DESTROYED

Chapter 32

SUMMARY: In this next to last chapter, we focus on Mark and Sam, as well as another lovely Angel/Collins moment. I was gonna bring in more of Angel's past, but I decided that if I did the story would become too flooded with it. So, onwards and upwards fellow readers as we enter the home stretch of this saga…

Sam fidgeted in the spot he was sitting in and starting trembling. Everything about this place he could handle, but it didn't mean he was any less afraid of what was gonna happen to him. He valued his freedom so much that the thought of being cooped up in jail for the next thirty or so years was a more terrifying prospect than death itself, and yes the thought of suicide did cross his mind on more than one occasion. There wasn't anything that was keeping him alive anymore, and Collins walked out of his life for his second chance with his lover, Angel – so there was no love worth living for, to Sam. Ever since their arrest, Julian refused to talk to him and Sam was suspecting that he may be cooperating with authorities against him, which wouldn't surprise him as Julian always said that friendship was important, but in the end it simply came down to every man for himself. Now don't go getting the wrong idea, Sam is perfectly capable and willing to handle him self in jail against the other inmates who were bigger and more dangerous than he was, but what he feared more than anything now… was that he truly was nothing. No one had any business with him anymore; he was used and tossed aside… no reason to live. Having Mark's accusing eyes boring deeps holes into him, digging away any remaining part of his humanity… another added stress that Sam was prepared to face, but could see no chance of prevailing or seeing the end of it. Sam's life was revolved around him being the boss and in control; having what people need and having them literally crawl for it. The degradation; the humiliation that many suffered at his hands was unconcern to him, as long as he had his power – I know that sounds cold and heartless, but really that's the life he fell into. The only way he's known how to socialize. A typical sociopath, right? Well again, that's not true, because he does actually feel. Narcissism may be the appropriate word.

"Sam?" Mark spoke, firmly. "What is it?"

Sam was uncomfortable, and it was visible on his face, but it wasn't as if Mark really gave a fuck. Curiosity brought him here, but it would not keep him here. His patience was on a timer and it wouldn't be long before he stood up and walked out… he didn't have time for Sam's games anymore, none of them did. He had done extremely well in fucking them all up, and now he sat here, looking helpless and pathetic… a bittersweet satisfaction was what kept Mark sitting there, still holding back a smile at seeing him in this state.

"I…" the former teacher stuttered and looked around the visitor's hall, at all the other visitors and families visiting inmates, talking intimately. They all seemed happy to see each other, but this meeting was so cold it was almost icy… he shivered.

"Thanks for coming," he muttered, having thought of nothing else to say. God, he even sounded pathetic and fucked up to himself and he hated so much. Especially since he didn't even have the nerve to look Mark Cohen in the eyes, of all people!

"Whatever," Mark replied and sat forward enough to put his arms on the table and lean forward. "I don't know why I came. Curious I guess."

"Curious?"

"Okay, you got me. I just wanted to come see how your weak ass was holding up here. Made any knew… friends yet?" Mark couldn't help but tease sadistically, knowing full well the consequences of what would follow should he accidentally let it slip here that Sam is gay. That would be so cruel, though probably not undeserved for Sam… give to him what he did to Angel, with the raping and beatings… should Mark do it? Be so vindictive as to do so, and show just how much damage Sam had inflicted on them all. No, his mind said. Don't give him any bit of satisfaction. Leave him to rot…

"Cute," Sam mumbled, keeping his hatred for Mark and those other friends of Collins, secret. "Real nice."

"I'm not here to be nice," Mark told him. "You got something to say… I'm only here 'cause I'm curious is all. Now you can either say what you gotta say or I'm gone. I got better things to do."

"Like what?" Sam scoffed. "Hiding in that crappy loft, creating little films that no one in their right mind would watch? Not exactly 'better things'"

"Fine," Mark proceeded to stand up.

"Wait!" Sam protested, desperately, and Mark stopped. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Just sit."

Mark reluctantly sat back down. "What?"

"Mark, I don't wanna fight…" Sam relented, sadly. "We need to talk."

