"Your weakness is not an affair of the heart."
"Your weakness is not an affair of the heart."
"Your weakness is not, we think, an affair of the heart."
There wasn't anything out of the ordinary about the day, other than the weather, chilly and windy, with no sigh of the sun behind the blanket of gray clouds. It drove Daniel Schreber from his normal reading spot by the window of his apartment into his office, as if the desk light could substitute for the sun. An office that he kept spotless for the clients he didn't have. It was a little sad, really, when he thought about it. Other than morning walks he forced himself to take to get the paper and fresh produce, he spent more time with his lab rats - which had gotten rather fat - than actual people. But it was easier that way, easier to stay inside and read and learn than to think about all the complications of interacting with people who had been his unwitting test subjects. Easier than being reminded daily that he had manipulated these people, and created their entire lives. Easier than remembering how he'd been forced to do so.
When the knock came on his door, it took him a moment to decide whether it was real, or just a product of wishful thinking. Then came the voice. "Dr. Schreber?"
He made his way to the door of his office as quickly as his limp would allow, knowing from the voice, but not quite believing who would be there. "John!"
The dark haired man gave him a smile, but it seemed forced, a ghost of the spirit that Daniel was used to seeing in him. The man looked almost haunted, Daniel's experience told him, and he wondered what on earth what on earth could make John Murdoch, with all his godlike abilities, afraid. "Good morning, Daniel. Do you have room in your schedule to see a patient?"
Daniel hesitated, not wanting to drive him away. "I'm sorry, John. I am not a councilor -- anymore."
"I know," John replied, and something in his eyes spoke of desperation. "And I'm sorry to ask this of you. But you're the only one I can talk to about this. The only one who knows about them..."
"Of course," Daniel replied. What else could he say? "Please... come in."
He had a couch, of course. He'd bought it after he destroyed the maze, though more for decoration and to fill the space than for any anticipated function. He took a seat in the matching armchair after retrieving a leather bound notebook and pen from his desk. "Please... have a seat. Or however -- is comfortable."
John perched on the end of the couch nearest to him, looking anything but. "How have you been, Daniel? I'm sorry - do you mind if I call you Daniel? It feels a bit strange to be formal with all these memories of you running around in my head."
"Please feel free," Daniel replied, though he rather wished the familiarity was real. "I have not been busy. Just enjoying my -- freedom, you may say." He leaned forward in his chair, catching the troubled gaze of John's green eyes with his own. "How have you been, John?"
John was silent for a long moment, searching Daniel's eyes. "I have nightmares," he said finally. "Sometimes even when I'm awake. Of him - them, what they did, I can't...." he stopped, closing his eyes and drawing a shuddering breath. "I feel like a madman. How do I stop it?"
"When we dream," Daniel started slowly, "It is often a reflection of things -- that trouble us, things we have not-- come to terms with. Is there something more specific -- that is troubling you? Something that -- reoccurs?"
John avoided his eyes, silent for a long moment. "Just... them. Their voices... and how cold they were..."
"John..." Daniel gave a soft sigh. "Anything you say to me is held in -- the strictest confidence. That is my solemn vow -- as a doctor. You don't have to tell me anything -- you don't want to, but I cannot -- help you if you do not -- trust me."
John took this in silently for a moment. "They... tortured me," he said finally, still not meeting his gaze. "Well... Mr. Hand did. While the rest of them were deciding what to do with me."
Daniel felt his blood run cold, and for a moment he couldn't reply, couldn't do anything except close his eyes against the rush of his own terror. "He told me," he whispered, "what he did. He...bragged about it. I had hoped it was -- a lie. I'm so sorry, John."
John almost physically recoiled at his words, folding his arms against his chest in a gesture that most would have found standoffish, but Daniel knew was protective. "He told you... what he did to me?"
Daniel wet his lips, wanting anything but to remember it. "Yes."
John's voice was harsh and angry. "Did he tell you that I - that I liked it?"
Daniel drew as deep a breath, or as deep as his damaged lungs would allow. "John. There is a rift between physical and -- emotional response, between consciously wanting something, and what is simply -- pure biological response." John said nothing, staring angrily at the carpet, so he continued. "I know it is difficult to -- accept. But it is a completely -- normal, completely natural reaction to -- that kind of trauma. As well as your guilt, your -- self blame -- for reacting that way."
A soft, bitter laugh. "You speak like this happens every day."
"More often than you would -- expect."
John ran his fingers through his hair, in exhaustion, or frustration. "What do I do?" he whispered, still not meeting his gaze. "Just tell me how to stop it...."
Daniel looked down at his hands, folded neatly on top of the unopened book. He was silent for a long moment, trying to fight down the feelings of misery and despair. "I wish I could give you -- an easy answer. I wish I had their technology -- and I would take that memory from you. But the process of healing is -- different for everyone."
Despair was thick in John's voice. "You can't help me."
He looked up to catch John's gaze, to look into green eyes full of pain. "I will do anything you -- ask of me, John. You may speak with me about -- anything that troubles you. And I can make suggestions. But I cannot walk the path -- for you."
John gave a soft sigh, tearing his eyes away, leaning back against the couch. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to drop this burden on you. You've been more than patient with me.... I just get so angry sometimes. There was no one else I could turn to."
"I will always -- be here," Daniel replied simply, softly. "I owe you a world -- of gratitude, for my freedom, John. And beyond that -- I hope that one day, you can -- consider me a friend." And it was true, he realized as he said it. He felt strangely comfortable around John, even in this situation, something he couldn't feel around others. Because he didn't have to hide the past from him.
John looked a little surprised by his words, and managed a small, sad smile. "I consider you that now, if you really want that from someone like me. Maybe I need that." He shook his head slowly. "It's so hard... so hard to walk amongst everyone else, feeling this, having these nightmares, and knowing they can't ever understand. You're the only one who can."
"Better than you know," Daniel murmured softly, trying to let his own anguish show.
If John noticed his emotion, he didn't remark on it. "Thank you, Daniel."
The doctor pulled himself together enough to offer a little smile, leaning over to touch his arm lightly. "I know it seems -- difficult, but try not to dwell on it. Often, they recommend for one in your -- situation to reclaim their own -- sexuality, their power to choose and -- enjoy physical encounters. Both men and -- women. Make new memories. I'm sure you would not find any -- shortage of pretty girls willing."
A slight hint of amusement, the first he'd seen from him since he arrived. "You're telling me to sleep around, doc?"
"I'm simply suggesting that you -- responsibly explore the possibility of -- new physical relations. Have you managed to -- meet Emma again?"
John gave a slow nod. "Anna, now. She's nice enough. And she's a lot like Emma was... I guess I have you to thank for that. I just... I don't feel anything for her. It's strange...." He stopped and gave a sigh. "I remember being intimate with Emma. I remember enjoying it. But when I look at Anna... there's nothing. And I don't want to burden her with this... this craziness that I feel, these... nightmares."
"I understand."
John looked up at him. "Let me... think on it a while, what you've said. Maybe I do need to meet some people. Maybe I just need a hobby." A little bitter laugh. "Isn't it ironic how useless I feel in this city?"
"You are anything but -- useless, John."
A nod, though he didn't believe it. "Thank you." He stood, restless, and offered the doctor his hand. "I'll come by again sometime soon, if you're not busy. I'll call this time."
"I'm not busy," Daniel replied softly, shaking the offered hand and holding onto it a little longer than strictly necessary, just savoring the basic human contact. "Come by anytime you need to."
John smiled - a real smile, finally. "Thank you. I will."
And with that, he was gone.
~~~~~
When Daniel had first seen John at his door, he'd harbored a brief hope for some kind of normalcy, some kind of human contact in his life. But in the weeks after his visit, he didn't return. Daniel assumed, a little sadly, that he'd found the comfort and restitution he was looking for and moved on.
For himself, the man's revelation only served to bring back his own memories, memories he'd tried very hard to block in his waking moments. Ones that still plagued him in his nightmares. This was what he was woken up from at three in the morning by pounding on his office door, just when he'd resigned himself to the fact that John Murdoch was not coming back.
He fumbled for his glasses and pulled on a pair of pants with the undershirt he slept in, moving through his apartment and into the office at the front, turning on the light and trying to shake down the shudder of fear in his gut. Of course it couldn't be Them... they never bothered to knock. "Who's there?"
