Sinbad dreamt of masks. Dark, horrifying masks that surrounded him; trapping him and taunting him. He woke with a jolt, his heart pounding. It took longer than he would have liked for the dream to fade. When it did, it was replaced by an almost forgotten memory. The memory was also of masks, but far more pleasant. Before John, this memory had been what Sinbad would cling to when things were dark...

A few years ago...

Sinbad, Flynn, and Marina hadn't been on The Damned long when the ship docked in some kingdom that was in the middle of a celebration. Sinbad would eventually learn that Kida had a knack for scheduling their supply stops at kingdoms that were having a ball or a party. The emperor of this particular kingdom was throwing a masquerade ball to celebrate a recent battle victory. Sinbad didn't know the specifics and he didn't much care. He was still reeling from the hurt Proteus had caused and was relieved at the opportunity to forget the prince for a night.

After acquiring clothes and masks for the ball, the crew went to the palace. They hadn't been invited, but with Kida and Gaston being royalty and Marina an ambassador, they were graciously welcomed nonetheless.

The emperor took up a lot of Marina's time, which gave Sinbad a chance to drink and mingle with the guests alone. Though, he grew bored with the guests quickly. Knowing no one would miss him, Sinbad snuck out of the ballroom. He immediately ran into one of the guards out in the corridor.

"Going somewhere?" The guard asked.

Sinbad appraised the guard's muscular build. "Your bedroom, if I'm lucky," he replied. His flirtation had been meant to just shock the guard, but after he said it out loud, Sinbad realized a tryst with a stranger he'd never see again was exactly what he needed. It would be for fun and excitement, not for revenge like it was with Marina. And there would be no attachment or risk of pain. Sinbad suddenly wanted this guard in the worst way.

The guard's face was unreadable under his mask, but his entire body tensed. He gripped the hilt of his sword as if he was trying to break it in half with his bare hand. Sinbad wondered if he was angry or aroused. The guard took a step back. "Are you meant to distract me while your crew robs the guests?" he growled.

Angry.

Still, the guard's growl and the intensity of his voice filled Sinbad with desire. Proteus once told him his eyes darkened to black with lust when he really wanted someone. Were his eyes black now? Because not since Proteus has he wanted someone this badly. He didn't even know why. Was it the prospect of giving in to his body's desire with no risk? Was it just because he couldn't have the guard and he always wanted what he couldn't have?

Honestly, Sinbad didn't care why; just as long as this night ended with the guard moaning his name.

"My crew has no ill intent," Sinbad told him.

"Then why are you attempting to steal into the palace?"

"I needed to get away. I'm a sailor, not a noble. I don't belong at palace parties."

The guard loosened his grip on his sword, but remained tense. "Where do you belong?"

Sinbad's lips parted to respond, but he didn't have an answer. He didn't belong anywhere or to anyone.

Sinbad bit his lower lip and moved closer to the guard. "Somewhere beneath you." The guard somehow tensed even more as he caught the double meaning in Sinbad's words. Sinbad smiled at him. "As just a sailor, I'm below a palace guard. You outrank me, so I believe that means I belong wherever you to tell me to go."

The guard moved away from him again. "Take the stairs at the end of this corridor up to the top floor. At the end of that hallway is the library. The library's balcony is a good place to get away." He carefully moved around Sinbad and once again took his place at the ballroom door.

Sinbad watched him. "Shouldn't you go with me to make sure I'm not not up to anything dastardly?"

"Are you?"

Sinbad smirked as he started down the hall. "I might be." The guard didn't move. Sinbad shrugged. "Suit yourself. But, I wonder... what will your emperor do to you if I am, in fact, up to no good and something happens?"

Sinbad turned his back on the guard before he responded. He hoped the guard would follow him, but as he made his way up the stone staircase, he heard no footsteps behind him.

Sinbad found the library and slipped inside, closing the door behind him. The room was dark, but he could make out the shadowy outlines of books and shelves. The only furniture was a table on the other side of the room from the door, next to the balcony doors.