"You betrayed Collins, tried to turn him against us, took advantage of him when he was down, broke him and Angel up, almost KILLED Angel TWICE, and now you wanna… talk?"

"I know I fucked up, man, you don't gotta tell me…"

"After the hell you put my friends through, you deserve nothing less than to be slowly butchered and fed to the rats in the sewers. But I doubt even they would take a liking to your taste," Mark growled, with more strength and hatred than he had ever felt before. How he could show restraint with this sick, psychotic son of a bitch is nothing short of amazing, and he knew that life imprisonment could barely cover the pain he had caused his friends. Angel would carry the physical and emotional scars with him for the rest of his life, however short or long that may be. "If Angel died, I swear to God I'd have killed you myself."

"Oh come on, Mark!" Sam cried, exasperated. "You and I both know that's a fucking crock! You wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Yeah well, I'd say you're lower on the chain than a fly right now. Now quit stalling and tell me what the fuck you want."

They stared at each other, seeing who would blink first and back down, but both held their ground. This wasn't a time to be playing games, and now they had to lay all their cards on the table, so to speak. Sam sighed, wistfully. "Mark, this doesn't gotta be hard…"

"You brought it all on yourself, man. Now tell me what it is you want, or I'm walking out that door."

"Okay, okay!" Sam held up his hands in a defensive way. "Fine… look, there's something I gotta give you… to give to Collins…"

"No way. You gotta be insane, Sam, to think I'd let you get anywhere near him now! You've fucking destroyed his life enough, aren't you satisfied YET!"

"Will you let me finish?" Sam snapped, impatiently. "Look… I know I did some shitty things, okay? I'm an evil person who deserves to rot in hell for eternity, but what about Collins, huh? I know how guilty he feels… don't you wanna help him alleviate some of that?" Sam was an expert at creating, like Angel does, cryptic messages and clues to pull in Mark's interest further.

"What?"

Sam picked up several envelopes that were on the seat next to him and put them in the centre of the table, still keeping them in his hands. In the pile, there also seemed to be a variety of photos, though Mark couldn't see what they were of as Sam's hands blocked his view of them. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what exactly this screwed up junkie was up to, but he knew that Sam had nothing to lose anymore and his defeated attitude did keep Mark's interest held long enough. The two men sat across from each other, one offering things that he had kept so close to his heart for so long, and the other not sure if he was willing to accept this. Whatever these things were, they would only do nothing except cause Collins and Angel further pain, and he certainly wouldn't give these things to Collins without knowing exactly what was going on.

"What's this?"

Sam shrugged and stared at the papers, blankly. "The past. Everything. He'll know."

Mark then reached forward and took the edge of one of the envelopes, still in Sam's hands, and lightly tugged on it.

"Let me—"

"No," Sam insisted. "For his eyes only."

"You gotta be crazy if you think I'm gonna give these to him without knowing what they are. He's been through enough."

"Yeah he has," Sam agreed, rubbing his left brow. "That's why he has to get them. He doesn't have to read them. Look at them. He'll know what they are. He just has to burn them. He's the one who has to…"

Mark gazed at the letters, envelopes, and photos, as Sam dropped them onto the table. He suddenly realized the significance of Samuel's request.

"Love letters?"'

"Something like," Sam confirmed. "Postcards. Photos of us. Letters. Collins was always the romantic…I never realized how so, or how much I was too, until he sent me these," he smiled when he remembered receiving these letters and reading for the first time. Idly he toyed with a photo of him and Collins at Christmas in 1986 – Collins was sitting on the sofa, holding Sam in his arms, both smiling and apparently carefree. Sam turned the photo around for Mark to see, and it did catch the blonde filmmaker off-guard by how in love they appeared to be. Seeing Collins with Angel now, it wasn't surprising to him of how romantic and loving the professor was with his lover, but to think that he was once like that with Sam? It suddenly put a lot into perspective, and Mark was hit with the new understanding of Sam and what he was going through… he had lost the love of his life and fell into a world where he was unloved, after experiencing something that was so obviously intense and passionate. It must have been a shock. And in that very instant, Mark's attitude changed…relaxed. Sam didn't have many redeeming qualities, but this was certainly something that could qualify as one.