"Daniel...?" John Murdoch looked back at him blearily when the door opened, half slumped against the door frame. "Can I... talk to you?"
He stared at the man for a moment. "It's three in the -- morning, John. Why aren't you in bed?"
"Was drinking," John mumbled, and shook his head as if to clear it. " 'm sorry. It didn't work anyway. 'm such an ass..."
Daniel gave a soft sigh, opening his door. "Come in. Let me make you -- a cup of tea." He took John's arm and lead him back through the office and into his apartment, sitting him down at the kitchen table and putting the kettle on.
"You... live here?"
Daniel gave him a little smile. "Did you expect I'd be here -- at three in the morning -- if I didn't?"
"Mmm," John replied noncommittally, watching him without really seeing anything. "You mind if I smoke?"
Daniel dug up an ashtray and set it on the table. "You'll have to forgive me -- if I don't join you. I'm afraid my health -- doesn't allow it."
John regarded him silently for a moment, then tucked the cigarette package back in his coat pocket without lighting one. "Sorry to get you out of bed."
Daniel smiled again, standing by the teapot as he waited for it to boil. "It's no bother, John. You keep my life -- interesting. Would you like -- something to eat? Biscuits?"
John gave a soft chuckle. "Tea and biscuits... in the middle of the night. Sure. Might take the edge off." He sat quietly as Daniel brought over the teapot with a small sugar bowl and creamer, setting out two cups and a small plate of biscuits.
Daniel poured the tea. "Would you like to share -- what ever was bothering you enough to -- drive you to drinking?"
John nibbled a biscuit silently. "I tried to...." He started slowly. "With Anna, she... wanted it, and I just... couldn't." He looked up at him, eyebrows knit together in confusion. "What does it mean?"
Daniel shook his head. "I don't have the answer -- to that, John. How do you feel?"
"Helpless." The dark haired man shook his head. "Really goddamn frustrated. I really... I really tried to distract myself. I even took up golf." He gave a little helpless laugh, and Daniel had to admire the effort, if not the practicality. "It was mundane as hell. I tried the pubs, the dance halls, I tried hookers, I just..." He let his head rest against the palm of one hand, elbow on the table. "I can't forget it."
Daniel stirred his cup of tea, more for something to do with his hands than to mix it, the sugar long dissolved. He took a sip. "Unfortunately, I don't think it is something -- that can be forgotten quickly," he replied slowly, watching the man across the table from him.
"It's not just that," John muttered, not looking up. "The nightmares aren't always... him, I've... there's other... men! Sexually! Oh, God...!"
"Other men in his place, or...."
A short, bitter laugh. "No. In Anna's."
"John..." Daniel reached across the table before he could stop himself, placing a hand gently on his arm, and the other man looked up at him helplessly.
"Are you going to tell me that this is a natural response too?"
Daniel shrugged, just as helpless. "Some of the books in my office -- speak on it in depth. Not as a result of trauma, but as something -- completely natural. Attraction to one's own gender. But I can tell you that -- in this entire city, there is no one who was given -- these kind of memories, this kind of -- inclination. It was never -- in their plans." He gave a soft sigh, looking up again as he felt a touch on his forearm, surprisingly feather light. Tracing over one of the many thin white scars that adorned his skin.
"How did you get these?" John asked softly, previous topic apparently forgotten, or perhaps purposefully set aside.
Daniel shivered despite himself, the unexpected tenderness of something he'd been deprived of for so long effecting him more than he'd expected. "... in general, Them. In specific... him."
The look John gave him was a strange mix of rage and sorrow. "Why?"
"Do you think that I -- worked for them willingly?" Daniel closed his eyes for a moment before speaking again, trying to hold back the flood of emotion. "This was just... one of the ways -- he controlled me. One of the – many ways...."
Green eyes searched his with a strange intensity, seeing pain that the doctor couldn't hide. More than he'd hoped John could see. Finally, the other man spoke, voice tentative, words broken. "Daniel... what he did to me... he... did to you as well...?"
Daniel broke from his gaze, from his touch, with a shudder, his words bringing back the nightmare that had haunted him only moments previous. "Yes, I'm sorry. Yes, yes. I couldn't... I wasn't strong enough -- to tell you...." He buried his face in his hands, wishing that he could somehow hide from it all.
John's voice was soft, hardly above a whisper. "... when?"
"When not? God John, I couldn't -- keep track. It was a punishment, at first. Humiliation. In front -- in front of all of Them. Then whenever -- he was displeased with me. Or whenever... he wanted. Even when he -- was bragging about what he did -- to you, he was... and he... and I...." He shuddered at the recollection and forced himself to stop hiding behind his hands, drawing a few breaths, pressing lips tightly together against remembered pain, trying to shut away the emotion.
John shook his head slowly. "I don't understand. He didn't - they don't take pleasure in it...."
Daniel shook his head, pulling himself together enough to speak. "Not physically. I'm sure that -- mentally -- it was very satisfying to Them. The dominance, the -- control." His voice was bitter. "I... I hated him. So much. But at the same time..." He stopped, trying to move past the block of fear, needing to let out the agony of this confession. "Have you heard of Stockholm's syndrome?"
John shook his head mutely, so he continued. "It is a... psychological condition. Capture bonding. Where a victim -- most often of kidnap or rape -- is slowly manipulated to -- care for their captor." He closed his eyes, fingers clutching the teacup so tightly he was sure that the fragile ceramic would break. He forced himself to look at John, at eyes that reflected his own pain, his voice more harsh than he could have imagined. "So yes, I - I wanted it, in the end. Wanted him. Begged for it. It was -- all I had."
John absorbed this in silence for a long moment, long enough that Daniel broke his gaze with a little shudder of self loathing.
"How do you cope?" John asked softly, finally, and Daniel couldn't keep himself from laughing bitterly.
"No better than you. I coop up in this -- apartment, I can't bring myself to -- to interact with anyone. So you see -- when I say that I can't help you -- it's the truth, John. I can't even help -- myself."
The dark haired man looked utterly miserable. "What about your suggestion to me, to reclaim my passion, my life?"
The doctor shook his head. "I am not the man -- you are, John. My heart is weak. And I have never, ever desired -- a woman. Perhaps because of him. Or perhaps I am simply the only one -- in this city, for whom that is still -- natural." He turned his gaze from John to look out the window, out into the darkness of the city. "The things we say -- in the middle of the -- night. At least you have liquor -- as an excuse. I must -- disgust you."
"You don't. Not at all." John was silent for a moment, then replied "I'm not drunk now. Tuning. I can get rid of it. Daniel... this doesn't change what I think of you. I just... I'm sorry I haven't listened to you like you have to me."
Daniel glanced over at him, the dark haired man sitting taller, the slight glaze to his eyes gone. "One short conversation in my office, weeks ago?"
"It kept me from loosing myself entirely. Because I knew you'd be here. Because it let me believe that everything I remember about you - even if it's fake, even if they're just memories you made for me in one night - it let me believe that you cared about me." He hesitated, then reached for his hand across the table, gently pulling Daniel's fingers from the teacup and setting it aside. Taking the doctor's hand in his. "Maybe we're meant to survive together. Like before, like how we defeated them. We can't survive apart. Maybe we can... help each other."
"I don't understand how," Daniel replied softly, but John simply smiled, looking strangely nervous. Then he stood, leaning over the table and cupping Daniel's face with one hand, drawing it up press his lips to his.
Part of Daniel reacted first, not with fear, but need. For affection, for human contact, for the first kiss he'd received since at least before the Strangers - the only kiss in what was left of his ruined memory. The first real gesture of affection. John was warm and soft and human and nothing like them, his fingers gentle on Daniel's skin. Kisses yearning and slightly clumsy, tasting of tea and just a hint of whiskey, and Daniel gave a soft groan despite himself, not caring about the complaints from his poor battered spine as he arched up into the kiss.
Then the other part of him took control, the part that started thinking about what was happening and what it would mean and what the consequences could be. The part that was fearful and broke away with a shuddering gasp. "Don't - !"
John jerked back as if stung, then slowly sat back down. "... I'm sorry."
Daniel tried to bring himself to look at him, tried to calm his breathing, frantic gasps of air, to stop trembling, though he wasn't even sure when he started. "I can't. I - I'm your doctor...."
John was silent for a long moment, and when he spoke, his voice was hard, and a little sad. "Really? I thought you were my friend."
