He woke to complete darkness. John tried to sit up but he was yanked backwards.
"What the... My wrists!"
Feeling panic close around his neck, John tried to wrench his wrists free from their restraints. He tried to move his legs; it was no use. He was trapped, chained to the bed. His breath came in ragged gasps; he couldn't get enough oxygen. His head whirled and his stomach lurched.
"Help!" he screamed. "Get me out of here! I can't go back to this!"
The door opened with a theatrical creak, showing that a figure was silhouetted against the brightness.
It walked towards him.
"Hello, John."
There was Grace.
Try as he might, he couldn't break free of the restraints. The bit into his wrists, drawing blood. Fuck, fuck, fuck...
"I'm still here," Grace whispered, reaching out one a claw-like hand to stroke his face. "I'll always be here." She pressed a finger to his forehead. "I'll always be right here..."
Roaring, John wrenched himself free and suddenly he was on his feet, poised to strike. But there was no one there. He was alone, in his own room in the villa, with the moonlight painting everything blue.
But he wasn't alone. Not truly. She was there, right in his head, bored inside like a parasite. John grabbed fistfuls of hair and pulled.
"Get out of my life!"
Rational thought left him then. He ran.
~oOo~
A door slammed and Scott sat bolt upright in bed. What was that? Brotherly instincts afire, he leapt out of bed, grabbed his robe and made for the door. He discovered that he wasn't the only one in the hallway. Gordon was already there, bleary-eyed with a tousled bed-head.
"Did you hear it too?" he asked. "The bang?"
"Yeah," Scott replied.
Gordon's frown was highlighted in moonlight.
"John?" he asked.
"Possibly," Scott replied. "In fact, probably."
Gordon crossed to their brother's room and poked his head inside.
"Empty," he said.
At that point, Virgil appeared in his doorway.
"What goes on here?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," Scott said. "But I don't think it's good."
"He can't have gone far," Gordon said. "Let's split up. We'll find him."
"Find who?" Virgil asked, still struggling in a haze of sleepiness.
"John," Scott said. "I think that slam was his door. He's gone."
Virgil was suddenly, painfully awake.
"Shit," he said.
"Right."
~oOo~
Where was he going? John had no idea. All he knew was that he had to get as far away from the villa as possible. Grace had invaded that most sacred space. She had invaded his home. Now even it was no longer safe. His bare feet slapped against the hard floors as he escaped out onto the balcony and fled down towards the pool, past it, and out into the darkness.
I'll always be right hereā¦
~oOo~
"John! Where are you, buddy?"
Gordon's words echoed in the blankness of night. He could hear the gentle lapping of the waves on the shore. He could hear the sigh of the wind as it rustled the palm trees. But he could not hear his brother. There was simply no response.
His wrist comm. bleeped.
"Gordon, have you found anything?"
Scott's voice was strained. Gordon lifted his wrist and shook his head.
"Not so much as a fleeting glance," he said.
"Me neither," Scott responded. "I think we need a few more sets of eyes. I'm considering going up in One to search with the thermal camera."
"Hopefully it won't come to that," Gordon said. "As for more eyes, I'll wake up the twins. I'm not far from the Cliff House."
"F.A.B.," Scott said. "Keep me informed."
"Will do," Gordon said, before turning on his heel and heading for the Cliff House.
There was no point in being polite about it, so Gordon hammered his fist on the apartment door.
"Guys," he called. "Up-up! We need you!"
After around half a minute, a bleary-eyed twin opened the door. Gordon wasn't sure which one it was.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is there an emergency?"
"No, Matt," Gordon said, making a guess. "But there is a situation."
"It's Elijah," the twin responded, rubbing his eyes. "What's up?"
In the background, the real Matthew lumbered into view.
"Wassup?" he grunted. "It's three o'clock in the blessed a.m.!" He looked at Gordon. "And you're nearly naked!"
Gordon looked down. For the first time he realised that all he was wearing was a pair of boxers.
"Never mind that," he said, his face flushing. "John's gone missing."
All tiredness was gone from Elijah's face.
"Missing?" he asked.
"Yeah. We're not sure what happened but there was a crash - it must have been his door slamming - and then he was gone. We've been searching but we can't find him. Scott's going to go up in One to look using the cameras."
Elijah, clad in nothing more than a loose green t-shirt and a pair of shorts, shook his head.
"I think I know where he'll be," he said.
"Where?" Gordon asked.
But he had already sped past. Matthew shrugged on a light robe and ran a hand through his hair; it was sticking out in all directions.
"Typical," he said.
Gordon nodded. Then, without another word, they followed.
~oOo~
When he finally stopped, John fell to his knees. The gravel of the path dug into his skin, burning his shins, but he didn't care. The tall foliage of Kyrano's garden rose up above him. Leaves waved in the breeze, shuffling against one another. Partially obscured, the moon peaked in, as if it were curious about his misery.
He did everything he could not to cry. This is stupid. This is crazy. I'm crazy!
A choked sob echoed into the darkness. A stem of falling stars moved in the wind and brushed his arm. Crocosmia, he thought. Lucifer. Its redness had been leeched by the night. Instead, the flowers looked inky and dark.
