Behind the Mirror

Daniel Schreber

David caught up to us just as Jack had wired the SUV back to life. "We going after Ben? Where are we headed?"

"Someplace called the Mayflower building downtown. You know it?"

David stopped for a moment, thinking, then gave a sharp nod. "Yeah, I think so. A burnt out department store. I'll give directions." He glanced to me. "You sure you want to come? You might not like what we find."

"I will not break," I replied firmly, with a little frown. "Will Brooks be all right if you leave?"

David gave a little nod, climbing into the backseat of the SUV and letting me take the front, directing Jack before answering my question. "He's been using your teleconfrence line to speak with Athos. The kid almost speaks better French than I do. It seems to be doing some good. He's scared as hell of Jack, but the damn Musketeer might as well be some kind of Angel from the look the kid gets on his face when he's around."

"A little hero worship might not -- hurt too much," I mused, finding myself surprisingly relieved at the thought.

When we reached the building in question, Jack parked, and we followed David along the high construction boards that ran along the length of the sidewalk, blocking off the property. We came to a small, locked door, and David turned back to give a playful wink before appearing to vault effortlessly over the top of the boards, disappearing from sight. A moment later the door opened, and I looked up in soft amazement at the huge, regal building, stone collumns and window frames blackened angrily by soot. David caught my arm, nudging me gently after Jack, who was already heading inside, and I struggled to keep up. "Gorgeous, isn't it," the boy said, and I caught another hint of his true age in his words, in the appreciative glance he cast around. "Reminds me of home."

"Home?" I asked curiously, entering the door and shivering a little at the remnants of finery, destroyed by fire.

"My Neverland," David said casually in reply. "Used to be a hotel. My boys and I lived there, until this little bitch sunk her hooks into my Wendy." He chuckled softly, though I couldn't understand if his words were meant to have significance. From the confused look Jack cast him, neither did he.

"Can you tell if this is safe?" Jack asked him, not having moved from the entrance way.

"They patrol the place nightly," David replied, brushing past him to climb the grand staircase. "It's fine."

I followed him, still not entirely at ease in the place. Was Ben truly here? The most eerie thing about it, I realized with a start, was that while almost every available surface was soot streaked, melted or otherwise fire-damaged, the massive floor to ceiling mirrors that hung everywhere were entirely untouched and spotless. I suddenly remembered the things Ben had said about the mirrors, and felt the knot of fear in the pit of my stomach double. Was this the place he had worked at? The mirrors with demons? And if it was... what had they done to him? "Please hurry," I said softly, and though Jack didn't ask, he moved a little faster.

When we reached the top of the stairs, David stopped, turning slowly as he cast his gaze around the room. "The entire place smells like Ben," he said with a little frown. "Ben and smoke, I can't make any fucking details out of it. You two take this wing, yell for me if you find a way down. I'll come get you if I do," he told us, and had disappeared before we could reply.

It felt like ages before we found the door hiding the stairwell down, though in reality it was probably under a quarter of an hour. Jack bounded down the flight to check, gun drawn, then returned to me. "It's partly flooded down there, and from what I can tell, the main corridors are empty." He glanced out into the hallway. "David? We found a way down."

I heard the youth land behind me, a whisper of fabric and wind, something that reminded me far too much of Them, though I pushed the thought away, turning wordlessly and starting downstairs. About half a foot of water flooded the corridor at the bottom, but Jack waded right in without hesitation, so I followed, chilly water soaking into my shoes and the bottom of my slacks.

David seemed to hover on the surface of the water, glancing around. "Less soot down here. He's definitely here. That way." We passed a small sign labelled "Psychiatric Studies - St. Matthew's Hospital", with an arrow that David turned toward, stopping at a door set in the wall that looked too new to be there. "In here."

We heard a faint voice from behind it in reply. "Who's there?"

"Ben?" I'd called out to him before I could stop myself, and Jack shot a sharp look to me.

The voice we heard behind the door grew quickly panicked. "Don't come in!"

Jack's hand froze on the doorknob. "Ben - it's Jack. I have David and Daniel with me. Are you all right?"

The call that came after a moment sounded a little panicked, though I could tell he was trying to cover it. "I'm fine at the moment. But he's got one of Daniel's syringes impaled in me, rigged up to inject if that door is opened."

I felt my stomach lurch, picturing all too clearly the syringe in his forehead. Jack was already asking David to find another way in when the rational part of my mind overcame fear. Would he still be this coherent after the prolonged trauma of a needle in his brain? "Where?"

Jack glanced back to me questioningly, and I called out again. "Ben. Where is the -- syringe?"

"My shoulder," he called back. "I don't think it's pierced any major arteries, but, ah... I'd like to remain Ben."

I felt a rush of relief, and grabbed hold of the wall to steady myself. "Go in," I told Jack, at his questioning look. "It will have no effect -- unless it is cranial." I raised my voice. "Ben, it is safe. It will not -- hurt you. We're coming in."

Jack turned the handle, watching me carefully. "You're certain?"

"I swear it," I replied, and he nodded and opened the door. There was a veritable web of fine white thread strung everywhere - part attached to the door handle, but others throughout the room itself, and it struck me that even had we found another way in, it still would have been triggered somehow. I heard the soft hiss of the injection as I followed Jack through the door, and a grunt of pain from Ben, but that was all.

Jack paused just inside the door, gun still drawn, and did a quick sweep of it before entering fully, pulling aside strung threads, including the one that had been attached to the door. He reached the strange leather chair in the center of the room that Ben was strapped into faster than I, stripped down to his shorts, and started to work at the buckles on his arms. I met Ben's eyes with a shudder of relief, whatever strength that had sustained me almost giving out in relief of seeing him unharmed. I pulled the now empty syringe from where it was impaled just below his collarbone, hands trembling, dropping to my knees to unbuckle his ankles partly due to the weakness that had overcome me, blinking furiously at the tears that threatened.

"You all right?" Jack was asking him, checking him over, and he nodded, standing.

"The injection burns like hell, but no worse than missing the vein with any other kind of drug. Just a bit beat up otherwise," he replied, bending to help me up, pulling me into a tight embrace. I let him, for once not caring about being seen.

"Ben - !"