He turned back to him with a sudden pang of guilt. "John... that's not what I --"
"It's fine." Green eyes refused to meet his gaze. "Just thought that maybe I could, you know...." a soft laugh, and he shook his head. "Never mind. Like you said, how can I help you if I can't help myself?"
"I didn't -- John...."
John caught his eyes now, generous lips pressed into a tight line. "You want to know the truth? This is why I was drinking. So I wouldn't come back, so I wouldn't do this like I've been wanting to for weeks and weeks. Fat load of good it did." He stood, chair grating on the tile as it pushed back. "And maybe it's because of him, because of all this - hell he put me through, but the only time I can escape it is when I think about you. I just... I wish that meant something to you."
Daniel closed his eyes against his words. "I can't... I can't feel anything, John. I can't get past it. I'm so sorry. You have to understand, this was -- this was years for me, this is all I can remember."
"You're all that I can remember," John replied, a little bitterly, but Daniel couldn't react to that statement.
"I don't have the luxury of -- a childhood, a past. Not even a -- fake one. All I have -- is Them."
"Then why not make new memories? Isn't that what you told me?" When Daniel didn't reply, he sighed, voice soft and bitter. "Well. If you change your mind... you know where to find me."
Daniel looked up at him helplessly. "What will you do?"
John shrugged. "Try to survive. What else is there to do? I'm sorry I bothered you, Doctor. I'll show myself out."
He started out of the apartment and into the office, for the door, and though Daniel called after him, there was no reply except the sound of the office door shutting.
~~~~
For three days, Daniel stayed in his apartment. Trying to pretend like nothing had happened, trying to read and study, but he couldn't concentrate, torn between two extremes. The one - the new agony that plagued him - was John himself – remembering the way he’d kissed him, craving more of that contact, more of him. The agony of having driven him away.
The other, of course, was Them. He still had the same nightmares, the same memories replayed over and over - the darkness, Mr. Hand's taunting voice. Hurting him, ridiculing him, making him beg. His own horrible craving for pleasure and release despite the pain it would bring.
Memories of the night after John had woken up, when Hand had found him, finally, trying to hide from Them in the bath house. How just the sight of the Stranger, the sound of his voice, terrified him. And Hand playing with him, like a cat plays with a mouse, and finally stalking off, leaving Daniel to swim for the pool ladder that he'd moved to to the other side. To climb out, dripping and exhausted, drying off, starting to dress slowly. Then when he least expected it, Hand's voice, startling him, when he was sure the Stranger had left.
"No need to go any further, Doctor." His shape, moving out of the shadows, and Daniel's hands froze on the buttons of his shirt.
"I thought you'd -- gone...."
"We couldn't tend to the matter of your disobedience earlier, when you were in the pool." Daniel heard the soft, shirring sound of his blade unsheathed, and one of Mr. Hand's gloved hands found his, pulling them away from the shirt. "You know what to do. Or would you rather we do this the hard way?"
Daniel closed his eyes, pressed his lips against each other hard, to keep from speaking, to keep from screaming, to keep the hatred and fear from showing. Slowly he moved his hands to his belt, unbuckled it, let his trousers and shorts fall to the damp floor, stepping out of them wordlessly. Already he could feel what he hated most, the throb of heat in his groin, the anticipation of what was to come, his body betraying his rational mind.
Hand moved before he could react, and a force stronger than he ever expected hit him, shoved him up against the metal grating overlooking the pool, knocking the wind out of him. The Stranger's body pressed up against his back as he gasped for breath, one gloved hand tangled in his hair pressing side of his face into the grate, the wire frames of his glasses twisting awkwardly, digging painfully into his skin. He could feel the tip of the knife against his stomach, a hair's breadth of pressure from slicing into his skin. And Hand's breath, like his touch, was cold against his ear. "Tell us what we want to hear, Doctor."
Daniel shuddered against him, unwilling to open his eyes, unwilling to give in. "Get off me."
"Wrong answer." The knife cut in, quick as a flash, a sharp, hot lick of agony that spread down over his hip. It wasn't dangerous - he was too valuable to them for that - but god, it hurt! He gave a shuddering cry, felt the tip of the knife pressed against the side of his thigh. "Care to try again, Doctor?"
Daniel bit his lip as Hand shifted against him, hips rocking against his ass, pressing him harder up against the metal grate. He gave a breathless, gasping sob at the jolt of desire that it sent through him, the cut of the knife smarting where it made contact with his shirt, with the metal. "Please stop...."
The lick of the knife again on his thigh, bringing more agony, and then it disappeared, the Stranger's gloved hand shoving between him and the grill, fingers circling his cock almost painfully tight. Voice a cold hiss in his ear. "Now Doctor. You disobeyed. Don't make this any harder on yourself. Say it, and it will be over much sooner. We know you want it."
Daniel gave a choked groan despite himself, swallowing hard. "Please...."
Mr. Hand released his cock, free hand scrambling against his back, yanking at thick leather, and he could feel his the other's cock pressed against him, cold and hard. Fingers that were still ice cold under the soft leather skin of the glove penetrated him with no care or gentleness, slick with lube, making him cry out. And the cold hiss against his ear. "Tell us what you want. Tell us now."
He drew a shuddering breath and gave in. It would happen eventually anyway, whether he wanted it or no. His words were barely whispered in shame. "I want you inside me."
Mr. Hand complied swiftly, almost winding Daniel again, sheathing himself deep inside the doctor with a few hard thrusts that bucked Daniel's body against the grating, shaking it from the force. Thrusts that drove a breathless, sobbing cry from Daniel's throat, the metal biting in to his face and hands. The Stranger pressed his chest harder into the grate, yanking his hips back far enough for his gloved fingers to encircle his cock, cold and hard, movements almost mechanical, but it made Daniel's head spin, hard shocks of pleasure shuddering up his spine with his touch, from each thrust. He was gasping for air in harsh, helpless sobs, fingers clenching the grating, trying to do anything but think about it, to consciously recognize and remember what was happening, trying not to process how good it felt. The pain-pressure-pleasure of each thrust was almost unbearably intense, something he never quite managed to forget about afterward, Hand driving ice cold shocks of horribly exquisite sensation through him.
Then the hand in his hair moved, releasing its grip, slipping to encircle his throat, just tight enough for Daniel to feel his own pulse beating hard and fast through his skin against the leather glove as he gasped for breath. And the Stranger started to squeeze, hard and unforgiving, squeeze until Daniel could hardly breathe, until the world started to blur and swim around him. And that was the worst, the way it made his body shudder, the way it intensified every thrust, every touch. And he was begging helplessly, lips forming words without breath, as the pleasure quickly built, hard and sharp and overwhelming. "Please, please...!"
He was never sure which would come first when Mr. Hand did this, whether climax or oblivion would take him, and thinking about it afterward didn't help him decide which he preferred. Terror set over him upon feeling those fingers close over his throat, slowly cutting off what little oxygen he had left, until all there was left was the panic of swimming blackness and sharp bursts of sensation, pleasure that pounded into him. Pleasure that crested as his mind swooned, his entire consciousness lost in a delirious crescendo of sensation as he came, hard and hot and breathless, the last bit of air torn from his throat in a rough, gasping cry, shuddering helplessly in his captor's arms.
He became aware of Hand pulling away, wiping ejaculate off his glove on the metal grate, and letting him crumple to the tile floor of the locker room, coughing and gasping for breath even as the last sparks of pleasure went off behind his eyes.
"Don't be late again," Hand said simply, sternly, and left.
At least it had woken him up, woken his hatred again, enough to return underground and make that syringe, the one that had ultimately saved both John's life and his own. But that was only a small comfort now.
~~~
The fourth day of his misery, Daniel forced himself to go out, to walk along the streets of the city. Trying to work up the nerve to talk to someone, anyone, for any reason. But it was easier to hide his eyes under the brim of his hat, to keep from making eye contact, to shelter himself in his cocoon of solitude, no matter how firmly his mind told him to do otherwise.
Finally, near sundown, he slipped into a dirty little bar, finding a seat against the wall and ordering a double shot of bourbon on the rocks, though he really would have rather had a cup of tea. He sat quietly, sipping the drink slowly, watching people and thinking, wondering, if he could really have contact with any of them them at all. He finished the bourbon and ordered another, then a third.
