dough under his fingers.

Frank laughs a little, slumping down in his chair. "At least I wasn't fixing fences or going to the city. I'll take scumbag traders any day. Then tonight there's a bath and book with my name on."

"There're books in the house?" Ryan asks, trying to sound nonchalant but failing completely. "Like a library?"

Frank shakes his head. "Not a library but there're books. I found them in the attic with the clothes."

Disappointed, Ryan goes back to scraping up dough. It's been years since he's read a book, seen one even and a library would have been magical.

"You should come up to my room, see if there's anything you like."

Ryan jerks up his head, shocked at the offer. "That's, I mean, I'd love to but no." The problem is, as much as he wants to no way is Ryan going anywhere with Frank alone, not that he'll say that. "I need to watch the soup and rolls."

Frank taps his fingers on the edge of the table, looking at Ryan. "How about I watch dinner and you go up? With Spencer though, I don't want you falling down stairs."

"You'd let us go into your room alone?" The trust is unexpected, but Frank seems unconcerned.

"There's no reason not to." Frank yawns again and jumps to his feet. "I'll go and get Spencer, you can go up now before dinner."

"Wait," Ryan says, but it's too late, Frank's already ran outside and Ryan can hear him calling for Spencer.

Ryan's still sitting when Frank comes back, Spencer following him in. Spencer looks confused and raises an eyebrow at Ryan in question. "We're going to Frank's room?"

"He found books, he said I could see," Ryan says, and Spencer's expression eases.

"That explains it." Spencer flashes a smile at Frank and then heads through the kitchen, touching Ryan's shoulder. "Come on then. It'll probably take an hour to get you up the stairs."

It doesn't actually take that long, more minutes than hours. Still, by the time he's climbed the curving staircase Ryan's heart is pounding and he takes a rest at the top, hands on the curled knot of the banister as he breathes through the pain in his back.

Spencer's standing on the step below Ryan, as if he's going to physically catch him if he stumbles. At least he'd try, Ryan thinks they'd both end up in heaps at the bottom if Ryan did actually fall. Which is why he starts moving, his hand against the wall, trailing over the flocked wallpaper that feels dusty under Ryan's fingers. Corridors go off from the left and right and Ryan remembers Frank's directions, that his room is the second door on the right. Heading in that direction Ryan passes a suit of armor and a stack of blank canvases propped against the wall, then finally, Frank's door.

It still feels wrong to go inside, but Frank did say it was okay. Finally Ryan pushes open the door.

It looks a lot like the bedrooms downstairs, but obviously more lived in. Clothes are folded up on the dresser and there's a towel hanging over the ornate bed rail. There's also a stack of books on the bedside table, and it's those Ryan makes for. Sitting on the edge of the bed he picks up the top book and gently runs his fingers over the cover. It's not a book Ryan recognizes, but that doesn't matter. All that does matter are the words, ready and waiting to sweep Ryan away.

"This one," Ryan says, making the decision.

Spencer sits close, looking at the book Ryan's holding. "You sure? You don't want to see the rest?"

Ryan shakes his head. This one is perfect.

~*~*~*~

"Ryan."

Ryan opens his eyes, suppressing a groan when he moves. In the last two days he's almost finished the book, reading when he's not taking walks with Spencer or hanging out with Pete or doing the gentle chores that Lindsey allows. It makes Ryan feel better when he's allowed to help and he enjoys spending time with his friends, but he also loves slipping into the story, reading about dragons and daring adventures.

The last thing he remembers was curling up in the corner of the green leather couch, his feet in Spencer's lap and a woolen blanket over them both. Now Spencer's leaning over him, shaking Ryan's shoulder.

"Ryan. Bob needs help fixing a door. I said I'd help, we're just outside."

Drowsy, Ryan slides back down, his hand on the book to stop it falling on the floor. "Go help, I'm fine."

"If you want anything...."

"I know where you are," Ryan says, already falling back into sleep.

The next time he wakes can't be more different.

Ryan opens his eyes and the room is dark, there's something tight around his body and across his mouth and his back is on fire. Whimpering, Ryan tries to move but his arms are trapped and he's gasping for air, seeing somebody in the shadows, hearing Horace's footsteps as he walks across the wooden floor.

"Ryan?"

A hand on his chest and Ryan's shaking, desperate to get away, his throat dry as he tries to protest, because this isn't his life now. He got away, this isn't the fair.

"Ryan. Wake up!"

Someone shaking him and Ryan's back in a stall, his legs in the air, someone pounding into him. Fingers pinching into his shoulders, a tongue in his mouth, spittle sliding down his chin.

"Ryan."

Finally Ryan can speak, gasps, "No, please. No don't."

"Fuck. Ryan. Ryan, it's okay, hold on."

The hands are still there, holding, tugging. Ryan keeps himself still. If he's good maybe they won't hurt him so much. If he's good maybe they'll leave Spencer alone.

