Colonized Codependance

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Chapter two... hope you like!
WARNING: Extremely heavy angst, some gory imagery.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything to do with "The Faculty". Just my twisty lil' take going on here!
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When Zeke’s eyes opened, he wondered why they did; the clock between the beds read 6:50, meaning he’d only slept five or so hours. It didn’t feel like he’d slept five or so minutes, but it was all he was going to have, he surmised.

He hadn’t wanted to look to the other side of the room, but felt like it was his responsibility to. He found the sheets of Casey’s bed rumpled and tossed to the side, but no Casey resided within them. That’s when he heard a sighing breath come from behind him.

God DAMN it… he thought. He turned his head; there Casey was, lying on his side, facing Zeke. Zeke swallowed and bent up. Holding himself up with his elbows, he calculated the events of the night before.

It had to be Casey’s fault somewhere. Zeke didn’t go around screwing boys; even if he’d been able to appreciate ANY body in small, barely notable fashions, he wasn’t about that. Casey was. He’d proven that in his nuzzling up to Zeke the way he had, letting Zeke feel the smooth skin of his cheek and jaw. A dirty move—inappropriate and uncalled for, because he should have known that Zeke wouldn’t have touched him with a ten-foot pole.

But there were no ten-foot poles involved last night. It was much more than that; hands, mouths, teeth, cocks-- all of it, every last bit of sex and its accoutrements. These thoughts had Zeke crawl out of bed, trying hard to not rouse the boy. And who said he could just come to Zeke’s bed, as if he owned the other side of it? That wasn’t his right. It wasn’t anyone’s right.

A shower was in order, most definitely. He got into the bathroom and shut the door, tempted to lock it. He didn’t, seeing as that was a bit too dramatic. At least it felt that way. Zeke simply stripped down and turned on the shower. The feel of the water splashing on his hand eased him a little, and he climbed into the sanctuary of heat.

He’d just gotten lathered up with the motel’s cheap soap when he heard the bathroom door fly open. He almost regretted leaving it unlocked, until he heard Casey retching into the toilet. It saved him the trouble of helping Casey clean the bed or rug or whatever he’d have had to mess up… not that Zeke WOULD have, but…

Once finished with washing, Zeke shut off the shower and reached past the curtain for a towel. Casey’s stomach had ceased its attack, leaving him to cough and spit. Zeke wrapped the too-small towel around his waist and stepped out; Casey didn’t look up. He sat on the floor with his head plopped down on his arm. For a moment, Zeke wondered if he was sickened by last night. ‘It’s the fucking booze, man,’ he thought with a roll of his eyes. The boy looked pathetic as he now lifted his head to rub at his face. “You all right?” Zeke dared to ask. Casey didn’t answer; Zeke sighed and went to the sink, grabbed one of the plastic cups and filled it with water. Turning to Casey, he extended the cup his way. “You’d better get some fluids in you—it’ll help,” he said.

Casey looked to the water then took it. Zeke watched him a moment, making sure he drank it. He didn’t know why he cared. “Thanks,” Casey murmured once he finished. Zeke nodded and went back out to the room.

They needed to get the hell out of here. Zeke dressed while Casey kept spitting and groaning in the bathroom, hoping to be done before he came out. He was thankful to be clothed again, and he went to the maps and notes he and Casey had made. In the few minutes before Casey emerged, he’d finally come to a conclusion.

“We’re going back,” he declared as Casey went back to Zeke’s bed… Zeke’s bed, for fuck’s sake…

“Back… to Herrington?” Casey asked.

“Yea,” Zeke said. “I’ve got a small hunch,”

“What’s that?”

Zeke leaned back in the chair and rubbed his chin, thinking hard. “Even if there are feds or cops… whatever, making roadblocks to keep people outta Herrington, I know how to get back in. We can get back to my place pretty easy by going through fields and what not,” he explained. “My hypothesis… y’now how Stokely, all of us—how we were coining MaryBeth as some ‘queen bee’?”