When the dark haired girl slipped into the seat beside him with a drink in her hand, it took him a moment to process it. Then the knowledge came to him with too much clarity, like it did anytime he looked at any one person for any more than a few moments. This life she was a street walker - escort, he corrected himself, she was expensive - though his memory for facts and faces didn't extend to names. Before that she'd been a secretary for a rich businessman, then a police clerk, then a mother of two... he tried to ignore the list of identities that scrolled through his mind, tried to set it aside and give her a smile, though he couldn't help but pity the fact that out of all the people she'd been in the past, she was stuck now as this one.
"You here alone, stranger?" She asked, voice friendly and teasing, and Daniel quickly pushed away his immediate negative reaction to the term.
"Just killing time," he said softly, watching her. Wondering about his advice to John, and the strength of his own will. "This place seems a bit -- rough, for a sweet girl -- like yourself."
She smiled coyly, carmine painted lips turning up to push her cheeks into dimples. "I like things a bit rough, this place is interesting to me. I'm Bridey, by the way."
"Daniel," he replied, after a moment of hesitation. "What are you -- drinking?"
"Gin and tonic with lime," she replied with a smile, and he hailed the waitress, draining the remains of his bourbon and ordering another double, as well as a drink for her.
She scooted her chair closer, watching him in the low light of the bar. "You're cute, Daniel. But you look like you've seen some rough times yourself..."
He gave a slow nod, toying with his empty glass, grateful when the waitress returned promptly with the drinks. He took a large swallow, giving a little cough as the liquid burned down his throat. "Some say that life -- is suffering."
She nodded amiably, sipping the drink, lips pursed prettily around the provided straw. Heart shaped lips in a heart shaped face. "It doesn't all have to be, though."
Daniel shot back the remains of the bourbon regardless, thinking that he wasn't quite as drunk as he wished he was, but kept up his resolve, kept playing the game. He turned and caught her gaze. "Will you -- show me?"
She smiled, and delicate fingers with varnished nails touched the side of his face - the good side, without scarring. Holding him in place as she leaned in to kiss him. She smelled of cosmetics and rosewater, and her lips were soft and warm, but too delicate, too gentle. She wasn't John.
A voice behind him in the bar caught his attention, unexpectedly. "...Daniel?"
That was John.
He heard footsteps, and a hand fell on his shoulder. He pulled away from the girl, looking up a little blearily. "John."
The girl glanced between the two of them, sizing up the situation. "Hello again, John. I didn't know you two were friends."
"We've met," John said simply, shortly, eying the empty glasses on the table. He pulled a wad of bills from his pocket, throwing some down on the table and handing the rest to her. "Go get some supper, Bridey. I need to talk to him."
The girl gave a slow nod, knowing when to call the conquest quits, and disappeared into the back of the bar
"John..."
The dark haired man threw off his protest before turning for the door. "Outside. Now."
He followed, struggling to keep up with the other man's quick stride. His feet felt a bit like lead, and it made it harder to control the gait of his damaged leg. John headed around the corner of the building into the darkened alley without looking to see if he followed, but when he made the turn, he found him waiting for him, his hands catching the lapels of his coat, shoving him none too gently back against the wall. John's voice was rough and angry. "What the hell are you doing?!"
Daniel struggled to catch his breath, easily winded. "How did you -- find me?"
A short, bitter laugh. "Chance, if you'll believe it." Green eyes, just visible in the light from the street, narrowed. "You've been drinking?"
Daniel wet his lips. "Just trying to -- take my own advice."
The hands holding his lapels curled into fists, voice thick with hurt, with anger. "Why?"
"Survival. The same, it seems -- as you are doing." He felt an unexpected flare of anger at his words, challenging him. "She was one of your -- whores?"
"God!" John pulled away with a curse, arm yanking back as if to hit him, and Daniel instinctively winced back in fear, eyes closed in anticipation the blow. Instead the fist landed on the brick wall beside his shoulder, thrice in rapid succession before John pushed away with a harsh, helpless laugh, shaking out his hand. "Dammit, that hurt..."
"John, don't..." Daniel took a step toward him and stumbled, only to have the other man rush him again, catching him and pressing him up against the side of the building. But this time was with passion, not anger, catching Daniel's mouth, feverish and needy. Kisses hot and sweet and trembling, and he felt a surge of desire, arms slipping around him without thinking to pull him closer. This was what he'd craved, not her. John's form, arms that were solid and strong, not soft. Lips that were demanding, that gasped for breath against his between kisses, tasting him hungrily, stealing the soft moans that arose from throat, unbidden. The heat of his body pressed agonizingly close.
They heard the sound of a door opening, of voices, and John jerked back quickly, panting a little, watching him. His eyes darted down the alley to where the noise had come from, waiting until the light from the open door was gone, the voices silent, before stepping forward again. "Don't tell me you didn't feel that."
Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, trying to catch his breath, trying to stop his head from spinning. "I won't -- deny it."
John's hand, light and tentative on the shoulder he'd held so roughly moments before. "... Come back with me to Shell Beach."
He swallowed hard against the fear and uncertainty, trying to push it away. "I - I can't..."
"Daniel..." The dark haired man moved closer, shoulder leaning up against the wall at his back, not trying to hide his anguish. His words came as a harsh whisper. "Please... don't make me beg. I ... I need you."
He drew a shuddering breath, trying to gather his thoughts through the haze of bourbon that was steadily becoming thicker. "Give me time, John. Please. I - I can't... I'm sorry. I need to know, know for myself, that I can separate what I -- what I feel for you, from -- from him. Please."
John was silent for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "That's fair."
He felt suddenly very tired and clumsy, and shook his head, trying to clear it. "Can you tell me -- you know that for -- yourself?"
John watched him seriously. "Yes, Daniel. I can."
"And this isn't..." he struggled to find words through the haze. "The Daniel in your memories... isn't me, I'm not -- I'm not handsome, John...."
"Shh...." Gentle fingers brushed his cheek, stroking gently over the white scars. "None of that matters. You're still you."
He managed a soft smile. "Thank you. You... you have been so -- kind to me, John. But I've been... alone for a very long time," he said softly. "I don't want this... to just be about that...." He drew a hand across his eyes, blinking hard. "I should... get home..." he took a step and felt his bad leg give out, stumbling into strong arms that held him upright.
"God... you've had way too much to drink, doc." John's voice was warm, slightly amused.
"Had to," he murmured fuzzily, "to try and -- sleep with a woman...."
A soft chuckle. "Not sure if you would have accomplished anything in this state anyway. Come on... I'll get you home. Just close your eyes and hold on." Strong arms wrapped around his waist tightly, and he felt a cool breeze against his skin, which felt lovely after the heat of the bar. "You really don't like women at all?" John's voice was soft and warm in his ear, a point to focus on in a world that had suddenly become very fuzzy.
"Too soft... 'n small," he mumbled, and suddenly they landed with a bump, though he hadn't realized they were flying. "Where...?"
"In your office, don't worry." John pulled away slightly, one arm still securely around his waist, helping him move into his apartment. "Where do you sleep?"
"There," Daniel managed to point out the door to his room, and before he knew it, he'd been bundled into bed, stripped down to his pants and undershirt, and John was pressing a large glass of cool water into his hand.
"Drink this, all right?"
He nodded slowly, doing so, eyes falling closed as John tucked the blankets around him, carefully taking his glasses off for him. He felt a soft kiss pressed to his forehead, and then sleep took him.
~~~~~
He woke in the morning to the sun in his face and a pounding headache, and gave a low groan, rolling over to escape it. As he did so, two things came to his attention. First, that he'd slept the whole night without nightmares, and second, that John Murdoch was in his bed. "...John?"
On was really a more appropriate way to describe it than in, asleep on top of his soft down quilt, still fully dressed from what he could tell, covered with a throw that he normally kept folded at the end of the bed for cold nights. The dark haired man stirred sleepily, yawning and blinking at him a few times as he woke. "Hey... sorry. I must've passed out...." He gave the doctor a little smile. "How are you feeling, doc?"
Daniel closed his eyes for a moment. "Like a very -- stupid man. With a headache."
John gave a soft chuckle, Tuning and handing him what looked like a glass of orange juice. "No more stupid than me showing up at your office at three in the morning. Drink this."
He took it gratefully, sitting up a little with a soft groan, setting aside the glass when he finished. "Thank you, John. For getting me -- home."
The other man smiled warmly, and with such fondness that it almost made Daniel forget his headache for a moment. John stood, shaking out the throw and re-folding it. "Anytime. Just try not to go on any more benders with strange women."
