I'm back, baby! :D
Sorry this has taken so long- I have A LOT on my plate fic-wise at the moment! I'm even hoping to get back to my suspended Sherlolly soon so my load's not gonna lighten anytime soon xD So if I ever take a long time to update, I promise I haven't forgotten about you- I just have a lot of things that need writing right now!
So, we have a nice long chapter for you this time- very angsty and Kieren-centric. We'll have more Simon next time, I promise!
Have fun! (or not...)
DISCLAIMER: In The Flesh and all it's characters belong to Dominic Mitchell and BBC3. Song lyrics belong to the lovely Gabrielle Aplin. Direct quotes taken from the show belong to the original writers, I make no profit from this story and write it purely out of love for the series! :3
"Something's happening you can't see
We are rolling on stormy seas
You don't like when I disagree
The lies you're spinning, you're changing me
All that glitters is not gold
From the bruises flowers grow"
-'Keep On Walking', Gabrielle Aplin
Simon woke to the sound of fabric rustling. He blinked sleepily, his eyes adjusting to the cold winter sunlight shining through the window. Something was missing.
"Kieren?" he asked, eyes lingering on the empty space on the bed beside him.
"Over here," the hushed voice came from behind him, and Simon rolled over onto his other side with a smile.
Kieren was rooting around on the floor, scooping up his various discarded clothes and groaning as saw how noticeably rumpled they were. He'd have a fun time explaining that to his parents. The fair-haired man was half-naked, so far clad only in his crumpled pair of too-big skinny jeans, and Simon tried not to drool at his bare chest and back as he bent over to search for his other sock.
The boy noticed his leering and smirked as he straightened up, pulling on the first of his many shirts. "Why don't you take a picture? It lasts longer."
Simon raised an eyebrow. "Is that a genuine offer? 'Cause I might take you up on it."
And just like that, Kieren was flustered again. He mumbled something unintelligible and hastily returned to getting dressed, flopping down onto the edge of the bed to pull on his socks and boots. He was busy tying the laces- frantically loosened and left in a tangle the night before- when Simon sat up, draping an arm around his shoulders and kissing his cheek in greeting.
"Mornin'," Simon mumbled, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck.
Kieren relaxed, smiling softly and leaning in as his feet fell back to the floor. "Morning."
"Sleep well?" Simon asked, pressing his lips to the younger man's collar bone tenderly.
Kieren nodded, slinging his arm around Simon's waist and resting his chin against his hair. "Like the dead. Literally."
Simon snorted, pulling back to look at his face with a grin. "D'you use that joke every morning?"
The boy smiled but shook his head, picking up his jumper and pulling it over his head. "Nah. Always wanted to, but… well, the death jokes don't go down too well with the folks."
That, Simon could imagine. The stony silence after his little crack about their 'top three meals we don't eat' spoke volumes. It was a shame- he wondered how frustrated Kieren must get at having to keep his innate knack for sarcasm in check. It must have been maddening.
He smiled, resting his hand on Kieren's knee. "Well, round here you can make as many morbid puns as you want, I won't say a word."
Kieren looked at him and grinned mischievously. "Dead men tell no tales?"
Simon laughed, leaning in to plant a kiss on his beaming lips. "That's the spirit!"
He leaned back, but Kieren's arms wrapped around his neck before he could get very far. He grunted in surprise as he was pulled into another kiss, deeper this time. He didn't fight it, melting gratefully into his embrace and cupping his uncovered face in his hands- partly to stop himself from reaching down and once again removing all the clothes the man had spent the last ten minutes putting back on. The temptation was almost overwhelming.
He blinked as Kieren pulled away, attempting to sort his thoughts back into any kind of coherent form. "Keep doing that and there's no way I'm letting you leave this room," he said gruffly, feeling heat coursing through his cold veins once more.
Kieren smiled, kissing him again as he reached back to pull on his jacket.
"As amazing as that sounds," he said between kisses, slowly getting up from the bed with Simon following. "I'll be in some serious shit if I don't get back soon- I'm in trouble enough as it is…" his voice trailed off as Simon continued kissing him, his hands trailing down the disciple's naked sides. He shook his head, grunting as he pulled away and put his hands on the Irish man's shoulders to put some distance between them. "'Sides, it'll be time for my dose soon."
"Got plenty of the stuff here," Simon said temptingly, nipping Kieren's neck gently above the collar of his jacket.
Kieren shook his head, although he sounded disappointed. "Cheers, but I think I'll stick to the proper stuff," he said, reluctantly pushing Simon away and smiling bravely. "Not sure I fancy taking my chances with the home brew."
Simon rolled his eyes, bending down to pick up his discarded trousers and pretending not to notice the blond man's wandering gaze as he did so. He pulled them on and fastened his belt, fairly assured that he didn't stand a chance of sweet-talking the already fully-dressed man back into bed this morning. Maybe later.
"Simon, you listening to me?" Kieren said grumpily, smacking his shoulder and snapping him out of his fantasies. Simon blinked, banishing all the perfectly impure thoughts from his head and looking at Kieren's expectant face blankly.
The younger man rolled his eyes, gesturing towards the door. "You gonna check if the coast is clear or what?"
