Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.

Author's Notes: Thanks as always to Mandi for being a wonderful beta. Sorry it's a day late, couldn't log in to upload last night!

Chapter 2

Finley took a long drag from his cigarette, pressing his back against the cool stone of the building. It had been two weeks since he had hooked up with Alexander and since then he hadn't slept with anyone else.

That wasn't unusual, he normally went longer without finding someone to share his bed with for a night. What was unusual is that he and Alexander had shared his bed at what Finley could guess was every available opportunity.

The night Ben had left he had found himself back at the club where they had first met and, without hearing so much as a song, Alexander had found them and they had left together. He realized, when he showed up there the next night and Alexander had appeared at his elbow almost as soon as he walked inside, that the other man was waiting for him.

It had been a surprise to him, when he arrived and Alexander didn't appear at his side, that he was waiting for the other man, hanging around the door until he appeared. If he didn't appear, Finley stayed awhile and then left for his empty bed.

They always went to his place, though Alexander had casually mentioned he had moved into his new place. They always had sex, and, Finley thought with a satisfied smirk, good sex at that. But they talked too, a bit, and Finley found that with Alexander he could be... versatile and he normally wasn't at all.

He flicked ash off the end of his cigarette. Tonight he had decided to pick someone new up. Enough bullshit. He wasn't looking for a relationship. He wasn't looking for anything but a quick tumble. Everything else was too complicated and he couldn't deal with that.

He'd entered the club and immediately felt overwhelmed by the noise and press of people. The place was abnormally crowded and most of the time that didn't bother him much but sometimes... Finley smiled sardonically and stretched out his hand, the one holding his cigarette.

It shook and there was no stopping it. Hell, being out of the crowd and two cigarettes hadn't stopped it. He was ready to give up, go home, and read as long as his eyes stayed open.

He heard a car pull into the space in front of him and he looked up as he put the cigarette back in his mouth, hoping it would steady him just a bit more before he left. A pair of silvery eyes met his grey ones questioningly.

He couldn't look away. Something about those damned eyes drew him in until he didn't want to. He saw the question in those eyes, he could read people well enough. Neither of them really knew what they were doing. He could walk away now and they would leave it at that or he could get in the car and they would go from there.

His choice. Too bad he had no fucking clue what he was going to or wanted to do.

The silver eyes held him still and he felt, for a moment, pinned into a corner. Alexander was leaning over the steering wheel and he looked relaxed enough, the bastard...

Stressed already, trembling and aching, Finley inhaled too sharply and coughed. Hacked would be a better word. He bent over, trying to get his breath back.

The car door opened and he vaguely recognized the quick footsteps. A hand settled on his back. The tenderness in that touch surprised Finley.

"You really should quit, you know," Alexander told him, his other arm slipped around Finley's waist more to steady him than anything else.

"Can't," Finley managed hoarsely. He stuck one trembling hand out abruptly, the other was clasping Alexander's arm. "It's the only thing that seems to help when that happens."

Alexander looked at him a bit grimly, keeping his arm where it was even as Finley stood up again. He took a final drag, wincing slightly, and then let the cigarette drop, snuffing it with his shoe.

"You want to come to my place?" Alexander asked quietly.

Finley shook his head. "Not tonight. Another night just... Not tonight."

"Okay," Alexander said, rubbing Finley's arm briefly before they got into the car.

Finley hadn't made the decision when he heard the water turn off. It was morning. Alexander had stayed the night. They hadn't done that before. They'd eaten breakfast together, some God awful cereal that Ben had munched his way through the last time he'd been there. Alexander was going straight to work, said he had a change of clothes and toothbrush in the office but he didn't have a shower.

Finley put away the dishes he'd finished washing and listened to Alexander moving about in the bathroom. He frowned and looked at the pen and scrap of paper. Wiping his hands on the dishtowel, he scribbled down his number.

It was stupid. Alexander knew where he lived, why the hell did he need his number?

The bathroom door opened. Finley decided, feeling like the bottom of his stomach was about to drop out. He strode into the hall and...

Alexander's hair was still damp and the top button of his jeans was undone. He had a piece of paper in his hand even as Finley was thrusting his number at him.

They grinned at each other and Alexander laughed. "Great minds think alike, eh?"

"Or fools never differ," Finley countered still smiling, feeling a bit, well, giddy.

Alexander was still grinning as he did up the button of his jeans. "I have to have dinner with my parents tonight. My mother seems to think I'm twelve again. Can I call you after?"

"I'd like that," Finley replied, smothering a chuckle. What was the name of that damned movie?

"Alright," Alexander came forward and kissed him briefly. "I'll see you later then."

"Right," Finley replied, surprised by the kiss, surprised by everything about this turn of events. His smile turned a bit shy as Alexander looked back at him as he walked through the door. "Bye."