"Ryan. Listen to me. I'm not going to hurt you, I just need to untangle the blanket."

Despite himself a tear rolls down Ryan's cheek. He lies still, his chest burning, and then finally, finally, he can move. Ryan pulls up his legs and pushes himself back until his back is against a soft surface. Terrified he keeps his eyes closed, his hands pressed against his mouth.

"That was stupid, I'm sorry. I know better than to touch."

Someone talking, their voice pitched low and calming.

"I'm going to put a light on, okay?"

There's the sound of footsteps, a click of a light being switched on. Ryan opens his eyes and sees Gerard sitting on the opposite end of the couch. He's back-lit by the lamp he's just switched on, looking concerned as he watches Ryan.

"You remember who I am?" Gerard asks gently.

Ryan nods. He feels stupid, so foolish he wants to sink through the floor. "I'm sorry."

Gerard's making no attempt to touch, just keeps to his own end of the couch. "There's nothing to be sorry for. You had a nightmare, they happen."

"I don't want them to happen," Ryan whispers. He feels wrung out and shaky, humiliated in a way no degrading sex act has ever make him feel.

Gerard settles back, looking worried as he watches Ryan. "I'm sorry. I wish I knew what to tell you, what to do to help."

Ryan wishes he knew that too, but the reality is, there's nothing anyone can do to help. He has to deal the best that he can. It's just, there's no easy way to explain that and Ryan hates how Gerard looks so sad. It's why Ryan says, "I could drink a glass of water."

Gerard stands, holding out his hand toward Ryan. "I can do that."

Which isn't what Ryan expected. He hesitates but Gerard never moves, just stands still, patiently waiting.

