Chapter 8

Tuesday, April 22nd

10: 04 P. M.

Jack was standing over him, smiling that chilling smile. "Admit it, Martin. You're Emmett's whore. That's how you became friends, isn't it? He needed someone to rape and you needed someone to degrade you. I bet you love it when he forces you to perform for him. I wonder what it's like? Does he bother with a mood at all -- candles, soft music? Or is it just straight perverted sex?" Jack causally strolled about the chamber for a moment, head cocked in a thinking pose, licking his lips. "What is it like, Martin? Having him force you to your knees, then unzipping his pants and taking out his organ. It must be so violating to have to perform fellatio on him. And knowing you that must feel so good, especially where my brother is involved." He stopped again in front of him. "I wonder how good it'll feel now, you disgusting little pervert."

Doc snapped awake, shaking like a leaf. Sweat was streaming down his face, which he wiped away. Great Scott. I haven't had a nightmare like that since I was a kid. And they were never anything graphic. He shook his head, feeling slimly all over. The way the dream version of Jack had described the scene, Doc could clearly understand, even see, what he was talking about. I need a hot shower.

He looked around and found himself staring into almost total pitch-blackness. The only light was the soft glowing of readouts from various monitors. Where in the name of Sir Issac H. Newton am I? The last thing I remember is rescuing Marty from Jack. . . .

Marty! Damn it, where's Marty?!

Doc felt himself start to hyperventilate. Please let him be all right. If he's suffered any more, it could mean insanity. I have to--

Wait a moment. Didn't Jack call me Marty in my dream?

The scientist blinked in amazement. Their mysterious telepathic link was still working. Marty must have been dreaming about what Jack had done to him. His body shook with rage. Poor Marty. If that bastard did that to him, I'll kill him with my bare hands.

"Help, somebody! No, don't, don't! Please, anything but that!"

Doc started, then turned his head to the side. Marty was sobbing hard, still in the nightmare's grip. Even though he couldn't see his best friend, he could tell exactly how he felt. "Damn it, why can't you just kill me and get it over with?! I want to die."

Doc's heart broke as he listened to Marty. My best friend. The one who saved my life. And I let him be tortured by a ruthless maniac with my face. He must hate me for not trying to get to him sooner. I hate me too . . . I should have done something earlier. Something. Anything. He'll never be able to look at me again without thinking of Jack. Damn it, why do I hurt everyone I love? I'm sure I'm an embarrassment to my sister, my twin brother went over the edge due to hating me, and Marty's been dubbed another town freak. All I've ever done is hurt people. Maybe I should be thankful to that perverted bastard for helping Marty get away from me. Overwhelmed by guilt and sadness, Doc began to cry.

Marty jerked himself awake with a gasp. These flashbacks and dreams were really pissing him off. Wasn't he ever going to be free of Jack? He slumped down against the pillows and stared blankly into the darkness.

He became aware of someone crying nearby. Puzzled, he turned his head toward it. "Doc? Is that you?"

Doc quickly dried his tears. "Yes, Marty, it's me."

There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. Finally Doc asked, "How long have I been deprived of consciousness?"

"A while." Marty had to admit, it was a lot easier to talk to Doc when he couldn't see what he looked like. "Over a day for the both of us."

"Ah." There was another silence, as Doc struggled with what he wanted to say. He didn't want to upset Marty further. "Did your family come see you?"

"Yeah, along with Jennifer and your sister. It was nice seeing them again." For a moment, Marty convinced himself that it was Jack in the other bed, not Doc, but he managed to shake the delusion off. "You okay, Doc?"

"Only my shoulder hurts," Doc said. Marty frowned -- Doc's tone suggested he was hurting a lot more.

"You sure, Doc?" he probed gently.

Doc sighed. "Well, truthfully, I'm extremely sorry you had to go through all you did. I never wanted that to happen to you. I should have warned you about Jack earlier, but I thought he was out of my life forever. I'm so sorry."

"How the hell were you supposed to know, Doc?" Marty replied. "I couldn't tell he wasn't you at first. Jack was a good actor." Saying the name gave him a shiver.

"But I should have done more!" Doc burst out. "I should have been out there looking for you. I should have been distributing flyers or something. You're my best friend, and I owe it to you. If it hadn't been for those damn fits--"

"The doctor mentioned those too! What's been going on with you, Doc?"

Doc hesitated. "Are you sure you want to know, Marty?"

"Trust me, Doc, nothing can shock me anymore."

"All right then. Ever since you were kidnaped, I've been experiencing these debilitating attacks. Not one of them resembled the other -- I always felt different during each one. And no one has any clue what brought them on."

Marty shuddered. "Sounds like we've both been through hell."

"I'm sure you've been through more layers than I have. I'm so glad I was able to find you in time to stop that bastard from--" Doc stopped, unable to think about what might have happened if he had gotten there even a second too late. He began to cry again. "Marty, I'm so sorry. . . ."