"Wow," he muttered. This was something he wasn't expecting at all, and once again the situation just got more complicated. "Wh… what—"

"Mark, as much as an asshole as you think I am, I'm not entirely a cold, heartless drug dealer out seeking bloody revenge," Sam told him, wearily. Was this an attempt for him to get some sympathy? "I never wanted it to get this bad…"

"No, you wanted Angel dead!"

"It's not like I planned it! I saw him there in the park and I was just overcome with emotion or whatever… and that second time, with Julian… look, hate me all you want. Just do this, okay? Not for me, for Collins. He can burn them and maybe he won't kill himself with guilt anymore…"

"And you're doing this out of the kindness of your heart?" Mark sarcastically remarked, looking through the other photos of Sam and Collins in their happier, more in-love days.

"No," Sam coldly replied, his eyes darkening. "Because I know when it's time to quit. You want me to say I've changed? That I don't hate Angel? No… I doubt even you is that dumb. I just… I want what you want. What you all want."

"And what's that?"

Sam then leaned back and inhaled deeply, drawing strength from any purity he could find in the cold air.

"I want it to be over. I'm pretty sure Julian, the fucker, has sold me out. I know when it's over, Mark. I still love Collins, and I know I pretty much screwed up his life which is something I never wanted to do… I just wanted him to know how much I still love him. How much he hurt me. How much I wanted things to go back to the way they were."

Mark turned his attention to the four envelopes on the table and picked one up, and turned it around.

"May I?"

Sam shrugged again. "Can I stop you?"

Taking that as a yes, Mark opened the envelope and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. Unfolding it, he initially let his eyes skim over the contents. It was addressed to Sam, from Collins, dated July 30th, 1986. The handwriting was definitely Collins' and it was in relatively good condition, like Sam saved it and took care of it… even cherished it.

My Sammy…

I know we haven't had a chance to be together lately, with both our work commitments keeping us apart, and I'm sorry. I promise it will get better soon, baby, you can be sure of that – as sure of it as you are sure that I will soon return to you and hold you in my arms once more. I miss your scent, your laugh… your eyes. Sweetheart, don't despair because you and I will be together again. Keep your heart safe and assured that these words of mine are true to you, and my love for you will never die…

If only he knew, Mark thought, thinking of the ironic ending to their relationship. He continued to read.

This work will be over soon and we'll be together again, and there is nothing I wouldn't give to feel your soft, silky skin against mine and to feel the sweet touch of your lips. I love you. Keep that with you always.

I love you,

Tom

Mark knew how romantic and poetic Collins could be when swept up in waves of love – more so with Angel and now he was surprised to realize just how in love Sam and he were. Years ago, Mark and Roger were trying so hard to break them up for Collins' sake, and never once did they stop to realize the depth of the love the two young men shared. Maybe if they had, things would've turned out differently.

"That's amazing," he whispered. Sam nodded… what people didn't understand about him was that he was an enormously complex individual who, like others, was human and had human needs and desires. If he could convince Mark of that, then at least something could come out of this whole tragedy that resembled more like a Shakespearean tragedy than anything else.

"I am sorry, Mark," he said, genuinely. "It's not like I planned this. I don't expect or even want you all to forgive me, but I do want you to know the truth… how it is for me. Whatever you think of me, just give him these… instruct him to burn them right away. Maybe it'll help him let go. I want him to be happy."

"That's not what you said last week!"

"Last week? Mark, do you know how much shit I'm on? How my veins are dried up because of the crap I injected? Trust me; it does cause some serious emotional instability."

"So you blame this on the drugs?"

"No. Will you do this?" Sam pressed, as he didn't want to start a fight.

Mark hesitated and looked back and forth between Sam and the papers that held his and Collins' history… the love… the last thread of what they shared existed in words and in images, that once burned would never be able to be recovered. Hopefully, that would mean the memories… or the bad ones at least, would burn away with them. Mark nodded.