Ryan reaches out his hand.

~~~~~

Days pass and Ryan's saying another goodbye, the gravel crunching under his feet as he stands with Spencer, watching as the engine pulls away in the dim light of morning.

He can't help wondering when it'll be his turn. When Bob will seek him out and say, you're going tomorrow. Even the thought makes Ryan feel sick. He's beginning to love this house, the warm kitchen and comfy couches, the tub and constant supply of hot water. He already does love Mikey and Pete, but Ryan knows he'll be leaving them behind. They're not guests in this house, not like Ryan.

Needing distraction, Ryan's about to suggest a walk to see Dobby when Lindsey appears. She's clutching an overflowing folder and her bag bumps against her bare leg as she walks down the steps. "Ryan, Spencer, hey."

"Hi," Spencer says and Ryan flashes a small smile.

Lindsey tugs at her short skirt and tightens her hold on the folder. "I need to ask a favor." When neither Ryan or Spencer reply, Lindsey goes on. "Gee's got this big exhibition in a few months. His investors like the personal touch so I've hundreds of invitations to write out."

Ryan lets out a breath, because nothing that Lindsey is saying sounds bad. "You want us to help write them?"

"Please," Lindsey says. "Ray and Bob won't be back for hours and last time Frank helped we had to say the ink blotches were a stylistic choice."

"They were a stylistic choice." Frank's walking down the stairs followed by Ronan, Jon, Brendon and Ken. "We're going for a walk."

Brendon's got a floppy hat pulled down over his head and he looks at them from under the brim. "Frank says there's mutated squirrels in the woods."

Frank nods. "They've got fangs and glowing red eyes."

"If we don't come back tell Dobby it was nice knowing him," Jon says seriously, and Ryan reminds himself that Jon's joking; he's not going away today.

"We'll do that," Lindsey says, and then turns her attention to Frank. "Don't go near the east side."

"Not planning to," Frank says, and then jumps up, grabbing the hat off Brendon's head before running away. Immediately Brendon runs after him, laughing as they disappear into the treeline, Jon, Ken and Ronan following more sedately.

"Rabid squirrels." Spencer shakes his head and starts to go inside, holding open the door for Lindsey and Ryan.

"They could be out there," Lindsey says with a grin. She's looking up the stairs as if planning to go up, then changes her mind, heading for the kitchen. "We'll stay down here. Everything's a mess up there with all the planning that's been going on."

Ryan's relieved. The kitchen is a place where he's began to feel safe and he sinks down into his usual chair as Lindsey puts down the folder and tugs her skirt down her thighs before sitting. Opening the bag she pulls out a wooden box full of pens and a large pile of thick parchment paper. Each sheet is printed with Gerard's personal header and Ryan leans over, looking at the design which seems to be an interlocking series of letters being held by a winged monster.

Lindsey points at the creature. "He designed that before we met. It's one of the most personal things he lets people see."

Lindsey doesn't say why and Ryan doesn't ask, knowing if Gerard ever wants them to know he'll tell. Pulling a piece of paper toward him Ryan picks up a pen, waiting as Lindsey puts an example invitation in the middle of the table. "We just copy that?"

"Yeah." Lindsey uncaps her own pen and then pushes the box to Spencer. "I know it's boring but it has to be done this way. They like to think Gerard's taking the trouble to write to them personally."

Spencer selects a pen and takes off the top. "It's a good tactic to get more money."

"Exactly." Lindsey starts to write, her ponytail trailing over one shoulder. "Gerard's good at talking up his commercial art and getting donations, but laying the groundwork like this helps."

Ryan brings the pen nib to the paper. The last time he wrote something it was his name on his contract to Horace. Nervous, his hand is shaking and he pulls back the pen, afraid of making a mess.

"Last time Bob helped like this he put the pen through the paper; twice," Lindsey says. "Once Ray knocked over a cup of coffee and ruined two hours of work." Ryan cringes, imagining the mess, but Lindsey doesn't appear concerned at all. In fact she's smiling as she writes, glancing up at Ryan. "It's just paper. If you make a mistake you can start over."

Ryan puts the pen back on the page, his fingers clutching the pen tlightly as he begins to write.

~*~*~*~


The day is gone before Ryan knows it. He spends hours writing, listening to Lindsey's stories and then later, more time at the kitchen table, helping to make dinner. Diligently chopping his way through bagfuls of carrots as Frank attempts to juggle tomatoes and Bob slices onions, his eyes red and tears flowing down his face. Now Ryan's lying awake in bed, sweating, his hand over his mouth as he tries to suppress his whimpers, frustrated that a good day has turned into a bad night.

It's one of Ryan's familiar nightmares. Spencer lying carved up on a stall floor, his eyes wide open and chest ripped apart. Ryan can taste the blood in the air, feel it dripping down his arms and his throat is raw from screaming when Spencer rolls over in bed, says, "Ryan. Ryan. It's okay. I'm here. I'm alive."

Ryan nods, then realizes Spencer won't be able to see in the dark. He drops his hand and manages to rasp out. "Sorry. I woke you."

Spencer wraps an arm around Ryan, their heads together. "It doesn't matter. I don't care." He brushes a kiss against Ryan's cheek and lies heavily against him, warm and sleepy.

Despite his slowing heartbeat Ryan's still too keyed up to go back to sleep and he licks his dry lips, reminding himself that water isn't rationed now, he can have as much as he wants whenever he wants. Ryan sits and shakes his head when Spencer starts to get up. "No, stay here. I'm just going for a drink. I won't be long."

In the dim room Spencer's face is blurred, his eyes dark, but Ryan can tell he's watching, assessing if Ryan really doesn't mind going alone. "I'll keep your space warm."