“Yea…?” Casey answered. Zeke glanced to him and rolled his tongue around in his mouth.

“What if they’re actually colonized… like ants?” he said. At Casey’s confused expression, he went on. “Ants won’t go to spots where their ‘kin’ died. It’s like they smell death or something. I’m sure Herrington stinks of it right now,” he said. “Hopefully there’s been a clean up, or there’s one going on. Even if there isn’t, it hasn’t been long. If we’re careful and watch our step, we won’t catch some sort of disease. We can hole up at my house and get things in order. We’re gonna need to.”

Casey nodded slowly and brought his knees to his chin. “I feel sick,” he mumbled.

“You got major drunk. You’re gonna feel sick, Casey,” Zeke said, feeling annoyed. “I’m not tip-top myself, if it makes you feel better.”

“It doesn’t,”

Zeke stood up and stared at the boy a few moments; Casey didn’t look back, choosing to just stare ahead blankly. With a heavy sigh, Zeke turned away. “Let’s get packing, head out early. I wanna get us to Herrington as fast as we can.”


~*~


The whole ride back was quiet, Casey most of all, surprisingly. Most of the time he sat staring out the window with his arms crossed over himself, foot upon the dash. If they were in the GTO, Zeke would smack it back down, but he really didn’t care about this crappy sedan. They’d only stopped once when their stomachs growled, going through drive-thru at a small town McDonald’s. They didn’t dare order coffee and didn’t look to see if they had any. It would have helped, but the orange juice Zeke had had perked him up a little.

Zeke felt the anxiety between both of them as they went off the highway exit leading to Herrington. Casey started fidgeting, almost uncontrollably; Zeke ignored it and kept driving until the outskirts of town began. “We’re gonna get to Dawson’s farm, ditch the car and go through the dead fields,” Zeke told Casey, the first thing he’d said in over twenty miles.

“Dawson’s farm?”

“It’s this decrepit place right at the edge. We’re about a mile away,” Zeke explained. “It’s an old party place. I went a few times… keggers and stuff.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Casey muttered. Zeke heard his sarcasm… and ignored it.

They finally reached the long dirt road leading away from the main one they’d traveled on; tall, dead cornfields surrounded them, which would provide cover until they hit the more suburban areas of town. It would be all backyards and dirt roads until getting to Zeke’s, all the while carrying hope that they didn’t come across some grisly scenes. Once over a large hump in the road, the battered looking farmhouse lay just ahead. Zeke sighed and turned into its drive. “I’ve got a few duffel bags; we’ll pack as much stuff as we can and take off,” he said.

“Whatever,” Casey said as he got out. With one last frustrated grip to the wheel, Zeke got out and followed Casey to the trunk.

Their food, maps, and whatever else they found important was packed fast, both of them not willing to waste any time. Zeke slung the largest bag over his shoulder and had Casey carry the two smaller ones and they set out on their tense journey. “We’ll keep straight through this row,” Zeke said, pointing down an aisle of stalks. “It’ll get us to the other side. We’ll see where that takes us. If you see… anything, ignore it,”

“Just say it.”

“Say what?”

“‘If you see any dead people, don’t poke ‘em with a stick,’” Casey replied. More… fucking… sarcasm.

“You get off on being an asshole, huh?” Zeke said, clutching the strap of his bag tight.

“That’s your fucking job,” Casey said. Zeke simply nodded and went along his way.

It was another round of silence for them until they got through the field. Running out of cover, Zeke looked from side to side. “Yea… okay, let’s head this way,” he said, pointing to a dirt road. “This’ll take us to Broad Street, I think.”

“You think?” Casey asked.

“Yea. If not that, we’ll find it.”

“Whatever,” Casey said.

“Hey, if you wanna navigate, be my guest. So far you’ve been dead weight; might be nice if you’re useful for a change,” Zeke said, unwilling to be Casey’s punching bag anymore.

“I was pretty useful last night, wouldn’t you say?”

