Ok I'm sorry this has taken so long to be updated I've been REALLY busy. This is a long chapter though, very angsty so I hope you all like it.
"Tom?"
The harsh cry of his name
roused him from the flames of the memory, he glanced up at Doug, his
eyes wet with tears.
"Come on, you gotta go in"
The outline of his partner blended into the sterile white background, his concerned face camouflaged against the cream walls.
"Where, w-where are you going?" choked Hanson unable to comprehend why Doug was stood impatiently towering above him.
"You really think I'm gonna let you go in there by yourself?" exclaimed Doug in surprise, he lowered his voice to a whisper, "Babe, you're terrified"
Hanson looked up, blinked the moisture from his eyes and stared.
"You're coming with me?" he questioned, his voice steeped in wonderment, his breath hitching in the back of his throat with gratitude.
"Oh Tommy" whispered Doug breathlessly. What kind of monster had his partner had to deal with where one small act of kindness such as accompanying him into a hospital room without question was a minor miracle?
He followed the smaller man into the doctor's office, positioned himself as close as humanly possible to his lover.
"You don't have to sit so close, I'm ok"
Doug scrutinised the pale face before him, cast his gaze along the taut features and sweat tainted lips. Yeah right.
"I wanna sit here" he lied smoothly, linked his fingers with Hanson's, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
"He's not gonna hurt you" he whispered, his voice steeped in reassurance, "He's just gonna fix your hand"
"I know" replied Hanson softly his breath catching in the rear of his throat. He raised his fear stained eyes as the doctor entered the room.
"What's the problem?" he asked
Hanson's reply froze and died on trembling lips. He turned helplessly to face Doug, his eyes wide and pleading, the brown smudges of alarm begging him to answer on his behalf.
"Tom cut his hand on some glass" blurted Doug dutifully.
"Ah huh" the doctor clicked in the back of his throat, he raised Hanson's limp hand and studied it, "Gonna need stitches"
Doug flinched as he felt Hanson's nails dig into the smooth skin of his palm.
"Ow" he muttered, he felt the pressure ease as Hanson lessened his grasp at the sound of his pain filled gasp.
"I'mrealsorryDoug" whispered Hanson breathlessly his voice rising and falling with nerves.
"Ok just breathe Tommy"
Hanson did as instructed, inhaled slowly before exhaling sharply.
"I'm not gonna leave you" murmured Doug quietly so that only Hanson could hear, "Ok Tommy? If you want me to stay here I will."
He heard Hanson's breathing dip then rise as he calmed.
"Ok I'll just start stitching you up then you should be free to go"
"I get anaesthetic!" squeaked Hanson yanking his hand ferociously backwards so that the doctor couldn't touch him.
Doug shot him a withering look of displeasure. Hanson cast his eyes to the greying tiles, his heart hammering in his chest. He was so stupid. Why did he have to make everyone so mad?
"Um I dunno what type of hospital you usually visit but here every operation comes with complementary anaesthetic" joked the doctor, a fleeting smile passing his features. He glanced down at Hanson's file and the smile faltered.
"Tom?"
Hanson glanced up swiftly as his Christian name so readily spilled forth from unfamiliar lips.
"You haven't been in contact with your brother lately have you?"
"He doesn't have a brother" said Doug quietly
"Says he does right here in the file" said the doctor in surprise, he jabbed his index finger at the offending print, "One brother, Dennis, always sits in with him on examinations."
His words echoed against the sterile walls, pierced Doug to the core.
"Dennis?"
Hanson scrunched his face up tight, closed his eyes to the world, and blocked the image of Doug's wounded stare. Ok so hospitals kept records. He knew that. Why hadn't he thought of that?
"Maybe it's best if I talk to you on your own" muttered the doctor with a significant glance in Penhall's direction. Hanson nodded, his eyes still closed.
"Yeah and when he's done talking I can start" hissed Doug scathingly.
Hanson sat, his whole body quivering. The door slammed viciously against the wall; an exclamation point to punctuate Penhall's fury.
"You can open your eyes, he's gone"
Hanson squinted at the doctor through his lashes.
"Why did you say you had a brother?"
"I didn't!" cried Hanson indignantly
"Somebody must have, it's in your file"
"Maybe somebody made a mistake?" suggested Hanson hopefully.
"Look, you can press charges for abuse-"
Hanson smeared a hand against his face, furrowed his forehead in frustration.