"You're a superstar," Ryan says, and pushes aside the blanket, climbing out of bed. He'd fallen asleep in his clothes so there's no need to stop before making his way out of the room, heading for the door. Easing it open he sees moonlight is streaming in through the windows in the hallway, enough that Ryan can easily make his way toward the kitchen. He intends to go in and grab a drink, maybe some milk if there's any left, but when he opens the heavy wooden door he finds the light already on, and Gerard sitting at the table while Mikey leans against the counter, his arms crossed and looking at the floor.

"Fuck, sorry." It's the first time he's seen them in the same place for a few days and Ryan starts to back away, but Gerard jumps up, looking a cross between relieved and concerned.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"I was coming for a drink," Ryan says, and vows to grab one and go, the atmosphere in the room suffocating in the few seconds he's been there.

"Do you like hot chocolate? I could drink some of that. I'll make it." Gerard makes his way to the fridge, the door giving the usual pained squeak as it's pulled open. He grabs a bottle of milk and then shuts the door with a bump of his hip. "Mom used to make Mikey and me the best hot chocolate, she'd put marshmallows in it and we'd drink it before bed. Can you remember that, Mikes?" Gerard asks, sounding hopeful.

Mikey shrugs. "It was a long time ago."

"You liked the pink marshmallows best," Gerard goes on, and his knuckles are white where he's grasping the bottle. "You used to watch them melt and say it was pink blood, that they'd been nuked like the birds in the hot zones. You have to remember."

Again Mikey shrugs. "I don't know what to tell you."

Deliberately, Gerard puts down the bottle of milk as he says softly. "How about why you're acting like this?"

Mikey looks up then, as closed-off as Ryan's ever seen him. "Acting like what? This is me, Gerard."

"No, no it's not." Gerard takes a step closer to Mikey. "This isn't you. This isn't my brother."

"Your brother's gone. He's been gone for a long time." Mikey holds up his arm, his hands shaking as he yanks back the sleeve of his shirt exposing his brand and the line of healed burns that are scattered over his skin. "This is me now and believe me, you don't want this."

"Mikey, wait." Gerard starts to follow when Mikey turns and almost runs from the room.

"Don't." Ryan steps in front of Gerard, flinching when Gerard reaches up, as if he's going to push Ryan aside.

"I'm not, sorry." Gerard drops his hands, looking stricken. "I'm not going to hurt you, I wouldn't, but I need to find Mikey."

For a moment Ryan almost steps aside. He's tired, worn thin by his own emotions without taking on more. Except, he's watched Gerard and it's impossible to miss how he loves Mikey, how he misses him desperately. It's there in his every action and word, and the only person who's not seeing that is Mikey himself, and Ryan needs to tell Gerard why. "Don't go after him yet. You need to listen to me first. Please."

It's obvious that Gerard is torn, but eventually he nods curtly and walks to the table where he pulls out one of the padded chairs and says, "You should sit down."

Ryan does, trying to gather his thoughts as Gerard takes a seat opposite. When he's settled, Ryan says, "Once five guys wanted to fuck me at once. I don't know why, it wasn't my place to ask, but they all came back to my stall and went at it one after another. By the time they'd finished I was fucked so raw I could barely walk."

Gerard grimaces and presses his hand against the tabletop, as if he's stopping himself reaching for Ryan. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't do it, you've nothing to be sorry for." Ryan shrugs his shoulders and picks at the edge of the table, digging his thumb nail into a chip of paint. "I'm telling you because that night I knew I was lucky. Later Spencer helped hose down my body and got me back to the engine and while he was doing that I saw Mikey. He worked in red, did he tell you that? He was thrown to the johns who got off on pain and humiliation and that night he was so strung out he didn't even see us when he staggered out of the quadrant.

"He didn't tell me that," Gerard says, sounding distressed. "He hasn't told me anything."

Ryan hates seeing him like that, but he has to press on. "What do you want him to tell you? About the time he was tied up outside and forced to suck off anyone who walked by? The time he had his arm broken while shackled to a wall? That he had to dress up and perform in the arena, be fucked while watched by an audience pointing out every perceived flaw?"

Gerard flinches at each question. "Stop. Please. I don't...."

"Don't what?" Ryan goes on. "All these things, they're only the beginning. Mikey's one of the strongest people I know because he kept going. Always. But that doesn't mean he's okay. He's tired and hurt and ashamed and right now he doesn't need you to be a freer of slaves, he needs you to be his big brother and tell him everything's going to be okay."

"He won't listen to me," Gerard says. "I've tried."

"So try again." Exhausted, Ryan leans back, too tired to even keep himself upright. "Stop with the memories and pussy-footing around and tell him how you feel. You missed him didn't you?"

"Like a piece of my heart had been carved out."

Ryan rubs at his eyes. "Then tell him that. It's what he needs to hear. That no matter what he's done you love him."

"I can do that," Gerard says. Standing he starts to head for the door and then stops next to Ryan. "Do you want me to walk back to your room?"

"Go. I'm okay." A last look and Gerard does go. Left alone Ryan slowly stands, hand braced on the table. Focusing on one step after the other he puts away the milk then heads back the bedroom where he climbs into bed and snuggles up to Spencer, needing him so badly it physically hurts.

~*~*~*~

"Morning."