“Right, Casey.”

“Yea, right, Zeke,” Casey said; whatever made the boy think he had the privilege to be acidic and pissy was beyond Zeke. “Just another hole to you, I’m sure.”

“You bet,” Zeke spat back.

“Fucking asshole.”

“Finally, you catch on.”

“Oh, I caught on years ago,” Casey retorted. “Just ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’, that’s your goddamned motto it seems. It’s got about a million meanings to it.”

“That’s right,”

“Fucking asshole…”

As much as Zeke didn’t want to give a shit with Casey’s name calling, it was truly starting to tick him off. “Hey, at least my dick never had some fucked up relationship with the flagpole,” he answered in a taunting manner. “At least no one in school got to watch me get pants’ed and see my K-Mart style whitey-tighties in the lunchroom any given day.”

Zeke wasn’t expecting the sudden push from behind; his steps faltered from the force of Casey’s shove, almost tripping him up. Rage filled him as he turned to snarl at the red-faced boy, standing there with the look of death on his face. “You really want to get your ass kicked, huh?”

“Go the fuck ahead, I’m used to it—as you’ve so kindly pointed out,” Casey snarled out.

Zeke moved closer, shaking his head. “You think you’re special? Huh? Like I’m some simpering boyfriend of yours now?” he said. Casey moved closer as well, indignant as ever.

“You’ve made it abundantly clear how used I should feel.”

“You’re not even ‘used’, Connor, because I could care fucking less. That’s how I feel, y’now,” Zeke said with complete malice. He wanted the boy to be hurt, to cry and run away. Maybe he wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore if he did, maybe he wouldn’t care anymore if he did. “You’re fucking pathetic, all crawling in my bed. You were expecting some romantic, ‘hey sweetheart, I had the most wonderful night with you’ type shit, weren’t you? Funny how that didn’t happen.”

“Of COURSE it didn’t, you being the selfish prick-fuck that you are.”

“Oooh, strong fucking words there. Wouldn’t want your Mommy to hear you talk like that—”

Zeke didn’t get to lash out anymore; Casey pulled back a fist and hit him, hard, in the jaw. Zeke saw stars for a moment—only a moment—before standing straight again and touching his face. Casey fumed and shook like a leaf. “You… asshole,” he shook out. “You goddamned fucking asshole.”

“I dunno your fucking deal, but you should maybe just turn around and find somewhere else to whine,” Zeke told him.

“My mom… is fucking dead. How fucking dare you. How fucking dare you,” Casey said with tears in his eyes. Zeke actually considered this a moment; okay. That was truly, truly a low, despicable blow. Still, Zeke felt his anger boiling.

“Face it, Casey. That’s your fucking reality right now.”

“So you think you have the right to throw it in my face like that,” Casey stated with a slow nod. “You think you have the goddamned RIGHT to do that, to bring up sore fucking subjects of the hell I went through, to use me like I’m some hole for you to screw through the mattress. Hope you’re proud of yourself… I really do. Cos’ you’re fucking worthless like that, just so you know.”

“If you’re taking what happened last night personally, then you’re pretty pathetic,” Zeke replied. “Here’s some advice, Case, and listen good; you’re not gonna get anywhere, investing in someone that doesn’t care about you. You should take up my attitude of ‘fuck ‘em’ and run with it. You’ll get nowhere without it.”

“So you don’t care about me then,” Casey retorted. The words hit Zeke like a battering ram; fuck.

“Let’s move… I might change my mind of letting you hole up at my place if you keep up the drama,” Zeke said as he turned back around. He didn’t want to look at the boy anymore; his jaw ached, his head spun, and those eyes were fucking portals to Casey’s soul… one Zeke saw very clearly. It spoke of nothing but hurt, and the fact that Zeke had caused it made him feel sick.

He’d never given a shit before… so why now?