"Fuck, fuck," Finley muttered as he stumbled from the bed, down the hall and finally, finally!, into the washroom where he proceeded to vomit painfully until his stomach had absolutely nothing left to give up to the porcelain gods.

A cool hand touched the back of his neck and then his forehead. Checking for a fever, probably, the man was a doctor.

"'M not sick," Finley mumbled. "Go back to bed."

He heard a snort, then the hands left for a moment, their absence made him feel cold, made him shiver a bit more on the cold tile floor as he leaned over the toilet. He heard water running and then a cool cloth pressed against his forehead and an arm wrapped around his waist supporting him.

His body felt so hot that the cool touches hurt and he gave a pained moan. "I need a smoke."

Just the thought of the flame it would take to light the cigarette and the smell of the thin curl of smoke that rose from the end made him want to retch and he dry heaved over the toilet a few times. He could feel tears coursing down his flushed cheeks and felt ashamed.

"That's your body saying no, Fin," Alexander told him, his tone gentle. "You going to puke anymore?"

Finley shook his head, the motion jerky. "Nothing left."

"Okay, come on," Alexander's hands were around his waist and he was half carried downstairs to the sofa.

He settled Finley on the couch, wrapping a thin, soft blanket around him. His body had been incredibly hot to the touch when he had woken but it cooled so rapidly Alexander thought it was unhealthy and he would prefer to keep his lover from going into shock.

He made tea. Chamomile, because he'd noticed Finley didn't sleep well early on. He set it before him and took a seat on the coffee table, still as naked as Finley was under the blanket, taking one of Finley's hands in his own.

Finley looked at the tea and reached for the pack of cigarettes he'd left there earlier. He blanched and pulled his hands away as if he'd been burned. Alexander grabbed his other hand and held it tight until Finley met his eyes.

The despair he saw there was nearly crushing.

"You get nightmares often?" Alexander asked, keeping his tone very calm.

Finley nodded, looking away, misery in every line. "I should have told you..."

"I guessed as much," Alexander told him. "You haven't slept well when you did sleep since that first night. My dad was in the military. He had nightmares and I'm guessing but I think he didn't have as hard a time as you. You're not in the military anymore and you have a pension you can live off, so I'm guessing you must have been through something pretty fucking bad."

Finley bit his lip. He didn't know what to say. Suddenly, overwhelmingly, he wanted his brother.

"I'm not going to press you for details, not just now anyway," Alexander assured him. "I'm just going to chalk it up to some mission that went awry and leave it at that until you want to tell me..."

"No, no," Finley said, shaking his head a bit desperately. "That's just it. It wasn't something that happened to me. I mean, yes, I still have nightmares about that but this one wasn't! I..."

"I...since I was a kid I've had weird dreams. They don't make any sense and they scare the hell out of me but they just... after... when I came home they really started getting bad," Finley swallowed and looked at Alexander, his eyes haunted. "There was fire, and, God, some madman who looked like my father was in the midst of it and so was I. I've never dreamt it before and nothing I can think of would make me dream it. I'm going fucking crazy. Fuck. Fuck."

"Shh, Fin, calm down," Alexander murmured.

"I'm going nuts, that's all I can think of. I don't know what the hell to do. The nightmares I get otherwise are bad enough. I don't want these!" Finley's faced was flushed with panic. "I'm crazy. I don't understand any of it otherwise. God, what the hell are you doing with me? I'm..."

His words were muffled as Alexander pulled him close. Shaking, shocked by the touch, Finley gave in and cried into his shoulder until exhaustion crept up on him and he sagged against his lover.

When he was calm enough to listen again, Alexander pulled away and regarded him carefully. "You're not going crazy. Let's figure this out, okay?"

Finley hesitated but sighed and nodded. Alexander put the tea in his hands and coaxed him to drink. "Okay. Is there anything in particular you can think of that stressed you out today?"

Finley wouldn't look at him when he answered. "I'm never... comfortable sleeping in an

unfamiliar place."

"Fin, you should have told me. We could've gone to your place," Alexander told him quietly.

"I should have, yeah, but... Unless I start staying here I'll never get used to it and if I'd told you we either would have gone to my place or you would have watched me all night and that makes it worse most of the time," Finley admitted. "I hate it when people find out I've got another problem it just... I always wonder how many more they'll find out about before they walk away."

"I'm still here, I'm not planning on going anywhere," Alexander assured him. "Anything else I should know about in advance though?"

"You want the list?" Finley chuckled humourlessly. "I couldn't even tell you. I'm so used to just living with everything I don't think about it anymore until I have to. I don't want to think about it."

"Okay, we won't then, for now," Alexander said, pausing, thinking. "Fire and a man who looked like your father... Fin, you've never said anything about your father to me before."