Ryan opens his eyes and finds Spencer's looking right at him. They're sharing the same pillow and Spencer's arm is over Ryan, holding him close. It's almost too warm in the bed but Ryan doesn't want to move. All he wants to do is lie here with Spencer, where it's warm and comfortable and safe.

"You didn't come back last night," Spencer says, he reaches for Ryan's hand, entwining their fingers. "I fell asleep waiting."

"I was talking to Gerard. I told him stuff, about Mikey." In the light of day Ryan isn't sure he's done the right thing and his stomach twists as he remembers what he said. "He needed to know but what if I made things worse?"

"Then we'll fix it," Spencer says, and squeezes Ryan's hand before moving in for a kiss. Pressing his mouth against Ryan's he slides his tongue over Ryan's bottom lip, the briefest of touches that's worlds away from the kisses that left Ryan gagging, a john's slimy tongue invading his mouth. Foreheads together he adds, "You ready to get up?"

"Not really." But Ryan rolls onto his side and pushes back the covers. No matter how much he wants to stay in bed he can hear people walking in the corridor, the sound of an engine warming up outside. There's no way Ryan would stay in bed when yet more people are leaving.

Ryan yawns as he walks, trying to untangle his hair and vowing to take a bath later in the day. Opening the bedroom door he blinks at the strong light and sees the front door is thrown open and a group of people standing in the hall. He can see Ken, Simon and Ronan clustered together. Bob carrying a bag as Ray sits on the stairs, studying a map as Jacob sits close. They're obviously close to leaving and Ryan walks over to Ronan. "You're going now?"

"Yeah," Ronan says. He's got a small bag resting against his leg and indicates it with a jerk of his head. "Gerard sorted out some clothes, money too. For starting out in the new country."

Spencer moves next to Ryan. "I hope you'll be happy."

"It's better than here," Ronan says, then picks up his bag at the sound of a whistle. "I need to go, I'd say it's been good to know you, but...."

"We know," Spencer cuts in. "Be safe, Ronan."

A brief smile and Ronan goes, following the others outside. About to follow Ryan stops when Ray says, "They'll not be leaving for about ten minutes. Bob's still checking the route and Patrick decided to pick up in person."

"Patrick?" Ryan questions, and jumps when Brendon answers from behind him.

"Patrick's amazing. He knows Pete but I don't know how. Not when Pete was at the fair." Brendon's expression is puzzled as he looks at Pete's closed bedroom door. "He arrived first thing this morning, just swept in and grabbed hold of Pete and didn't let go. It's a good thing Mikey wasn't there."

"Where was he?" Ryan asks, worried anew.

Ray puts down the map, frowning as he tries to fold it. "In the living room last time I saw, he's sleeping on the couch with Gee."

Relieved, Ryan rests against Spencer. "They're still there now?"

"Yeah." Finally getting the map folded, Ray stands and stretches before coming down the last few stairs. "In fact, could one of you go wake them up? Gerard will want to say goodbye, and someone get Patrick too."

"I'll go get Gerard," Ryan says, needing to make sure they're okay. He looks at Brendon who's still watching Pete's bedroom door. "I'll let Brendon get Patrick."

Brendon grins wide. "You need to meet him, he's awesome. He's got this ship and sails it overseas. It's what he does, take slaves to their new lives. Jon likes him too."

"Well if Jon likes him." Spencer smiles at Brendon. "Where is he anyway?"

"With Patrick and Pete, he fell asleep in there last night so Mikey said to leave him."

"Hold on," Ryan says, trying to catch up. "So Jon slept in Mikey and Pete's bed and Mikey slept on the couch with Gerard. Where were you?"

"In my bed, but I was up early helping Lindsey make pancakes and feed Dobby."

"You made breakfast?" Ryan asks, looking at Brendon. "Is it safe to eat?"

Brendon grins wide. "I was making pancakes before I could..."

"Walk, we know," Ryan interrupts and he can't help laughing at Brendon's smile widens even further. "I'll go and get Gerard."

"And I'm going to see Patrick the magnificent," Spencer says, trying to smooth down his hair when Brendon takes his arm and pulls him forward. Left alone Ryan retraces his steps, past the room where he's been sleeping until he finally comes to the open living room door. Inside it's full of faded couches, purple curtains complete with tassels pulled over the window that looks out toward the back of the house. Enjoying the faded grandeur Ryan walks further in the room, and then stops when he sees Mikey and Gerard.

They're curled up on one of the couches, Gerard spooned around Mikey and his chin against Mikey's neck. Despite the blue checked blanket that's covering them they're so close Ryan feels like he's spying on some private moment, still, Ryan knows he has to wake them. "Gerard."

Gerard shifts slightly, opening one eye. "Ryan, hey. Is everything okay?"

"Ray sent me," Ryan says. "People are getting ready to go."

"Fuck." Gerard screws shut his eyes and then opens them, looking at Ryan. "I meant to get up early, but we talked. Like you said. It was light when he fell asleep."

Ryan starts to back toward the door. "I'm glad. I hope it helped."

"It did." Mikey this time, and he peers blearily at Ryan. "Gee wants me to stay. Me and Pete."

"I can't believe you thought that I didn't." Gerard pulls Mikey into a sudden fierce hug. "Moron."

Mikey rolls his eyes and waves his hand. "Hello, escaped sex slave here. It's kinda illegal for me to be here. And that's without the other stuff."

Gerard sits up, wedged between Mikey and the back of the couch. "I don't give a damn if it's illegal, and we'll work the other stuff out together."

"It won't be easy," Mikey warns, flopping onto his back.

"I don't care," Gerard says, and it's so obvious that he means every word that Ryan has to leave the room. He's happy for Mikey and Pete, but the fact is, they're getting a home and Ryan isn't, he can't help being a little jealous.

