Tom awoke, screaming, still hearing the laughter. He couldn't move. Why couldn't he move? It was dark in the room, but he was sure he had left the light on. He always left the light on. He couldn't sit up. His arms…they were above his head…and why the fuck couldn't he move? Jesus…oh, Jesus. He screamed, but it was cut short by a hand clamping down hard over his mouth. He struggled to move again but froze as something brushed across his ear. And he heard it…the whisper…

"This ain't a dream, buddy…"

Tom couldn't breathe. No…God, no…this is not happening. Wake up! Wake the fuck up!

Suddenly, the pressure was gone from his face and his hands. Tom gasped and sat up in bed, feeling frantically around him but finding nothing. The bed was empty. He sat in the darkness, feeling his heart pounding, and trying to keep from crying. It had seemed so real. He took a deep breath and lay back down, wondering how much time he had left before he had to get up, but not feeling like looking at the clock. He was calming down, his heart rate returning to normal.

Until the light came on.

Tom bolted upright in the bed again. The light on the ceiling shown garishly down, and Tom blinked and squinted in the sudden brightness trying desperately to see. But he didn't need to see. He could hear. He stopped moving, sitting perfectly still, eyes squeezed shut against the light, and listened. A small squeak and then a faint creak reached his ears. He shook his head slowly as another creak sounded, closer to the bed now. He was shaking, and a low moan escaped him as he felt the mattress beside him give way to new weight settling upon it. He flinched as something brushed across his hair, and then the back of his neck was gripped tightly.

Low and soft against his ear…"I told you…this ain't a dream."

The tears leaked from beneath Tom's tightly closed eyes as he managed to whisper, "No…" between gasps of breath.

"Yes…" was the whispered response. "Open your eyes." The hand on the back of Tom's neck gripped harder. "Come on…"…gently…encouraging…"Open…c'mon…"

Tom could smell it now…the rancid breath…the stale sweat. The scents brought with them the memories and the fear. His stomach clenched and threatened to erupt, but a new feeling of déjà vu had taken over…the feeling of cold, hard metal pressed against his forehead.

Not so gently anymore… "Open your eyes, motherfucker!"

Then the hand was gone. The gun was gone. And Tom slowly opened his eyes.

But Lee Eckert was not gone.

Tom fought back the cry in his throat as he looked at the man who was sitting beside him on the edge of the bed. The wild eyes and manic grin were there, and he had come a long way from his neat appearance in the courtroom. His hair had grown back out, disheveled and hanging against his shoulders. His face had at least a two-day growth of beard on it, and his clothes were worn, dirty, and reeking.

Eckert saw Tom's eyes roaming over him, taking in his appearance, and followed them as they finally settled on the gun he was holding in his lap. He laughed a little and stood up, walking across the room and laying the gun on top of the dresser by the door. He came back and sat down again next to Tom on the bed, cupping the side of his face with one hand and leaning in close. "We aren't going to need that, are we?" he whispered as he brushed Tom's cheek with his lips. He sat back and put his hand on Tom's chest, pushing him back then running his hand down Tom's t-shirt and grazing across his soft boxer shorts. "Lay down…come on." As Tom slowly settled back down onto the bed, Eckert patted the mattress and then ran his hand over it. "Oh…now this is nice…soft…much better." He smiled down at the frightened young man below him. "It's not gonna hurt…as much…this time, is it?"

The room seemed to be spinning to Tom. He knew that if he hadn't already been lying down he would have fainted by now. Real…it's real. Eckert was still leering at him. Oh my fucking god it's real. Time. He had no idea how much time he had before Doug would show up to pick him up for work. But since he wasn't gagged like last time…at least not yet…maybe he could stall. He tried to speak, lips trembling, but all he managed to get out was the choked sob he had been holding back. He put his hands to his face to wipe the tears off, but Eckert took his hands in his own and placed them back at Tom's side.

"Here…let me do that."

Tom cringed as Eckert's large, rough hands touched his face and moved across it, gliding through the wet tracks there. As the man finished, one more tear fell, and Eckert leaned over and quickly caught it with his tongue before it could get very far. He licked his lips and placed a small kiss on Tom's forehead before sitting up again.

"There…how's that?"

Tom ignored the question and managed to finally voice one of his own. "Wh…h…how did you…how did you get in here?"

"The key over the door. That's not very safe, you know."