"Tom-"
"Don't call me Tom" he snapped, he raised his fiery black eyes to meet the doctors cool emerald ones, "You don't know me, you don't know anything about me!"
"I know that between the ages of eighteen and twenty you came in here several times with serious injuries and half hearted explanations for their cause. I know that the same man accompanied you into the examination room and did most of the talking. I know you're gay and that the gentleman outside is your current partner. Now all I need to know is where Dennis is and why you had him claim to be your brother? Was it protection?"
Hanson crinkled his brow in confusion. Protection?
"What?" he questioned his eyes awash with perplexity.
"Was Dennis protecting someone on your behalf? A relative maybe?"
The scornful laughter bubbled and rose in Hanson's throat, escaped on a snort of disbelief. Of course it wouldn't have been Dennis, sweet, kind Dennis who was looking out for poor, little Tommy. No, he was obviously a saint amongst men, would never raise a hand to anyone let alone his surrogate kid brother. Hell this doctor probably thought Dennis could walk on water. Fuck why shouldn't he? Everybody else did.
"No" he snapped shortly before sighing heavily, "I was just a clumsy kid. I grew outta of it"
The doctor stared pointedly at the officer's hand.
"This was an accident" mumbled Hanson catching his gaze
"Oh so the mirror just happened to shatter?"
Hanson shifted nervously under his penetrative glance
"Yes" he murmured softly
"By any chance did the shattering coincide with someone's fist making contact with it?" enquired the doctor raising an eyebrow.
Hanson nibbled at his lip, his face twisted and contorted with fear and conflict.
"Ok, yeah. Yeah it did" he admitted breathlessly
"You wanna tell me why you sent your fist hurtling into a mirror?"
"Not particularly" replied Hanson softly.
"Is it because of your partner?"
"No" snapped Hanson agitatedly, "Maybe it's just me"
"Maybe it's just you?"
"Yeah, maybe I'm so stupid that I do shit like this" muttered Hanson
"You think you're stupid?" asked the doctor softly
Hanson cast his eyes downwards, the pain etched clearly on his pale features, he remained mute, his lips quivered slightly with the effort of trying not to respond with the answer he'd been conditioned to spit for so long. The thought that had been burned and beaten into his weary mind continued to haunt him all these years later.
Booker sat at his desk, the dim light softly cascading onto his desk. He scratched at the form in the silence. He startled slightly as the main door crashed open. Doug stood, engulfed by the shadows, his face contorted with fury.
Booker broke into a wide grin, the initial shock fading from his features.
"Hey Dougie!" he crowed
"Shut up" snarled Doug harshly as he clattered into the office. He stood, his chest rising and falling with rage as he glared down at Dennis.
"Now, now Doug is that a nice way to-"
"How do you know Hanson?" barked Doug swiftly cutting the scathing comment
"Well Dougie I work with him" snapped Booker his tone laced with sarcasm
"No I mean how do you really know him? Don't give me all the bull about the chapel because you knew him long before that!"
Booker smirked, his eyes glinting dangerously in the darkness.
"Is that what he's told you?"
Doug blinked his face awash with confusion.
"How do I know Hanson?" mulled Booker softly, "Let me count the ways"
"What are you talking about?!"
"About the ways I know Tommy," Smiled Booker, "Now I know he hates spiders, can't stand the bastards."
Booker chuckled softly as he recounted information.
"I know he loves Mexican food, despises Thai, has a weird aversion to Valentines Day and won't let you call him sport even if his life depends on it. I know that he hates looking in the mirror because he detests what he sees, that he'd rather die than tell anyone he was scared but he'll show you in anyway possible. But what I know best about Tommy is how to make his whimpers turn to groans, to make him beg and plead. I can bring him to his knees in a matter of seconds and he's so willing he'll do any damn thing I ask him to, anyway, anytime".
Doug stood his lips dry and chafed as he gulped; desperately trying to dislodge the lump he felt building. Hanson had slept with Booker.
And then he'd lied to him about it.
The devastation soured to resentment. The grief faded to fury as he stood poised, his fists clenched.
"You're lying" he snapped bitingly
"Lying?" laughed Booker cruelly, "Ask him Dougie, go home and ask him!"
Booker's eyes shone with amusement, the seed of doubt well and truly planted he continued to feed denial with malice and spite.