Simon glanced to the door and back in confusion a few times before realisation dawned. Amy, that's right. Technically, they were still sneaking around. Christ, they certainly could have gone about this whole business better. "Yeah. Yeah, okay," Simon mumbled, pulling on his shirt and standing up. He reached for the door handle and made sure Kieren was safely out of sight behind the door, offering him a smile before he emerged into the hall.
Amy's door was closed. It had been ajar the night before, the lights off and the bed empty. She must have crept home in the wee hours, possibly not long after he'd snuck back to bed himself. He pressed his ear lightly against the door. Silent as the grave.
"Coast is clear- just keep it down," he murmured after a quick check of the other rooms. Kieren emerged quietly from his shelter behind the bedroom door and made a beeline for the exit, Simon close on his heels.
Kieren stepped out into the pre-dawn light, smiling at the fine layer of snow on the ground.
"Won't last," he said, kicking a fine layer of powder off the step. "Never get proper snow round here. Rain washes it away before long."
"Jesus," Simon muttered, chuckling quietly. "This place can't even handle perpetual winter properly."
"That's Roarton!" Kieren said brightly, turning to smile up at the disciple from the bottom step. "Disappointing. In pretty much every possible way."
"Oh, I dunno," Simon smiled, putting a hand on Kieren's neck and craning his head down towards him. "It definitely got something right," he murmured, staring into Kieren's eyes. Eyes he hadn't bothered to cover with lenses today.
Kieren smiled, lifting a hand to Simon's cheek and tilting his head back, standing on tiptoes to meet his lips. Simon kissed him back gratefully, allowing himself to be moved as Kieren tugged him down to the next step.
When Kieren pulled away, he reached out to take Simon's hand. Simon squeezed his fingers reassuringly as Kieren's gaze wondered off past him, back towards the house where his family was waiting. He chewed his lip nervously, looking down at their joined hands as if hoping to draw strength from the contact.
"Hey," Simon said softly, leaning forward and kissing his cheek. "It'll be fine."
"Don't even have my cover-up on," Kieren said, his eyes widening as if the thought had only just occurred to him.
"It's a good look on you," Simon said, grinning flirtatiously. He wrapped his arm around Kieren's shoulders, pulling him against his chest. Kieren pressed his face against his shoulder and snaked an arm around his waist, breathing in deeply. Even with no actual need for the oxygen, deep breaths seemed to be an immense source of comfort for the fair-haired man, as if the feeling of air flowing through his decrepit lungs kept him grounded. Perhaps that was his anchor.
Kieren pulled back, taking one more deep breath and releasing Simon's hand. He leaned in to press one last lightning-fast kiss to the Irish man's lips, and departed with one last brave smile. Simon waved after him, pushing down the painful sense of separation as the distance between them grew. He watched the younger man's uneven steps carry him away, wishing he could run after him. But this was something Kieren needed to do on his own. Besides, he had work to do.
He looked down at the door mat. He'd glimpsed something on his way out of the bungalow, but he had to wait for Kieren to leave before he could be sure. But there it was, plain as day, a small corner of white paper poking out from the door mat, exposed by Kieren's kick to the surrounding snow.
Simon crouched down, lifting the edge of the mat and gently tugging the corner of the envelope, being careful not to tear through the damp paper as he worked it out from its hiding spot.
Orders from the top.
Kieren made it home without a hitch- so long as he kept his hood pulled up and his shoulders hunched no one noticed the lack of cover-up. It was too early for anyone at home to be up, although he suspected that one or both of his parents were probably lying awake in bed. He took the stairs as quietly as possible- no way he wanted to run into anyone looking like he did. If he woke up Jem at half five in the morning she'd shoot him on sight, contacts or no contacts.
He made it to his room and shed his jacket, flopping down onto the bed with a sigh. He stared up at the ceiling and put his hands behind his head. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to scowl bitterly or grin from ear to ear.
Well, you have little or no faith left in your family (or humanity in general), you're still sneaking around behind Amy's back, and let's face it that's not even the tip of the iceberg.
Still, on the bright side: that was a pretty fucking fantastic night, was it not?
Just this once, he allowed the happy thoughts to take precedence. He needed a break from the doom and gloom. His gaze wondered to the wall, all the portraits he'd painted over the years. Amy's face beamed down at him from several places, and Jem's. His mum, his dad, Rick.
Someone was missing.
With a grin, he leapt up and went for his art supplies, fishing out a sheet of paper and some charcoal. Despite the fact that he'd barely managed three hours of sleep, he didn't feel like he could lie still for even a second.
He didn't usually like to draw people from memory. But hey, with the amount of time he'd spent staring at that face last night, he might as well take a shot.
As the weak winter sun rose in the sky and the Walker family began their morning routine, Kieren remained in his room with his hands stained by charcoal. He looked over his handiwork, smiling as he pinned it to his wall by the lamp. Not half bad, considering he'd had no model. Simon's pale face, picked out with delicate lines of black and grey charcoal, smiled down at him. In all honesty he would have liked to sketch him wearing that seductive grin that made him melt, but he knew there was no way to do that little devilish smirk justice without having it in front of him as he drew. Christ, did he wish it was in front of him now.
Over the quiet shuffle of feet in the kitchen, Kieren heard a loud knock on the front door drift through the house. He glanced at the clock on the wall with a frown- quarter past seven, who would be knocking at this hour? Images of Simon popped unbidden into his head and he bounded to the window, tugging the curtain aside slightly and looking down at the driveway to see a woman walking quickly away. A moment later his dad emerged from the house, a flyer clutched in his hand as he confronted the woman.