~~~~~

Patrick doesn't leave in ten minutes.

Ryan sits on the steps of the house, basking in the golden mid-morning sunshine as Bob explains about crossing borders and false papers while Ray, Brendon and Lindsey ease a giant metal bat sculpture into the high-sided wagon.

"It's the excuse for taking the wagon," Bob explains, shaking his head when the bat thumps down, making the wagon sway. "Once we've done drop-off at the ocean we'll deliver the ugly thing. People pay a fucking fortune for Gerard's work."

Bob sounds perfectly casual, as if he's not talking about moving slaves as well as an ugly sculpture. "It's that easy? You can just drop people off?"

"Patrick knows what he's doing," Bob says. "But no, it's not that easy. Gerard pays a fortune in bribes at the port."

Ryan thinks about that money, how Gerard will have to pay for every slave to leave the country. It makes his stomach ache to think about leaving and he asks, "Do you think Brendon and Jon will be able to travel with me and Spencer? I don't know how it works. If so many of us can go to one place."

"I thought...." Bob cuts himself off, sounding confused as he looks toward where Mikey is standing talking to Frank. "Mikey said...."

Ryan doesn't get to hear what Mikey said, because at that moment Jon comes outside, chatting with some strange guy that has to be Patrick. They're also supporting Pete between them, holding him up as he hops, his hurt leg held in the air.

Hands on her hips, Lindsey stares at Pete. "I said you could go to the bathroom with help. This isn't the bathroom."

Pete grins, paling slightly as he's eased down to sit on the top step, his leg propped up on pillows that Jon's been holding under his arm. "I heard voices, and I was missing Mikey."

Dusting off her hands, Lindsey passes Ryan and Bob and crouches next to Pete. "You'd better not have touched that bandage."

Pete widens his eyes. "Would I do that?"

Lindsey snorts then stands. "In an instant. Don't you dare try moving from here."

"He won't," Mikey says, leaving Frank to sit on the step below Pete's. He leans back and Pete links his arms around Mikey's neck, holding on. "I'll make sure he doesn't."

"We need to get going," Patrick says, pulling his hat further down over his eyes. Edging past Pete he moves down two steps and bends, gathering both Mikey and Pete in a hug that leaves Pete beaming and Mikey looking surprised.

Sighing, Bob stands too. "We really do. Tides to meet and ugly sculptures to sell."

After that it's ordered chaos as Patrick and Bob ready the engine and yet again people say goodbye. There's no hugging, none of them are friends, not really, but Ryan wishes them well as he stands with his arms wrapped around his body, watching as people climb into the wagon. The last to go is Bob, and Ryan sees him slip over to Gerard, saying something that makes Gerard frown.

"The tide, Bob." Patrick's standing looking over the side of the wagon, the only things visible his hands, hat and eyes.

A last quiet word to Gerard and Bob climbs into the engine, taking his place next to Ray. With a last whistle, the engine rumbles away.

About to find Spencer and go inside, Ryan remains seated when Gerard approaches and says, "Can you stay here? We need to talk."

Ryan nods, feeling sick. He knows this is it, he's going to be told it's time for him to go and that's okay, he knows he can't stay. He's just worried they're going to make him go without Spencer, and that's not going to happen. It's not and then there's Brendon and Jon. Mikey and Pete. Ryan can't imagine them not being there. Not now. Ryan can feel his chest tightening and he crumples in on himself, trying to stop shaking.

"Ryan. Ryan, it's okay."

Mikey, his hand against Ryan's shoulder and then Jon's sitting at Ryan's side, Brendon leading Spencer over and then Spencer's sitting, holding Ryan close and he's surrounded by people, by his friends, which should help, but it doesn't. All it does is remind Ryan what he's having to leave.

"Ryan. Bob told me you were asking about leaving." Gerard's clasping Lindsey's hand tightly as he stands at the foot of the stairs. "And that's fine, we won't stop you if you want to go. You, Spencer, Brendon or Jon."

"What? No," Mikey interrupts. "I told you. I want them to stay here."

"I know." Gerard sounds pained, as if it physically hurts to go against what Mikey wants. "But if Ryan wants to leave...."

"He doesn't," Mikey says, and Ryan's looking between him and Gerard, words blocked by the ball of misery that's lodged in his throat. Because no matter how much he wants to stay, where it's warm, safe, but most importantly, with his friends, he knows he can't. This isn't his home. This isn't his family. There's no reason Gerard would allow Ryan to stay. Not when Ryan's still a stranger.

"Mikey," Gerard says gently. "You have to let Ryan speak for himself. It'll be dangerous to stay here, he might not want that."

Ryan shakes his head, he knows the consequences of being caught as a runaway, but he doesn't care. It's not about that at all. Aware everyone is looking at him, he takes courage in the way Spencer's squeezing his hand, says. "It's not that. We did stuff. All of us, why would you want us, want me?"

"Of course we want you to stay, we all do." Gerard runs his hand through his hair, his gaze directly on Ryan. "Why wouldn't I?

Ryan's got multiple reasons, the only one he can actually say is, "Because it's not our house, we're not your family. Risking keeping Mikey here makes sense, and Pete with him. But why us?"

For a long moment Gerard doesn't reply, then he says, "Stay there."

Running, he goes into the house and Ryan blinks rapidly, refusing to cry, but then Gerard's back, holding sheets of paper in his hands. Going to his previous place he holds up one of the sheets, showing that it's a picture of Ryan. Except it's not Ryan as he saw himself the week before. In Gerard's picture Ryan's wearing his clothes from the fair, but he looks clean, his hair shiny as he sits on the grass, pointing at something in the distance, his mouth quirked into a smile.

Gerard hands over the picture to Ryan. "That's what you are to me. When Mikey described you he told me how you liked to tell stories sometimes. How you'd sit together while eating and you'd make up stories about the people you'd seen."

Ryan takes the picture, trying to see himself through Gerard's eyes. Then looks up when Gerard shows another picture, Spencer this time, his smile wide as he stands in a patch of sunshine, hands on his hips and obviously amused. Gerard hands that one to Spencer.

