Aftermath

Marcel fiddled with his hands, clasping and unclasping them on the table as a middle aged police man with thick, angular eyebrows stared at him, waiting for him to answer. When Marcel had first sat down in the private visiting room for questioning, he'd had the strange feeling that he'd met this man before. Pete had then informed him that Captain Anthony Rogers had been the officer in charge of his 'missing persons' case. He'd met him when he'd been in the hospital, right after they'd found him, and he'd questioned him then too. Marcel could imagine that his answers then had been less than helpful.

"Marcel?" Captain Rogers said gently. "Do you want me to repeat the question?"

Marcel shook his head, and glanced at Pete, who was sitting next to him. "Take your time, Marcel," Pete said gently. "And remember, you're not in any trouble."

Marcel nodded, and lowered his eyes. "Yes," he said slowly. He kept his head lowered as he answered, sure he wouldn't be able to lift it even if he'd wanted to. The shame he felt was an almost physical weight on him, forcing his head down. "...I knew who he was when I told Casey to let him in,"

"Because of the card he gave you?" Rogers asked, making notes on a pad he had with him.

Marcel nodded again. "I didn't even think about it..." He whispered, his shoulders sinking further. "I looked at the card...and I knew it was him...and I just said 'let him in.'" He shook his head, putting a hand against his eye.

Next to him, Pete patted him softly on the back. "It's alright Marcel, no one's blaming you."

Marcel sniffed, and wiped at a tear on his cheek. "But it was my fault,"

"None of this was your fault," Pete insisted. "The ones to blame are behind bars, alright? This was their fault. Not yours, not in any way. I need you to believe that,"

Marcel moaned and shook his head, and Captain Rogers shifted around in his chair. "Doc's right, Marcel." He said. "In fact, the fault's a lot more mine than yours," Marcel looked up quizzically, and the Captain smiled at him. "Your Mr. Eisenberg sure thinks so,"

Marcel's stomach did small flips at the mention of him. "Michael? You talked to Michael?" He hadn't seen Michael since the day before, before he'd been taken down to the medical ward to have the doctors fix his nose. Then Marcel had been given some medication from Sheila to help him sleep, and when he'd woken up he'd been told to have breakfast and then go to one of the visiting rooms for questioning.

Rogers nodded, still smiling, but with a slightly wary look in his eye. "A few hours ago," He said, scratching at his head. His hairline was receding slightly, and Marcel could see a three red lines appear under the parts where his hair was thinning. "He said it's the police's fault for not doing our jobs in the first place, and catching Williams along with the rest of 'em. 'Course I'm paraphrasing; he was slightly more colourful than that."

Marcel furrowed his brow. "Williams?"

"Yeah, the man who assaulted you, Mr. Eisenberg, and Ms. Vogel yesterday—along with half the ward, too. Williams. Pacey Williams."

"Pacey?" Marcel cried, lurching forward a bit. "His real name is Pacey?"

Rogers nodded. "Yeah...you knew him as Ace, I guess, but originally he was Pacey Williams...helluva surprise to have him turn up yesterday, since he was supposed to have been dead for 15 years, but there you go..."

Marcel breathed out through his nose, his head swimming. He couldn't believe he'd be hurt so badly by a man with a name like Pacey. Jesus.

"We're just glad no one got seriously hurt, and you didn't go with him yesterday," Captain Rogers said. "I'd never forgive myself if we'd lost you again."

Marcel raised his hand up to his forehead, shielding his eyes against the blinding light of the sun. It was too harsh...painful. He turned away from it, dropping his arm from his forehead and hugging himself.

Once Captain Rogers had finished questioning him, and he'd spent a few minutes talking to Pete, he'd gone back out to the main room and asked Casey where Michael was.

Casey told him Michael had gone outside. Out to the back of the hospital where there was a sort of garden, apparently.

