Title: Till We Meet Again

Disclaimer: Slash, language, violence, character death, sexual content, angst.

POV: Danny

Chapter Nine: Bottom of the Bottle

There always comes a time in life where someone is left questioning why they exist. It's a feeling that no one likes but it happens and they have to deal with it. For so long now I hoped to never feel that pain, that hallow feeling of losing everything the world has given me. However, life doesn't always happen the way I want it to. What's the point of life anyway? In the end I'm still going to die. Everyone does, there's no way around it. No one escapes death. Sadly, some people lose the battle of life too early.

I haven't been the best guy in the world. I used to be an alcoholic. Perhaps I got over it when I saw how drugs ruined my brother's life. I asked for help and had stayed clean for years now. As another good deed I'd committed my life to finding missing people; most of which were children. Now I fell in love and the world came to a screeching halt. The pain was too much to handle, to heartbreaking and numbing. Jack's voice echoed in my mind, telling me over and over again that Martin had died at the hospital. I remembered getting mad at Vivian. She promised me that he would be fine. After that I believe I got sick. I refused to stay at work and just left them all there, wondering what to do with their pain. None of them knew how much my heart ached to look into his eyes again. They didn't know the ache of wanting to touch him and to feel his skin on mine. That was all over now, never to happen again. The one person I'd given myself to completely was lost to the world.

There I sat, in his apartment, my bloody shirt still on, my shoes still dirty from the junkyard. The place was full of happier times; sitting on the couch watching movies, making love in the bedroom. There had always been sounds of love and laughter in the apartment. Now all that was left was the sound of my breathing, the quiet sobs escaping my lips. Life had already ceased to exist in a place once full of love. There was a fog settling over the place, as though my mere existent was in question. The couch didn't offer the same comfort that it once did. The darkness didn't bring loving touches and sweet caresses. The apartment was his but it just wasn't the same place without him. He brought it to life with his very being.

I'm sorry, Danny, he didn't make it. He couldn't hang on, the damage was more than anyone expected. I'm sorry…

I let the tears slide down my face as the words played in my mind again. Jack thought sorry would fix everything. It's just a word, there's no meaning behind it, no way of bringing back the dead. None of this should have happened. The stars outside looked down upon me, their glow failing to lighten my mood. As far as I was concerned there wasn't any reason for me to ever smile again. So this was what it felt like to have the very soul torn from the body. In my profession I saw people dying all the time, none of them had ever been so close to me, never as close as Martin.

If I closed my eyes I saw the whole scene replaying itself, over and over again like a broken record. I could hear Martin yell out in pain as the bullet tore through his fragile flesh, leaving its mark and eventually taking him away. I sat on the couch, afraid to move for fear that the walls around me would crumble and all that had been would truly be gone. The place may not have been the same without him but it smelled like him, it spoke of his presence. Now if only that would bring me some comfort. Any comfort right now would be nice.

I sat there for hours, never moving once, listening to the tick of a clock and the occasional ring of my cell phone as someone called to check-up on me. Perhaps I kept hoping to wake up from the nightmare I found myself horribly locked in; this wasn't real, none of it was. In an attempt to regain some composure I turned on the TV. The voice flowed from the speakers and didn't register. Not until I heard them mention the junkyard shooting that left one dead. They never said Martin's name but I knew who they were talking about. I shut off the TV before throwing the remote across the room. They couldn't even honor him one last time. They made it sound like an ordinary tragedy, like his life never meant anything.

Finally standing from the couch I began to pace the room. The silence was eating away at my nerves and I felt like screaming until there wasn't anything left. I felt like grabbing my gun and pulling the trigger, just to see if it would go off and to see if I could find my way to Martin. I looked at my hands. Hand that had once held him so close, so dearly. Hands that had been covered in his blood not once, but twice.

"What was the point in letting him live if you were just going to take him away anyway?" I muttered to no one in particular. Nothing made sense anymore.

In my pacing my eyes fell upon the stereo in the corner. The stereo that Martin and I used to listen to together. I turned it on, trying to chase the silence away from the apartment. The words penetrated the silent fog of the dark apartment.

"And how can you mend a broken heart? How can you stop the rain from falling down? How can you stop the sun from shining? What makes the world go round? How can you mend this broken man? How can a loser ever win? Please help me mend my broken heart, and let me live again…"

A fresh river of tears began to run down my face, the world had to keep reminding me that I was now alone, and forever would be. I couldn't take the pain anymore. I wanted to chase it all away. With determination I stalked into the kitchen and start throwing open the cabinet doors, searching everywhere. Martin had to at least have a drop of alcohol in here somewhere. I went through cabinet after cabinet, even checking the fridge before I found what my heart needed. Under the sink, behind some cleaning supplies was an unopened bottle of whiskey. I popped the top and let the aroma waft through the room. The smell brought back memories. I thought of the years I'd been sober, they seemed so unimportant now. The ache in my heart cried out for comfort, any comfort it could get and this bottle of whiskey was the closest thing at hand.

"I'm sorry, Martin," I whispered before bringing the bottle to my lips. The taste quickly wrapped me in its sweet embrace. I drank deeply, letting the liquor flow through my body, whisking away the pain that held so firmly to my heart. All too soon the bottle was empty, the dark liquid consumed. I stared at the empty glass bottle in my hand. I'd given into the impulse, the desire to rid my body of pain. Angry with myself I threw the bottle across the room. It hit the opposite wall and shattered into pieces. I slid to the floor, my head in my hands, tears running down my cheeks. Life had gone all wrong.

How was I going to mend my broken heart? How was I going to sleep at night, when I've grown accustomed to having Martin lying there with me? I wanted to go back in time and tell Jack to fuck off. Life wasn't going to be bearable without my lover, there was no way anyone could put the pieces back together. Well, only Martin could but he wasn't coming back.

"How could you leave me all alone?" I sobbed into the dark.