"There's nothing to say. He's dead," Finley replied quietly. "He's been dead for over five years."

"How did he die?" Alexander asked.

"He killed himself," Finley told him, and Alexander heard the coldness in his voice. "Blew his brains out. We never did figure out why, really. I was living there at the time, I had just been discharged and I was still wounded badly enough that I couldn't really live on my own. Ben was driving me home from physiotherapy and when we got there..."

Finley swallowed. "He was a mean bastard when he drank and he had been drinking when he did it. I suppose he wanted to leave us one fucking farewell by doing it in the front hall so we nearly tripped over his body when he came through the door."

"Jesus Christ," Alexander muttered.

"Yeah, I know," Finley said quietly. "We never got along. He...He wasn't very pleased when I moved back in with him after being discharged. We've been military men for generations and enlisting wasn't what I'd have preferred to do but, well, there weren't a whole lot of other options. He thought I was a coward when I got hurt and didn't tough it out and was discharged, I suppose."

Alexander swallowed. He had realized early on that Finley had some issues but...shit. "That could explain why you're dreaming of your father dying. There are enough unresolved issues there."

Finley snorted. "No shit."

Alexander smiled just slightly. "You can't think of anything to do with fire?"

Finley shook his head. "Never had a problem with it before."

Alexander frowned, searching for something...Wait, maybe... "Wasn't there a story about an arsonist on the news tonight?"

Finley thought but nodded slowly. "I think so..."

"There was, I remember, one of the houses he torched had people in it. They've been looking for him for awhile so the story has been in the news for a couple days," Alexander told him. "That could have stuck in the back of your mind easily enough."

Finley remained silent. He was so very tempted to accept Alexander's explanation but...The dream was a vivid, perhaps more so, than any memory he had, the marble walls of the building, the other people there that looked like, well, guards, the clothing everyone wore...It didn't make any sense!

"Right," he heard himself saying. "That...That makes sense."

Alexander moved to sit beside him and, after a moment, Finley rested his head against his

shoulder, closing his eyes. Alexander touched his hair gently. "I won't sleep again tonight."

Alexander's lips ghosted against his hair. "I'm sure we'll find something to do..."

Finley's hand shook as he took a drag from his smoke. It was a dismal day, cloudy and without sunshine but it hadn't rained yet. Finley absently wondered if it would or if it was just going to be grey all day long.

He heard the soft snick of the lock turning. He didn't move, flicking the end of the cigarette so the ashes fell off. He thought, briefly, that he should hang a picture on the wall so it would seem like he was looking at something when he sat there staring. As there wasn't anything there but a blank white wall it was rather blatantly clear he was just staring.

He inhaled and blew out a huff of smoke. The light flicked on and he blinked at the sudden brightness. Hands slid onto his shoulders gently, carefully, as if he would startle easily. Finley knew it would make more sense if he were jumpy, probable. A gun could have gone off by his ear and he wouldn't have flinched, he felt so numb.

"Bad day?" Alexander's beard tickled against his cheek.

He took another puff. "Not the greatest but it could've been worse."

"What happened?" Alexander asked.

Finley shrugged, putting the smoke out. "Saw my shrink today."

"I didn't know you had one," Alexander commented. His hands began to slowly move in circles over Finley's shoulders.

Finley flinched a little and the movement stopped abruptly, Alexander's hands falling away. He cringed and fumbled for his lighter and another smoke. "Once a month for all the good it does and testing every year to see if they can get away with reducing my pension. The shrinks are a joke."

"Every tried a different one?" Alexander offered. "That could make a difference..."

"I think I must've tried every shrink in the area and close enough for Ben to drive me to since I got home," Finley muttered. He had stuck a new cigarette between his lips but couldn't manage to light it. "Nothing works. That's why I've still got the pension, well, that and...FUCK!"

He threw the lighter down. Alexander caught it on a bounce and held it steady. He lit the

cigarette without a word. Finley took a drag and released it with a long sigh. He slumped

forward onto the table, his hand sliding into his hair and gripping it hard. His eyes closed.

He smiled bitterly, "I'm awful company right now. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to leave."

Alexander's hand touched his arm carefully and Finley opened his weary eyes to see him looking at him intently. "I'm not going anywhere, Fin."

"You might regret that," Finley murmured.

"It's my choice. Let me decide it, okay?" Alexander told him. "No more of it."

"Okay," Finley agreed, taking another slow drag.

"Have you eaten anything today?" Alexander asked after a moment's pause.

Finley shook his head. "I'm...not sure I can."

"Will you try?" Alexander pressed gently.

Finley flicked some ashes into the ashtray. "I'll try."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Finley smiled just slightly.

Alexander chanced putting his arms about him. Finley didn't flinch and reached up to put his free hand on top of the comforting arms. "Thank you."