Looking away from them, John swallowed his misery but thoughts kept washing up anew. I'm ruined. Destroyed. Broken. I keep thinking that I'm getting better but I'm not. Deep down, I'll never be the same again.Never, ever.
Fury rose within him like the fire of hell itself. He erupted.
"I can't do this anymore!"
His words echoed and fled on the breeze, leaving him alone in the darkness.
"Yes, you can."
At those quiet words, he wrenched his head around and stumbled to his feet. The gravel bit into his soles. When he saw who it was, shame slapped him.
"Get away from me," he growled. "Stay away."
Elijah held his hands out, palms up, and shook his head.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "I'm not leaving."
"Fuck you," John spat. Just get away from me. Get away!
Elijah's expression didn't change; he didn't even flinch.
"I'm not going anywhere," he repeated.
John could feel the handprint of humiliation burning on his cheek. He knew he was being irrational. He knew he was being insufferable - even downright offensive. But he didn't know what else to do. If I let him in, I'll just get hurt again. I'm not worth the hassle. I'm not worth anything.
Elijah took a few steps forward. John raised his fists. What are you going to do, punch him?
"Go away," he snapped.
Elijah stepped forward again.
"I said, go away!"
He kept coming.
"I'm warning you!"
"I'm not going anywhere," Elijah repeated, his tone gentle.
Feral, John's eyes were wide. His breath was coming quickly, like sharp jabs to the chest. His muscles were burning. Then Elijah was within striking distance.
And John pounced.
With fistfuls of Elijah's shirt, John knocked him to the ground. Gravel was flying in all directions as they struggled and soon his fists were raining down on the other man's head and chest.
"Why won't you leave me alone?" he screamed. "Why won't you let me be?"
Just like on the rescue, reality had melted and it wasn't Elijah he was seeing. It was Grace.
"Get out of my head!"
All of a sudden, John found his fists stopped, enveloped in Elijah's hands. He was being held still and upright, the other man taking all his weight. John snapped back to reality to see that Elijah's left cheek was swelling and a small line of blood was trickling from a split lip.
And yet those green eyes were still soft with compassion. John's heart clenched.
"Oh, God," he said. What have I done? "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
He was lowered and found himself lying on Elijah's chest, his head burrowed into the other man's neck. He could feel both of their heartbeats pounding.
"I'm sorry," John said, his voice muffled by skin and emotion.
"It's okay," Elijah said. "I understand."
For the first time in years, John allowed himself to be held. It was different from a hug from one of his brothers; this was intimate. He inhaled the comfort of the other man's scent, allowed Elijah to run his fingers through his hair, permitted himself to find solace in another person's embrace. The leaves rustled and the wind sighed. Slowly, the terror of the night began to recede.
"It feels like she's stuck in my head," he whispered at length. "I thought I was getting better but I'm not sure that I ever can be."
"John, you are getting better," Elijah said, giving him a squeeze. "Think of everything you've achieved in such a short space of time. You've only been back for, what, six or seven weeks? You've already got back in the saddle in terms of rescues, you've bonded with your daughter, you've settled back into your family. You're doing really well."
Rolling over onto the gravel, John stared up at the sky. Pinprick stars were glimmering overhead.
"I wasn't doing well tonight," he mumbled.
"What happened to set you off so badly?" Elijah asked.
John closed his eyes. It all felt so silly now.
"I had a nightmare," he said. "I was back there, in that horrible place. I thought I was chained up again. I thought... I thought she was going to..."
Anguish slipped down his cheeks in hot trails. He opened his eyes when he felt a thumb wipe away his tears.
"It will get better," Elijah said. "It's going to take a while but you will survive this. You are surviving this."
John nodded and sat up, rubbing gravel and dust off his arms and the backs of his legs as they both stood.
"I didn't mean to hurt you," he said, motioning to Elijah's face. "And..." He gulped under the weight of his own meaning. "I don't want to hurt you in any other ways. I know that... Between us... We might... But..."
Elijah placed a finger to his own bleeding lip to silence John.
"Whatever happens, happens," he said. "You have your issues. Hell, I have mine." He gave a short, self-depreciating laugh. Then his face softened again. "All I want to do at the moment is be here for you. Maybe later, things will change. But what you need right now is a friend. And that's what I'll be."
Not knowing quite what to say, John said nothing. Instead, he reached out to pull the other man into a hug. They stayed like that for a few moments.
"How did you know I would be here?" John asked, playing with the hair at the nape of Elijah's neck. "How did you even know to look for me?"
Elijah gave him a final squeeze before releasing him from the embrace.
"Gordon woke us," he said. "They must have heard you."
John put his head in his hands, his face colouring again.
"Oh, God. I'm mortified."
Elijah placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I'm sure they'll understand. Now c'mon, we should let them know you're safe."
A new voice interjected.
"Already done."
The two men turned to see Gordon and Matthew standing at the garden archway.
"We didn't want to interrupt," Matthew said.
Before John could apologise again, he found himself once more enveloped in Gordon's arms.
"Do not stress about this, Johnny," he said, his tone firm. "We're all here for you."
"Thanks, little brother," John replied.
Then they broke apart and the little group left the garden, heading for the villa. John was flanked on one side by Gordon and on the other by Elijah. Somehow, I'll survive this, he thought. Then he allowed himself a brief grin. I don't think I'll be given any choice in the matter.