"Yeah. I'll give them to him."

Sam smiled. "Thanks."

"Sure…"

WITH ANGEL AND COLLINS – 2 HOURS LATER

Julia had left almost thirty minutes earlier, without another word to Collins or Angel… she had some serious thinking to do and understandably had a few things to work out before she decided her next move. Having Angel's and Collins' forgiveness wasn't enough for her to be rid of the pain she was experiencing, and so to had to leave and be on her own for a while. Now, Collins was with his lover again.

He sat on the bed, where Julia had been sitting just minutes before, holding Angel's hand as they quietly talked and enjoyed each other's company. For the first time in almost four months, they could actually see each other and feel each other again – they were one again. A renewed strength energized them both to want to take on the world again, and only the purest love could wield that kind of power and still remain strong as time would try to destroy it.

Angel giggled as he placed kisses on Collins' fingers, just like Collins did with him, and his lover smiled at the pleasure they were both getting from it. Angel then seductively let his tongue wander over the tips of Collins' middle finger, enjoying every bit of seductive power he had, even in the almost incapacitated state he was in. To have this peace and quality time alone together was times to be cherished, irregardless of the circumstances they were in… Collins was just thankful to be able to get lost in Angel's deep chocolate brown eyes and kiss those soft pink lips, and feel the warmth and glow of Angel's skin caressing his own. That's what it was about now, and they had gone through a lot to learn that, and now they have… who cares about punishing those responsible for it now? Who cares? Whatever happened to Sam and Julian, it didn't concern either of them anymore, because Angel and Collins both knew how close they came to losing each other forever. A choice between revenge and love? Love would always win with these two… they had each lost first loves, never getting that second chance most could only dream to have.

"Having fun there?" Collins teased. Angel nodded and poked his tongue out at him.

"Can't wait to get home," Angel said, whining. "Or rather, I can't wait for what we can do when we get home," he winked and Collins laughed.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah!"

"Want me to take advantage of you?" Collins leaned down and teasingly gave Angel a peck at the side of his mouth, and Angel squirmed as a result.

"Yeah, honey. I want you to take advantage of me… take me home and ravage me. I'll be your slave…" they kissed again, and the hospital surroundings just melted away.

"My slave?"

"Well," Angel breathed in between kisses. "I got the whole sex kitten thing down pretty good; you know… your wish is my command! Meow!" he made a passionate, seductive purring sound that fired up his lover even more.

"Really? Okay," Collins replied, then placing a series of kisses along Angel's well defined jaw line.

"My first and only wish right now," he moved up so that his lips were just centimeters from Angel's, and kissed his nose. "Is for you, my Angel… my love… to get better. And I'll be right there with you when you do…"

Angel's heart fluttered and could literally feel his face burning red. Out of all the guys he ever dated, only Collins was the one who could keep making him blush and feel the rush of life being lived for the moment over and over again. He is the reason you still believe… his conscience told him with an edge of certainty. He is the reason you still love… he is the reason you haven't given up… he is the reason you're still alive…

"I love you," Angel whispered, breaking off the kisses momentarily for a brief serious moment. Collins moved closed to him, so their lips' were just grazing each other. But the seriousness he could see in Angel could not be disregarded. "Collins, you're everything… my everything… we're gonna be okay. Right?"

