Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Prototype universe. All characters are property of those who own Prototype. If anybody tries to gain money off of this franchise - be forewarned. Alex Mercer will find you, and you may find yourself sharing the fate of Karen Parker.

Title: Infectum.

Summary: The infection is surging again. Toby Knight must try to uncover the source of the viral flare - but between being an ex-Marine, fighting Blackwatch forces, and trying to keep a man-turned-virus calm. . . Life isn't easy anymore. Slight AU.

Rating: T - and I will be trying to keep this at a teen level - for now. Rating subject to change in later chapters.

Author's Notes: Okay! Sorry about the late update. I'm working on trying to update this fanfic and a couple others. My Twin drew me a beautiful drawing of Ellis in exchange for this chapter. After looking at it, I realized there wasn't a whole lot I was wanting to change, and Ducky told me that it was perfect the way it was. I kind of agree with her. Besides a tweak here or there, I love it the way it is. If there are spelling or grammatical errors, please tell me and I will fix them. Reviews are welcome!

Warnings: This chapter contains male slash. Not a whole lot, but there's enough there to warrant a warning.

The bridge is burning and there's no returning.
To the desert songs of yesterday.
These streets are cracked and all the trees have died
But I will not lose faith I will not stray.

"The Road" - In This Moment

I've become a goddamn housewife.

That was the first thought that crossed Toby Knight's mind as he scowled at the apartment door in front of him. He was a Marine. Not a tool to be manipulated in such a way that he was forced to do the grocery shopping for an asshole. The scowl he was wearing quickly morphed into a glare, and the irate man somehow managed to fish the keys to the apartment out of his jeans. From there he unlocked the door, picked up the several bags scattered around his person, and let himself in.

The apartment they lived in was far from clean, but Toby made it a point to at least try to keep it as tidy as possible. Between Alex obsessing over Blackwatch and ensuring he kept up-to-date on their movements, and two men trying to live together. . . It was impossible to keep clean. Not to mention that Alex's intel-gathering had somehow transformed their apartment into something of a war room. Intel documents had been taped onto the walls, blown-up satellite photos scattered everywhere. Toby had lived and breathed military life for years - keeping everything immaculate was not a want, it was a need. Sometimes, Toby thought the bastard purposefully made the apartment a mess, just to sit there and watch him clean it. Toby ambled to the kitchen, dumping off his groceries and heaving a sigh.

He might have been having an intense sexual relationship with another man, but a woman's touch he did not have.

Wouldn't some people call that being gay? He thought idly to himself as he shoved groceries away as quickly as possible. He'd organized the cupboards long ago. Food went fast in the apartment, given Toby had a big appetite, and if Alex felt like eating, well. . . Then food disappeared even faster. Apparently, men-turned viruses could devour an entire fridge full of food if said man-turned-virus really put his mind to it. That incident had cost them both well over $300 worth of food. Good god, I've never seen any man - Marines included - eat that fast.

"How the hell do women do it?" He finally asked aloud, shutting the fridge door and staring moodily at it.

Alex didn't really have to eat, but he did on occasion just for the hell of it. Gifted in the art of cooking, Toby was not, except for grilling and frying things - what man couldn't make a steak? - and both of them had easily tired of steak and hamburger night after night. And so, they had worked out a deal. Alex funded them, and Toby would do the shopping. Truthfully it was more like said hoodie-wearing bastard forced him to do the shopping, since he didn't have to eat anything. Still, Toby was a goddamn Marine, and he wasn't going to just let Alex leave him in the apartment while he did god-knew-what in Manhattan.

Toby wasn't one to get antsy easily, but being stuck inside of Manhattan, in a new apartment for over three months. . . Well, it was making him start to fidget.

Their routine never really broke stride. Alex researched Blackwatch, and kept a constant vigil over Dana Mercer. Even though he was really just a virus with memories of people he consumed, he genuinely cared for Dana. His little sister was still currently in a coma, kept inside of Dr. Ragland's new hospital facilities. Toby normally manned the fort at the apartment, helping to keep tabs on Blackwatch, but other than that, there wasn't much to do.