"That's how I see you. Someone who kept smiling always."

Another picture. Pete, no hint of a smile but looking at someone with utter love in his eyes. Gerard gives it to Pete, who takes it while holding on tight to Mikey

"Just hearing Mikey talk I knew how much he loved you, and that you thought the same in return."

"You've a picture of me?" Brendon says, sounding awed when Gerard holds up the next picture. "I didn't think you would."

Gerard hands over the picture of Brendon, one where his arms are outstretched and head back as he laughs. "Mikey said you weren't there long, but it was enough for him to see you as a friend."

Then finally, the picture of Jon. Bare-footed, his toes curled in the grass, looking calm and relaxed. "You were both his friends."

Ryan pulls his gaze away from his own picture and looks at the others. How they're all filled with sunshine, friendship and love. "That's how you see us?"

Gerard nods and Lindsey says, "Yes. We want you to stay."

It feels like there's something light inside Ryan, finally pushing the dirt away, not completely, nothing's as easy as that, but a start. He looks at Brendon, at Jon, at Mikey and Pete, then finally Spencer, who's looking right back as he says. "Where you go, I go."

Ryan smiles, says, "We'll stay."


Epilogue

Ryan yawns as he steps outside. It's been raining overnight and all around are droplets of water, gleaming as they cling to the grass. Within seconds the bottom of Ryan's pants are soaked as he makes his way to the paddock, Dobby's sack of feed held in his arms. When he reaches the fence he lets the sack thump to the ground and hooks his arms over the fence. The wood feels swollen, damp against his hands and for a moment Ryan's thinking of another time -- of painted stalls and blood-stained straw. They're memories that have faded over time, but they're never completely hidden, and Ryan's glad when he hears footsteps and then, Spencer.

"Morning," Spencer says, and he wraps his arms around Ryan from behind and props his chin on Ryan's shoulder. "Do you know what day it is?"

Ryan grins but doesn't move. "Your day to make breakfast, slacker."

Spencer shakes his head, his hair tickling against Ryan's ear. "Wrong."

Ryan bites back a laugh. "It was pizza last night, it has to be Monday."

"Wrong again," Spencer says, and he turns his head so he can gently bite the lobe of Ryan's ear. "One last try and then I'm feeding you to Dobby."

"Harsh, Spencer," Ryan turns in Spencer's arms. When they're standing face to face he says quietly, "I know what day it is."

Spencer rests his hand against Ryan's side, fingers brushing the scars on his back. "I can't believe it's been a year."

Neither can Ryan. Sometimes he still feels like that boy in the fair, the dirt, pain and degradation stubbornly clinging. He thinks they all feel like that at times. He sees it in the ways Brendon will suddenly stop smiling, or Jon tense up. How Mikey will flinch at an unexpected touch or Pete retreat back into his head. How sometimes Spencer will wake up screaming.

Mostly though, mostly those feelings are hidden. Replaced by the love and support of good friends. Ryan's got a purpose now, he helps people, there for the other slaves who turn up frightened and ill.

I think Gerard and Lindsey are planning a celebration dinner," Spencer says. "I heard them planning a visit to town."

"Yeah?" Ryan can't help smiling and he grabs Spencer in a sudden fierce hug. "I'm glad that we stayed."

"Me too," Spencer says, and Ryan wants to remember this moment forever, where he's held by Spencer and knows beyond doubt that he's loved. Except of course he can't, and he reluctantly pulls back when he hears footsteps that have to be Pete.

"You're hugging without us." Despite his protest Pete's grinning, only limping slightly now as he walks hand in hand with Mikey toward Spencer and Ryan. "Didn't I tell you the new rules prohibit hugging without my involvement?"

"You did," Spencer says. "We're ignoring you."

Pete sighs, long and tragic. "That's okay, you stage your revolution, I've got Mikey."

Spencer looks at Mikey, head tilted to the side as if he's considering. "That is a plus."

"It is," Pete agrees, grinning when Jon appears and heads their way, his bare feet leaving smudged tracks in the grass. "Jon will support my hugging rules."

"What hugging rules?" Jon asks, looking confused.

Mikey yawns, looking half asleep where he's propped against Pete's shoulder. "Pete says all hugging has to involve him."

Jon grins wide, looking at Pete. "Oh that. I was just ignoring him."

Mikey yawns again and wraps his arms around Pete's waist. "It's usually best."

Pete frowns, says, "I hate you all."

"We know," Jon says easily, and moves to stand close. Then turns, watching the kitchen door. They all are, because as right as this moment feels there's somebody missing.

Then finally, Brendon arrives running, almost skidding to the ground when he hits the gravel. Seeing them waiting he slows, and while there's no hint of his usual grin his happiness is plain to see as he walks close. "I was looking for you."