Marty had no idea what to do. He wanted to comfort Doc somehow, but part of him refused to get close to someone who looked so much like Jack. He slammed his fist into the bed, frustrated to the extreme. Damn it! Why the hell did it have to be my best friend's twin? This wouldn't be half as shitty if I could still be close to him.

"I know, Marty, I should have told you about him," Doc reiterated. "I'll fully understand if you can't look at me."

Marty blinked, then remembered. "You can still read my mind?"

"Yes. In fact, I know what you were just dreaming about." Doc's temper flared. "Did that bastard really do that to you?"

"He was gonna, but I told him I would bite it off if he did," Marty said, unconsciously cringing at Doc's tone. "He did manage to French me." He made a disgusted face, recalling how violated he had felt during the experience.

"I know, I felt that too," Doc said, another wave of guilt crashing over him. "Marty, I can't tell you how sorry I am for you. I promise I'll do anything to help you get better."

"Thanks, Doc." There was a pause. "Hold on a second, you felt him French me? How?"

Doc abruptly realized what he had said. A lightbulb came on over his head. "Oh my God. . . . My fits -- they must have been connected to when Jack was torturing you. I was feeling what you were."

"Holy shit," Marty gasped, amazed. "You felt him torturing me? Christ, Doc. How much did you feel?"

"I don't know, but a lot," Doc confessed. "I especially remember this one time -- I think it was the first time I heard Jack's voice. I suddenly couldn't respire, and I found myself pummeling the ground with my fists. When it was all over, I thought I could perceive his vocal chords vibrating--"

He heard Marty giggle across from him in the darkness. "What's funny?"

"I just missed the way you talked, Doc," Marty said. "Don't worry, I got what you were saying."

Doc smiled a little -- it was nice to hear Marty laugh. "I'm glad to hear that."

Marty made himself more comfortable on the bed. "Doc, why do you think we can read each other's minds?"

"I don't know, but it does explain how you can tell what I need before I need it. I wonder how long you've been able to do that?"

"Ever since we first met, Doc. Remember when I first met Jennifer?" Marty felt a little more at ease now. The darkness was almost comforting, protecting him from the terror of Doc's face while allowing him to hear his voice. "You knew exactly what I needed."

Doc frowned. "Even still, I think an event in the past precipitated this. What could allow me to gain the ability earlier than you?"

"I dunno, Doc. Maybe we always both had it?"

"I don't think so. Otherwise our telepathy would work with other people, and I don't think it does. I'll have to run a test in the morning. No, Marty, I believe that we were affected by something--"

Once again, he had a sudden revelation. "The mind-reading machine! Marty, do you remember that shock it gave us?"

There was no reply from the teen. "Marty?" He quickly read the teen's mind and found him in the grips of a flashback. He could almost feel himself on that rack, his back being stretched to the breaking point. Knives along the edges carved long stripes into his sides, covering the machine with his blood. The pain was practically blinding him -- all he could see was whiteness. Jack's laughter reverberated through his skull, increasing the pain tenfold. . . .

Doc snapped himself free of Marty's flashback with an effort. God, that brings back memories. Jack's refined his style. Needing to do something to help his best friend, he got out of bed and bumped his way to Marty's. He found the teenager shaking and moaning, obviously completely unaware of his surroundings. Doc hesitated a moment. Is this the right thing to do for Marty? Damn, I have to do something. Then, mentally crossing his fingers, he pulled his friend into a hug. "Marty. Marty."

"Doc?" Marty emerged from the delusion to find himself safely in Doc's arms. Tears came to his eyes. "Doc, I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." He held Marty close, allowing the teen to hear his heartbeat. "It affected me too. That f***ing bastard. I'm ashamed to be related to him."

Marty closed his eyes and let Doc hold him. He was reminded of how he had clung to Doc when his friend had rescued him. I guess the only problem I have with him is his face. That's not too bad. He snuggled into Doc's chest, returning the hug. "Thanks for snapping me out of it."

"No problem." Doc found himself remembering his own experiences with Jack, so long ago. They were rather soft stuff compared to what Marty had gone through, but they still caused him pain. Unknowingly he tightened his grip on Marty, wishing Jack had never been born.

Marty sighed as another flashback tried to pull him away from Doc's embrace. It was a rather simple one, his arm twisted painfully back behind his back. Jack continued to increase the pressure, just enough to cause maximum pain without breaking the arm. "Say uncle, Emmett," he cooed in his --

Emmett?

Marty's eyes snapped open. "He did it to you too?"

"What?"

"Jack tortured you too?"

"I don't really want to talk about what happ -- How did you know? I didn't want to tell you while you were recovering. I don't want to stress you."

"My latest flashback was one of yours." Marty felt tears come to his eyes. Damn it, Doc, you could have told me. You're the only one who's gonna really understand. And I can't even look at you!

Marty, I just want you to be safe. We can get through this. I promise I'll do everything in my power to help you with any issues you may have.

Thanks, Doc. He felt Doc start to move away and pulled him back. Could you stay here? Please? In case I have another nightmare? I don't want to be left alone.

Of course.