Tom shook his head. "But…I took that down…after Doug wanted in. I…I took it down."

Eckert laughed. "Before that, stupid! Wayyyy before that! I took it and had a copy made before this whole thing ever started." He laughed again. "Man! I could not believe it still worked! You know, you probably should have changed your lock."

"What do you want?" Tom asked as he looked up at the man. "Why are you here? Haven't you done enough?"

Eckert appeared to think about it, then said, "Mmmm, no…no, I don't think I've done enough. Not yet." He leaned over close and placed his hand on Tom's head again, caressing his hair. "You haven't learned your lesson yet, have you?" He grasped Tom's chin and moved his head from side to side. "No? No, you haven't. I know that. You're still out there…pretending…fooling people…screwing them. Like that kid behind the liquor store today."

A chill ran up Tom's spine. Jesus…he's been watching me.

"Oh yeah…I saw you." Eckert snickered. "Got a little rough with him, didn't you? Yeah…see? I knew all along that's how you liked it." He gripped Tom's hair tightly as he ran his hand down his chest.

Keep him talking. "I thought…I thought you moved away."

"Oh, I live in Myer now, but I missed you." Eckert leaned over and mumbled against Tom's neck, "Mmm…gonna fuck you, cop…gonna fuck you good and hard." He sat up and began to move into place at the end of the bed, kneeling on it and straddling Tom's legs.

Tom saw his chance and took it. He pulled one leg back quickly and shoved it against Eckert with all his might. The ex-con was taken by surprise and fell off of the end of the bed. In a flash, Tom was up and running for the dresser where the gun lay. But just as it was within reach he was tackled from behind, crashing into the dresser. He fell to the floor, face down, with Eckert's weight on top of him.

Eckert pushed Tom onto his back and punched him in the face. "You fucking little son of a bitch!" He brought his fist down a second time. "What was that?! Huh?!" He pulled Tom up by the front of his shirt and shook him. "What the fuck was that?!" He stood up and pulled Tom to his feet, shoving him toward the bed. When they reached it, Eckert pushed Tom face down on the mattress, his face in the pillow. He straddled the young man's body, putting one hand against his back and the other on his head, holding him against the pillow. "I was being nice to you, motherfucker! This is the thanks I get?!"

Tom struggled beneath the larger man, but he was held firmly in place. Eckert suddenly stopped his ranting, and that's what scared Tom the most. This is it…he's killing me. The only sound he could hear was the blood pounding…roaring…in his ears as he tried desperately to get some air. But his face was fully engulfed by the soft pillow. He stopped struggling and his body relaxed…quiet, dark comfort overtaking him. It will be over soon.

"When I'm done with you, I'm going after her."

The guttural words against his ear brought Tom back to attention, and he began struggling again.

"Oh yeah…there's that fight. I love the fight in you, Tommy." Eckert yanked Tom upright and the officer gasped for breath as Eckert pulled him so that they were both now sitting on the edge of the bed.

Tom glanced ruefully at his bedside table, wishing desperately that he hadn't taken his gun out of the drawer and moved it to a table drawer in the living room. He always wanted it nearby, but these days he never knew where he would end up falling asleep, and sometimes he lost track, leaving the gun in the wrong room. Like tonight.

Eckert noticed Tom's glance, and thinking he was looking at the alarm clock said, "Oh…don't you worry. I know you have to leave for work by seven." He put his arm around Tom and pulled him close. "We'll be done by then." He laughed. "Plenty of time. Hey…you got anything to eat?"

Tom, still stunned and recovering from the rough treatment he had just received, did not reply, so Eckert stood up, pulling Tom with him and said, "C'mon! Let's get something to eat!" He pushed Tom in front of him and continued to push until they were in the living room. He shoved Tom down onto the end of the sofa and then went behind the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen.

Tom looked around the room, weighing his options. Eckert still held the gun in one hand, even as he rifled through the refrigerator and cabinets. The kitchen was small, and the sofa Tom sat on was a mere few feet from it. And his front door…it might as well have been miles away. There was no way Tom could make it there without Eckert seeing and catching him…or killing him. And Tom could see that the man had taken care to lock it again after letting himself in. He sighed and looked at the table at the other end of the couch. The table drawer held his gun. He looked up as Eckert approached with a beer in one hand and a bag of chips in the other, the gun now tucked into the waistband of his pants. He sat on the sofa between Tom and the end table.