Collins stroked Angel just behind his ear. "After everything we just went through, sweetheart? Nothing can tear us apart. Nothing."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Angel smiled his most innocent, yet charming and mixed with a touch of sexual energy and excited ness. Only he could pull off such an irresistible smile that caught Collins' breath every time. The passion and raw sexual chemistry they had, had to be suppressed in favour of Angel's recovery, but from the hungry desire in their eyes it was hard not to see how much they wanted each other. Angel had the need to feel Collins' skin pressed firmly against his own; their legs wrapped around each other so much that it would be so hard to untie themselves from each other; to feel the sweat and the heavy breathing of the passion of lovemaking, yet at other times just be so deep into the tenderness and softness of each caress; and the penetrating love into each other's souls, so deep that no one could ever have the strength to tear them apart, for they had been through to the depths of hell both separately and together, and their experiences had been so terrible, and at the complete other end so beautiful, that neither could imagine living life without the other. Nothing was complicated when they were together, and it was so evident each time they were alone together. Would they be able to recapture what they once had? Probably… some may say that they never actually lost each other, but that, I think we can all agree, is just romantic, gullible bullshit… they had lost a lot, and paid a heavy price for wanting to be together and on more than one occasion they were forced to reevaluate just how strong their desire and need for each other was. Those cold winter nights where they would just curl up in each others arms in bed, kissing and cuddling; talking and laughing… a time for quiet passion and subtle romance, with softness and tenderness. During the summer, they would go to the roof and lie on a blanket, staring at the stars and sharing more about their lives and things that happened when they were kids, and just living the moment with a sense of lazy compliance and the soft passion would turn into an ignition of heat – passion and fire neither had felt from any past lover, all their past experiences (good and bad) cumulated to take their love to new heights, unsurpassable. Nothing rough. Just intensity and desire overwhelming their senses to the point where it was hard for them to not want each other. The kind of thing that most of us straight people have trouble finding, and maybe it was time we took a lesson from couples such as Angel and Collins, right? Those who had an appreciation and the ability to see beauty and truth in anything and anyone who they deemed worthy. A lesson we could all use every now and then, am I right?

"I love you, baby," Collins returned the ever repeated, clichéd verbalized proclamations of love, the most adored feeling to experience. "We got through this past week… there's nothing else anyone can throw at us that can tear us apart now."

Angel giggled again, and with his hand around the back of Collins' neck, he pulled his love closer to him, and despite the weakness from the meds, he furiously and very passionately locked lips with Collins, wanting to breathe, taste, and smell every bit of him. Curse these feeble hospitals, his mind taunted cruelly.

"You're a fucking tease, you know that?"

"Uh-huh…"

"You trying to kill me?"

"Aww, getting too much for you?"

Angel pouted, "No fair… you know I can't pin you down and punish you!"

Collins smiled mischievously and playfully kissed just under Angel's ear and knew to take cautious advantage of them being alone together. Angel had forgotten his insecurities and the horrors he had recently suffered, looking playful and very desirable… the sparkle in his eyes had returned for the first time, and Collins could see the old Angel coming back to him. The first sign that told him that maybe they really could get through this together, and the words he said to comfort the fallen angel were not just meaningless and transparent. Seeing the hope in Angel now, combined with a dark innocence that had captivated him from the time he laid eyes on the street drummer drag queen… Collins connected with that hope. That was the kind of power Angel wielded, even when he doubted and in a vulnerable position as he was, people were still drawn to him… comforted by his mere presence. Collins always wondered how he did it, though didn't have to wonder what it was about his lover that captivated so many people… his spirit was evident in everything he said and did, good or bad.

"My Angel," Collins whispered, lovingly. "Even if you were healthy, you still couldn't pin me down anyway!" that comment was met with Angel sticking his tongue out and sulking, light heartedly.

"Smart ass."

"Whatever."

"Shut up."

"You know you love me!"

"Shut up!"

"Admit it!" Collins winked and grinned, knowing full well that Angel needed this. He needed to have some familiarity brought back into his life, and this light bantering was doing that well.

"Never!" Angel declared, defiantly, and smiled back in a way that was a little more than suggestive of what his intentions were. His voice quieted to barely a whisper. "Make me," he dared.

"Oooh, you sure?" Collins challenged back. "Once I take you under my power, it's over baby you know it…"

"Getting a little cocky, I see…"

"Just well defined self assurance you have. You've rubbed off on me, Miss Schunard."

"Oh I can rub you in more ways than that," Angel played with a sort of innocence and subtle seductiveness that Collins saw right through. "You know what I mean…"

"Yeah I do. And only after you get better will I let you do whatever you want to me."

"Something to look forward to?"

"Oh yeah."

