A/N: Ok, so I'm kind of really nervous about this fic. The first one got such nice reviews and I'm not sure this can live up to it, but yeah. I thought I'd post it anyway. After all, I can always take it down, huh?
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing you recognise.
WARNINGS: References to prostitution. Sexual assault of a minor. Mental instability. Slash. Probably language. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THIS COULD BE A PROBLEM.
-o-O-o-
The room he was dragged into was warm and clouded with steam. It would have been a relief if it weren't for the man holding him tightly as another stripped him of his clothes. He was shoved in the shower of water for only a second before being tugged back out, spluttering. His arms were held high above his head as one of the men efficiently scrubbed him with soap. He hated lavender. He hated showers. You never got one unless…
Greased fingers were pushing inside him. He was fighting to break free, twisting wildly like a captured animal, but it did no good, the hands kept him pinned to the wall. He threw his head back and felt it connect to something that gave a grunt, but the hold did not loosen. Instead he was twisted around.
"Stop fighting," hissed the man, big, burly and enraged. "If we don't prepare you, you'll be ripped to shreds and it'll be weeks before you can so much as sit up. We're doing you a favour."
It wasn't a favour. It was intrusive, unwanted, violating. It made him tremble, made tears leak from his eyes even as he swore he would not cry. Made his own body betray him. A man laughed when he saw and slapped his naked arse.
"This one is ready for it, alright. Might want to lay off a bit there, Mike, or the john won't get his money's worth."
It was better than the alternative. That was…
"Don't fight him," said the man, calmly. "Let him have what he wants and it'll go better for you."
He was outside a door. It opened into darkness. He didn't want to go through. Something bad was waiting in there. It wanted to destroy him. He could feel its hunger. A hand landed heavily on his shoulder and shoved him forward.
He was woken by the shrill, distraught wailing of a small child, echoing off the walls and reverberating around his skull. He was shaking. He couldn't stop.
"Alex."
Why couldn't he stop? He was safe, he was fine. Where was that screaming coming from?
"Alex."
There was nothing wrong. He was… Where was he? Right. He was in his room. In his own bed. No one could hurt him here. Not unless he let them. Who was screaming? It was starting to irritate him.
"Alex!"
Someone was calling him. Shaking him. Why? Wasn't he shaking enough? Why was the child still screaming? Everything was ok here. Everything was fine.
Something stung his cheek and he blinked.
He was screaming.
Abruptly, he shut his mouth. Somehow, the silence was worse. Half-imagined whispers crowded in on him, shivering around his ears, leering at him, giving life to a hundred lewd suggestions.
"Alex?" Something warm rested on his shoulder and he started, scattering the menacing croons back to the shadows.
"Tom," he sighed, finally relaxing. Tom was here. Tom didn't belong in the same world as those voices, so the voices couldn't be here.
"Go back to sleep," whispered his friend.
Warm arms wrapped tenderly around him, trying to tug him back to the waiting softness of the sheets and the gentle embrace of Morpheus.
He didn't want to contaminate them. It was unthinkable.
"Jus' going for a shower," he mumbled, stumbling out of bed. He needed to get their dirt off him. Needed to keep Tom pure.
-o-O-o-
Tom waited for Alex to get out of the shower. He could hear Jack pacing outside the door, but didn't dare open it to reassure her. Alex wouldn't let her in the room at night. It didn't matter that she would never harm him, that she loved him like a brother, that she had all but raised him. Just being an adult was enough to set Alex off. The first night Alex had been home, she had rushed in to help him.
He had fallen to his knees and begged her not to hurt him.
That was why Tom was here. He knew the truth. He was too young to register as a threat. He would do anything for Alex.
An hour later, the shower was still going, and Tom was getting worried.
He got up and knocked on the door.
"Alex? Are you ok?"
There was no reply.
He knocked once, twice more then steeled himself and entered.
Unmoving, Alex sat, curled up in the corner of the shower, staring, catatonic, at the water that washed over him and separated him from the rest of the world.
The temperature dial was set at its highest, Tom noted, as he switched off the spray, but the water was freezing cold.
At least it had helped sooth the irritation from having the temperature too high, but the spy's skin was still scrubbed red raw.