"I was so worried about you," he whispered, and I gave a shivering laugh that was more like a sob, clinging to him.

"Me? God, Ben. I was so frighted -- that he had - "

"Shh," he said softly, pressing his lips to my hair, fingers stroking my back. "It's okay. We're okay."

"Hey JB. Didn't know you were a hero." David's voice cut in, and I glanced up. I hadn't paid attention to the room when I'd entered, only caring about Ben, but now I noticed that we were in a strange, octagonal shaped area, enclosed entirely by mirrored walls, a mirrored ceiling. Taped to the mirrors themselves were hundreds of documents, newspaper clippings, letters, certificates....

"What is this?" I found myself whispering softly, as Jack crossed to where the boy was standing, staring at a full page, colour obituary, and I could just make out the headline. "National Hero Gives Life to Stop Bio Weapon."

"They did like to make me out to be that way," Jack said softly, slowly, running his fingers down the page, then turning away with a little shake of his head. "It doesn't matter."

I pulled from Ben's embrace and shrugged out of my coat, helping him into the long garment silently, for which he gave me a grateful smile. Then I approached the mirrors, Ben's hand in mine, peering at one of the clippings. "Local Med Student Ends in -- Tragedy. Five fifth year students, working with -- stolen equipment in the under renovation basement of -- St. Mary's, chanced to experiment with -- resuscitation techniques without the permission of the schoolboard, resulting in the death -- of 25 year old Nelson Wright. The ringleader has been identified as -- a suspended student...." I stopped, looking over at Jack. "Nelson told me about -- this."

Jack stared at me for a moment. "Nelson told you that he... died?"

I nodded slowly. "They were trying to find -- the existence of life -- after death." I gave a soft laugh under my breath, shaking my head. "Perhaps he did."

Ben was reading over my shoulder silently, then turned to Jack. "We should photograph this all and then pack it back to the hotel. Recreate it in one of the empty rooms. He obviously has more information about it than we do, somehow. Want me to go grab a digital camera?"

David breezed by us with a smirk. "If you go out like that someone'll arrest you for being a flasher. I'll bring you some clothes while I'm at it."

Ben chuckled softly, squeezing my hand gently before letting it go, moving to another panel, looking over the papers. "I'm afraid I can't tell you much about him, Jack. He got me over the back of the head when I wasn't looking, and he wasn't here when I woke up. And neither were my clothes. He passed himself off as me, didn't he?"

Jack gave a nod. "I should have anticipated he'd pull something like this. The shrink saw through it, though."

Ben glanced back to me with a smile, which I returned. "Your scar," I explained, tapping my palm with a finger.

"Ah. I was hoping you were going to say that he didn't live up to my rugged good looks," he replied with a little teasing grin, glancing back at Jack as the man spoke.

"At least we know how he knew everything about us," Jack moved to the table that sat against the mirrors, behind the chair, stacked high with books, files, and even what looked like a couple of scrolls. "Dammit, he even had my CTU file." He picked up a stack of the files, looking through them. "Here's Nelson's school records... what the hell is this? Some kind of writing I've never seen before, and some guy that isn't one of us. Take a look."

I glanced over to the paper he was holding and felt my heart stop for a moment. I would have recognized the inhuman, swirling characters the Strangers wrote in anywhere - they'd imprinted me with the ability to read them, after all. But it was the photo on the front that identified the file immediately for me. I took a few deep breaths to steel myself, and slowly started toward them. "Apologies... that is mine."

Ben met my gaze, sudden understanding in his eyes, taking the file from Jack and handing it to me slowly. "He's very handsome," he said softly, and I nodded mutely, pressing the file to my chest without really looking at it, free hand finding Ben's and clutching it almost desperately. He stepped closer to me, freeing his hand from mine to slip it around my waist, holding me securely against him. I took strength from it, closing my eyes for a moment with a soft sigh.

"Thank you," I murmured, and felt his lips press gently to my hair.

"Are you all right?"

I nodded slightly, and after a few moments the sorrow became bearable, and I made myself look over the other contents of the table. "That medical textbook -- is mine as well." Jack gave me a questioning look, so I explained. "A hidden journal. Jack, I hope you plan -- to return these all to their -- owners?"

He looked past me to Ben, silent for a moment. "They are considered evidence in an investigation."

"There is no police force here -- Jack," I replied softly. "These items are personal. Private."

He returned my gaze evenly. "And if sharing it helps us get out of here?"

I glanced away, pondering his words for a moment. I had no doubt that he would put personal privacy second to the goal of unravelling the mystery of this place. "I will... share mine, and everything I -- know, if you allow me to -- help," I said finally, turning back to him. "Let me go through these with the -- individual in private sessions. I will prepare a full -- profile for each, according to your -- specifications."

"And what about yours?"

Ben spoke softly behind me. "I'll do it."

Jack shot him a look. "You aren't exactly unbiased."

"Jack, there's only nine of us here. Eleven if you count Bob and this guy. I don't think anyone's unbiased."

He frowned a little, mulling over the options, then nodded. "Fine. But if there's inconsistencies, or if I need any of the items afterward... we do it my way."

I gave a little nod, knowing it was the best agreement I could hope for. "Agreed. Just as long as we can -- leave this place."

Ben gave a little nod, glancing around us more than a little uneasily. "These mirrors were broken when I left them," he said slowly, "and before that, well... that's how I got here. They seem to be quiet enough at the moment, but... I don't want to tempt fate by sticking around any longer than we have to."