Marcel had been nervous about being able to find him, and it seemed only more hopeless now that he was actually outside, for what felt like the first time in a year. Was the first time in a year, actually. He'd been kept inside so long, he'd forgotten how big the world was...how long the sky went on for...too long.

Forever.

He could safely say he did not like it out here. Not at all. The smells were too strong, the light was too bright, the colour too intense...he wanted to be back inside the bin, with it's faded walls, and faded couches and lights that could be dimmed if they were too bright.

Still, he continued to stumble around the garden, which really just seemed to him like a big fenced in field with some bushes and trees, and looked around for Michael. He was out here, somewhere, and Marcel was going to find him.

Marcel squinted in the sun light, raking his eyes over the area in front of him for a figure that looked like Michael. Finally he spotted him sitting on a stone bench by what was probably supposed to be a small pond, but to Marcel looked more like an extra large puddle. Michael was sitting in his usual hunched over way, shoulders slumped and forearms resting on his thighs. He didn't look up when Marcel sat down next to him, nor when Marcel put a hand on his back. "Hey," Marcel said quietly. Michael didn't respond, and the silence made Marcel's stomach hurt. "Are you okay?"

Michael turned towards him slightly, and Marcel cringed when he got a glimpse of his face. The bridge of his nose was black and purple around a rectangular bandage, bruised and gory where it had been broken and then snapped back into place. There were dark purple circles under his eyes, and Michael raised his eyebrows slightly as if to say "do I look okay?"

Marcel hesitated, biting back his next question for fear of what the answer was. ...Are we okay...?

"You talked to Special Officer Commanding Captain Rogers yet?" Michael asked, turning back to the pond.

Marcel smiled a little. "Yeah...just finished with him now, actually."

"What'd he ask you about?"

Marcel shrugged, following Michael's gaze and staring at the pond himself. The water was dark and murky, heavy with mud and floating weeds. A light breeze was blowing, creating soft ripples across it's gloomy surface. "About whether I knew it was Ace when I said to let him in yesterday, and my version of what happened," He mumbled, transfixed by the swirling patterns in the polluted water.

"You did, right?" Michael asked, his voice coarse. Marcel lifted his eyes up from the water, and found Michael staring angrily at him. "You knew it was him, and you let him in."

Marcel bit his lip, shrinking under the harshness of Michael's glare. "Michael, I–"

"Don't." Michael growled. "Don't bother. You knew it was him...and you knew he was out there, this whole time, looking for you...you knew everything and you never said a word. About anything."

"I didn't know he was looking for me!" Marcel insisted, trying to blink away the tears forming in his eyes.

Michael shook his head. "I saw you, Marcel." Michael said, his stormy eyes boring back into Marcel's. "I was there when he walked in... I saw you run up to him, throw your arms around him and shove your tongue into that perverts mouth. And I was just standing there like an idiot, holding those fucking ice-cream bars in my hands..."

"Michael, you don't understand!" He pleaded.

"No, I really don't this time." Michael said. "When you first came out of that private room, if I hadn't said something, would you just have gone with him right then? Just left?"

"No! I never wanted to go with him, not all. How could I? I—I just started getting my life back. I just fixed things with my friends, my Dad..." Marcel looked down at his lap. "I just figured out how much I love you. I didn't want to go..."

Michael was silent for a moment. "When he came through the door...you just looked so happy..." He said quietly. "I...it hurt, to see you like that...with someone else..."

Marcel nodded, still staring down at his hands in his lap. "I know...I'm sorry..." He said. "I just...my feelings for Ace—for all of them—they're...they're confusing," A tear drop fell into the palm of his hand, and Marcel squeezed his eyes shut, sending more tears crashing down his flushed cheeks. "I know that what I'm feeling is wrong...but...but I think it might be a long time before I don't feel it anymore." He put his head in hands, sobbing. He hated himself, he hated what he'd let happen—to Robbie, to Michael, to their relationship. He'd never felt so much hatred for any person before. Not even Ace. Not even Jack.

"Marcel..."