It was impossible to make out the words on the paper from his vantage point, but Kieren knew what it was. He'd seen enough of the things pasted around town to recognise the pro-living propaganda when he saw it. He frowned down at his dad, who was staring after the now retreating woman with an expression somewhere between anger and fear.
Fear?
As Steve made his way back to the house he glanced up at Kieren's window, and his eyes met his son's for a moment before the fair-haired man let the curtains fall closed once again.
For a moment Kieren was too bitter to care that his father had glimpsed him in his natural state. He'd hoped that maybe his own dad would put up more of a fight. Maybe he would hand the flyer back and politely tell the woman to stuff it, stand up for his son in some small way. But no. As she flounced away to spread her toxic literature across the town, Steve had just watched her walk away with the paper dangling limply in his grasp. Cheers, Dad.
Shaking his head and gritting his teeth, Kieren left his room, his feet automatically carrying him to the bathroom as the rush of air from the slamming door rustled the edges of Simon's portrait.
As he approached the sink he reached for a towel and flung it over the mirror, hating himself ever so slightly for it. Well, it wasn't like one wild night would be enough to revamp his entire personality, right? He may have let the mask drop for Simon, but he wasn't quite ready to do that for himself yet. He couldn't help it, seeing the ghostly whites of his dead eyes was still so… unnerving.
Why?
His hand, which had been dabbing mousse onto a make-up sponge, slowed its movements and ground to a halt. He stared ahead at the flat, blank surface of the towel, his hands hovering over the sink with the sickly cover-up.
He had no problem seeing Simon with his natural face on show. In fact, he preferred it. Seeing his skin coated with cover-up that day had been horrible, something about it felt so wrong, so false. Why could he gaze into Simon's milky eyes for hours, but barely even glance at his own?
He sighed heavily, dropping the pot of mousse and raising his hands to his face, pushing his fingers back through his hair as the staring match with the covered mirror intensified.
Despite all his big talk at the table yesterday, despite his silent resolution to stop caring, he really couldn't give up trying to fit in that easily, could he?
Old habits die hard.
The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a long, endless vicious circle. People didn't respect you until you respected yourself. You can't respect yourself until you accept yourself. He couldn't even begin to accept himself when no one else could. On and on, the cycle repeats itself. He'd spent enough time playing this game in his first life to know how it always ended.
Maybe this time it could be different…
He turned away, leaving the towel on the mirror and the mousse on the shelf.
Maybe he wasn't done hiding from himself just yet.
But he was sure as Hell done with hiding from everyone else.
Kieren tried not to feel hurt at the fear in his father's eyes as he emerged from the hallway into the living room. But the horror in his parents' expressions was nothing compared to the metaphorical stab to the gut as Jem stood up and walked out, yelling over her shoulder.
"I can't look at him when he's like that!" she called, disappearing into the kitchen without so much as a backwards glance.
Kieren felt his throat close up as he took his place at the table, his father's scared gaze on his face. He'd hoped that maybe Jem would be the most… well, obviously he'd had that wrong.
"What's going on, son?" his father asked, worry in his voice.
"Nothing, Dad," Kieren answered, glancing at his mum for support and seeing wide eyes brimming with anxiety. He curled in on himself, already wishing the ground could swallow him up. Jesus, and this was his own family! As the doorbell rang and his dad hastily ran to answer it, Kieren wished more than ever that Simon was beside him- not necessarily to say or do anything, just to be there. A steady presence, an anchor. He took a deep breath, looking away from his mother's face and down at the table.
It's okay. It's okay, you're fine. Just stay inside today, just with the family, get used to it. Baby steps.
"Kieren Walker."
He turned his head, frowning as he saw Dean Halton in full RPS uniform advancing towards him.
"Yer under arrest."
"Arrest?" Sue asked, eyes wide. Kieren stared at Dean, his hands gripping the sides of his chair.
"GP's were broken into yesterday," Dean explained at Sue's confused look, brushing past her to where a stunned Kieren was sitting. "Rabids were let loose. They attacked the receptionist- she's in hospital."
"Jesus!" Steve exclaimed, looking between his son and Dean with an expression somewhere between horror and distrust.
Kieren gaped at Dean, furrowing his brow and shaking his head. "I didn't break into the GP's!"
"Not me who needs convincing," Dean said almost apologetically as he grabbed Kieren's arm and pulled him from his seat at the table. Kieren barely struggled, still too confused and incredulous to say a word as he was dragged to the door.
"Hey, where're you taking him?" Sue demanded, rising from her seat and following the RPS grunt and his captive.
"Parish Council wanna question 'im," Dean answered over his shoulder without much enthusiasm, talking over Sue's objections. "Orders from Ms. Martin, I've got to bring 'im in."
Kieren waited for more protests, and a cold dread washed over him when he realised none were forthcoming. He looked back at his parents over his shoulder as Dean dragged him out, his white eyes wide with fear and disbelief as he saw them looking on silently. "Mum?" he asked, crying out as Dean dragged him through the door. "Dad!"
The door swung shut behind them, and his heart plummeted when no one opened it again.
"Alright, then," Pearl said sharply. "Let's 'ear it from yer."