Daniel winced, and gave a slow nod. "You have my -- word." He paused for a moment. "Thank you for staying."
John gave a little self conscious chuckle, shaking his head. "You know it's funny... even fully dressed in a strange bed... that was the best sleep I've had in weeks." He paused for a moment. "Thank you."
Daniel watched him silently as he spoke, then nodded very slowly. "Myself -- also. Strange...."
"In your case, I'm sure it was the booze." John gave him a little teasing smile as if to lighten the mood and set the throw on the end of the bed. "I should head out."
"You're leaving?"
"Before I overstay my welcome." The dark haired man wet his lips, nervously. "Daniel... how much do you remember of last night and what you said to me?"
Daniel thought back carefully. "I remember you asking me to -- come home to Shell Beach -- with you."
John nodded slowly. "And you said you would when you were ready. When you were... sure."
Daniel watched him for a long moment, searched the vulnerability in those green eyes. "John. I am sure."
Well shaped lips parted slightly, drawing a soft breath. Then his voice came, forced lightheartedness. "Don't you go being all sappy on me just because I took care of you for one drunken night." He rounded the bed, towards the door. "You do your thinking. I'll be there when you're ready."
"Don't go...." He pushed back the covers, getting out of bed and reaching John at the doorway, who caught the doctor in his arms, drawing him close for a trembling kiss.
It was different in daylight, somehow. More real, full of nerves and tentative, gentle touches, John's fingers ghosting his face, slipping into his hair. Lips parting hesitantly to let the tip of his tongue flick against Daniel's, who accepted the invitation with a soft whimper, letting him taste him, explore the kiss. He pressed closer, and Daniel's breath came a little faster, fingers tangling in the back of his shirt. "John...."
Their lips parted, and John let his forehead rest against his, their faces close enough to feel each other's breath. "Do your thinking," he said, softly. "I need to know that you're sure. About everything. Please."
Daniel hesitated for a long moment, then drew back silently, nodding slowly. "All right."
John smiled warmly, reaching out to draw the pad of his thumb across Daniel's lips, wetting his own. "I'll look forward to it."
Daniel gave a little shiver, still not used to the familiarity of his touch, and kissed his thumb gently, which made John's smile widen. "Take care, John."
The dark haired man leaned in for a feather light kiss before turning, heading out. "You too, Daniel."
~~~~~
The day was quiet, and warm, and Daniel found himself strangely calmer than he'd been in a long time. He bathed and dressed, making a pot of tea and some toast for breakfast, which made him feel rather more human. Finally, he went into his office, removing books from one of his shelves to reveal a half-hidden shelf behind with thin, leather bound volumes journalling everything he could remember, all his years in the darkness, with Them. He moved them to his desk in two neat piles, then sat back and began to read.
He'd hardly revisited them after the initial recording, except to occasionally look up certain details that grew hazy with time. Now it was a little strange to re-read his confused thoughts and feelings from that time, and the emotion that showed through regardless of how analytically he'd tried to discuss everything he went through. As time went on, as he was pulled deeper and deeper into the experiments, he could read of his own despair and pain. But strangely, he finally felt that he could detach himself from the majority of it. Time to put it all in the past and move on.
That night his dreams were strangely disjointed, memories intermingling with strange imagery from his subconscious. But John was at his side, warm and reassuring, and somehow the memories didn't seem frightening anymore at all.
It was almost noon when he woke. He dressed, tidied the apartment, and gave enough food for the rats to last a few days. Then he neatly folded a change of clothes and a few personal items into a small suitcase, and caught the express train to Shell Beach.
He'd created the memory of this place more times that he could count, but now, finally seeing it with his own eyes, he could understand why John loved it so much. It was bright and clean and so entirely opposite from the city, and he found himself smiling without thinking about it. He slipped out of his overcoat, tucking it over one arm and walking along the main road in the town, finding the collection of houses and shops quaint and refreshing.
He hadn't really thought about how he would find out where John lived, but surveying the layout of the town, made an educated guess and turned onto the road that wound towards the lighthouse. Sure enough, he only had to pass a few houses to find the mailbox marked "Murdoch", in front of a house overlooking the beach. Climbing the steps to the porch, he pulled the bell and waited patiently.
John opened the door, barefoot and casual in a light, short sleeved shirt and beige pants. "Daniel!"
"Hello, John. You are -- surprised?"
"No - well, a little... come in." He opened the door wider, watching him with a little wondering smile on his face. "I didn't expect you quite so soon."
"I've done what I -- needed to do," Daniel replied simply.
Good... Oh - let me take your things...."
Daniel surrendered his coat and hat, which were hung on a stand, and the suitcase, which, after a few moments of consideration, John set at the foot of the stairs. The dark haired man turned back to him, still with the same wondering smile. "... how are you?"
"Better," Daniel said softly, moving closer and lifting a hand to cup his face gently. "Much better." Then, only a little nervous, he leaned in to brush his lips gently against his.
John gave a soft sigh against his mouth, arms slipping around him, pulling him in for a longer kiss, warm and yearning. "I'm so glad," he murmured, slipping his fingers up to tangle in Daniel's hair, and Daniel couldn't think of anything nicer than that moment, standing in the warmth and sunlight of John's front room, in his arms, kisses so sweet and tender. Couldn't feel anything other than a warm build of adoration and desire, more intense than he could have imagined, and he gave a soft, shuddering moan against his mouth, almost overwhelmed by it.
"Are you ok?" John's fingers stroked through his hair, pulling back just enough to look at him, green eyes concerned.
Daniel nodded silently, not quite trusting his voice at first. "Yes. Oh yes. It just... it's so good, John."
The other man smiled, with just a hint of cheekiness and promise. "This? We're only just getting started, doc." He leaned in to nuzzle his hair, arms tightening around him, voice softer. "Been thinking of you all day...."
Daniel gave a little shiver at the sensation, letting himself indulge in the scent of him, the feel of his dark curls against his skin. "Myself -- as well..."
"Good..." John's voice was almost a purr, and he pulled back with a smile. "Should I take your things upstairs? I have a guest room... but I'm afraid isn't made up. So you're welcome to take my bed...." He smirked, and Daniel laughed.
"You're very sure of yourself -- aren't you, John?" He left his shoes at the door, following him upstairs.
He gave a little shrug, still smiling, eyes full of amusement. "Oh, I'll take the couch, of course. What kind of a host do you think I am?"
"Oh - but I wouldn't dream of -- forcing you from your bed in -- your own home," he replied returning his playfulness.
"Well, I suppose if you insist..." John opened the door to the master bedroom, which was bright and airy, and set Daniel's suitcase down on a chair. "As long as you don't snore."
Daniel gave a wry smile. "I'm afraid I don't -- breathe well enough for that."
John regarded him seriously. "I think I can fix that, if you like..." he wet his lips. "What did They do, if you don't mind me asking?
Daniel pushed away memories of a leather gloved hand at his throat and shook his head. "I don't remember, I'm afraid. I assume something to make it -- more difficult for me to escape..."
He saw a flash of anger on John's face, and determination. "Here... lean back and try to stay still for me..." he shut the bedroom door, pressing Daniel back against it, starting to unbutton his shirt and vest. Daniel gave a little laugh in protest, and John smiled, leaning up to kiss him gently. "Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything to you yet. Just easier if I can touch your skin. Humans are more complicated than buildings." He tugged the shirt and vest both from his shoulders, off his arms, but Daniel caught his hands as they reached for the bottom of his cotton undershirt.
"John..." he tried to fight down a rush of nerves, of fear. "You won't like what you see...."
"It doesn't matter to me. It doesn't change who you are."
"Even if they're from him?" Daniel replied softly, feeling a throb of remembered agony churn at his stomach.
John hesitated for only a second, then his eyes narrowed slightly, his determination back in full force. "Then I'll erase every touch of him from you. Everything. Anything you want me to do. Do you trust me?"
Daniel managed a little nod, releasing John's hands slowly and letting him strip the thin cotton from his form. He turned his eyes away, heart pounding in his chest, suddenly afraid to see John's reaction. He heard a soft hiss, felt his fingers touch the strange swirling pattern of shiny scarring, red and angry, on his chest, amidst thin white lines of knife scars. "Is this...."
Daniel closed his eyes with a shudder. "A burn. Hot metal."