Marcel shook his head again, and looked at Michael through tear blurred eyes. "I'm s-sorry Michael," He sobbed. "I kn-know I've messed up so much already...I kn-know you put up with s-so much but please, please give me one more chance," He begged. Michael had turned towards him, and Marcel dropped his head down into Michael's lap, wrapping his arms around his waist and sobbing against him. "Please don't l-leave me...don't give up on me...don't leave..."

Marcel continued to cry, even as he felt Michael run his fingers through his hair, making attempts to soothe him. "Marcel, come on..." Michael murmured. "Open your eyes."

Micheal's hand was resting against his cheek, fingers still tangled in his hair, and Marcel allowed him to guide his head up, until they were eye level again. Marcel sniffed, relieved to see Michael looking calmer, less angry. "I'm not going anywhere, Marcel." Michael said softly. "Alright?"

Marcel sniffed again and nodded. He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe some of the tears off his face. Michael took his fingers out from his hair, and turned back towards the dark pond. "I'm sorry, Mars..." He mumbled. "I shouldn't have gotten so upset...I know you didn't mean..." He shook his head. "I know this was hard on you, too."

Michael sighed. "I just...I wish you'd said something. Told someone...told me. About any of this." He looked at him sadly. "I tell you everything, Mars. I tell you about stuff it took me a year to be able to tell Kay. And—and I know I said I didn't expect anything from you, I know but...I mean...you kept so much..."

"I couldn't tell you, Michael." Marcel said. "I couldn't talk about it...some of it I didn't want to admit to myself. It's just too..." He lowered his head, feeling tears well up in his eyes again. "I'm too ashamed...the things I did...the things they made me do—" He broke off, unable to force anymore out of his mouth. He could still hear Ace's voice in his head, telling Michael all the sick things he'd made him do. He felt nauseous at the memory.

"Mars, whatever you did, you did because you were scared. You did it to survive. You have nothing to be ashamed of." Michael said, taking Marcel's hand.

"It's easy to say, it's not so easy to believe," Marcel whispered.

"I believe it," Michael said. He squeezed his hand. "But...I don't expect you to tell me about...about that. That's not what I'm asking...I understand if you can't talk about it..."

"Then what are you asking?"

"I'm asking you to let me in," Michael answered. "Tell me what you're feeling, and thinking...all of it. I want you to be able to talk to me about being confused, and hurt, and scared. I want to be the person that you can tell the things you don't want to tell anyone else to. I want you to trust that if they made you feel weak, I'm gonna make you feel strong. If they made you feel scared, I'll make you feel safe. I want you to trust that when I say I'm not going anywhere, I mean it." Michael smiled, and through his tears, Marcel smiled back at him. "They can't take me away from you, remember?"

Marcel laughed, and Michael grinned, moving closer to him on the bench. He kissed Marcel on the cheek, and Marcel wiped away the last of his tears. "I want to be able to talk to you about that stuff..." He said slowly, though he wasn't entirely sure he meant it. "The stuff I don't want to tell anyone else...I want to be able to tell you...and maybe Pete..." Michael nodded. "I just need some time...I need for things to calm down a bit...let me get my head back on straight."

"Yeah, sure—I mean, yeah." Michael said, nodding vigourously.

Marcel's stomach churned, and he supposed he did mean it, in a way. He was scared to tell Michael—or anyone—about all the things he'd kept inside for so long. They way he'd missed them all so much, and his chest had ached to have them back. The way he'd held onto the idea that they could be looking for him, trying to find him so they could take him away. The way he'd believed—truly believed—that they'd loved him...the way he still believed it, in some small way, even if he knew it was wrong. Even if he knew it was all wrong.

He was scared to talk about that, unbelievably scared...but if there was anyone worth pushing through his fears for, it was Michael.

And maybe it was time, too. Time to start moving on...letting go.