David returned shortly, with a snazzy looking digital camera that he tossed to Jack, a briefcase and number of empty duffle bags, one of which had a fleece jacket and a pair of jeans that Ben gratefully pulled on before returning my coat to me, pressing a soft kiss of thanks to my temple. Then we went to work photographing and cataloguing the walls, packing up all the materials, and hauling it back upstairs. We cleared out every nook and cranny of the room, and I tried very hard not to think too much about the fact that my bag - along with the rest of my syringes - was nowhere to be found.

~~~~~~

Nelson Wright

I left Athos with the Evil Twin after I'd cleaned and stitched up his leg, which thankfully was clean with no serious damage, and retreated to the second floor balcony for a well deserved cigarette or three. When I reached it, I found my usual haunt already occupied by Buckner, who was perched on the edge of the wall in stonewashed jeans and a rumpled white dress shirt, smoking what smelled suspiciously like weed. He gave me a little rueful smile as our eyes met, but took another hoot. "Sorry. Just enjoying the view. I'll leave you to it."

I shook my head, leaning back against the wall and wincing as I shifted position to deal with the damn wings. I couldn't light the cigarette fast enough. "Stay if you want, John. I don't mind."

"It's Free, actually," he said after a moment, exhaling a slow cloud of smoke.

I glanced up at him in confusion. "The view?"

He chuckled. "No, my name. My real one. Parents were hippies. Me too, for a while."

With the jeans and his hair fluffy and free of product, I could almost see it. Or maybe it was the joint. "Yeah, well mine were pretentious bourgeoisie pigs, so I just got stuck with three middle names." I turned to rest my arms on the wall, shaking the wings free with a little shudder before folding them tightly against my back again.

He eyed me quietly for a moment. "You want a hoot?"

I chuckled. "No thanks. Last time someone talked me into that I ended up in a whole lot of shit."

He nodded amicably. "So... I'm not sure if this is an inappropriate question or anything, but..."

"The wings?" I chuckled, ashing my cigarette over the balcony. "Apparently this is what you get for sucking off a Vampire. That, and the libido of five eighteen year old boys."

He looked sympathetic. "This place has a way of fucking you up, doesn't it."

"You can say that again."

"They say I was raped," He said calmly, and took another long pull on the joint. "I don't remember it, don't even remember going to the University at all. Something Daniel gave me. But I still feel... dirty." He lowered his head and gave a soft, mirthless laugh.

I patted his back lightly. "Well, at least you had the integrity not to go into it willingly."

He glanced up at me seriously. "You didn't know this would happen, Nelson."

I shrugged. "No, but I've been fucking around since we showed up. Trying to convince anyone that we'd be stupid not to take advantage of the situation. I was just being cocky. Trying to forget what I left behind."

"A woman?" He asked lightly, but I saw no point in bullshitting when I'd already admitted to sucking off David.

"Guy. My best friend, and a hell of a doctor. But he was going home with my ex last I saw him. A chick. Lucky bitch."

He nodded, like it was the most normal thing in the world, hopping down off the wall to stand beside me, leaning back against it. "You normally prefer guys or girls?"

"Guys, by far. Girls are just easier, sometimes. Socially, I mean. I wasn't really out at home. Though right now I'd give my left nut for a couple of hookers, guys or girls." I glanced over at him. "How about you?"

He sighed, leaning over the balcony and looking down at the cars. "I... I did want men. Never did anything, I couldn't. At first it was because my parents half expected it of me anyway, and then I was in the FBI, so... you know. Funny thing is... I thought I'd finally found someone that I'd... that I'd let top me. But... he died saving my ass."

"I'm sorry to hear about that," I replied softly, and he shrugged.

"It's life. Funny thing is, Daniel says I need more sex in my life. Reclaim my sexuality or some crazy thing like that." He paused for a moment, contemplating the remains of the joint in his hand. "I don't think he was hitting on me."

I laughed. "No, not him. But you can top me if you want," I said before I could stop myself, and immediately berated myself for it, taking a long drag of the cigarette to cover my embarrassment. "Sorry. Just ignore the shit that comes out of my mouth."

He regarded me quietly for a long moment. "Let's do it."

I flicked my cigarette butt off the edge of the balcony and lit another. "Hey, not cool. Don't joke about that. At this point in time I'd probably let Ron Jeremy fuck me right about now." I considered this for longer than two seconds and shook my head. "Fuck that, I'm still not that desperate."

He snorted. "Well, I'm glad I'm farther up the ladder than the Hedgehog."

"Way farther up," I agreed, taking a long drag, then glanced over at him. "... you're not shitting me, are you."

"Depends whether or not you're going to mention fucking Ron Jeremy again." He quirked an eyebrow, and I had to grab at the wall of the balcony to keep from doing something incredibly inappropriate.

"Look, Free... seriously...." I'd dropped my cigarette at some point, and drew a deep breath, trying very hard not to look at him. "If you keep doing that, I'm going to end up making a real ass of myself - "

"Hey." I felt his hand at the small of my back and shuddered - he probably could have kicked me in the shins and still turned me on by that point. But instead his fingers stroked slowly up my spine, brushing the base of a wing with his fingertips, and god, he might as well have just slipped his hand down the front of my pants from how good it felt.

"Please don't," I managed a harsh whisper, but instead I felt his lips press to the top of my ear.

"It really is like you said, isn't it." His fingertips trailed slowly up the edge of one wing, and I gave a soft, trembling cry before I could stop myself. My fingers clenched so hard at the rail that it ached, but not nearly enough to distract me.

"Yes," I managed to answer, drawing a shuddering breath. "And I haven't seen David since the asshole pissed me off, so for gods sake, don't - " But that was as far as I got before his fingers tangled in my shirt, yanking me close to press his lips to mine.

I felt the surge of need, of desire and sensation rush through me as our lips crashed together, like I'd felt with David but somehow stronger, maybe because it had been so damn long and I ached so bad for it. He'd pushed me back against the side of the balcony before I knew it, sucking and nipping at my lips and tongue, grinding against my hip as he yanked my jeans open, palming me through the thin cotton of my shorts. "Nelson?"

It took me a minute to realize he'd spoken my name, warm and low, like a question, and I managed to gasp out some kind of acknowledgement, rocking up into his touch almost desperately.

He gave a soft groan, leaning in to nip at my earlobe. "You want me to get you off right here? Then we can go inside and I'll do a proper job of it again up in my room?"

He could have bent me over the balcony railing with no lube and I wouldn't have complained. "Please," I gasped, and the word came out far more desperate than I intended, but it made him groan, low and throaty and helpless, claiming my mouth again as his fingers slipped down my stomach and into my boxers, curling around my erection, thumb swiping over my head, which was already slick in anticipation of his touch. I cried out breathlessly against his mouth as he began to stroke me, firm and even and somehow just right, and I clutched at him helplessly, fingers digging into his hip hard, breath in sharp gasps against his lips. "Oh fuck, Free - please don't stop oh god don't stop - !"

His kisses were warm and wet against my jaw, sucking at my neck, teasing my earlobe with his teeth, breath hot on my skin. "I won't. Not gonna stop, gonna make you feel so good, Nelson...."

I tried to argue that he already was, that it already did, that oh god I'd do anything he fucking wanted for the rest of my life as thanks for this, but all I could do was gasp helplessly for breath, shuddering against him as he worked me, body arched tense and head thrown back as he quickly pulled me close.

"Come on, Nelson." Somehow his voice, low and husky, cut through the haze of pleasure and need, his tongue swiping warm behind my ear. "Show me how much you needed this. Come for me."

He didn't have to ask twice, and I bucked up helplessly into his hand with a little whimpering cry, pleasure cresting in a rush of sensation so relieving that I could have cried from it. "Oh god - !"

I could feel a strange sense of pride, of warm satisfaction rush though me as I came down, and I realized after a moment that it was him, murmuring softly how good I felt and hot it was to jerk me off. I drew a couple of deep breaths, then turned to catch his mouth in a hard kiss, my voice as husky as his as I spoke.

"You're amazing," I murmured, catching his gaze as I pulled back, and watched his eyes narrow in appreciation. "Take me upstairs and you can do whatever the hell you want to me." I paused for a second. "Just, ah... don't suck me off unless you want a pair of wings."

He chuckled softly and nodded. "Noted. Now get your ass inside."

