Title: Timeless

Chapter Four: Aries

Summary: It's a bloodbath, folks, and all the secrets are out. Is Christophe dealt with, or is it only the beginning of their problems?

Disclaimer: See chapter one

Warnings: Nothing you don't know about already.

Authors notes: This chapter ran away from me. I wrote it over nearly a week, which isn't like me. Normally I write it all in one sitting, but this chapter just gave me trouble. Because of that this chapter became far too large. I never intended the chapter to go on so long, but I suppose it has a mind of its own.

Chapter Four: Aries

Kyle was extremely disorientated the next time he awoke. Blinking rapidly he was able to deduce his location, but not how he came to be. His last lucid memory was that of Eric Cartman. They had been in his car talking. Eric was taking him home to Stan.

Kyle froze, clinging to the heavy blanket Stan especially loved. What exactly had he told Eric? He had been less than aware of most of the things coming from his mouth, and even less aware of his thoughts. He wanted to believe Eric didn't know anything, but Kyle knew otherwise. He had been holding the anger and the sorry and all the other emotions in for too long, and they had come out like a flood.

Dressed in Stan's pajamas, Kyle climbed from the bed. The room was empty, and he couldn't hear anything from behind the closed bedroom door. The room was dark, and from that he realized it was either extremely early in the morning or late at night. Either way, where was Stan?

Glancing down at the answering machine Kyle noted the flashing number of messages. Next to it the phone clock read nine at night. With a slight sigh he reached down, pressing the play button.

"Kyle, where are you?"

Kyle froze at Christophe's voice.

"I woke this morning and you were missing. Did you go home early? Did you call Stan? Call me, Broflovski. We need to talk about last night. Err, you know, about everything. Call me."

He deleted the message right away. The Third message began.

"Kyle, this is Christophe, you call me now! Where are you? Just call me. Did something happen with Stan? You know you're always welcome at my house. Come over as soon as you get this. I need you to, Kyle."

That was slightly frightening him. But before long the third message was going.

"Kyle Broflovski, young man, you pick up the phone! If you're there you had better pick up the phone. We need to talk about Chanukah. Call me, sweetie, I'm not mad about last time."

Kyle rolled his eyes. His mother would never change.

The forth message was from a friend in his Chemistry class, wondering where he was, and the fifth was from Ike. His younger brother's tone gave a clear indication that their mother was standing behind him. Ike asked sweetly if Stan would please come visit him for Chanukah, however hidden in his voice was a clear warning. Ike was practically screaming at him to stay away if he valued sanity.

He grabbed a hoddie from the closet and slipped it over his head. There was a lingering ache in his head, and his lungs were still burning with each deep breath. That told him right away he had been sick. Then again, he had been walking around in the freezing cold. It would have been a miracle to come out fine.

He stumbled from the master bedroom, still a bit uneasy on his feet. Yawning loudly he flopped onto the living room sofa, blinking confused eyes at Eric and Kenny.

"What're you guys doing here?" He looked around, hoping to find his boyfriend. "Where's Stan?"

"He went out," Kenny answered him awkwardly. "We promised to sit with you."

Kyle raised an eyebrow and tucked his feet beneath him. "Okay, do you know when he'll be back?"

There was something wrong with the situation, Kyle observed. Eric wouldn't look near him, and Kenny radiated sympathy. The two others knew something, and they weren't keen on sharing.

"We don't," Eric told him oddly. His tone was … the same as Kenny's, a sympathetic, or apologetic tone. "We don't quite know if he'll even be coming back."

So that was it? Stan was gone. Kyle had spilled his guts out to Eric and in return he had told Stan. "Oh." That was that. He had brought it down on himself.

"We're sorry," And Kenny really sounded it. "We tried to stop him."

Curling in on himself Kyle felt nothing. He wanted to cry. He wanted to desperately sob and hug his pillow, or even call his mother. He wanted to run after Stan and beg him to stay. He hadn't meant to screw things up with the man he loved, and now it was all over. Kyle has lost the one person in the world he loved more than life.

"No, guys, it's okay. I mean, really, I should have expected this. I was just trying to, well, I don't know what I was trying to do, but it wasn't this. I never meant to cause this crap. Stan had every right to react the way he did. If he never came back I'd get what I deserve. I'm surprised he didn't leave me sooner." He was rambling, and aware of his rambling, but couldn't stop.