"Hear what?" Kieren asked, struggling to keep a lid on his anger. On top of being dragged from his house and stood in front of a stuffy council like a naughty child being sent to the headmaster's office, now Simon was missing, too? If he'd had any residual good vibes from the previous night, they were definitely dead in the water by now. He kept his hands firmly shoved into his pockets for fear of lashing out at someone- oh, the council would have a field day if he did anything rash. Probably Taser him before he could blink.
"The confession."
"I've nothing to confess," he said calmly, a lot more calmly than he felt. He found himself glancing past his guards to the door, half hoping and half dreading that Simon could waltz in at any moment.
"Rubbish," Abigail Lamb snapped, sneering scornfully. "You and the Irish one broke into the GP's and let loose rabids that mauled the receptionist!"
"That's not true," Kieren protested, although he knew his complaints were falling on deaf ears.
"It saddens me that you've been so led astray, Kieren," Pearl said condescendingly. Kieren bristled, scowling at her as she stubbornly spouted false evidence. "You and yer accomplice were seen coming out of the GP's at the time of the mauling."
"Me and Simon," He corrected, more than a little frustrated with their refusal to even refer to his so-called 'accomplice' by name. "Worked together at the GP's a couple of days ago. We haven't been back since."
"Did you like yer time at the treatment centre?" she interjected. "'Cause that's where yer headed if you don't confess."
Kieren gaped at her, his brow furrowing incredulously. "You can't send me back to Norfolk!"
"Wanna bet?" she challenged, picking up the 'Halperin & Weston: Understanding PDS' pamphlet on the table and flashing the cover at him smugly before flipping to the fine print at the back. He glared open-mouthed at her, shifting about uncomfortably on the spot as the urge to hit something (or someone) intensified. He bit it back, keeping his hands buried as deep in his hoodie pockets as he could. If he lashed out it would only make things worse.
Not that this situation can get much worse.
"'If a PDS sufferer is suspected of breaching their terms of release,'" Pearl read in an authoritative tone, obviously preparing to talk over any and all objections. "'They must be reported to the Department of Partially Deceased Affairs, whereupon the non-compliant patient will be detained for their own safety and the safety of others."
"I'm not breaching my 'terms of release!'" Kieren insisted, but she wasn't listening.
"'PDS patients who pose a threat to themselves or members of their community are considered dangerous, and the proper authorities should be notified,'" she finished, laying the pamphlet back on the table and looking up at him. "You and yer accomplice have been deemed a threat to yer community."
"I'm not a threat to the community!" Kieren said, shaking his head. How could anyone consider him a threat? Really? Him? Of all the wannabe undead radicals that slogged to Giveback every day with bare faces and bad attitudes, they suspected him of organising a terrorist attack? If he wasn't so angry and terrified he might have laughed.
"Are you the community?" Pearl demanded.
"Yes, I am the…" he trailed off, blinking in confusion. "I don't understand the question."
"It's very simple," she said haughtily. "I'm asking you if you're the community."
Kieren shook his head slightly, still befuddled by the random question. "…No."
"That's right. Yer not," she gestured to the other council members. "We are the community, and we have deemed you a threat to it. Now admit yer guilt and we'll hand you a suspended sentence, if not," she said loudly and firmly, silencing his complaint. "It's off to Norfolk with yeh."
"What about Simon?" Kieren demanded. He needed to know that much at least.
"Soon as he's found 'e's being packed off," Pearl said emotionlessly.
Kieren clamped his mouth shut, breathing heavily through his nose as he felt that familiar dry prickling in his eyes.
No. Not Simon.
He wasn't an idiot. Though Simon hadn't gone into details about how he'd got that scar on his back, when he considered his words in the GP's surgery the day before it was easy enough to put two and two together. That wasn't the kind of wound you earned from an accident. Something had happened to Simon, some kind of torture or experimentation, and Kieren was willing to bet it had something to do with the treatment centre. If he got sent back there, and as a non-compliant, no less… was the air getting thinner in here?
He pulled his focus back to the room as he felt something being pushed into his hand. A tape recorder. He stared down at it as Mrs. Lamb spoke sharply from her seat.
"Now, confess yer crimes!" she demanded.
He raised it to his lips numbly, thumb hovering over the record button. He could just lie. He could just take credit for the whole thing, maybe they'd be more lenient with him than they would with Simon. Or he could at least get a chance to warn Simon and beg him to confess if confronted, maybe they wouldn't send him away if he played along. Between Jem's avoidance and his Parents' mistrust, it was starting to feel more and more like Simon was the only person on his side anymore, he couldn't just let them…
So confess, then.
This whole situation was starting to sound a little too familiar. It was like being back in school, doing his GCSE's, his battered copy of The Crucible open on his desk as he wrote a half-hearted essay on the mass-hysteria of the courtrooms during the witch trials.
He felt anger filling him, clenching his fists and setting his milky eyes ablaze. No. He couldn't confess. What did it achieve? What, he'd get a temporary respite and a criminal record to hang over his head the next time he set as much as a toe out of line. Limited freedom with a chance of blackmail. He couldn't even guarantee Simon's safety- the council had never trusted the mysterious Irish traveller, and his reputation as a troublemaker had only been solidified in Pearl's mind the night he'd dragged Gary away from Kieren in a headlock. No, he didn't doubt for a second that they'd make good on their promise to ship him off to Norfolk on sight. Nothing he could say in here would convince them otherwise.