He walked outside and looked over the balcony railing. Below him was as sprawling garden. A gravel walkway snaked through the numerous flowers with lit torches along its edges. The garden stretched as far as Sinbad could see and he could smell the flowers from where he stood. It was a familiar scent that reminded him of the garden behind Proteus' home. He nearly swore out loud. Even here he couldn't escape reminders of the prince.

This time, though, Sinbad didn't force the thoughts away. He let himself dwell on the memory and pain.

Why didn't he tell me he was engaged in the first place? he thought. If he believed Proteus, it was because he couldn't lose Sinbad. He wondered what Proteus was doing now? Did he already have a new fiancee? Was he hurting as much as Sinbad was?

Someone once told him that it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Sinbad wasn't sure that was true. Was the couple of weeks he had with Proteus worth the pain he was feeling now? Right now it didn't feel like it.

Did Proteus think it was worth it? He must have or he wouldn't have hid his engagement from Sinbad. Proteus knew the whole time it was going to end in heartbreak, but he did it anyway. Proteus kept his secret as long as possible just to have some time with Sinbad. That realization diminished Sinbad's anger somewhat. Though, not completely. Proteus still lied to him and betrayed him. He should have told Sinbad the truth and let Sinbad decide for himself.

Sinbad hated and loved Proteus so much, it was driving him insane. With a frustrated and tortured cry, Sinbad slammed his fist down onto the stone railing, cracking it.

"I'm glad I wasn't on the receiving end of that. Or the reason for it."

Sinbad spun around at the sudden voice and found the guard standing stiffly in the doorway between the balcony and the library.

Sinbad glanced down at the cracked stone. "I can't imagine you ever will be." He looked back up at the guard with a slight mischievous smile. "Though, if you had come up here with me, you could have prevented it."

The guard nodded once, but remained tense and stoic.

Sinbad leaned back against the railing and crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you follow me to keep an eye on me or are you after something else?"

The guard remained still as a statue. "I don't know."

Sinbad raised an eyebrow. "Have you ever been with another man?"

He lowered his eyes and blushed. "No."

"But, you want to?"

The guard stepped backwards into the library. "I should go."

"Don't."

The guard stopped.

"Answer my question."

The guard came back out onto the balcony. "I don't know."

Sinbad nodded. He wanted to reach out to him, but refrained; he didn't want to scare him off. "Where I'm from, being with another man was punishable by death. Is it the same here?"

"Yes."

"Is that why you're hesitant?"

"Partly."

Sinbad eyed him for a moment. "Do women make you happy?"

"I don't have time for love, one way or the other." He looked down at his sword. "I'm not just a guard, I'm a solider. And there's always a battle."

Sinbad stepped closer to him. "Not tonight." He took another step towards him. The guard watched him, but didn't move. "Tonight- right now- it's just us."

The guard shifted uneasily, but still didn't move away from Sinbad. "And what exactly is it that you want?"

Sinbad thought about giving him a flirtatious answer, but decided to be honest. What did he have to lose, anyway? "I want to feel something other than pain and anger."

A look of complete sadness crossed the guard's face and Sinbad felt a strange impulse to comfort him. "I don't think I can help with that since that's all I've felt for a long time."

Sinbad blinked at him. "You have?"

The guard nodded. "But, I don't want to talk about that."

"I do." And Sinbad really did. He didn't know why he wanted to get to know this stranger. He had only wanted to use him as an unattached distraction. But, he wanted to know what was hurting this man, and then he wanted to make him feel good.

He shook his head. "No, you don't. I'm pretty sure I'm a monster."

Sinbad raised his eyebrows. "I've never seen a monster in person before. I thought they'd be grotesque and terrifying, not sexy." Sinbad closed the gap between them, trapping the guard against the wall. "How can someone as sad and beautiful as you be a monster?"

"Because I've killed hundreds of men. Most were probably innocent."

Sinbad's heart sped up, but he wasn't sure if it was from fear or excitement. "Not by choice, I'm sure. That doesn't make you a monster." He lightly ran his finger over the guard's cheek, just below his mask. His face was illuminated by the lit sconce on the wall above them. This close, Sinbad could see the guard had flecks of dried blood on his face and neck. Sinbad frowned. "Were you in battle today? You still have blood on you."