"They BRANDED you?" he blurted, horrified.
He looked back to John, a little fearfully, and saw a flurry of emotions pass over him - horror, rage, despair, then finally that same determination, and his arms slipped around Daniel's shoulders, hugging him fiercely. "God, Daniel, Daniel..." his name as a helpless moan, John's lips pressed to his hair. "God... I should have torn him limb from limb when I had the chance..."
He let himself cling to John with a shudder, overwhelmed by the outpouring of emotion. Finding his voice finally. "Take it from me."
John pulled back, eyes dark. "It will hurt." He warned, voice low. "Surface work really hurts, because the nerves are so concentrated...."
Daniel gave him a small, mirthless smile. "I'll wager it won't hurt -- as much as it did then. Do it."
John gave a decisive noise and pressed his palm to Daniel's skin, over the scar. "Brace yourself."
It didn't hurt as much, but it was close, and it lasted longer. Pain sharp and hot shot out from John's hand through him, like his skin was being peeled from him. He gave a gasping cry, hands finding and grabbing John's shoulders desperately, clutching hard at his flesh, fingers digging into his skin. He clenched his jaw hard against the agony, trying to endure, trying not to move. He could feel John shudder under his hands, breathless, but the pain was too intense to react to it. His twisted muscles spasmed violently, triggered by the pain, by the adrenaline that rushed through his veins, and were it not for John holding him in place, he would have doubled over in agony, gasping for breath, the all too familiar blackness swimming at the edges of his vision.
Then it stopped, as quickly as it had started, leaving a soft warmth in its place, and John was supporting him, pulling him down onto the bed with him. "Shhh... I'm so sorry, love...."
...love? He tried to focus on John's voice, trying to calming his breathing, the trembling of his limbs. "'s all right," he managed to gasp, and slowly the gentle touch of John's hands smoothing over his skin calmed him.
"I've never had anyone react that violently before," John murmured softly. "I'm so sorry..."
"You've... done this before...?"
John cleared his throat. "Well... you told me to get a hobby..." his fingers stroked slowly over Daniel's skin, soft and soothing. "If you're up to it... I'd like to try your lungs... you almost blacked out just then, didn't you?"
Daniel gave a little nod. "It's all right... I'm used to it..."
John smiled sadly, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "You shouldn't have to be... and I'm afraid you'll pass out on me later when I try to do nice things to you." A little teasing smile, to try and lift the mood, which did make Daniel feel a little better.
He gave John a brave smile. "Go ahead."
John urged him onto his back, kneeling beside him, hands stroking over skin that was blessedly smooth now to rest lightly over his chest. "Breathe as deep as you can for me? ... Again? Good." He wet his lips, a little nervously. "It might take a little longer than last time... just try to keep breathing, all right? As slow and deep as you can. It should get easier as I work. Try and focus on counting your breaths." He hesitated, then shifted to kneel straddling his hips, thighs tight against his sides, hands still on his chest, pressing him firmly to the bed. "Easier if you can't move as much... want to grab my shoulders?"
Daniel nodded mutely, trying not to feel as anxious about this as he was and simultaneously trying to ignore the soft pulse of pleasure that came from John's weight and warmth on top of him. He curled his fingers around John's shoulders, focusing on keeping his breathing careful, slow and calm. "I'm ready when -- you are."
John didn't reply, but as he exhaled he felt an intense pressure take hold of his chest, throbs of pain that quickly grew more intense. He fought to control his breathing, despite the sensation that someone was pressing down painfully hard on his ribcage. Counting each breath as John had recommended. (Seven, eight, nine....)
It was starting to burn, to grow sharper, harder to bear. His fingers clenched at John's shoulders, digging into his skin, and he could feel the other man's muscles tense, every part of his body perfectly controlled, concentrating, eyes closed as he worked. He'd learned well, and a small part of Daniel, detached from the hot, pulsing pain, felt a strange sense of pride. Somehow he was acutely aware of the man on top of him, every place they touched, the heat of John's hands on his skin, a firm, strong heartbeat in his ears, a rush of sound, on top of his own erratic one. It grew harder to breathe against the pressure, but he struggled on, diaphragm aching, straining to pull breath. (Eighteen, nineteen....)
His vision was starting to swim again, so he closed his eyes, and as he did so the throbbing turned sharp, hard, like fingers thrusting deep into his skin, between his ribs and into his lungs. A harsh, gasping cry escaped his lips, and his body jerked tense, bucking up against John's hips, against the hands that held him firmly in place, spine screaming agony at the abuse the tension dealt to his body. (Thirty one, thirty two....)
His muscles started to seize again from the stress of being held tense, pulling painfully against old injuries and scar tissue, wracking his body with helpless shocks of agony. John's arms were trembling, his own breath coming in sharp gasps with Daniel's, and the beat of his heart was faster, dancing with Daniel's in his ears. Still, John managed to hold his body in place, hold Daniel down. "Just a... little more...."
He couldn't focus enough to reply, couldn't focus on anything but counting, trying to breathe through it, to ignore the trembling and painful spasms of his muscles, the agonizing heat in his chest, the pressure. Then, it suddenly stopped, and he could breathe, gulping huge, desperate gasps of air, feeling his lungs and diaphragm stretch deliciously as they inflated fully for the first time in he couldn't remember how long. And slowly, the rush in his ears faded along with the strange connection he'd felt to the man on top of him. His body relaxed, the complaints of his spine and muscles receding, though it left his whole body weak and trembling, in a cold sweat that chilled him. The blackness started to recede from his mind, chest heaving under John's hands, and he blinked open his eyes to look at him again.
John managed a weak smile, trembling as much as he was, breath coming in soft pants. His skin was pale, and his hands, one of which lifted to cup Daniel's cheek gently, were cold and shaking. "You all right, love...?"
That word again, and he smiled despite the exhaustion, the lingering twinges of pain. "Oh yes, John. Thank you, so much. You look like hell though...."
John swallowed hard, eyes closing for a minute. "Lungs... much harder than skin 'n bone," he managed. "Haven't... tried that before... so detailed and... complicated...." With that his body gave out, collapsing beside him, one leg still half over Daniel's body.
"John?!"
" 'm ok," the dark haired man murmured, exhaustion obvious in his voice. "Just need rest... you too...."
Daniel struggled to push himself up, grabbing the comforter that was neatly folded at the end of the bed and managing to yank it over them as he collapsed again, curling into John, limbs tangled together, letting the oblivion of sleep take him.
~~~~~
He awoke sometime in the night, his body reminding him of the call of nature. The room was dark, though still warm, moonlight streaming through the sheers on the windows. John still slept beside him, breathing deep and peaceful, and it took him a moment to recall everything had happened. Then he let himself pull a deep breath, letting it out in a euphoric sigh. Yes... that was worth the pain.
He extracted himself carefully from John's embrace, but the other man did little more than murmur in his sleep, shifting a little as Daniel go out of bed. It took him a few wrong guesses to find which door lead to the bathroom, one of which revealed, to his amusement, a completely made up guest room.
He stared at himself in the mirror after washing his hands, wondering a little. The scars on his chest were almost completely gone, the skin smooth and healthy again, through with far less body hair than he remembered. More importantly, the burn was gone, the horrible, blatant reminder of Them, of him, that had left him hating to see his own body. He smoothed a hand over his skin, wondering a little. It felt normal. Real. Like nothing had ever happened. He found himself smiling, and turned off the light, heading back to John's room. He took off his belt for comfort but left his trousers on to maintain some semblance of modesty, setting his glasses on the bedside table and slipping carefully back under the quilt next to John, who curled up to him sleepily.
Daniel pressed his lips to dark curls, murmuring softly. "... I love you...."
He heard a soft, sleepy murmur of agreement, and fell back asleep.
~~~~~
In the morning he awoke to a gentle touch on his skin, fingers warm and gentle, stroking over his back. He gave a soft, approving noise, opening his eyes to find John watching him quietly with that same little wondering smile from the day before.
"Sorry... I didn't mean to wake you...."
Daniel shook his head slightly. "No no... I had a very good sleep."
"Feeling better then?"
Daniel let himself indulge again in a slow, deep breath, eyes falling closed for a moment. "I feel amazing," he said frankly, meeting John's gaze. "But how are you? I didn't mean to leave you so exhausted...."