You could still save yourself…
Yes. He could keep pretending. Put the cover-up back on, stroll around in his flimsy mask and play puppet, act like everything was still okay. Act like he was still the same person he had been before the Rising around his family, play the mindless compliant at work, let himself slip back into the background of everyone's life so he would no longer be the focus of attention and they forgot he was ever a 'threat'.
Well, fuck that.
"I didn't do it!" he shouted into the tape recorder, hurling it to the ground at their feet and watching it snap to pieces on the cold, hard floor.
Before he could utter another word he felt one of his guards step behind him and grip his arm, twisting it up behind his back. It wasn't painful to him anymore, but it was still incapacitating. He dropped to his knees, hanging helplessly from the man's hold as he felt his other hand clamp down on his shoulder.
He struggled against the vice-like grip, but all the fight had gone out of him. What was the point? If he broke out of this twat's grasp Dean would jump him without a second thought, and even if he did manage to escape what did he do then? There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide. No one to back him up when they came looking for him.
"Good lord," Mrs. Lamb breathed, looking down on him with contempt. "What a monster."
Monster.
The word stuck in his mind, echoing in his subconscious all the way home. He walked ahead of Dean numbly, barely noticing the ground beneath his feet. When he passed the angry mob of protestors outside his house he barely spared them a glance- they were only confirming what he already knew.
You've always been a monster.
From the day he'd crawled from the ground he'd been a monster. The soulless, vicious killer that everyone feared. Medication and make-up and scripted speeches didn't change that. He'd tried so hard to prove that he wasn't just the beast that they thought he was. Tried to blend in and keep quiet, go along with all the pretty little lies. When that didn't work, when they still looked at him like he could claw their throats out at any given moment he'd given up. Let his real self out for the day, freed his skin from the layers of lies. When they'd pushed him to breaking point he'd allowed himself the luxury of snapping- and now, at the end of all that, all he'd managed to do was give them what they wanted. Make them feel like their fears were well-founded, give them the reason they'd been waiting for to keep him on a leash.
You'll always be a monster.
And it wasn't just them. Everyone agreed. Dean stood guard outside his house to make sure he didn't crawl away and devour some hapless passer-by. His sister took one look at his white eyes and stormed right out of the house without a word. Even his father…
He'd sat by as Steve had tried to convince him to sign the confession papers he'd been handed. Maybe it wouldn't have hurt so much if he'd just been doing it because he thought it was his son's best chance, but it was more than that.
He believed that he'd done it.
Kieren could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. He honestly believed that he and Simon had…
He felt his fury bubbling ever closer to the surface. He felt both relief and anger as his parents both got up to leave him behind in the deserted house. He seethed with quiet resentment as his Dad asked if he'd be alright on his own like he was some kind of toddler, and barely bit back a scream of frustration as he slapped the paper and pen down in front of him meaningfully. That little dotted line stared up at him accusingly, waiting patiently for him to scrawl his signature and seal his fate.
He carried the repulsive thing to his room at arm's length, smacking it down on his desk and collapsing onto his bed tiredly. He lifted his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes as the itchiness returned. He felt like his head was going to explode.
He sat up with a heavy sigh, swinging his legs off the mattress and resting his elbows on his knees as he surveyed the room from the edge of his bed. He glared at the form, and rolled his eyes up and away from it as he felt that little nagging urge to just sign it and get it over with. He wouldn't give in that easily.
His gaze landed on something else, halfway up the wall over the desk and standing out in stark contrast to the bright colours of his paintings. Simon's portrait, his charcoal features gazing out at Kieren from the flat surface of the paper.
God, could Kieren do with seeing that face right now.
He got to his feet, pulling up his hood and striding determinedly to the back door. If he was going to be stuck under house arrest for the foreseeable future, there was someone he needed to talk to first.
"Where the fuck are you?" Kieren muttered under his breath as he patted down the bed and shook out the pillows, hoping against hope that he might find some kind of note meant for him. Nothing to be found.
He'd been right about the snow disappearing- it was already nothing more than fine grey sludge by the time he reached the bungalow. He'd been let in by those shifty followers of Simon's- Zoe and Brian, he thinks, although he'd never really bothered to learn their names. The pair of them seemed to have moved themselves into the bungalow with no sign of moving on. Like termites. Still, he didn't have time to be pissed off with them right now. Not when Simon seemed to be doing his utmost to keep him off his scent.
He crouched down by the chest of drawers, glancing up at the mirror. He frowned when he saw the crumpled photo- Simon, looking human as human can be, sitting beside a woman with hair as dark as his own. His mother?
Huh. So he did have blue eyes.
Kieren shook his head, returning to his search. Plenty of time to ask about it later, along with all the other questions he needed answered.
Jesus, where is he?!
He didn't know what he was searching for- some kind of note, perhaps? It made sense that if Simon was going to leave him a message he'd leave it somewhere Amy wouldn't look- technically they were still having it off behind her back. Kieren cursed himself silently. He was being an incredibly shitty friend about all of this. He'd talk to her. He would.
…Just as soon as he'd worked out where the bloody Hell Simon had gone.
His fingers closed around something. Something small and cylindrical. He pulled it out, half expecting to find a bottle of unused contact lens fluid or some of the officially licensed neurotriptyline that the disciple avoided like the plague.