Cautiously, Tom leaned over and, gripping Alex's elbow, steered the blond out of the shower and over to the radiator and the waiting towel.
Ten minutes later, Alex was compliantly settling back into the bed, turning on his side and apparently going to sleep.
Tom watched as his best friend curled in on himself. His jaw clenched and his eyes glistened with tears he refused to acknowledge.
He wasn't sure how long he could do this.
-o-O-o-
Another night, another nightmare, thought Tom wearily, as he awoke to an elbow to the ribs.
Immediately he started shivering and realised that, in his thrashing, Alex had stolen the duvet and had twisted it around himself. One corner was wrapped around his neck and his wrists were tangled up in the pillow. Scared little whimpers were coming out of his throat, as if he was too scared to scream.
"Alex," whispered Tom. "Alex wake up."
He reached out and touched his friend's shoulder, gently, and Alex woke with a start.
For a moment he simply stared into Tom's eyes, before softly reaching out and stroking Tom's hand with his own.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry, I keep waking you up. You must be exhausted."
"It's fine," said Tom. "How are you?"
"I- I'm fine," the blond stuttered.
"Alex," said Tom, reproachfully.
"I… I can still feel them," he whispered, horror obvious in his voice. "Their hands, all over me."
Tom winced and tried to yank his hand away, but Alex held on.
"Don't. Please, don't. I can't… It's just you, there. I can't feel them. I- I-"
"Hey, hey!" interrupted Tom, gently. "It's ok. I won't do anything you don't want to."
Alex let out a soft sob.
"Touch me," he pleaded. "I don't want to feel them anymore."
"Alex," said Tom, hesitantly.
"Please," whispered Alex. "I'll do anything I swear, just get them to stop."
"I-I don't want anything!" yelped Tom, quietly.
"I'm s-sorry," stammered Alex, suddenly rocketing from desperate to terrified. "I s-shouldn't have asked. Of course you wouldn't- wouldn't want to. I'm hideous. Dirty. I-I'm so…"
"No!" yelped Tom. "No, you're not, don't say that!"
Alex froze and nodded.
"You're not hideous," said Tom, his voice low and forceful. "Or dirty. You're my best friend, and none of what happened is your fault. You understand?"
"But I can still feel them," whispered Alex, piteously.
"Okay," said Tom, calming his breathing. "Okay. Can you feel my hand on your shoulder?"
Alex nodded.
"It's just me, yeah?"
"Yeah," breathed Alex.
"Can you tell me what it feels like?"
"It's… warm. And heavy. Safe."
Tom smiled encouragement, and slowly moved his hand across his friend's chest, massaging his skin in small repetitive circles.
"Just concentrate on my hand," whispered Tom, pitching his voice so it was low and soothing.
Slowly, he traced his way down across his friend's firm body, kneading away the feeling of their hands from his skin.
"You're ok," he whispered. "I'm here, I've got you. They can't hurt you anymore."
He tried to ignore the intimacy, forcing his mind from away from the first time he and Alex had gone to bed together. He didn't think Alex could take his friend hitting on him at the moment.
When his steady touch moved down to the blonde's hips, he found evidence of just how wrong he was.
"Please," whimpered Alex, bucking up against him.
Tom was only human. He couldn't resist the very willing body beneath him, nor Alex's pleas for 'harder' and 'faster'.
Alex came with a gasp, arching his back, and Tom followed him over the edge as he shuddered around him.
It was only as he pulled carefully out that he saw the blood.
-o-O-o-
Tom shuddered as bright sunlight lit his eyes. Last night had not been good. The thought that he'd hurt his best friend, had eaten at him and driven him into a rage against both himself and Alex. He had yelled at him for not telling him it was hurting. Alex saying that he deserved it had only made it worse and a red mist had filled his vision. After hissing at Alex that he did not deserve it, no matter what he thought in his 'fucked up little head', Tom had stormed out, leaving Alex alone.
He'd found Jack outside, listening but afraid to go in lest she make it worse, and had broken down, crying in her arms like a small child. He just felt so used. And he knew that that was illogical, that Alex hadn't been thinking like that, that he was trying to get over an extremely traumatic event and wasn't thinking straight.