When he finally did, and looked up at this two friends he met mirror looks of confusion, and fear.

"What are you talking about?" Kenny wondered. "Stan didn't leave you. Hell, what he's doing is for you. We tried to stop him, but he's going to take care of business."

Utterly confused Kyle frowned. "If he didn't leave me, where'd he go? You just said you were sorry. He left me, because of Christophe."

"No, you stupid Jew," Eric bit back. "He's going to get his ass thrown in jail over you. He went after Christophe just a while ago."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Kyle," Kenny snapped his fingers, drawing attention. "We know what Christophe did to you. When Stan found out he flipped and flew out of here like a bat out of hell. He's probably promptly kicking Christophe's ass, or worse. So when we say he might not be coming back, it might be because he's facing jail time."

Kyle sprung to his feet. "But Christophe didn't do anything to me!"

"That isn't what you implied last night. Your dumb ass was rambling off about this and that, not to mention how uncomfortable he made you. When I asked you what he did last night you evaded my question. One can only assume."

"Fuck your assumptions." He nearly vaulted over the sofa, racing towards his shoes and car keys.

"Your car isn't here," Kenny pointed out, and the Jewish man cursed loudly.

"Christophe didn't violate you?"

The redhead was breathing raggedly. "Of course not. Heaven knows he wants to, and he tried, but I pushed him off and told him not to attempt anything again. Fuck, Cartman, you make it seem like he raped me." Further realization dawned on Kyle. "Kenny, give me your car keys, now."

"No way." Zipping up his own jacke Kenny frowned. "You're still sick, and in no condition to drive. I'll take you. Eric, can you follow us in your car?"

They headed out together in a mad rush, hoping to find Stan Marsh, hands free of blood.

What they found instead, after Eric Cartman had managed to kick in Christophe's front door, was Stan and Christophe, collapsed together covered in mixed blood. The apartment was a total mess, with objects broken and shattered left and right. It seemed Stan and Christophe had gotten into a fairly destructive fight before wearing each other out and collapsing. Neither was particularly small or weak, and Kyle could only imagine the rough fight they had engaged in.

Thank goodness both were conscious. Exhausted, bloody and in need of medical attention, but awake and alive.

Kyle collapsed down next to Stan, pulling the brunet onto his bent knees. "Oh, Stan, I'm so sorry." He couldn't stop his tears, and brush the ones that landed silently on Stan away.

"Should we call and ambulance?" Eric asked, watching Kenny check Christophe over.

Kyle bit down on his lip, nearly hard enough to draw blood. His hands were becoming soaked with Stan's blood, and his boyfriend seemed ready to faint. "No--no, but we should take them to the hospital. Get them looked over." Running his hands down Stan's side he could feel injured ribs.

"Fine," Eric huffed. "But if that French piece of shit gets blood in my car it's on, Brovlofski, it's on."

While Stan and Chrisophe were bleeding, it wasn't life threatening, and being such they were required to wait an extended amount of time in the Emergency waiting room. Mostly Kyle kept his arm wrapped tightly around Stan's broad shoulders. In return Stan clutched tightly onto his shirt. Occasionally the star football player would mumble incoherent words and tighten his grip on Kyle's shirt. The Jewish boy found it both troubling and affectionate at the same time.

Nearly half an hour after the group had reached the waiting room, Stan was lying on a medical table, being check over by a doctor. Across the hallway Kenny and Eric had agreed to wait with Christophe.

"He's banged himself up pretty bad," The doctor observed, and Kyle wasn't quite sure if she was addressing him, or herself. "Bruised ribs, sprained wrist, concussion, quite a nasty bump on the back of the head, and the nose is officially broken. We'd like to keep him over night, because of the severity of his concussion, but in the morning he'll be fine to go."

Kyle nodded, stroking the back of Stan's hand with a steady thumb. "Can I--can I stay the night?"

"Are you family?"

Kyle didn't miss a beat. "Yes."

The doctor tucked Stan's chart into the slot at the end of his bed. "Alright, I'll have someone bring you a pillow and blanket for the night. Page me right away if there is anything wrong, and he shouldn't move around a whole lot. Keep him awake for a while, at least until we're out of a danger zone. I'll get a nurse to alert you when it's safe for him to sleep." The doctor gave him a knowing look. "Do you hear me, Mr. Marsh?"