He saw the blue glass, and his black blood ran cold.
"What the…" he breathed, turning the bottle over in his hand. The pill rattled around inside, and Kieren knew that if he tipped it out it'd be as blue as the glass it was encased in.
Blue Oblivion.
Christ, Simon…
Well, yet another question to add to the list. Fucking hell, he'd had this stuff for god knows how long. Every time Kieren visited the bungalow, all through last night, he'd had this stuff just rattling around in his drawers not ten feet away. His cheeks flamed, both with anger and embarrassment. He really didn't know who Simon was, did he?
"What you doing?"
"I'm, er," he said quickly, pocketing the bottle as discreetly as possible. He was going to confront Simon about them later, and he knew he stood a better chance of getting a straight answer if he held the evidence in his hand. Simon had a bad habit of evading questions. He straightened up and turned round, and felt guilt settle in his stomach once more at the sight of Amy leaning against the doorframe. She looked different to when he'd last seen her. She seemed… tired. Worn round the edges. Did she look like that yesterday? Would he even have noticed? Jesus, he was a terrible friend.
"I'm looking for Simon," he said truthfully. He was sick of telling lies. Besides, the need to find the missing Irishman had just become more urgent than ever. "Have you seen him? If the patrols catch him he's gonna get sent back to the treatment centre."
Amy shook her head, worry clouding her features. She didn't look well at all. She was clutching what looked like a bundled-up tent to her side, and the hand on the strap was trembling slightly.
"What's wrong?" Kieren asked. It was horrible, seeing her like this- what was going on?
"Loving the new look you're rocking," she said cheerily, hastily changing the subject. She gestured to his bare face with a grin. "Very handsome, Handsome!"
He smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders.
"Does he like it?"
The smile dropped from his face. He stared wide-eyed at her sickly face as she looked down and picked at a splinter on the doorframe. He didn't know what to say. Where did he begin? So you know, then? I swear I was going to tell you! I didn't mean for it to go this far! Wait, how much do you know? Shit. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, if there's anything I can-
"How do I look?" she asked brightly, changing the subject once again.
He gaped at her for a second, silently thanking her for giving him some time to think. If he was going to talk to her about this he'd like to have the right words to say. "Moregeous," he said as sincerely as he could. There was no denying that she looked unwell, but she was his friend. She'd already been far more patient with him than he deserved.
"You have to say that," she said, smiling fondly at him. "You're my BDFF:"
"Best Dead Friend Forever," Kieren recited with her, smirking. His face fell as the guilt returned. He didn't really think he deserved the title anymore. "Look, about me and Simon…" he began lamely, before quickly realising he had absolutely no idea how to continue.
He heard a door slam in the house, and had a moment of panic as he realised how late it must be getting. If he didn't get back soon… Well, he didn't want to think about it. "I'm sorry, Amy, we'll talk later, I have to go," he said, brushing past her regretfully. "I'm under house arrest."
"House arrest?" Amy breathed, her eyes wide. Kieren turned to face her and nodded sadly. "God," she sighed, rolling her eyes and laughing humourlessly. "This place is going to Hell!"
"You're telling me," Kieren rasped, turning his back and starting towards the door. He needed to get out of there, before he got found, before he was missed, before he said something he shouldn't…
"Kieren Walker?"
He turned back again, looking at her expectantly. "Yeah?" he asked tentatively, almost scared of what she had to say.
She met his gaze for a moment. Then she shook her head slightly. "Nothing," she said with a tired smile. "Take care. I mean it!"
He nodded, smiling bravely as he once again made to leave. It was better this way. He'd talk to her later. He had to. He had so much else to worry about now- Simon, Norfolk, his parents, he'd give his BDFF the full attention she deserved once he'd sorted out all the other messes in his life.
Well, if you get the chance to talk later.
He froze with his hand on the door handle. His fingers clenched as he thought of everything that awaited him when he got home- livid parents, no doubt. A confession he may or may not sign. A loyal RPS guard-dog who was ready to either keep him under house arrest until he confessed or help manhandle him to the detention centre. For all he knew, this could be his last day in Roarton for a long time to come.
He spun around, his hand flying from the door handle as he stepped back into the hallway, standing face to face with a surprised Amy. "I'm sorry," he blurted, reaching out and taking her hand. "I mean it, I'm sorry for, well, everything. How I've handled everything, I've just… I've fucked up, and I'm sorry."
"Hey, hey," she said, pressing a finger to his lips to silence him. "Easy there, Handsome- no need to get your knickers in a twist!"
He stared wide-eyed at her as he pulled his face away from her hand. "So… you're not angry?"
"Well, it was a shock to be sure," she said with a tilt of her head. "I certainly wasn't expecting to see you two snogging in the street."
"Shit," he muttered, wincing. Well, that was that, she'd officially found out in the worst possible way. He wanted to disappear into a hole in the ground. Again.
"But the more I thought about it," she continued, taking both of his hands and letting them swing between them. She shrugged, tossing her hair out of her face. "Well- he was never mine in the first place, was he?"
Kieren looked down at his feet guiltily. "I… I didn't mean to, y'know, step on your toes or-"
"Kier," she said, dropping his hand and grabbing his chin, forcing him to look up at her. "I'm fine," she said with a small smile. "Really. Okay, it might've been nice for you to at least give me a heads up before you swept Mymon off his feet but…" she shrugged. "Well, what's done is done."