"I don't believe you" spat Doug his voice shaking and vibrating with the effort of refutation.
"Why? Because it's dear old Tommy or because it's me?"
The stony silence swamped the chapel, mocked and sang in Doug's ears.
"He's my boyfriend" he spat finally, "just leave him alone!"
"But he was mine first" snapped Booker darkly
Hanson balked at the harsh night air. Sniffed in an effort to quell the tears he felt frozen against his pale cheeks.
Ok so he could understand Doug being mad. Furious even. But to leave him on his own in the hospital? Did he really deserve that?
He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. The low whimper scorched his throat as the pain tore through his arm, the stitches fresh and sore; he stumbled against the bitter wind, his shoes echoing eerily against the sidewalk.
He let himself in the darkened house his heart pounding to the harsh pulsating beat of rejection. He entered the bedroom, left all lights off and crawled beneath the covers of the double bed resting his wet and burning cheeks against the cool material.
Curled beneath the sheets he allowed himself to drown in tears, allowed his bleeding heart to ooze with anguish as he sobbed under the covers his eyes smudged a tender red.
Doug sat at the bar, cracked the glass against the counter and raised his eyes sluggishly to meet those of the bar tender. He gazed at him expectantly, mumbled and slurred his drunken gratitude as the man poured him another drink. He downed it in one, felt the scorch of whiskey dampen the pain but ignite the fires of fury.
Several hours later he smacked the glass to the counter one last time and stormed into the night, the door swinging shut behind him with a clatter.
Blearily Doug opened one eye, his head pounded to the rhythm of an angry hangover. His forehead throbbed and pulsated mockingly as he moved. He shifted his body slowly, paused as he felt the room spin. He waited until he felt upright, til the room stopped blending into one ashen swirl of post-drunkenness.
He stared at the room in confusion, did not understand how he had come to arrive in their bed. Normally Hanson would sleep here, curled up beneath the sheets, so that when he arrived home in his drunken state he would have no choice but to sleep in the spare room.
He clawed himself upwards, raised a steadying hand in front of him as he padded slowly across the room. He glanced in the spare room but still saw no sign of his boyfriend.
His brow crinkled with confusion as he desperately tried to remember what had happened the night before. Snippets snatched their way through the fog of alcohol as he slowly stumbled downstairs.
Hanson and…Booker.
Sleeping, so peacefully as if he were totally innocent.
Flames and fires of fury raging through his contorted body.
Bed. Hanson had been in bed.
He faltered at the bottom step. Hanson had been in bed, sound asleep when he'd staggered in at around 3am. He remembered storming upstairs, furiously shaking the smaller man awake. Drunken slurs and vicious screams. Bitter words and cold tones. He remembered Hanson crying. Why was he crying?
Doug screwed his face up with the effort of trying to remember.
The splutter of water in the kitchen broke through his anxious chain of thought. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of Hanson.
He sluggishly made his way into the kitchen.
"Hey" he mumbled.
Hanson's slender frame stiffened at the husky croak of his lover's voice. He dropped the plate he was holding, flinched as it clattered against the sink.
He turned slowly, his face pale and sickly.
The purple and yellow weaved across his face; the red ribbons of encrusted blood still caked the rims of his nostrils and edge of his lip.
The stains and blemishes still scarred his clothes as he stood shivering in his shirt and boxers, his eyes heavy and fearful.
And with a sickening jolt the memory of the night before came rushing back to Doug.
"GET UP!"
Hanson startled, his body quivered with fear. His heart slowed at the sight of Doug. He'd been so sure he was back in the abyss of his teenage romance.
The relief quickly thundered into fury at his lover's inconsiderateness. At his harsh and brutal screams.
"Leave me alone Doug, go to bed and sober up" he muttered drowsily.
He flinched as Doug grabbed him, his fingernails nipping and digging into the tender flesh dragging him from the soothing land of sleep into the cold harsh pain of reality.
"Stop it, you're HURTING me!" he cried angrily.
"Get up!" spat Doug shaking him viciously. He yanked the smaller man from the bed roughly; with a sickening crack he Hanson landed on the floor - struggled and squirmed in Doug's strong grasp his body trembling with fear and fury.
"Get off me Doug!"
"You get up-"
" Let go!" roared Hanson shoving him angrily ripping himself from the restraining hold, the heftier man stumbled, crashed drunkenly to the floor, grasping at the duvet for support as he slipped into a muddled heap.