John chuckled. "Don't worry about it. A good long sleep is all I needed, though I rather hoped you'd leave me exhausted for other reasons." He smirked, leaning in to press a kiss to his forehead, voice soft. "Just glad I can help...."
Daniel curled closer to him, closing his eyes and savoring the moment. "Thank you, John. So much...."
Another soft kiss, voice warm and affectionate. "Anytime." He pulled back, sitting up. "You hungry? Breakfast?" He was, and sheepishly admitted so, to which John smiled. "Ok. You stay right here, I'll be back in a few. How do you like your eggs? The bathroom is down the hall, by the way."
"Sunny side up, please, and soft. And I know, I found it last night. Located right next to what I believe is your guestroom?" He sat as well, giving John a teasing smile, and was rewarded by the other man's laughter.
"Oh yeah, that one. Ah well, you're here now. Too late." He leaned in swiftly to kiss him, warm and gentle. "Don't disappear, handsome."
Daniel smiled, finding himself strangely charmed by the endearment, no matter how inaccurate he found it. "I won't." He did leave to utilize the bathroom, pulling on his shirt a little self consciously and half buttoning it before doing so. He splashed cool water on his face, running wet fingers through disheveled hair, feeling somehow like he was dreaming and trying to convince himself that it was real.
Opening the bedroom door to see a breakfast tray float by his head didn't help things much. He glanced down to the stairs to see John following, carrying another tray, a teapot bobbing along through the air behind him. "I can see that being here is going to be... very interesting."
John grinned as he passed. "Come eat. I can't cook to save my life, but I can cheat up a damn tasty meal any time you like." He'd pushed back the quilt they'd used the night before, and perched cross legged at the head of the bed, the trays landing in front of him while the teapot continued to hover. He patted the bed beside him. "Breakfast in bed ok?"
Daniel gave a little nod, sitting down carefully, eyeing the floating teapot nervously as he did so. "It's strange... that with all the unnatural things I've seen happen by way of Tuning in the past five years... that a floating teapot surprises me. I should be used to this by now."
John chuckled, plucking the teapot out of the air and pouring them both a cup, setting it down on the bedside table as he did so. He frowned a little at the trays, and a few moments later the sugar bowl and creamer came in through the door to join them. "Sugar?"
Daniel accepted it carefully out of the air, adding it and milk to his tea and sipping it carefully, relieved to discover that it tasted like regular tea. Quite good, in fact. "Thank you."
John motioned to the trays, which were loaded with various breakfast foods. "Have as much or as little as you like. I wasn't sure what you wanted, so I just made everything. It won't go to waste if it's not eaten."
"And it's... real food? I suppose it must be, all the food supplies in the city are created by their machines, after all...."
"I make it better than the machines," John remarked smugly, adding jam to a piece of toast and munching on it.
Daniel smiled, taking advantage of the plate of eggs, which were indeed sunny side up and perfectly soft. "This is very good. Thank you."
John smirked, leaning back against the headboard with his toast. "No use having godlike powers if you can't enjoy a few luxuries now and then." He regarded Daniel quietly for a few moments. "How long do you think you'll stay?"
"I can stay for a couple of days..."
"Only?" John's voice was light, but his expression betrayed disappointment.
Daniel smiled reassuringly, freeing a hand to squeeze John's. "At least before I need to go back into the city for new clothes and to feed my rats."
John tilted his head slightly, smiling. "Lab rats?"
"Formerly. Pets now. Bianco, Weiss and Niveus. They are surprisingly affectionate, all things considered." He sipped his tea.
John considered this for a moment. "You could bring them here with you. I mean - if you wanted to enjoy Shell Beach for a while. I don't mind spending time in the city...."
Daniel set the empty teacup down, speaking quietly. "Wherever you are, John, I will stay."
John wet his lips. "You really mean that?"
He gave a slow nod. "I hope that we can... help each other heal. You’ve done so much for me all ready. Let me return that."
John shook his head slowly. “You don’t owe me anything, Daniel. Don’t talk about that. You saved my life.”
“And you mine. So we come into this as equals.” Daniel wet his lips, and his voice, when he spoke again, was huskier than he expected. “I want you.” A rush of desire as the words left his lips, and no hint of shame.
John’s eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, dark and full of promise. “... you done breakfast?”
“I am.”
John turned from him long enough only to have the remains of breakfast take itself away, then lifted a hand to cup Daniel’s cheek, drawing him closer to claim his mouth. It was electric, with none of the previous days’ hesitation or nervousness, and perhaps the intimate agony of the healing had removed any final barriers between them. Daniel let his fingers slip up into John’s hair, tangling in his dark curls, holding him to the kisses, returning John’s need and desire. His lips parted eagerly at the teasing flick of the other man’s tongue, letting him taste him, claim him, whimpering softly against John’s lips.
His lover’s fingers found the bottom of his half buttoned shirt, slipping up under it to stroke lightly above the waistband of his trousers, teasing his skin, making him shiver. John’s voice was husky against his mouth. “Thought about this so much... now that you’re here, I hardly know what to do with you....”
Daniel gave a soft chuckle. “We have all the time in the world to do anything you like,” he murmured, indulging himself in nuzzling John’s jaw, loving the scent of him. He let his fingers smooth over his shoulders, down to where the white shirt buttoned, popping them undone slowly, one by one, his fingers teasing his bare skin as it was revealed. John let out a soft sigh of appreciation, tilting his head back a little to allow Daniel better access to his neck. The doctor took advantage of the invitation, nuzzling his skin, kissing and sucking gently at the soft spot just under his ear, enjoying the way it made John gasp and groan. Buttons no longer a barrier, he tugged the shirt from John’s shoulders, stroking his hands hungrily over his skin, his chest and arms as it to touch every inch of him.
John was panting softly, fingers tugging at Daniel’s buttons blindly, managing to get them undone and his shirt off to stroke him as well, fingers finding a nipple and teasing it gently, then a little more firmly as Daniel arched into the touch with a soft moan. He pulled back to catch Daniel’s mouth again, yearning and a little demanding, shifting to press closer to him, hands smoothing over his skin as if to memorize the feel of him.
He tugged John to lay back with him, urging the dark haired man half on top of him, the bare skin of his chest deliciously warm where it pressed to his. John didn't seem to need any more encouragement, and pressed one thigh pressed between Daniel’s, rocking his hips against his slowly, and he could feel John against his leg, already hard like he was. He rocked back against him, slowly getting used to grinding with him, and gasped against John’s mouth through breathless kisses at the exquisite pulses of sensation it brought.
“So good....” John breathed, hips rocking a little harder, and then Daniel felt his lover’s hand slip between them, cupping his cock through his slacks, then tugging at the button and zipper to free him. John’s kisses grew more desperate, fingers curling around his erection and stroking him, warm and slow and entirely human, and Daniel let his hips rock up into the touch with a breathless groan.
“Yes....” He found himself gasping, fingers moving to fumble with John’s pants as well, trying to keep his mind about him despite the warm pulses of sensation from John’s fingers. Finally catching John’s erection in his fingers, stroking him in return.
John let out a soft expletive, letting his forehead rest against Daniel’s, green eyes meeting blue, a little unfocused with pleasure. “Ahhh, god....”
Daniel gave a little shivering moan in return, gasping, shifting his hips to angle closer to John’s, pressing their lengths together, and John chuckled breathlessly, tangling his fingers with Daniel’s to help. Teasing, stroking together, hips arching to grind just a little, Daniel’s breath coming in breathless pants, entirely helpless against the pleasure of his touch.
John’s voice, a little husky with desire, a little distracted by it. “Want me... to go down on you?”
The thought of it made Daniel shiver in anticipated pleasure, but it wasn’t what he needed. “No... I....” he stumbled over his words, fumbling, suddenly self conscious.
John watched him carefully, trying not to seem to anxious, his hand slowing its caress. “Yes, love?”
Daniel glanced away for a moment. “I don’t... want to ask you to do something that you – that you can’t....”
“Shhh....” John moved a hand up to cup his cheek, stroking his features gently. Green eyes catching his, voice still husky. “Let me take care of you. Tell me how to please you.”
Daniel closed his eyes, fighting through the uncertainty. He leaned closer to press his face to John's hair, forcing himself to speak finally, words a whispered admission. "I need... I need to submit to you..."
"Of course..." John's answer was immediately supportive, but he pulled back to search Daniel's gaze again. "You sure? I don't want to hurt you..."