~~~~~

John "Free" Buckner


In all honestly, I wasn't quite sure what came over me when I'd decided to move on Nelson on the balcony. I could, I suppose, have blamed the joint I'd gotten off David - I'd been clean for a hell of a long time, you had to be, in the bureau, and the drug had brought with it a blissed out sense of well being and relaxation that I hadn't felt in a long time.

Then he'd joined me, smoking up a storm and talking all big, eyeing me with so much want even though I wasn't even sure he realized that he was. And then he'd blurted out that he'd let me top him, and it was such a relief to realize that I wanted to, that before I knew it I was kissing him, jerking him off right there on the balcony... and loving every second of it.

The hotel was quiet when we went back inside, something that relieved me as we ducked into the elevator, knowing it would be all too apparent to anyone that saw us what exactly we were doing, between my state of arousal and how dishevelled he was. It looked good on him, I decided, and pressed him up against the side of the elevator to steal a hungry kiss. By the time we reached my room, he was hard again, seeming somehow even more aroused than I. Poor guy hadn't been kidding about the libido. But regardless... it was pretty damn sexy.

I managed to get his shirt off over his head somewhere between the hungry kisses he was stealing from me as his fingers pulled at the buttons of my shirt, yanking it off me before palming me through my jeans, and I caught his hand with a sharp gasp, tugging it away. "Slow down... still plenty of time for that."

"Just tell me you'll fuck me," he breathed against my mouth, which didn't really do much for slowing down. I managed to pull back with what little self control I had left, breathless, watching him darkly.

"Undress for me," I told him, and watched him smirk, stepping backward.

"Is that how things are in the FBI?" He asked calm and cocky, wings half outstretched as he ran his fingertips down his chest and over his hips. "You all get off on watching, don't you?" He smoothed a hand up and over the bulge in his pants with a soft, appreciative moan, stroking himself slowly before tugging the button undone, pulling the zipper down slowly. There was something irresistibly sexy about how cocky he was, how sensual his movements were, and I found myself wondering how the hell anyone could go off with some chick over Nelson.

I was sure that part of it was what he was, but I didn't care. The irises of his eyes had darkened somehow to a dark crimson sometime after I'd kissed him on the balcony, but all I really cared about was that he kept looking at me with that kind of undisguised lust. He'd wriggled his jeans and boxers down over his hips enough to free himself, fingers curled around his erection to stroke himself slowly, eyes not leaving mine.

"Come help me," he murmured, and I did so, yanking his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down, nipping at his bottom lip.

"Hands and knees on the bed," I told him, voice a little raw, admiring for a moment how pretty he was like that, pale and faintly quivering with desire, wings folded tight to his back. I moved to kneel beside him, stroking my hand slowly up his spine, teasing the place where the wings emerged from his back again just to hear him moan, to see him shudder under me with the pleasure of it. Then I tugged one gently to unfurl, leaning in and tracing around the base slowly with my tongue before beginning to trail warm kisses and laps of my tongue up the length of the shaft.

I might as well have been giving him head from the reaction I got to it, the helpless, throaty moans, the way he shuddered and squirmed under me. "Oh god Free - please, god, it's so good!"

The hotel brand lotion was a poor substitute for lube, but from the way he rocked back against me when I slipped two fingers into him, he didn't fucking care. It was... surprisingly empowering, having him under me, teasing his strange, quivering wings as I fucked him with my fingers, hearing him gasp and plead for more, and I found myself thinking that I'd have to thank Schreber at some point much later for recommending such damn fabulous therapy.

I'd been an incidental witness to far more homosexual sex in my young life than was likely legal, had the mechanics of it clearly explained to me, but I'd always balked at it, simply because they -expected- me to, expected me to be this great accomplished seducer, spreading free love far and wide. But that was far from here, and I doubted my parents had ever planned for me to fuck a mirror image of myself, so yes, I wanted it. I let him rock back against my fingers, listening to his reactions, crooking my fingers just so to tease him and giving a soft growl of pleasure as I brushed against something that made him nearly yelp in pleasure, shuddering hard under me like he had been on the balcony.

I let my tongue swipe against the base of his wing again, teasing his sweet spot with the tips of my fingers, then licked up his neck to speak low and husky in his ear. "You're so close, aren't you? Should I make you come again? All over the bed, just in anticipation of getting fucked? Or should I pull back - "

"Don't stop - !" Nelson gasped helplessly, which was more than worth waiting a little bit longer to fuck him. I shifted a little so I could stroke him as he rocked back desperately against my fingers, then leaned down and nipped sharply at the junction between back and wing. It turned out to be the last straw, and I groaned against his skin as I felt him buck tense under me, spurting hot and slick in my fingers as he came again with a shuddering, whimpering cry of pleasure.