He was thankful that for the next hour or so, no words were uttered by either of them. They got to another cornfield, providing even better cover than the first with taller, greener stalks; Zeke sighed, feeling a bit more at ease. “We’ll get through here… we’re definitely ending up on Broad Street. It should only be about a half hour’s walk from there,” he said. Casey nodded in reply as they began getting through the aisles of corn.

“I maybe… I wonder if I should go to my house and get my computer and stuff,” Casey said. Zeke frowned.

“I dunno if that’s a good idea,” he said. He didn’t need Casey flipping out at the sight of his dead parents. Why do I care? “I could go for you, if you want.”

“Maybe… yea, maybe,”

Zeke nodded as they kept moving; after a small while, the edge of the other side came into view. Zeke could see rooftops as well, almost making him smile. “We’re just about in the clear; c’mon,” he said, quickening his step. Casey moved through one aisle to the one next to them to avoid a small piece of machinery.

“Do you have something other than canned ravioli at your place?” he asked. Being that that was the majority of the food they had packed away on their backs, Zeke had to grin.

“Yea. I think I got some frozen pizzas or something,”

“I could really go for a piece of fruit,”

“I can’t remember if I have that…” Zeke replied; he was suddenly stopped right by the end of his aisle, his feet just finding grass when he was distracted by Casey’s tripping and falling. “Hey… you all right?” he asked. Casey bent his head up and groaned. In looking back, his eyes went wide.

“Fuck, oh FUCK!” he suddenly screamed. Zeke dropped his bag and rushed over, watching Casey scramble in a crab walk, completely horrified.

“What!? What is it—” he yelled; in bending down, he almost leapt back himself. “Shit!”

The body of a man, most likely the farmer that tended these fields, lay on its side in the dirt just past Casey. Zeke couldn’t see his face, didn’t want to; he almost fell back in his rush to get away. Casey slid from his crawl to stumble towards the house nearby, panting out panicked breaths. Zeke grabbed up their bags, Casey having dropped his, and followed the boy to the other side of the house. Once there, he shut his eyes and bent down, supporting himself with his hands on his knees. “Shit… oh shit…” he muttered.

The sound of keening cries made Zeke open his eyes and look to his right. Casey sat on the ground with his knees curled up to his chin, face buried in his arms, all sobs and shaking. Zeke tried to get his breathing even as he bent down, falling onto his knees. “Casey?”

“Oh my God, Zeke… oh my God…” Casey wailed into himself. Watching Casey confused Zeke for a few moments; not because he didn’t understand Casey’s sudden breakdown with what they saw—Zeke had seen it too, and was honestly pretty nerved up. It wasn’t because he was angry at the boy for crying, because that was pretty fucking normal right now; this wasn’t drama or overreaction.

He’d never wanted to make anyone happy, or feel better, because Zeke Tyler didn’t give a damn. Not for anyone else, just himself. But right now, his hands were grabbing Casey’s shoulders to bring him close and put his arms around him. He held him tight, wanting to squeeze the horror from him. “We’ll make it, okay?” he said through Casey’s shirt. “We gotta. We’re not far from my place. We just gotta get there.”

“I’m fucking scared. I’m fucking scared.” Casey shakily replied.

“I know,” Zeke told him. He was being honest, his own eyes not feeling very dry at the moment. He bent back, still holding onto Casey at the shoulders. He put his forehead to Casey’s brow and sighed. “Stand up… and just… close your eyes. I’ll lead us back,”

Casey lifted his head and looked into Zeke’s face a few moments before making a solemn nod. Zeke helped him up, put the two bags Casey had carried on one shoulder, the big one on his arm then Casey under the other. With a shuddering sigh, Casey began walking with him, eyes shut tight and head resting on Zeke’s shoulder. Zeke didn’t know what to expect as they moved into the more inhabited areas—backyards and open spaces, all possibly holding more gruesome sights. He put on blinders, only focusing on where he and Casey stepped. Casey’s breathing calmed as they went, making Zeke feel a little bit of peace.