The guard's eyes grew wide with horror. "I'm sorry." He tried to move away from Sinbad, but Sinbad wouldn't let him.

"Don't be. This is who you are, even if it hurts you."

The guard tried to recompose himself. "Look, I don't know who you are, but you don't want me."

"My name is Sinbad. And yes I do," Sinbad told him. "We can give each other one night where we forget everything." Without thinking, Sinbad ran the tip of his tongue over the guard's neck. He could faintly taste the dried blood on his skin. He didn't particularly like the taste of the blood, but the sigh of pleasure it elicited from the guard compelled Sinbad to do it again.

"Please stop," the guard choked out.

Sinbad did. He stepped back. "You don't want this?"

"I do. That's the problem."

"No one's going to catch us," Sinbad assured him.

"It isn't that. I shouldn't be allowed to have a night to forget what I've done. I deserve to be tortured by this guilt and pain."

"No, you don't," Sinbad whispered.

Sinbad hadn't planned on kissing him. But, it was like he had lost all command over his body. This man was controlling Sinbad's impulses and Sinbad let him.

The kiss was nothing like Sinbad expected. Lust was all he anticipated feeling; instead the kiss invoked a passion he had only ever felt with...

"Proteus," Sinbad moaned the prince's name against the stranger's mouth. The guard either didn't notice or didn't care because his lips did not relent.

The guard's arms were strong as they pulled Sinbad closer to him. Sinbad clutched the front of the guard's shirt with one hand. With his free hand, Sinbad grabbed one of the guard's hands and pinned it above his head. He intertwined his fingers with Sinbad's, which momentarily caught Sinbad off guard. Sinbad had meant for that move to be dominating and maybe even a little possessive, not intimate. Intimacy was not something he was looking for, which is why he never intended to kiss this man in the first place.

Sinbad broke the kiss. The guards lips softly trailed across Sinbad's cheek and gently nibbled his jaw. Sinbad growled with an awakened craving to taste the stranger. He claimed the guard's mouth again. This time Sinbad parted his lips and took possession of the guard's tongue with his own. They moaned at the contact. Sinbad was so aroused he thought he might explode just from kissing this man.

But, it wasn't enough.

Sinbad needed to touch his chest; to feel nothing but bare skin between his hand and the guard's racing heart. He needed the guard to give him the release he so desperately longed for. More importantly, Sinbad felt an all- encompassing need to bring this man to the climax of pleasure so he could hear him moan his name.

Sinbad dropped the guard's hand and used both hands to try to rip the shirt from the guard's body. The stranger broke the kiss and seized Sinbad's wrists.

"Stop," the guard choked out.

Sinbad was panting, his chest heaving up and down. "What?"

"We can't do this." Still gripping Sinbad's wrists, the guard pushed him arm's length away. "I can't do this."

And that was it. The guard left Sinbad on the balcony and never even told him his name.

Every time Sinbad thought about that night, he cursed himself for drinking as much as he had. He couldn't remember the guard's hair or eye color. Hell, he couldn't even remember what kingdom he had been in or really anything about what the guard had looked like. And it didn't help that the entire top half of the guard's face had been hidden under his mask.

Sinbad knew he'd never see him again and he accepted that. Mostly. For a long time, whenever Sinbad found himself lost in darkness, the memory of that night was his lifeline.

Once Sinbad had John, he didn't think about the guard much. John became his new light. Still, even though he loved John, he never felt that intense passion he had felt with the guard. He didn't feel anything like that again until his first night with Phoebus. He hasn't thought about the guard once since he's had Phoebus. He likely wouldn't even be thinking about him now if it hadn't been for that dream.

Phoebus was the only passion and light he needed now. Phoebus was all he needed.

Sinbad never before understood when someone would say they wanted someone so bad it hurt. He understood now. Every part of him ached in Phoebus' absence: his skin, his lips, his heart... He didn't need Phoebus need to live, logically he knew that; but, it truly felt like he'd died without him.