Kieren felt his eyes prickling in that irritating way they did when his dead body couldn't muster the tears. "I really am sorry…"
"Hey, it's alright," she said softly. Then she grinned, raising both her hands to his cheeks and pinching them. "Besides, how could he have resisted that moregeous mug of yours, eh?"
He laughed hoarsely, smiling at her. He held out his arms and she stepped into them, tucking her face into his shoulder as he rubbed her back and sighing against his neck. He pressed his face to her hair with a smile. "What did I do to deserve you as a friend, Amy Dyer?"
"Probably something horrible in your first life," she laughed, winding her arms round his waist.
"Hey, if you're my eternal punishment, I'm glad I was no saint," he said sincerely, tightening his grip on her shoulders.
They stood like that for a minute, just breathing each other in before they parted to face their own trials. When she finally broke the embrace she smiled warmly at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair.
"You're off the hook for now, Kieren Walker," she said, putting on a serious face. "But I'll be having a little chat with you and that boy toy of yours soon enough."
"I don't doubt it!" Kieren laughed, his hands sliding from her shoulders and down to her hands. He regarded her sadly, his thoughts returning to that unsigned confession on his desk. "When will I see you again?" he wondered quietly, mostly to himself.
She looked heartbroken when she replied: "I've no idea."
He looked down at her thin hands clasped in his own, noticeably shaking. "Amy," he said quietly, meeting her gaze. "Are you okay?"
She smiled reassuringly at him, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I don't know."
He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers softly, looking into her eyes. "Is there anything I can do?"
She shook her head slightly, releasing his hands and gripping his shoulders. "No can do, partner. I'm afraid I've got to battle this one out alone," she gave him a brave little smile, reaching into the paper bag that hung beside the bundled tent. "But I did mean to give you this…" she said quietly, pulling out an unsealed envelope and a pen. She licked the seal and closed it, scribbling his name on the front and handing it to him. "Do us a favour and don't read that for a while? Wait 'til tomorrow, yeah?"
He stared her down, not liking her tone of voice. "What is it?"
"Promise?" she insisted, holding up her other hand and extending her little finger. "Super serious pinkie swear?"
He sighed, but eventually lifted his finger to touch against hers. "Fine. Super serious pinkie swear."
She smiled, letting him take the envelope from her hand. "Good. That's my BDFF!"
He returned her smile, but kept his voice low. "Amy, please, just tell me this: you're not planning on doing something stupid, are you?"
"No, 'course not," she said. It wasn't a lie- as far as she was concerned, whatever she was planning was the most logical course of action. Still, it made Kieren nervous.
"Okay," he said slowly, watching her carefully. "Well, just take care, alright?" he said, squeezing her hand once more before he released her and backed away a step. He'd already been out too long, they could come out looking for him at any moment. "I mean it," he said firmly, echoing her words.
She rolled her eyes at him fondly. "Don't worry, Mum, I'll be fine. Look both ways before crossing the road and everything!"
He grinned, ducking forward to kiss her forehead before making his way back to the door. "We'll talk soon, okay?" he said, looking back at her over his shoulder.
"Okay," she whispered, clutching the tent close to her side as he gave her one last wave and disappeared into the bleak Roarton evening.
"Where the 'ell 'ave you been?" Steve demanded, rising from the sofa with his face cast in shadows.
"I…" Kieren began, but he couldn't answer. He'd been ambushed- what kind of explanation could he give them that wouldn't get him in even more trouble?
"I was just about to let Dean know you'd gone," Steve said warningly.
"If he'd have done that, Kieren…" Sue said sharply, her arms crossed over her chest.
Kieren stared at them both in disbelief. He turned to his mother, pleading for her understanding with his eyes. "I had to go out, Mum," he insisted. She didn't meet his gaze.
"Where'd you go?" Steve asked. "Can you at least not lie about that?"
Kieren stared at him, shaking his head incredulously. Did they have any trust in him whatsoever, anymore? He turned to his mother again, desperately seeking support. "Mum…"
She remained silent. He inhaled deeply, drawing as much strength from his lungs as he could before he turned back to face his father.
"I went to look for Simon."
It definitely wasn't the answer Steve had wanted to hear. He clenched his jaw, turning to look at his wife as he spoke. "It's happening all over again, Sue," he said, turning back to Kieren and staring him down. "Someone puts a spell on him, and it all ends in disaster."
Kieren gaped at his father, shaking his head. He didn't even know where to begin. Was it really so ridiculous that he would try to be his own person of his own accord? Was that how they saw him- just some impressionable kid who latched onto men and let them lead him on? Is that all Rick was to them? Just a boy who bewitched their son and caused his death?
He didn't know what he resented more; that they would automatically assume that Rick and Simon, two of the most important people in his life, were just out to use him. Or that they thought he was just some kind of spineless teen with no will of his own. While it was true that he couldn't completely vouch for Simon's motives as of yet- his mysterious disappearance was definitely a spanner in the works- he was not under the disciple's thumb. In fact, if last night was any indication he'd say it was the other way round. "Mum," he said, desperately trying to get her back on his side. "Can you tell him I'm not under anyone's spell?"
"How can we ever trust you again, Kier?" Steve demanded. Sue made no effort to speak.
"You can start by not siding with the mob, Dad!" Kieren said bitterly.