I coaxed him through it gently with soft kisses to the nape of his neck, with soft, encouraging words, letting him catch his breath. What I didn't expect was when he pulled back to kneel up and catch my mouth, kissing me deeply with little insistent, encouraging moans of pleasure, fingers yanking at the buttons of my jeans, stroking me, tugging at the fabric until I stood and shimmied out of them. Then he curled his fingers around the back of mine, my fingers still slick with his seed, and curled them around my aching erection, wet and slick.

"Fuck me," he said, husky and commanding, sounding much like it was somehow his right to demand to have my cock up his ass. I didn't question it, arching into our combined touch with a breathless groan.

"If you need a couple more to recover...."

"Fuck me now," He growled back, nipping at my bottom lip before settling back on his knees and forearms, encouragingly. "Come on, Free. Show me how you like it. Show me how you want to be fucked."

I drew a sharp hiss, pressing up against his ass, needing no further urging to answer his request, rocking hard and deep into him, and for a moment I couldn't do anything but hold stock still, feeling his heat around me, feeling him shudder in pleasure at the penetration. He rocked back against me, just a little, just wriggling more than anything, but it sent a hot shudder of sensation though me, enough to make me cry out from the pleasure of it. I'd pulled a hand back to smack sharply against the fleshy part of his ass before I'd thought about it, finding myself grin as he bucked and cried out under me, lips forming a breathless curse, so I let a few more fall, just to hear him whimper.

I drew back for a slow thrust, but placed a hand between his shoulder blades, right between his wings, leaning my weight on it and half-pinning him under it, leaning over him, voice a growl. "That make you hard again, Nelson? You like having your ass smacked while you're being fucked? Like being held down while someone just takes their pleasure of you? Makes you so damn hard, doesn't it?"

I'd started speaking for his benefit, but found the more I said, the more I wanted to keep going, gasping out the words as I picked up the pace, thrusting faster into him, angling to hit that sensitive point that made him cry out so prettily. "Good god, you're tight! Just been aching for this, haven't you, Nelson? To just let go and have the hell fucked out of you? You hear how much I like it? How good you feel, your hot little ass? God!" I could hardly control myself with need, with the pleasure of him, bucking rough and erratic into him, urged on by his cries and gasps and the helpless answers of yes to my questions as I fucked him.

I leaned over him as I felt myself grow quickly close, nipping sharply again at his wing just how he'd liked it before. "You want me to come in you? You wanna feel it, Nelson? Tell me. Tell me you want it."

His fingers clenched so hard at the pillows under him that his knuckles were white, breath in shuddering cries, managing to gasp out. "Fuck, Free, please! Wanna feel you come!"

I bit down at the crook of his neck as his words had their intended effect, pulling me helplessly to an overwhelming orgasm, and I thrust hard into him as I shuddered and came, pleasure rushing in hot through my veins, in stars behind my eyes. My fingers slipped to stroke him once more and found his fingers already working himself frantically, jerking back against me and shuddering around me one last time as he joined me with an exhaltant cry.

At last, the sense of frantic need I'd felt began to fade as my body came down from the delicious high, gasping for breath. He collapsed bonelessly under me with a shuddering groan, finally appearing sated, and I let myself collapse next to him, mind trying to process what I'd just been through.

He gave me a lazy grin, hair tousled and skin streaked with sweat, lips pink from our kisses. "God, I needed that."

I chuckled softly, a little incredulously, and nodded slowly. "Yeah... yeah I think I did too."

He echoed my laugh, laying back with a low, pleased groan, not moving an inch for a long moment. Then I saw him glance onto the floor, and lazily fish for his jeans with his foot, kicking them close enough for him to pull a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of the back pocket. "Mind?"