Michael smiled at him, and Marcel smiled back. He put his arms over Michael's shoulders, brushing his nose along Michael's cheek before kissing him on the lips. He was too shaky to give Michael a proper kiss, and instead just wound up smooshing their faces together in a way that ended with them breaking out into a fit of laughter...but it was nice anyways.

They were both turned to face each other now—Michael had one leg slung over the side of the bench, straddling it, and Marcel and put his legs over Michaels thighs, circling his waist.

"Michael?" Marcel whispered, resting his forehead against his. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah," Michael said.

Marcel squinted. "Why'd you come outside?"

Michael looked surprised at the question. "Oh...I dunno," He said, shrugging. "I mean, I guess I figured that with the TV busted, now was probably a good time to do it...start getting back into the world. Why?"

"No reason..." Marcel mumbled, squirming slightly. Michael raised his eyebrows at him, and Marcel bit down on his lip. "I just don't like it out here, is all. It's too...I don't know, it's too out. That's stupid, I know—"

"It's not," Michael reassured him. "It's not stupid. I know what you mean...how about five more minutes, and then we'll go in, alright?"

Marcel hesitated. He didn't want to spend another second out here, let alone five whole minutes. He wanted to go back inside, where it was safe and familiar and secure. Slowly, he forced himself to nod. "Alright," He said quietly. "Five more minutes."

Michael smiled, and kissed his forehead. "Hey, come on I wanna show you something," He said suddenly, swinging his leg back over the bench and standing up. Marcel followed, and Michael led him over to the edge of the pond, and crouched down. "Look,"

Marcel crouched down as well, and looked at the muddy water. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"You have to look closely," Michael explained, pointing. Marcel squinted, leaning in closer. "There's fish in there."

"Fish?" Marcel asked. He raised his eyebrows, as something yellow flashed under the surface. "Holy fuck, there's a goddamned fish in there!"

"There's two, actually," Michael said, grinning. "Well, two that I've seen...the waters really dark so I guess more could be hiding. I've named the smaller yellowy one Justin, and the bigger darkish one Brian."

Marcel turned and raised an eyebrow at Michael, but he was too busy staring at the pond to notice. "Oh, look there's Brian!" He said, pointing to the middle, where a bigger goldfish with dark gold scales had popped it's head up. A second after it re-submerged, there was a swish of a yellow tail after it. Michael grinned. "Justin's following him."

"How the hell do you think they manage to live in there?" Marcel asked, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "The water's disgusting... it's probably polluted. They should be dead."

Michael shrugged. "I guess they're stronger than you think," He said, stretching out on the grass. He lay on his stomach, propping his chin up with his elbows and looking for flashes of yellow and gold in the dirty water.

"How do they even see where they're swimming?" Marcel mumbled, frowning at the gloomy pond. "The water's practically opaque, they probably don't have any idea what's around them, or if it's safe... I bet it's scary."

"Well, yeah," Michael agreed. "It's definitely scary, but they'll be okay. I mean sure, they don't know what's gonna happen, and their ponds all dark and scary...but at least their together, right? That way they can help each other out...keep each other safe. They'll be okay."

Marcel chewed his lower lip, and looked at Michael. There was a calm, almost serene look on his face as he watched the two fish swimming around in their grungy little home. The sun was shining on him, picking out warm highlights in his dark hair, and making his blue eyes glint. Marcel smiled at him, and lay down next to him on the grass. "I think you're right," He said, reaching over to take Michael's hand. "They'll be okay."

The End

A/N: I'm still mulling over an epilogue, but if I did it would probably be like a one-year-later type deal.

I'm sorry if this feels abrupt, but I kind of realized I didn't have any plot left after the whole thing with Ace.

Speaking of Ace, the first part of his (and Jack's and Stevie's and etc) story is now up on my Fiction press account, and there's a link to it on my profile. It goes into further depth about "Pacey Williams" and the mysterious being dead thing. It's called "House of Cards."

Marcel's other story will probably be up in a few days...well the first part.

I love you guys, and I hope to see a few of you over at the other stories!