The smaller man stood, his arm throbbing with the violent gesture. His sweat tainted hair flecked his flaming face as he glowered.
"Don't you sh-shout at me!" hiccoughed Doug sluggishly dragging himself from the ground
"Well don't touch me" barked Hanson
"Ha!"
Hanson's face crumpled in perplexity.
"Don't touch you" mocked Doug
his breath soured with alcohol, "HE, HE can touch you!"
"
Who?"
"Precious Booker. Dennis frigging Booker" cried Doug furiously, his eyes steeled with hatred.
"I told you at the hospital-"
"NO! No you didn't" screamed Doug spraying the smaller man with spittle, "You, you SLEPT with him! In the chapel!"
Hanson paled.
"I didn't" he whispered.
"Yes you did" hissed Doug, his eyes flashing manically with rage
Hanson shook his head slowly. Slept with him? No, he didn't, hadn't. Not in the longest time. To sleep with him would mean to consent and he hadn't done that. He hadn't said yes. Agreement had not passed his trembling lips. Didn't Doug know that?
He watched through watery orbs as Doug's eyes narrowed into slits of mistrust.
"I, he" Hanson stammered his throat tight with trepidation.
"You slept with him" snarled Doug his eyes bloodshot, glazed with alcohol and hatred. With determination and certainty.
"No!" cried Hanson his heart beating wildly in his chest, "I didn't sleep with him Doug, I didn't"
"Liar" seethed Doug, rationality escaped his drunken stupor.
"Why do you believe him over me?" choked Hanson his eyes wet with tears,
"Because he knows things!"
"I know things!" snapped Hanson sniffing roughly
"He knows things about you, things he'd only know if he slept with you!" cried Doug
"So? So what Doug! That doesn't mean I fucked him does it? Does it?!" shouted Hanson his voice strained with urgency and panic.
"Doug?" he whispered, his voice echoing in the heavy silence.
"Did he fuck you?"
The animalistic snarl cut through the quiet, wrapped a fist of rage around his heart. Hanson gulped deeply.
"Did he initiate it? Did you even say no? Did you?!"
"I, I, he…in the...No I didn't want him to" cried Hanson his voice cracking. The images flashed before his eyes and he blinked, desperately tried to dislodge himself from the memory of the painful encounter in the chapel toilets. He burst into tears as the cloud of fury shadowed Doug's face into a darker and more twisted shade of black.
"You slept with him. I don't care what you say, I don't care if he started it, YOU were the one who never stopped it!" roared Doug
"How was I supposed to stop him when he had me pinned against a wall?!" sobbed Hanson the tears leaving a dirty smudge against his pale cheeks.
He shivered and trembled as Doug edged dangerously closer, the rage pulsating from every pore.
"What are you saying Tommy? You saying you didn't want him to fuck you? That you didn't ask him to?" he sneered his face inches away from Hanson's own.
Hanson balked at the alcohol fumes and wrinkled his nose in disgust.
"H-he raped me" he whispered finally his voice hitching in the back of his throat. The words sounded so cold and distant to his burning ears. They crackled and hissed taunting him from deep within; mocked his slender frame as they buzzed around the pair; the weight of the allegation eventually settling between them.
"You can't rape the willing Hanson" spat Doug coldly.
"I WASN'T WILLING!" screamed Hanson as the sob tore deep from the back of his throat.
"Oh no? Not what Booker said"
"Why do you believe him?" sobbed Hanson his body convulsing, "Why Doug?"
"SHUT UP!"
The first smack reverberated around the room, the crack sent Hanson reeling, and dazed he blinked as he felt the warm trickle of blood trail down his cheek intermingling with the salty tears. His breath escaped on a cloud of pain, unable to comprehend or believe what was happening he emitted a nervous giggle. The unusual reaction bordered on hysteria.
"Ah I knew, I knew!" he cried his face wet with tears and blood, he whimpered
He flinched as Doug lunged for him, screamed as Doug wrestled his shaking form to the ground.
"Shut up Hanson! SHUT UP!"
Hanson lay there, the heavy weight crushing him and sobbed against the threadbare carpet. This wasn't right. This wasn't meant to be happening, not now. Not with Doug.
He squirmed as Doug attempted to rive his boxers down to his ankles, viciously kicked and lashed out at his lover.