The thing was, knowing that didn't help. He still felt betrayed by Alex, and he wondered if all this was worth it, when it seemed that their friendship might not survive.
He pushed the thought out of his head. Of course their friendship would survive, he wouldn't allow it to be otherwise.
He had just about managed to leaver himself off the couch when Alex appeared at the top of the stairs.
For a moment, the two boys simply stared at each other, before Alex slowly came down the staircase towards him.
"I'm sorry," blurted Tom. "About last night, I mean. It's just that you were hurt and it felt as if you'd used me to hurt you, and I don't ever want to do that. I was just…"
"Angry."
"No. well, yes, but not just that. I was… hurt, and upset. Angry at myself and you. But I shouldn't have yelled at you. It wasn't fair."
Alex frowned slightly. "But why would hurting me upset you?" he asked, sounding genuinely confused.
Tom stared in disbelief, then tugged Alex over to the sofa and sat them both down.
Looking seriously into the other's eyes, Tom began to speak in a low, urgent voice.
"Alex, I want you to listen to me because I don't want to have to repeat myself. I do not want to hurt you. You are my best friend and I never want to do anything to jeopardise that. When I hurt you, it feels like I've betrayed you. And I can't bear that."
Alex was looking at him like he was a rabid tiger that had suddenly rested its head in his lap and asked to be stroked, but at least he was nodding, and there seemed to be a glimmer of understanding in his eyes.
"I'm not going to hurt you again," said Tom. "And I want your word that you'll tell me immediately if I do."
Alex looked at him for a long moment, then finally nodded.
"I promise," he whispered.
It wasn't much, Tom knew that, but it showed that Alex wanted this friendship as much as he did and that neither of them were about to give up on it. Tom knew he could get through this, and anything else that the world cared to throw at him, as long as Alex was there.
-o-O-o-
Six months later
Alex had been distracted all afternoon. Tom had even managed to beat him at football when they had had a kick around in the backyard. Now they were both sprawled on the couch in front of the TV, surfing through channels for something to watch, and it was becoming even more obvious.
Tom looked over at Alex as his friend bit his lip yet again and raised an eyebrow.
"Hey, how about Die Hard?" he asked, switching onto some kids programme with the characters singing a song that would no doubt make him want to saw off his ears in about five seconds time.
"Yeah, sounds good," said Alex absently, and Tom stared.
"Ok," he asked, suspiciously. "What's wrong?"
Alex jumped and sat up nervously.
"What makes you think there's something wrong?" he asked.
"You mean apart from the fact I just put on the Tweeneys, called it Die Hard, and you didn't even notice? Nothing at all! Now what is it?"
Alex pursed his lips, hands idly knotting the corner of his t-shirt.
"It's nothing bad, exactly," he said, nervously.
"So spit it out," said Tom, now thoroughly amused.
"Well… it's just, now I'm back to normal-"
Tom interrupted him with a snort. "Alex, there is no way on earth that you could ever be referred to as normal."
"Alright," snapped Alex, waspishly. "But you know what I mean. Now I'm not panicking about a mission, or recovering from one…"
He broke off, and glanced, embarrassed at Tom.
"There's something I want to try," he admitted. "Don't feel obliged, or anything. In fact, tell me to fuck off if you want, I just-"
"Alex?" said Tom, raising an eyebrow. "You're babbling."
"Oh. Right. Sorry."
"So what is this thing you want to try?" asked Tom.
Alex bit his lip again.
"Maybe it'd be easier if I just showed you," muttered the blond.
"Show me wha-"
The rest of Tom's question was cut off, as Alex's lips pressed themselves gently to his.
For a moment, the world stopped as Tom was swamped with confusion. What was he doing? Neither of them were gay, or even bi. Alex had spent the last week staring at that new upper sixth girl, for Christ's sake! They both liked girls.
But then, thought Tom, as he began to respond, this was Alex.
-o-O-o-
A/N: I wasn't sure about putting the Alex/Tom bit in at the end, but I figured that Alex, at least, would be curious because Tom is pretty much his only good experience and he probably has serious trust issues at this point, so yeah…
Anyway, tell me what you thought, even if it's bad!