"Only if you don't share," I returned without hesitation. A fair cry from the mineral water drinking, alcohol free health freak I'd made myself turn into when I'd joined the bureau. But it was much more fun this way... and I definitely deserved that damn cigarette.

~~~~~~
Daniel Schreber


To say the next several days were busy was more than a bit of an understatement. We discussed trying to keep from the others exactly what we'd found at first, but in the end, came to the mutual decision to pool everyone's knowledge and talents together, as we had at the beginning.

Jack recreated the octogonal room - as much as he could - on three walls of one of the second floor conference rooms. I took the last - the smallest, but I preferred it that way - and Ben helped me pull in a number of file cabinets and one of the hotel lounges couches. Then we took down two of the three sections of table, leaving a workable desk space. It was just a touch of my office at home, which cheered me slightly in spite of the task at hand.

The others stopped by with me one by one, sorting out materials, and with only a little convincing agreed to sessions with me to look through the material and build a profile for Jack. We locked each set of materials away, and in the end I was left only with Bob Wolverton's, and those belonging to the tiny vampire that David was keeping safely somewhere in the basement who I only saw via teleconference. I easily picked out Wolverton's materials to go through on my own, although I wasn't certain they would be of any use. Brooks were locked up, untouched, in the hopes that someday I would be able to meet with him face to face.

As for the man who impersonated Ben... I didn't envy him. Jack kept him handcuffed all the time, untying him from the chair thrice daily to use the washroom, and occasionally shower, all of which required the assistance of Jack himself and one of the other "officers", as he had taken to referring to himself, Ben, Free, McHenry, and the Musketeer Athos.

On the third day, Jack turned up in my office with a newspaper clipping in one hand. "We still haven't found anything out about our buddy upstairs," he said. "At this point, I'm beginning to think he may have destroyed whatever records he had about himself. But David did manage to find the clothes he abandoned when he stole Ben's. This was in the pocket of the jacket."

I took it from him and unfolded it. "An obituary?"

"I can only assume it's someone important to him," Jack said, looking it over with me. "I'd like you to have a go at seeing what you can get out of him before we resort again to harsher tactics. I have a com unit you can wear that will allow you and I to remain in communication throughout, and I'll send Ben in with you as a precaution."

I shook my head and stood. "No - just make sure that he -- is secured. It will be easier to speak with him -- alone."

He considered the idea then nodded, and we left to set up.

Shortly after lunch, I found myself in the room with the man who I'd last seen when he tried to impersonate my lover. I'd thought a little about the best way to approach him, and so at first I simply moved the room’s other chair in front of him, sat and watched him.

In the game of psychological chicken, he lost patience first. "You're not here to stare at me, Schreber. What do you want?"

"To talk," I said simply. "You know -- a great deal about me, however, I am afraid I cannot -- claim the same. Is there a name you prefer -- to go by?"

"No," he said simply, "And I'm not fucking playing nice, so you can give up now and save yourself the effort."

I listened, and gave a little nod in acknowledgement. "I suppose that is -- true. Thank you." I stood, and pushed the chair back, moving toward the door, but then stopped, turning back to him. "Oh - there is one thing. Jack found your clothes," I told him, and saw him flinch. I took the carefully folded newsprint from my pocket and unfolded it, lowering myself carefully to crouch in front of him, show it to him. "This is yours, is it not? It has to do with your story -- your past."

"I'm not talking about it," he replied with a rough growl, turning his face away, refusing to look at the paper.

I sighed, and heard Jack give a soft growl of frustration in my ear, but I ignored him, turning the paper toward me and looking at it. "He is very handsome," I said softly. "I can see why -- you like him. Stuart Shepard, right?"

He continued to glare at the wall silently, but before I could push again, I heard him growl softly, "Stu."

"Stu?"

"He went by Stu," the man replied again, but still didn't look at me.

I sat back on my heels, ignoring the complaints of my spine, still looking up at him. "You did know him, then?"

His lips thinned, the glare he was aiming at the wall intensifying a little. "I wrote and paid for that obituary."

I looked down at the photo, sensing the care, the emotion he was hiding behind the gruff exterior. "You two were close?"

"No. But I was the only one who cared when he died."

I straightened, not being able to hold the uncomfortable pose any longer, and moved to perch on the side of the bed. "Do you want to talk -- about it?"

"Do you want to fuck off and die?" His glare could have levelled buildings, but I'd weathered worse.

I watched him calmly for a long moment, ignoring Jack's questions in my ear. "Look, I do not want to keep you locked up -- like this all the time. You are tired, I know you want a decent night's sleep -- in a real bed. I would also like to solve the mystery -- of this place. I do not wish to stay here forever, and I do not believe -- that you wish to, either. So what I am able to offer you -- is this. Help us - let me interview you about -- your past, and answer my questions truthfully, and we will let you -- go. As a token of goodwill in -- the meantime, if you will tell us -- where you have put the rest of your -- historical materials, we will allow you free reign -- of this room. No more handcuffs."

He gave a soft, bitter laugh. "I would rather die then talk to you about him."

I sighed, and stood. "You truly wish to live in this hell -- forever?"

"This isn't hell," he said gruffly. "Hell is watching him put a bullet in his brain, over and over."

I swallowed, studying his face, trying to be sure of my reading, my response. Taking a chance. "But are you not already doing that -- in your mind, sir?"

He looked back to me, eyes narrowing. "You act so superior, but you just love to play the martyr, don't you? Flaunting your sad eyes and your scars like you did something noble. You're nothing, Schreber. You're the feeble, cowardly Jew in the concentration camp who turns on his own kind to help the fucking Nazis. I know all about you, and you can fuck right off if you think you can help me. I won't talk to you, or any of you fuckers here." And leaning out suddenly, he spat a wad of saliva onto my face.

I jerked back with a shudder, reaching up to wipe it away, hearing Jack's voice on the com in my ear. "That's enough, Daniel. He's not going to break for you. Come back."

I stood and claimed a kleenex from the box on the desk, cleaning the saliva off my fingers before wiping the remnants from my face, and he watched me, chuckling softly. "I am sorry you -- feel that way," I said calmly, though I knew he could see my hands shake. "Because we cannot, and will not -- release you, as long as you pose a threat to -- others. You will not find the others as -- sympathetic as I, but if you change your mind -- simply ask for me. I truly do wish -- to help you."

He said nothing, and I left the room, locking it up behind me and returning to Jack's room, rapping lightly on the door before entering and handing him the key. "I am sorry, Jack."

He shook his head. "It's fine. You okay? He said some pretty nasty shit."

"Then you can spare me the details -- on who or what Nazis are," I replied with a soft smile, taking the com unit off my ear and setting it on the desk. "I'm afraid my readings have not yet covered -- that. Do not give up on this man, Jack. He does love the boy, I am sure of it. I hit a very, very sore point -- with him, in regards to the boy's -- suicide. There is a lot of emotion there, and I believe that he -- will open up in time. Let me try again in -- a few days, please."

Jack leaned back in his chair, looking up at me for a long moment. "Would you tell him about your past, if you were in that position?"

I gave a soft sigh, glancing away. "I... I don't know."

"I sure as hell wouldn't. Hell, I don't even particularly want to talk to you as it is, and I'm fairly convinced that you're friendly." He gave a wry smile to show he was joking. "I don't think he's going to talk. Maybe I should shoot him in the other leg."

I chuckled softly, gradually learning and enjoying the difference between Jack's anger and dark humor. "I would not recommend that, but perhaps David -- could do with another food source? You are looking a little -- pale, if you will forgive me -- for saying so."

He glanced away with a little frown. "Yeah. The kid's getting harder for him to control. He won't give an answer as to which way he wants to go, so he won't take substainance from anyone but David."

"I cannot particularly -- blame him," I said softly. "Jack... please speak to David for me. I need some time alone -- with the boy."

Jack gave a sharp shake of his head. "He'll kill you in an instant. He frenzies at the scent of anything human. I haven't even seen him since they brought him in. David won't let anyone near him, it's too dangerous."

"Then I need more time with -- the video feed. The boy was brutally raped, Jack. Now you are giving him the choice of -- death or vampirism? I cannot properly help him -"

"I'll see what I can do," Jack replied with a soft sigh, looking tired. "Take the afternoon off, Daniel. You can keep on with the others tomorrow."

"Certainly. If you will do -- the same?"

He chuckled softly and nodded. "You have me there. I will, once I've given David the good news. Maybe our nameless guest will feel a bit more cooperative after a few days of being mid-morning and mid-day snack."

I nodded, trying to set aside my revulsion at the thought of the torture. "I will try again whenever you -- find it most prudent." And with that, I left him, more than willing to take his advice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack Bauer

Three days of being David's play toy did not, unfortunately, seem to make out guest any more likely to talk. I let the shrink in to see him again, but took Ben and went with him, my own patience running short. Things were strained for me all around, and I didn't particularly want to admit to anyone that part of my ill temper was due to the necessity for David to feed from Nelson again. The kid was talking to Daniel a little more, but still seemed to be entirely refusing to address the issue of his... transition. As such, it seemed that David was forced to expand a good deal of energy keeping his battered human body in one piece. More blood than one human could replenish continually... and I hated it.

Whatever the reason, I was testy when we went to see our stubborn guest. Perhaps I wasn't as careful as I should have been, because of that. Perhaps one of the others had been careless when they'd moved him that morning. Whatever the reason, things went wrong.

Daniel had perched beside the man on the hotel bed to speak to him, though as usual, the man was abrasive and uncooperative. I suggested giving up, and Ben turned his back on them for a moment to look to me, when the man moved.

Before I could react, he'd grabbed the gun from the back of Ben's pants, shot out the window behind him, and grabbed the shrink in a headlock, gun to his throat, holding in front of him as a shield, yanking him back toward the broken window. My gun was in my hands instantly, trained on him, trying to sight for a clear shot. How the hell had he gotten out of the cuffs? "DROP YOUR WEAPON!"

"You drop yours!" He yelled back, stepping up onto the window ledge but staying crouched behind Daniel. "You shoot me and we both topple backward onto that lovely little wrought iron fence down below. DROP YOUR WEAPON!"

Ben already had his hands up. "Jack, please. Look - both of you put them down and we'll talk. There's no need for this."

I sighted carefully, and pulled the trigger.

Things happened too fast, too strangely for my mind to keep up. I saw my bullet made purchase with his shoulder as I intended, heard Ben yell for Daniel as the man's finger pulled the trigger, the gun firing erratically from his wound, only grazing Daniel's skin. But they were toppling backward, and suddenly there was brick behind them, making hard contact with the man's head and knocking him unconscious. I lunged to disarm him anyway as Ben caught Daniel in a panic, fingers pressed to the graze on his neck.

"I'm all right," I heard the shrink gasp as I yanked the assailant over to the desk, grabbing the cord I'd been using - should have still been using - to secure his legs, and then tie a pillowcase over his hands. Then I together both together so that he was hog tied around the leg of the desk. It wasn't ideal, but it would do for now, and it would be damn hard for him to worm himself out of.

"What the hell just happened?" I snapped, turning my attention back to them and the window, which was entirely filled in with perfect red brick.

"I could ask you the same," Ben shot back. "We could have lost both of them!"

I ignored the question. "Out a window that isn't even there anymore?" I turned my attention to the shrink. "How the fuck did you do that?"

He'd fished a handkerchief from somewhere and Ben pressed it over the wound on his neck, but I didn't think that the scratch was responsible for how pale he suddenly went as he glanced up to look at it, then to me, and back to Ben. "I did not -- do that," he said softly. "I believe it was Ben." Whether or not I believed it, I could see from the agony in Daniel's eyes as he looked up to Ben that he believed it. "You can Tune."

"I can... what?"

"Control matter -- physical reality -- with the mind." He pushed Ben's hand away and held the handkerchief in place on his own, pushing himself up only to half curl in on himself, on the floor amidst the broken glass, leaning back against the strange new wall. "It must have been -- the injection in your shoulder -- instead of the brain. Oh god, it was -- the injection. I have been so...." I saw him shudder visibly, and choke back a sob.

"Daniel...." Ben reached to touch his arm, only to have the man gently push him away, head raising, rubbing furiously at the tears that stained his cheeks.

"I am sorry," he gasped. "Please -- leave me. I need some time... oh god!"

"I'm not leaving you," Ben replied softly, but firmly, and I watched Daniel give a soft, shuddering sob and turn faintly green.

"I am going to -- be sick," he breathed, and then all I could do was move aside as Ben half carried him into the bathroom, and I turned away, trying not to listen until the man had calmed down, until all I could hear was soft sobs and Ben's low murmurs.

I glanced down at our captive again, the wound on his shoulder still bleeding, but not heavily. I'd aimed well. Still, I needed it taken care of. I stood, knocking lightly at the doorframe to the bathroom, watching quietly the two huddled on the floor as I set one of the guns down on the bathroom vanity. "I'll be back in a moment, I need to get this guy looked at," I said softly. "I've tied the guy solid, should be fine until I get back. Can you hold down the fort?"

Ben raised his head to look at me, keeping Daniel close to him, and expression in his eyes made me suddenly understand what I must look like after the demands of dealing with a national crisis. "Yeah. I'll be fine. Just get back soon."