"Hmm, yeah," Stan offered her. "Awake, I get it." But he found he was feeling better, thanks to the IV and the painkillers being pumped into his body."

She left them quickly.

"I'm sorry, Stan," Kyle choked. "Eric's an idiot, and he didn't understand what I was saying."

For someone lying in a hospital bed, Stan gripped Kyle rather strongly. "Tell me right now what I want to know." Kyle agreed instantly. "I want to know if Christophe ever touched you in an inappropriate way, and you know what I mean."

Kyle chose his words carefully. "In the beginning, no. At first he wouldn't touch me at all. Right when I started working for his mom and dad, he pretended I didn't exist. I guess he warmed up to me, because we started hanging out." Oh, yes, Stan remembered when Kyle's Christophe stage started. "And then he told me he wanted to date me. And I told him no." There was little doubt of conviction in Kyle's words. He was strong now, and knew exactly what he wanted.

"And then?" Stan prompted, scooting to the side.

Kyle scurried up to lay next to Stan. "And then he started hugging me an awful lot. Gave me rides to places, and he was someone I could talk to when you were away in class or at work. He became super touchy, but Stan, he never did anything I didn't like. He was a perfect gentle man, and I respected him for that. You had nothing to worry about, because he understood us."

"Then what was Eric running his mouth about last night. He's known to make up some wild tales, but I doubt he'd claim you'd been molested, just for kicks. Not at this point in our relationship."

Kyle burrowed into Stan's side as softly as possible. "He probably thought I had been. When he picked me up I was lost and disorientated. I was sick."

"You still are." Concern laced Stan's voice as he noticed his partner's ragged condition. With skill he maneuvered himself slightly so he could wrap his uninjured arm around his boyfriend.

"I was coming home to you, Stan. That night I didn't come home wasn't my intention. I was just going to drive around a little, then come home. But Christophe saw me, and he took me home with him." Kyle couldn't bring himself to say forced, because Christophe hadn't really forced him. It wouldn't be fair to say forced. "And when we go there he told me he was tired of waiting. He wanted a relationship with me, Stan, but I wasn't going to give it to him. I knew what he wanted, and all I wanted was you."

Stan's face was set in stone. He reached a hand up to push the sleeve of Kyle's sweat shirt up. "And he just left you alone after you told him no? That's why there are hand marks here." Stan fingered the marks. He had seen them the previous night when changing his unconscious boyfriend's clothing.

"He grabbed me," Kyle admitted. "But he didn't mean to hurt me. He shook me around for a bit, but when he realized what he was doing he let me go. I made it clear there wouldn't ever be anything between he and I, and to the best of my knowledge he accepts that. I wasn't going to go near him for a while, Stan. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"You swear that's the truth?"

"Of course, Stan." Kyle was stiff next to him, shaking only the tinniest. "I swear. Do you hate me?"

Stan pressed a kiss to the top of Kyle's head. "Don't be insecure. I love you, dummy. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. If we don't work out, I'll be heartbroken, because I really love you and need you, but I'll survive. However it will kill me if you're ever hurt. Eric had come bursting out with how Christophe had probably raped you, and I couldn't stand the thought of that. I went to talk with Christophe and he made it seem like--well, I'm not sure, but he set me off. All I could think was here is the guy who hurt my boyfriend. This is the man that is destroying Kyle Brovlofski. I love you more than anything else, and I can't ever just sit around and let someone hurt you."

"You didn't have to go over there. Christophe could press charges. We don't have the money for a lawyer, or any kind of settlement he'd want."

Stan shrugged painfully. "Nah, I doubt he'll press charges He threw the first punch."

Kyle blinked. "Why?"

"He really needed to relieve some tension," A new voice came from the door way. Kyle knew that voice. "Felt good, didn't it, Marsh?"

While neither boy had won the fight, Christophe seemed to be fairing just a bit better than Stan. He was supporting a badly damaged leg with crutches, and the bandage around his head soaking with a red color indicated a head wound.

"Get the hell out." Kyle's stomach sunk at the thought of Stan and Christophe engaging in another fight. "And you stay the hell away from Kyle, or I'll kick your ass."

"Because you did a fantastic job last time," Christophe's mouth ran away from him. "But since you're such a great, attentive boyfriend I'm sure Kyle had no problem playing the good housewife. I mean, that's what he's been doing for the past weeks, right?"