He'd been doing this for three months.

Three months.

It had been three months since the infection had started to die down, and the once-rotting skeleton of Manhattan was beginning to come back to life. . . It had been three months since Mark had died.

Just thinking that brought a pang of agony in his chest, and Toby rubbed absently at the skin over his heart, helping to ease it away. With Mark. . . He'd made a mistake. It had taken him a while to see that, to stop blaming himself endlessly for what had happened to his little brother. Alex Mercer had helped him to see that, even though Mark's death had been partly his fault, too.

"Don't think so hard, Marine. You'll fry your brain."

Quick as a flash, Toby stifled his surprised and schooled his expression into a scowl and aimed it directly at the man he'd been thinking about. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Alex Mercer appeared like a ninja, silent and still until he decided to speak. It had scared Toby at first, but over time he'd gotten used to Mercer dropping out of thin air and suddenly being behind him, waiting for him to turn around. He would have been a horrible Marine had he not been able to take it all in stride. Mercer stood there, an arrogant smirk on his face, like he knew Toby's train of thought.

Mercer was tall. Intimidating. Powerful. A hoodie almost always covered his face, shading his facial expressions from view - but Toby could always tell what kind of a mood Mercer was in by looking at his eyes. Electric blue, and prone to growing shades darker and lighter depending on what Mercer was feeling. It had taken Toby some time, but eventually he had come to understand that Mercer's body language and his eyes were the most crucial parts to revealing his moods.

Right now, the goddamn bastard was amused.

Toby grit his teeth, strode over to him, and jabbed a finger in his chest.

"You're a conceited asshole, I hate you, and wipe that goddamn smirk off of your face." Toby growled, scowl turning into a hostile glare.

Mercer's smirk only widened, turning more wicked. His eyes flashed, and he leaned forward slightly, invading Toby's personal space. Alex radiated heat like no one he'd ever known, and he could feel that heat now, eliciting a shiver down his spine.

"If I don't?" He said quietly, eyes flickering in the shadow of his hood again.

Alex had always been like this; he craved power struggles. Mercer like dominating, and Toby liked to push him back. It often resulted in a wrestling match over who got top and who had to bottom. Another shiver stole down Toby's spine.

"I'll get it off for you." Toby growled, though it was starting to lack heat, and gaining huskier tones. Goddamn, his voice gave away too much of his own emotions.

Alex became a blur of movement, then, and the next thing Toby knew, his back was to a wall, and Mercer was pressed intimately against him, lips rough over his own. Alex had pinned one of his wrists down, but Toby made short work of fisting his other hand in Alex's shirt - trying to push him away or pull him closer, he couldn't really tell. I'm supposed to be pissed he made me be a housewife again! His mind thought obstinately, but it was quickly swept away when Alex decided to start biting at Toby's lower lip. Arousal flared sharply in the Marine, and he found himself responding to Alex, craving more -

The phone rang.

Alex didn't even still, just kept going, but Toby did, if only for a moment. Choice few people had the number to the secure phone line they had, and if one of those people were calling it was bound to be important.

"We should-" Toby started to say, breaking off their kiss, but Alex started it up roughly again, pinning both of his hands now that he had the opportunity. Toby lashed out, kicking Alex in the leg, but it only made him laugh.

Despite Toby's best struggles, somehow his shirt had been stripped off of him, and his jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped. He honestly had no idea how in the holy hell the fucker had gotten them onto the floor so goddamn fast, but it had happened, and Alex was still dressed for Christ sakes! Toby reached for the hoodie and yanked it off impatiently, Alex's muted laugh ringing in his ears and Toby resisted the urge to punch him in the jaw.

A beep, and the message machine answered.

"Alex, Toby - this is Ragland-" The voice was saying from the machine.