~~~~~~~~~

Ben Carson

Jack came back with David, who glanced in at us immediately, uncharacteristically serious. He looked tired too, I realized - it seemed like things were difficult on us all at the moment. "Which one of you is hurt? Need me to take a look at it?"

Daniel straightened, and gave a little shake of his head. "See to our captive," he said softly. "I will go to -- Nelson. One more scar will not -- make a difference." The smile was weaker than his voice, but David accepted it with a little nod, joining Jack to look at the man that had been trussed up around the leg of the desk.

"Let's go," I said softly to Daniel, and he didn't protest as I helped him up, grabbing my gun off the vanity and tucking it in the back of my pants. "I'm sorry I put you in danger."

He gave a little silent nod, and it worried me more that he'd gone from near hysterics to this state of blank shock. He quietly let Nelson clean the graze and bandage him up, refusing any kind of painkiller for it, then let me take him back to the room, where he curled on one bed silently, eyes closed but not asleep.

I locked the door, then sat beside him quietly, stroking my fingers over his hair and down his back, wishing he'd talk to me or give some indication of how I could help him. "Daniel...."

Blue eyes looked up at me wearily, and he held out an arm to me, inviting. It was still early in the evening, but sleep suddenly sounded like a great idea. I took his glasses off for him, leaving them on the bedside table, then curled around him, pressing my lips to his hair and listening to his breath become deep and even before falling asleep finally myself.


I woke up what proved to be four hours later to an insistent knocking on my door, and Daniel no-where to be found. When I opened the door, Nelson was waiting for me, looking more than a little concerned. "You might want to go down to the bar."

I didn't have to ask why, though it surprised the hell out of me that Daniel would be the type to turn to vice. Perhaps we were more alike than I thought.