He had only one person in the world to help him through this. Casey was the only one he had—he hated to admit it, and he wouldn’t say it out loud until he was ready… but fuck, he cared. He cared a lot.

He’s the only fucking reason you’re alive, he reminded himself, again—this time, he didn’t have to worry about dragging an unconscious Casey back to the car after hitting him, having that reasoning reach him to do so. He simply held onto the boy and made their way on their path.


~*~


It was almost as if there was total peace now. There’d been a few official looking cars going through town, along with a few ambulances. There were no reporters or productions being made. Whether anyone was human or not, it didn’t matter; there’d been signs of a search done in the Tyler residence, and being that no one was around, Zeke expected his place to stay vacated… besides him and Casey being here. It felt safe for now.

Zeke was thankful for a gas stove with a private gas tank; electricity had been turned off as expected, but at least they could heat some food. They hadn’t been too hungry in getting back, so Casey went up the second floor to shower and rest while Zeke rearranged his lab. He had more thanks to give that he had extra supplies to rebuild his ‘chemistry set’. He’d had a hard time blocking out the terror Delilah had caused as he swept up the remnants of the damage, cleaned up and set to work.

After making a small batch of scat, he filled ten pens and brought them with him as he got back to the house. Night had arrived; crickets chirped loudly outside, filling the air with some sort of life. It’d be enough for now. He pocketed the scat and rifled through one of their duffel bags. Finding the gun, Zeke grabbed it and took a deep breath before going upstairs in the dark. He walked down the hall to his room and stepped inside.

Casey’s back was to him, lying on his side. “Case?” he muttered quietly, in case he was asleep. “You up?”

“Yea,” Casey answered. Zeke nodded; he put the gun and pens on the bedside table and sat down. Rubbing his face, he gave one small chuckle.

“Quite a day,”

“Yea.”

Zeke nodded again and let his hands fall to his lap.

I need him.

“Case?”

“Hmm?”

“I was a real shit to you… after we did what we did,” he said, realization hitting him. “I shouldn’t have been,”

Casey didn’t answer, but Zeke heard his breathing go slow and deep. “Casey?”

“What?”

“Thought you’d fallen asleep… did you hear me?”

“Yea,” Casey said; the word came out shaky, nervous. Zeke turned to look at Casey’s silhouette and bit his lip.

It didn’t take much for him to pull back the covers and lay down; he almost chuckled in seeing what Casey wore. “That’s… my shirt,” he said.

“I don’t have pajamas… sorry,” Casey replied.

“It’s okay,” Zeke told him. He curled in closer, surprising himself with how good this was starting to feel. He didn’t mind that his hand now traveled to Casey’s side and went around his waist to hold him; he didn’t mind that he was moving to spoon the boy close, something he’d never done with anyone before. I fucking need him. “Casey… I lied back there, okay? I lied,”

“I know,” Casey said, so quiet Zeke almost didn’t hear him. Zeke caught the scent of Casey’s hair and had to smile.

“Sorry for having shitty shampoo,” Zeke told him; he’d never liked his choice in toiletries, the soaps he used always being to harsh on the nose. He felt like singing in hearing Casey’s small chuckle.

“It’s okay,”

Zeke nodded and curled in closer. As if his mind shut off every last bit of cruelty and his usual collection of sharp words, he found himself giving light kisses to the nape of Casey’s neck. God, it felt so good… he wanted to devour the boy, but he’d already done that. Now wasn’t the time. “I’m sorry,” he murmured into Casey’s skin. His hand moved over Casey’s stomach now, feeling the soft, worn cotton covering him. It made him happy that Casey felt comfortable enough to borrow his clothes… it felt like home.

Casey stroked Zeke’s roaming hand, pressing it to his chest gently. He then turned on his back and looked up at Zeke, eyes glancing to every inch of his calm, sorry expression. Without another word, Casey took the back of Zeke’s neck and brought him down to a kiss, slow and steady… warm. Familiar and welcomed.

They’d make it. They had to.

~*~END~*~