Toby felt Alex stiffen, all of his movements halting. It looked like someone had doused ice water on him. Mercer's eyes were wide, shock playing over his features. Toby froze, head slowly turning to look at the phone and the answering machine sitting innocently on the countertop.

"-I need you to come over to my hospital. I've got something important to tell you." With a click, Ragland hung up the phone, and for a few, numb moments, Toby and Alex sat there on the floor, in a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothing.

Oh, hell. It's about Dana, isn't it? Did she wake up or. . .? Toby had found himself growing attached to the foul-mouthed twenty-something year old. She might had looked and acted like a punk, but she meant good, and had a personality that was somewhat friendly. If she died. . . The Marine turned and looked at Alex, his eyes morphing to a dark, smoky blue. He was angry. Angry and concerned.

"We have to go." He said, abruptly standing, dragging Toby up with him.

Alex left to go visit Dana daily. He had spent hours at Ragland's hospital, keeping silent watch over Dana as she slept on, blissfully unaware of the world around her. Toby had been to see her once or twice, but it had been. . . Too close to Mark's death. Too raw around the edges to see another person suffering so badly. He liked Dana well enough, and he felt bad that he couldn't bring himself to visit her daily, but this. . . This was another matter altogether.

"I'll get the keys." Toby said, scrambling to throw on his clothes. Years of drills and boot camp gave him speed, and soon Toby had the car keys, and was jogging out of the apartment door. Alex was already gone, having taken his route of rooftops and alleyways.

Toby swore quietly to himself as he sped to the parking garage in the apartment complex. The truck was a sturdy thing, a big model that drove like a boat but it offered decent protection. Alex had liberated it during the outbreak, and since then Toby had had no qualms over driving it around. Even if it had belonged to somebody else, Toby knew Alex had acquired it from the street somewhere.

The drive to Ragland's hospital took ten minutes tops - but it felt so much longer. Hastily parking the truck, Toby jumped out and easily breezed by the nurses stations set up. The hospital staff gave him a few strange looks as he blew past them at Mach 5, but they quickly lost interest when he blew into the makeshift morgue. Dr. Ragland's unofficial office. Alex was already there, tense and bristling, body looking to be on the verge of snapping. Mercer was hanging onto his control by a string. Alex looked as though he was going to kill anything that moved if Ragland said the dreaded words.

"Toby," Ragland acknowledged, eyes never leaving Alex, "Glad you're here."

"What's wrong with Dana?" Alex finally snapped, the words leaving his throat in a vicious snarl. The table he was holding dented, and then cracked - making a horrible, loud noise that echoed throughout the spacious room.

Toby winced, but recovered quickly and tried not to let his heart speed up. If Ragland said those three, horrible words, if the doctor even thought of letting them out. . . God help the survivors that remained in Manhattan. Alex would probably slaughter them all.

Ragland blinked, surprised momentarily, but it easily melted into an apologetic expression.

"Dana is fine, Alex," He said, pitching his voice low, soothing, "There's no change in her condition. I'm sorry to have left the wrong impression. . . No. What I wanted to tell you about - today, I was visited by the military."

Alex visibly eased, although he still remained guarded when he heard 'military'. Toby found himself relaxing, too, and he blew out a breath of pent-up air that he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"What did they want?" Alex asked, his tone bordering on sinister. Mercer and the military had no lost love, something Toby knew very well. He'd seen Mercer kill men by throwing them into walls.

At that, Ragland fidgeted uncomfortably. He took his glasses off, and began to clean them.

"They wanted information. Access to the records of the dead I kept during the last infection," He paused, seeming to trail off, nervous, "And. . . I found out the infection. . . It's restarted itself."

Ice flooded through Toby, and for a moment he thought he hadn't heard that right. He stared at Ragland, and then stared a little more. He fumbled for the correct words, unable to coherently express what he was feeling. Finally, finally, he found his voice, and when he spoke, his tone was just as shocked as he felt.

"You've. . . Got to be fucking kidding me."