I reached the second floor restaurant to find that he'd dragged a bar stool inside the bar, and from the looks of it, was half way through a 2-6 of bourbon. I perched on a stool on the other side. "Daniel... what are you doing here?"

He had been staring down at a mostly empty glass of bourbon, and his head jerked up as I spoke, giving me a strange, crooked smile. "There is... ice, here."

I glanced down to the sink full of ice behind the bar. "Yes, and bourbon."

"Yes. It is... very nice bourbon. Ben, have some -- with me."

"I'm fine, thank you," I said softly, covering his hand on the bottle before he could pour some out. "Daniel... was this full when you started?"

"The bottles are always -- full in this place."

"Yes. Yes they are." I could smell it thick on his breath, something far too familiar to me. "Lets go back to bed, all right?"

He frowned suddenly, jerking the bottle from my grasp, refilling his glass unsteadily. "I cannot sleep."

"Then come up with me. We can sit and talk." I watched him take a long swallow, growing more concerned. "Daniel, please."

"Ben, I have not -- done this for...." he paused for a moment, eyebrows knitting in visible thought. "For at least fifty-eight -- years. I think that I -- am allowed. To get. Pissed."

Fifty eight years? How the hell drunk was he? I shook my head slowly. "Talk to me. Tell me what's wrong."

He let out a breathy, shuddering laugh. "What is wrong indeed." He polished off the glass, and I began to wonder how he was still standing. "Let me -- explain it to you. What if, Ben. Ben, my dear, kind, Ben. What if, one day, you discovered that the -- the most - the darkest event in your life. The hardest, the one thing that -- you will never recover from. What if, Ben, you found one day, that you could have...." He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath, so pale suddenly that I was afraid he'd be sick, but he continued. "That event - you could have -- avoided it completely. Through one, simple, stupid, action."

He sounded so sure of himself. I reached across the counter to cover his hand with mine. "Daniel, it may seem that way, but life isn't that simple. You can't berate yourself for something like that, it's impossible to - "

"No," he cut off firmly, and reached out with his other hand to tap my shoulder. "It is. The injection. You can Tune." He spat the word as if it was vile. "You can Fucking. Tune. I could have -- changed everything."

"I don't understand," I said softly, and he sighed, pulling his hands back and rubbing them over his face tiredly, pushing up his glasses to rub his eyes. Then he gave a little shake of his head.

"Let me -- explain it to you," he said again, and half turned on the bar stool, grabbing four shot glasses from the rack at the back. He put them down in front of him, and held up one. "One glass. Let me call -- this glass, a human... heart. One person, one glass. A very large -- amount of love possible. Yes? You agree? For one person?"

I nodded slowly, watching him, a little worried about where things were going. "Yes, all right."

"Good." He held up the shot glass, and set it down on the counter. "This is Anthony."

I tilted my head slightly at the unfamiliar name. "Anthony?"

"I am -- getting to that part," he said with surprising patience, picked up the second glass, then the third. "This is Michael. This is David. And this?" He brandished the fourth glass. "This is John Murdoch. The light bringer to -- my world. This..." he tapped the bar counter in front of each glass. "This is what you would read -- if you could read -- the Strangers. Goddamn. Swirls. His file. Anthony, Michael, David. And John." He picked up the bottle of bourbon and filled all four glasses with surprising accuracy, setting it down. Then he glanced up at me. "Would you like -- a drink?"

I shook my head again. "I'm fine, Daniel. Please go ahead and explain things to me."

He nodded. "Please pay attention, Ben," he said softly, looking up at me seriously, though I could see so much veiled agony behind it that it was all I could do not to tear him away and take him back upstairs. He picked up the first full shot glass. "Anthony. Anthony loved me. I erased him." He dumped the shot into his glass, setting the empty one back down. "It was what I had -- to do for them. The ones who -- scarred my body. Every night I stole -- identities, I mixed them around. Gave everyone around me -- entirely new memories." He picked up the second glass. "After Anthony, he was Michael. Michael -- loved me." The second shot was added to the glass with the first. "I erased him. Then he was David."

He picked up the third glass with a soft sob, but took a moment to visibly compose himself, and continued. "David loved me. So much. And I -- loved him, even knowing..." he pointed to the two empty glasses. "This. I still loved him. And They found out. They erased him. And because -- I loved him, they erased -- me. We remembered nothing -- of each other. Nothing." He dumped the third shot into his glass, and set it aside, then pressed a finger to the bar top in front of the fourth.

"This is John. John was supposed -- to be a serial killer. Because -- I loved him. Their -- punishment. But." He stopped at that, and gave a bitter, shuddering laugh. "But he developed the ability -- to Tune. Because I had -- by accident -- injected him." He motioned to my shoulder again. "Tuning. Instead of killer, he became -- my savior. Completely destroyed -- Them, my captors. Saved our city. Brought back -- the sun. And he, and I...." He picked up the last shot glass with the softest, most heart rending sigh. "We fell -- in love. Again."

He tipped the last shot into the glass and then picked it up, now containing four shots of bourbon, and stared at it mournfully, voice raw when he spoke again. "For sixty years -- I had him, Ben. And be cause he -- could Tune, he kept me young, while he grew old." His eyes were red-rimmed and tired, and he blinked hard at his words, a pair of tears escaping to wind down is cheeks. He made a small motion with the glass regardless of some of the liquid sloshing over the edge, keeping my gaze as if it could impress on me the emotion in his words. "This is what I had. This is what -- I lost. And I could have solved... all of it."

He shot back a large swallow of the bourbon, gave a choked sob, then shot back more. "Oh god, Ben. The agony -- of it. Oh god...." And with that, he put his head down on his arms on the bar and gave way to huge, gasping sobs.

I rounded the bar without delay, pulling him up into my arms, and he didn't resist, sobbing helplessly on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry," I whispered, not knowing what else to do, what else to say. "Daniel, I'm so sorry."

"Don't let go," he gasped, arms tight around my shoulders. "I am... so alone, Ben. Don't leave me."

"I won't," I breathed softly, and meant it. "I promise."

He was surprisingly easy to lift, even though he struggled weakly and mumbled drunkenly about being heavy. But I managed to get him back to the room with a minimum of fuss, mostly undressed and into bed, falling asleep with his head pillowed on my chest.

~~~~~~~