Angel giggled and squirmed again, loving all this attention but wasn't blind to what Collins was trying to do – distract him and bring a bit of light back into his life. And you know what? It was working really well.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to be a good girl for you, professor…"

"Yes you will…" Collins replied. "Good girls get the rewards…"

"What if I'm baaaad?" Angel continued.

"If you're bad? Well, let's just say I'll have to punish you."

"Ahh I see. Well Professor Collins, you've certainly given a lot for me to think about it."

Collins leaned in. "Think about it hard, baby. Only after you're well again."

"Aww!" Angel groaned. "No fair."

Collins shrugged and chuckled. "Sorry Ang, not much we can do here I'm afraid."

Angel then stuck out his tongue, the tip of it touching Collins' lips, and he pretended to bite at it playfully.

"I guess we can wait… dare I say it might be worth it in the end."

"After what you and I have been through? I say you may be right…"

They started another round of passionate kisses, the conversation stopped right there and then as they became enveloped in each other's warmth and a small, deep moan escaped the back of Collins' throat as Angel deepened the kiss further. When Angel's throat was cut, luckily Julian hadn't the time to do it right and it was a very light cut, but it still hurt understandably, to an extent. But Angel could think of nothing but tasting Collins further, being consumed with every part of him. Oh boy, if only he was healthier and he and his lover were back at their apartment… they probably won't be leaving their bed for days.

Meanwhile, through the slightly open door, a person was standing there looking in at the lovebirds while they recaptured the time lost over the past four months, deliberating with him self what he was supposed to do. He didn't want to interrupt them and force this new thing on them, and it was like his feet was glued to the one spot where he was standing. Mark had just arrived, coming off from his visit with Sam at the prison, and in his hand he was holding the photos and letters that Sam wanted Collins to burn, thinking it would be the only way to let go. But from the looks of it, he had already let go… Collins was enamored with Angel and nothing seemed to be getting him down at the moment. Mark sighed. His friends were looking better every time he saw them as time became more forgiving of them all. He turned around and started walking away, towards the elevator, figuring that it wasn't the time nor the place… it wasn't even necessary. He owed Sam nothing, and he wouldn't lose a wink of sleep over breaking his agreement to give the letters to Collins. Angel and Collins needed more time alone.

Twenty minutes later, walking through one of the many back streets on his way back to the loft, Mark took his time and sank back into his thoughts. Seeing the way Collins and Angel were gazing at each other was somewhat of a refreshing sight, and it was a good feeling to know that love that deep still existed in this otherwise hostile world – maybe there was hope for him too.

He was walking through the back street when he came across a barrel which was on fire. It wasn't an uncommon, as many of the homeless often lit small fires in the backstreets for light and warmth at night, and this one was apparently abandoned as no one else was around. Mark approached it and sighed. It doesn't take a genius for you to figure out what he was thinking and what he was probably gonna do. Playing with the possessions in his hands, Mark shook his head sadly, wondering why it all had to come down to this… Angel almost died twice. Collins was shattered into a million pieces. Once again this family of friends were almost torn apart, and for what? There were no winners in all this, nor losers. Happiness wasn't a by-product of how things turned out, just content at the most.

Mark pursed his lips as the images of the events over not just the past week, but the past four months, played in his head.

"It's over…" he muttered. "Fucking over…"

He dropped the items into the fire and watched them burn away into nothing as the last physical remnants of Collins relationship with Sam became nothing more than a distant memory. And from the looks of things when he saw Angel and Collins together only twenty minutes earlier, that's exactly what it, was beginning to be for them.

Mark stood next to the barrel until every last remaining bit of the photos and letters had burned away, before shoving his hands in his pockets and turning around, walking away. Things could only get better from now on, right?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Next, the deaths! Be sure to read it all before you decide whether or not to condemn me for it (you probably will!) but it had to be done, I'm sorry. Next chapter… I won't reveal the contents of the next chapter you'll just have to wait!


NEXT CHAPTER IS THE LAST CHAPTER! I know, I know! It's sad, but all good things must come to an end, it's time. A wonderful journey it has been, and a sequel is in the works. Thanks so much for sticking with reading the story for so long.