Kyle flopped suddenly backwards as Stan shot forward, detaching the IV from his arm. Kyle gave one yelp as he tumbled over the back of the bed, landing on the cold floor with a hard crunch and a snap. Stan paled and Christophe looked surprised.

"Are you alright?" Stan was at Kyle's side a second later. "Dude, your arm." And indeed Kyle's arm was bent in a rather nasty fashion, and in return the red-head's face reflected pain.

"Get the hell out," Stan called over his shoulder as he assisted Kyle to his feet. "It's probably broken," Stan observed, hesitant to touch the arm. "I think I see part of the bone."

Kyle was feeling faint, and leaned on Stan.

"I applaud you, Marsh," Christophe continued, Kenny and Eric appearing behind him. "I wouldn't stay with my boyfriend after he'd been fooling around on me. You're loyal, even if your other part isn't."

Kyle paled further, forgetting his pain momentarily. "What are you doing this, Christophe?"

"I don't care," Stan broke in, seating Kyle on his bed. He shook off momentary discomfort and willed the room to stop spinning. "No matter what you say, or how you bait us, I know Kyle far more than you could ever hope to. I know he's faithful, even if you don't."

"One day," Christophe said, adjusting his crutches. "Kyle, you'll see Stan isn't right for you. You can't bring him home to your mother, and he can't be there for you when you need him the most. One day you'll recognize how much you need me, and I'll be waiting. You'll realize what we had was worth everything."

"We never had anything."

Stan was jabbing the help button located next to his bed mercilessly as Christophe hobbled from the room. "Guys," Stan looked up, just now noticing his friends. "Kyle fell, can you go find a nurse?" He grumbled. "Since this stupid thing isn't working." They left soundlessly, and Stan sat next to Kyle.

"Well," The Jew inquired. "Don't you want to know?"

"Know what?"

"Don't be a fucking idiot, Marsh."

Stan wrinkled his forehead. "Honestly, Kyle, I don't care and I don't want to know. That's your business, and I won't ask."

Kyle cradled his arm, leaning sideways so his shoulder touched Stan's. "It isn't what you think, jock."

"Then what is it, bookworm?"

Kyle giggled softly. "I thought you weren't going to ask."

"I didn't think you'd tease me."

"Fair enough," Kyle allowed. "Christophe and I … we, never did anything. No matter what he says or tries to prove, believe me."

"Then why'd you meet with him so often? And it was all secret, which caused paranoia on my end. What were you and he doing?"

"Not doing," Kyle corrected. "Talking about. Christophe's family has a beach house in California. Near Santa Cruz, and it's going to be free in May." Stan wondered, but said nothing. "At first I just mentioned to him how every year to manage to surprise me with something great for our anniversary, and every year I feel like I can't measure up. Then I brought up the trip we took to California right before our senior year, and he told me his family had a beach house out there, but they never used it. Christophe promised to let us use it, and help me with all the planning if I met with him a couple times a week."

"It couldn't have taken that long to make plans."

Kyle shook his head. "It didn't, but it felt like he was baiting me. Every time I'd leave he'd almost make it seem like if I didn't come next time everything would be down the drain. And then after you started getting so suspicious he began subtly suggesting he could accidentally slip around you. I didn't know what to do, because I really wanted this year to be special. So I kept going, no matter how uncomfortable it was."

Stan seethed. "I'll kill him."

"Don't, Stan." Kyle's eyes slipped shut, his cold catching back up with him. "Christophe isn't a bad person. He never forced me into anything, and people can't help but acting a little crazy when they're in love."

Stan nodded, slipping an arm around Kyle's shoulders. "I get it." People did do crazy things when in love. Even Stan understood that much. Still, Chritophe was too close to crossing a line no one wanted to see. Stan would be on the look out from now on, and if he caught Christophe trying anything, God himself wouldn't be able to stop the ensuing blood bath.

"Oh, my," A young blonde nurse gasped, entering the room. "What happened here?"

Kyle pressed a quick kiss to Stan's lips, tongue darting out to taste his boyfriend. An instant later Stan had jerked him carefully forward and was devouring his mouth, his good hand traveling south.

Kyle shifted in his seat to press his knee against Stan's, and then broke away. "I fell." He hefted his arm upward.

"I can only imagine doing what," The nurse observed, leaving to page a doctor.