"You've found us," Ryan says, and he reaches out, taking hold of Spencer's arm, wrapping his fingers over the brand, and then, like a chain Spencer does the same. His fingers are wrapped around Pete's brand, then Pete's around Jon's, Jon around Mikey's, Mikey's around Brendon's and then finally, Brendon completes the circle, his hand over Ryan's.

Ryan looks at them all, says, "To a year. To being free."

Comments

[inteligrrl.livejournal.com]

This is AMAZING. I'm so sorry I don't have anything more coherent to say at the moment, but I am absolutely in love and I think I need to read it again like five times. Hats off to you, bravo.

[turps33.livejournal.com]

I'm really glad you liked Pete. He's one of my favourites.

Thank you so much for such a lovely comment ♥

[turps33.livejournal.com]

Thank you for such a lovely comment.

Honestly, I don't need anything elaborate, just knowing you enjoyed it is enough.

[turps33.livejournal.com]

There's nothing to be sorry for, what you said is more than enough. Thank you so much for taking the time to let me know you enjoyed.

[turps33.livejournal.com]

Ooops, sorry. Hope you got to work on time.

I'm really glad you liked the story. Thank you so much for taking the time to tell me so.

[turps33.livejournal.com]

I got it and will be replying soon, because seriously, you're amazing.

Thank you!

[sketchofsoda.livejournal.com]

Reading this is like watching a movie, the whole time i was (in)discreetly shouting and squeeing at the characters and situations, hands pressed against my chest, teeth biting at my lips.

And the ending had me smiling wide. ♥

[turps33.livejournal.com]

That is such a fantastic comment.

Thank you! I'm really glad you enjoyed it.

[panic-smile.livejournal.com]

completely mind-blowingly amazing <3 loved it, especially how close they all became :)

[turps33.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much!

I'm glad you liked ♥

[ivory303.livejournal.com]

I loved reading this. It feels very focused, intense, but at the same time you do such a good job of conveying a larger universe. I'll definitely be coming back to this one <3

[turps33.livejournal.com]

That's a lovely compliment.

Thank you so much.

[turps33.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you liked. Thank you for taking the time to let me know.

[indusnm.livejournal.com]

Fantastic, I love this!

[turps33.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

[kin-you-bi.livejournal.com]

I just got around to reading this today - I've had it sitting in an open tab for what feels like forever, waiting for the right headspace - and I'm really, really glad I did. There is so much in this that is just perfect, and I'm not a Ryan/Spencer girl normally, but oh my heart. So beautifully done. I had so much dread for Brendon, as well - normally I can disconnect to a certain extent, but I really didn't know where you were going to be taking him and the idea of him being broken down by the fair just killed me. And Lindsey? Even in a fucked up Stepford world, she still somehow manages to be a fucking doctor. \o/

[turps33.livejournal.com]

Thank you for such a lovely comment.

I especially appreciate that you mentioned Brendon and Lindsey because in stories with such a large amount of characters I always worry about some becoming lost.

Breaking down is exactly what I wanted for Brendon, which sounds so mean but he was very much the innocent in all this. As for Lindsey. She does what she wants, rules be damned!

[kin-you-bi.livejournal.com]

Hi, I hope you don't find this too presumptuous, but apparently I've got your Lindsey on the brain and consequently I might have committed a tiny bit of not!fic whilst eating my breakfast this morning (weirdly enough, Brian decided to tell me all about how Gerard and Lindsey met. Yeah, I don't know either.) Do you mind if I post it in my lj? My flist is miniscule, but I've been trying to get back my writing mojo for a couple of years now and I'd kinda like to post it as proof that occasionally I can actually write stuff. Tote's ok if you would rather not, though - you don't even know me!

[gothicduckie6.livejournal.com]

this was really good. like, really super FANTASTIC good. apart from the fact they were sex slaves. when Ryan saved Pete, ugh, best part. no, best part was this entire thing. <3

[turps33.livejournal.com]

I don't find that presumptuous at all, in fact, I think it's a huge compliment.

I don't mind you posting at all, and if you do so publicly, would love to read :)

[turps33.livejournal.com]

I have to admit, I did like Ryan saving Pete. I like Ryan having a chance to shine.

Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to comment.

[kin-you-bi.livejournal.com]

Awesome, thank you! I'm quite chuffed to have actually written something :-) It can be found here (http://kin-you-bi.livejournal.com/11072.html).

[hurricaneeyes.livejournal.com]

This was just beautiful. Heartbreaking, but beautiful.

I came ridiculously close to tears at some point - certain things set me off and the the part where Spencer is in solitary confinement killed me a little.

It was all so realistic and gorgeous and just...i could see it in my head, see it happening. it was wonderful. <3

[turps33.livejournal.com]

This was one of the stories where I became lost in the universe, so it makes me very happy that it pulled you in too.

Thank you so much for such a lovely comment.

[aneas.livejournal.com]

You broke me. And then you put me back together BEAUTIFULLY.

Thank you very much.