Steve straightened up and stared him down. "I'm just concerned for this family's safety."
Heavy silence fell across the room. Kieren stared at his dad's stoic face, his mind reeling. Was he…?
Kieren gulped, taking a step towards his father.
"You scared of me?" he asked, his voice catching.
"I am," Steve said bluntly. Kieren felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "I'll admit it, when you're acting like this."
"Acting like what?" Kieren cried.
"I don't even recognise you anymore!" Steve said harshly.
"This is who I am!" his son advanced towards him, his eyes wide and his face desperate.
His father took a step back.
Kieren froze, staring speechlessly at Steve.
He's not lying.
He really is scared of you.
"Jesus," Kieren breathed, disgust in his voice as he stormed away to the stairs. He couldn't look at either of them right now.
He stared at the confession form, his hand suspended with the pen above the line. Just one little signature. He'd heard his parents' voices, floating up from the living room to his vantage point on the stairs. They wanted to send him back. Pack him off to the treatment centre so he'd be someone else's problem. If he refused to confess, there was no way either of them would fight for him now. Once again, he was on his own.
One little signature and he might have a chance.
He dropped the pen, barely waiting for it to clatter to the hard surface of the desk before he had the paper in his hands and torn to pieces.
No more pretending.
He let the fragments flutter to the table, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. When he straightened his neck and opened his eyes he found himself face to face with the charcoal portrait, Simon's piercing gaze on his face.
"I have to say something to you," Kieren said firmly, imagining the real Simon standing before him. "I don't know what it is you want, or where you've gone. To be honest, I'm not sure I even want to know. But right now I have bigger things to worry about."
He stared the drawing down, unloading his frustrations and clearing his head with every word. "I don't have time to spend wondering why you're doing what you're doing. I'd love to just lie down, close my eyes and try to work it out, but that requires time and that's one thing I don't have. For a while last night, you made me feel…" he shook his head. "Well, you made me feel loved. Not many people have done that recently. For a while I really thought that you meant it. You're gone now, and I don't know if it's because you had somewhere to be or you just wanted to get away, but I don't have time to figure it out. I could spend my entire second life trying to just fucking decode you, but right now it's just one extra riddle that I really don't fucking need. I thought you were on my side, and maybe you still are, but that doesn't count for shit when I can't even find you. I have to get myself out of this now. Whatever happens to me now… I'm alone."
He gulped, feeling his eyes itch and his throat close. But he kept his gaze fixed, kept his voice level. "Isn't it always the way?" he said with a humourless laugh. "But that means it's all up to me. I'm in this mess now, and that means I have to get myself out. And that means I don't have time for distractions."
He planted his hands on the desk, leaning forward so his eyes were level with the portrait's. "Whatever's going on with you, with us, I don't have time for it now. If I come out the other side of this, then I'll have time to talk to you and work you out, but right now…" his gaze turned hard. "Right now, I think it's best if you keep your distance."
He sighed, straightening up and breaking eye contact with the drawing. He slid his hands into his pockets as he felt his energy drain away, like his heated debate with an emotionless sketch had sapped his strength.
His hand brushed something, and he pulled out the sealed envelope. His name, underscored by a sweeping kiss, adorned the front. The seal was still damp.
He moved to place it on his desk, atop the scattered remains of his unsigned confession. He had promised to leave it alone until tomorrow, after all.
But then he remembered the way her hands had trembled. The sadness in her eyes and the pain in her smile.
He glanced up at the clock. 12:04 a.m.
Well, technically it was already tomorrow.
He ran his fingers under the flap, breaking the seal.
As he removed the contents and the paper unfolded, he felt the cold air rush from his lungs.
Last Will & Testament of Amy Dyer
"I feel so much better now you're not around
There's no one to kick me while I'm down
No one to burn my bridges anymore
So keep on walking
'Cause I'm not here to make you feel good
To dry up your tears and apologise for you
I feel so much better now you're not around
So keep on walking out"
Sorry to keep y'all waiting for so long! Hope it lived up to expectations!
A few notes, firstly, on Kieren and Amy- I hate hate HATED the way they left it with those two in the series, hence why I did my own thing with it because YOU'RE BDFFS, YOU CAN'T LEAVE THINGS ALL WEIRD LIKE THAT! I just wanted things to be okay :( (so yeah, as you can tell I'm starting to go a little AU with this thing. More fun that way! I like being able to write my own dialogue :D)
Secondly, about Kieren's hair- this is just an interesting thing I was considering. He looks so blonde in the series, doesn't he? But Luke Newberry's actually pretty damn ginger, and I was wondering why he looked so different for the majority of the series- then I realised they must do a lot of editing on the colouring of the shots to make everything look much bleaker than it is, make it more in-keeping with the dull, grim nature of the show and the situation. I just thought it was interesting- I really noticed the difference in episode 6, when Si and Kier are waiting in the GP's surgery. I don't know, I think his hair looks closer to his natural shade in that shot than it does most of the time. So yeah, I've been referring to him as blonde/strawberry blonde a lot in this, but I'm thinking I might mention the bleak, draining nature of Roarton at some point, maybe Simon pointing out how red his hair looks in the sunlight or something, that could be a cute moment :D
So yeah, next chapter we'll be having episode 5 from Simon's perspective, so don't miss out! Will contain flashbacks and feels!
Until next time!