"No!" he yelled, "Doug I'm not! You, you can't just hit me and then fuc-"
His words were swiftly cut off by another harsh slap. He felt Doug scratch and claw at his exposed hips, trembled as he heard the rip of the zip. Flattened against the carpet he could offer no resistance, could only struggle feebly as Doug entered him roughly.
"You're not his!" hissed Doug angrily as he rammed the smaller man against the floor.
"You're hurting me!" wept Hanson his voice muffled.
"Shut up! Don't act like you don't want it you little whore" grunted Doug
"You're supposed to love me-"
"SHUT UP!" screamed Doug yanking him backwards by the hair as he entered him. Hanson's whimper aroused him further, made him yearn to hear him cry. The bitter and twisted desire for revenge burned inside him and Doug started pumping his hips faster, shoved and pummelled the broken body against the floor, shouting expletives as he did so.
"How was he huh? Did he make you come? Did you like it?!" he seethed breathlessly, "Come on Tommy, what was he like? Surely someone as filthy as you can retell all the sordid details"
They heavy breathing caressed his neck and shoulder blades as Hanson sobbed, he felt betrayed and broken. Like nothing.
All he was good for was sex. Sex and being punched around. He should have listened when Dennis tried to tell him that; could see now that he was right all along.
"Was he better than me?!" grunted Doug slamming the fragile soul further into the floorboards.
The strangled sob spluttered against the carpet in response.
"I SAID WAS HE BETTER THAN ME?!"
"No" wept Hanson
With a grunt Doug climaxed, splattered the smaller man with his fury. He rolled off him, his chest heaving and drunkenly fumbled for the zip of his jeans.
He grappled for the smaller man, rolled him over onto his back. He stared down at the pale face before him. Rivulets of red spawned the delicate features, weaved a path of blood through a patchwork maze of forming shades of purple and yellow. Greyish blue now smeared his eyelids, the tell tale marks of hard felt slaps.
He spluttered as the red liquid frothed from cracked and torn lips and poured from the tender flesh at the base of his nostrils.
"Does it hurt?" whispered Doug breathlessly
Hanson stared at him through tear filled eyes, not daring to blink for fear of reprimand.
"Does it?!"
"Does what?" croaked Hanson
"Having your heart ripped out"
The silence was shattered by the tender whimpers and broken sobs.
"Does it?" he repeated
"ANSWER ME!" roared Doug punctuating the scream of fury with a vicious kick.
"Leave me alone" wept Hanson the tears pouring down his bruised and torn features.
The sobs increased as Doug kicked him, savagely venting his frustration on the broken body before him, the red welts spread and blossomed across the pale paper thin skin, mapped their way across the mauve marks and blemishes that were already strong against his fragile form.
"Did you tell HIM to leave you alone?!" snarled Doug
"Yes" sobbed Hanson, "I did, Doug I did, I begged h-him, I b-begged-"
He spluttered, fought the bile that rose from his stomach, retched violently as the vomit splurged from the corners of his mouth. He gagged and choked against the vile substance, his weak stomach unable to contend with the constant violence and intense sobbing.
"You're disgusting do you know that?"
the voices echoed and blistered in his burning ears, the images twisted and turned in glistening droplets, they all bled together, the monsters rose and roared into one so that he couldn't tell where Dennis ended and Doug began.
"JUST GO AWAY!" screamed Doug furiously, the tears no longer tantalised him, they angered him. What did he have to cry about? The drunken state of mind prevailed; the darkness consumed him, twisted and took his soul. The weak splutters died to sharp and shallow gasps as Hanson heaved himself to his knees, used the wall as support as he scrabbled up from the floor, his body exploding and vibrating with pain and agony.
He limped from the room, his head spinning; he turned to face his partner, hastily stumbled back as the bedroom door slammed- narrowly missing his slender fingers.
He fell against the doorframe, his chest rising and heaving with fear and hurt. His hair plastered his flawed features, the blood dripped onto his hands, joined the rivulets that were cascading from the split skin where the stitches had been torn.
He looked down at the blood spotting the cuffs of his shirt, at his boxers encrusted and smeared with blood and bodily fluid. He shut his eyes as he slid his aching back down the door frame, landing with a dull thud against the hallway carpet. He splayed his knees, cupped his face in his hands and cried.