Daniel gave the smallest nod, silently begging for him to understand. "I - I need this. My choice. Please..."
"Shh..." John leaned down to kiss him, warm and reassuring. "Told you I'd take care of you. Just promise you'll tell me if you want me to stop...?"
Daniel nodded, arching up to catch his mouth, letting the passion of his kisses push away his nervousness. Letting the touch of John's fingers on his skin, stroking his waist and pelvis, drive away the hesitancy. He arched a little to help John remove the rest of his clothes, ignoring the complaints of his spine to arch his hips from the bed, kick off the clothing, his own hands working at John's, helping him strip. He tugged him closer, feeling a sudden need to be close to him, covered in the warmth and security of his form. And it was delicious, the feel of John's bare skin against his, legs tangled together, hips rocking, grinding, bringing pleasure in warm pulses that escaped his lips in little breathless moans.
His lover pulled back, breathless, lips pink from the force of their kisses, letting his eyes wander slowly over his body, fingers trailing in their aftermath, down his chest and over his hips, teasing the base of his cock, making Daniel whimper. John urged him to arch off the bed enough to stuff a pillow under his hips, before leaning down to replace his fingers with his mouth, nuzzling the soft whirls of hair, dropping teasingly soft kisses up the underside of his erection, flicking his tongue lightly against the sensitive skin. Then he took the head of his cock in his mouth, and for a time Daniel couldn't think of anything beyond how good it felt, the slick heat of his mouth, lips and tongue working on him, coaxing shivering cries from his throat. He couldn't think about anything as John's fingers stroked his ass gently, massaged his opening, slick and wet, pressing slowly and carefully into him with none of the aching harshness his body remembered and half expected, just exquisite pressure and sensation crawling up his spine. He found himself rocking back against them instinctively, craving more penetration, his breath coming in ragged gasps of pleasure, speaking without thinking, begging. "Oh god, please, John, please...!"
His lover gave a low groan around him, which sent the most incredible vibrations of sensation through him, pulling back and moving up to kiss him hungrily, lips a little salty from his skin. Daniel slipped a hand down to pleasure him, making him shiver against him, and John pressed a small bottle into his other hand, breathless. "Use this...."
The liquid was slick and slightly cool on his fingers, slick against John's skin as he stroked his fingers over his erection, coating him. "John... please..."
John complied wordlessly, urging Daniel's legs up around his waist, knees almost tucked under his arms, which surprisingly his body didn't protest about. The scientist in him wondered momentarily about the mechanics of such a position, but was quickly silenced as John slipped an arm under his hips to help support him and started to carefully rock inside him.
For a moment, he tensed, body reacting without conscious thought, and John froze, panting softly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. "You ok...?"
Daniel drew a few deep breaths, focusing on his warmth, forcing his body to relax, to rock up against him, gasping a little at the sensations. "Don't stop!"
He heard John give a soft hiss against his hair at the movement, and started to move again, rocking slowly deeper, breath coming in a low, throaty moan against his hair. "Ahhh, Daniel.... so good!"
Daniel arched closer to him, finding John's mouth with his, kisses breathless and shuddering. He tightened his legs around him just a little, moving with him as much as he could, trying to encourage more. It was a little uncomfortable, but not painful, not in the least, and the pleasure was still there - the shudders of sensation that crawled up his spine, white hot, to his brain, the aching gratification of being filled. He tangled one hand in John's hair, loosing himself to breathless, needy kisses, surrounded and filled by the warmth of his body, the sunlight streaming bright and golden through the curtains. He couldn't speak, couldn't do anything but gasp for breath and buck up closer to him, craving more of him, needing to loose himself in this light and warmth and pleasure.
He felt John's arm move from around his hips, slip between them to stroke him, shuddering against him, gasping Daniel's name against his mouth almost desperately. He pulled his knees higher, angling for deeper penetration despite the faint complaints from his spine, and suddenly it all came together just right, John hitting his sweet spot, sending hot shocks of ecstasy through him. His breath came in helpless cries as his climax built swiftly, fingers digging into John's shoulders despite himself, and he pressed his face to John's hair, closing his eyes tight. The orgasmic flood of sensation that took him came paired with the most incredible intensity of emotion - bliss and joy, relief, and love so strong he thought his heart would burst like the pleasure that rushed through him, stars behind his eyes, shuddering in John's arms.
Somewhere in the ecstasy of it all he was aware of John's own climax, hot and deep inside him, John's face buried in his shoulder, helplessly gasping his name over and over. He let his fingers release John's shoulders, slipping one hand up to tangle in his dark curls, feeling a little dazed by it all and still rather overwhelmed, emotion making him tear, making him gasp to catch his breath. "Ahh, John...."
His lover gave a soft whimper, panting, pushing himself up just enough to look at him. "You all right, love...?"
He swallowed hard against it all, finding himself smiling, pressing soft, breathless kisses to his lips, "Yes. Oh yes, a thousand times." He gave a little trembling laugh, fingers stroking through John's hair, his voice soft when he spoke. "I needed that. So much. It was so very good."
The dark haired man smiled, leaning in to gently nuzzle away the tears on his cheeks, voice low and soft. "I needed you...." he murmured, pressing his lips gently to his temple, and Daniel closed his eyes against another rush of emotion, overwhelmed by his care and gentleness.
"Love you, John...."
A soft, pleased noise, and John's lips pressed gently to the corner of his scarred eye. "Somehow I've always loved you... even as the little boy I never was." A smile as he pulled back to look at him, green eyes sparkling with joy and good humor. "My handsome doctor."
Daniel laughed again, slowly calming, fingers trailing over John's cheek. "Handsome? You know that's not true...."
John gave him a mock glare, still smiling. "Hush. No arguing after sex. Let me get us cleaned up."
He let John care for him without complaint, who produced a cool damp cloth that felt delicious against skin hot and sweat-streaked from sex. Curling up to him afterward, John's body was warm and strong and protective, arms wrapped tight around him. He'd expected to ache as he had in the past, from the strain of the position, from sex itself, but somehow he just felt a warm sense of well being, relaxed and at ease and without pain.
"This was the kind of exhaustion I was talking about," John murmured softly, fingers lazily stroking up and down Daniel's spine. "So good...." A little chuckle. "So much nicer than a girl...”
Daniel chuckled softly at his declaration. “I'll have to take your word on it.”
John smiled, shifting just enough to meet his gaze, warm and tender. “It is. More intense, more passionate... or maybe it’s just because it’s you. Kissing you entirely ruined me for anyone else, you know.”
Daniel gave a soft, self conscious laugh. “I'll make sure to make the sacrifice worth it, then.” He leaned closer to kiss him, warm and languid, smiling against his mouth at the little contented noise that came from John's throat. "Not that I'm complaining, love, but... you seem very... comfortable. With... ah...."
"Having sex with a man?" John's voice sounded amused.
"Well... yes."
His lover chuckled softly, fingers still stroking over his back. "Well, the hookers were good for learning something...."
Daniel pulled back to look at him again with a little bit of alarm and confusion, mind searching through memories of the thousands of identities in the city. "There aren't any male street walkers here...."
"Oh, no no. But you know... there's things some of them will do...." He gave him a little sheepish smile. "Just ended up with a couple of them asking me who Danielle was."
The doctor choked a little. "You didn't!"
"Maybe once or twice." John admitted, chuckling. He cupped Daniel's face with one hand, tracing the lines of his mouth with his thumb. "I'm entirely yours now. You know that, don't you? As long as you'll let me be."
Daniel lowered his eyes self-consciously at the sentiment. "You may tire of me...."
He let John tilt his face up to his, yielding to warm kisses, John's fingers stroking his features. "Come now," he murmured, "If a head full of memories of you working me like a drill Sargent all the time aren't enough to make me tire of you, do you really think that a life of mind blowing sex will be?"
He chuckled, feeling his cheeks heat a little at the reference to sex. "The memories weren't that intrusive, were they?"
"Daniel, you interrupted me while I was having sex with my wife."
His cheeks colored darker. "That was completely unintentional."
"Mmm-hmm."
"John, I assure you...."
"Shh..." John grinned, pressing the pad of his thumb gently to Daniel's lips to silence him. "Make it up to me?"
He kissed his thumb, smiling. "Gladly. Any time you like, John."
"Good." John curled a little closer, arms around him protectively, nuzzling his hair.
~~~Fin~~~
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