"Chip?" Eckert asked, putting the open bag in front of Tom's face.

The smell made him nauseous and Tom shook his head slowly. He's crazy…he's fucking crazy. He looked past Eckert at the clock on the kitchen wall. 12:27. Shit.

Eckert turned to see what Tom was looking at and laughed. "Oh yeah…plenty of time." He took a long swig from his beer bottle. "Just lemme finish my snack here and we'll get started."

Oh no…no, no, no, no this was not going to happen. Not again. Tom cleared his throat. "Why don't you stop?"

Eckert stuffed another handful of chips into his mouth and mumbled, "Now why would I want to do that?"

"You're free, man. They let you go. You got your revenge and you got away with it. Just let it go now."

"That's where you're wrong, buddy." Eckert wiped his greasy hands on his pants legs. "I haven't gotten my revenge yet…not all of it."

Any hope Tom held was quickly dwindling. "But why not?" he asked, almost pleading and hating it. "Look at all you put me through. Why isn't it enough now?"

"Because…you have no idea what I went through, man. No idea. This is nothing compared to that, day after day with no escape." Eckert turned to face Tom. "That…is what I want you to feel."

Tom hung his head, refusing to let the man see the hopelessness on his face…the tears in his eyes. "Don't I already? Do you have any idea what you've done to me?"

Eckert laughed and put an arm around Tom, pulling him closer as Tom squirmed uncomfortably. Tom's head was against Eckert's shoulder now, just under his chin as the ex-con said, "What? You mean like…nightmares? Huh? Poor baby can't sleep?" His arm tightened around Tom's neck. "Or, uh…I know! How about that girl in the bar? Huh? The one in the red dress?"

Tom moaned in fear and repulsion, feeling like he might throw up. God…Jesus…he's been with me….everywhere.

"Oh yeah…that's right. I saw you with that slut. You wanted to fuck her, didn't you? But you couldn't. She was all over you, getting you hot and hard…" The man took another long drink and then threw the empty bottle over his shoulder where it broke against the bar by the kitchen. Still holding Tom tightly around the neck, he put his other hand between his own two legs, rubbing the hard bulge that was forming. "She was getting you all worked up, but all you could think about…" He moved his hand from his crotch to Tom's face, turning it upward as he looked down at him. "All you could think about…was me." He brought his mouth down hard against Tom's lips as he held his head tightly.

Tom fought to get away from the disgusting taste of beer, chips, and rotten breath as Eckert's mouth surrounded his, the man's tongue probing deeply as he sucked and sloppily slid around. But Eckert held him fast against him, finishing the sickening kiss with a hard bite to Tom's lower lip. He pulled away, and Tom could see his own blood staining Eckert's chin and teeth as he grinned wickedly at him.

"You see, that's what prison did to me, Tommy. That's what you did to me." Eckert released Tom, pushing him away and into the corner of the couch. "I can't fuck girls now either!" He laughed and wiped his mouth with his shirt sleeve.

This time Tom couldn't stop himself. He quickly leaned over the arm of the couch and retched, the contents of his stomach landing in a wet pile on the carpet. He stayed there, taking heaving breaths until the stench reached his nose, causing him to retch again. But with his stomach now empty, all he could produce were dry, painful heaves. When they finally stopped, he used the end of his t-shirt to wipe his mouth, wincing as he ran over the bite that Eckert had made. For a moment then, the feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him, and he began to sob, his back still to his tormentor.

Eckert let the younger man have his moment while he finished up the rest of the chips, then crumpled the empty bag and threw it over his shoulder. He could hear Tom's sobs growing quieter, so he clapped him on the back. "C'mon, man…it ain't that bad. That's enough." He grasped the back of Tom's shirt and pulled him away from the sofa arm.

Tom sat back in the corner of the couch, eyes lowered as he tried to breathe normally again. His throat was burning from the vomit. "Can…can I get some water?" he asked quietly.

Eckert cocked his head and looked at him. "Hmmm…okay…you can have some water, but you can't get it. I'll get it." He stood up and headed for the kitchen, but turned around and added, "Don't move." He returned with a cold bottle of water from the fridge. He handed it to Tom but pulled it back as Tom reached for it. "Ah…ah…ah. What do you say?"

Tom looked up at him and then back down. "Thank you," he muttered.

"What?"

Tom looked up again. "Thank you."

"That's better," said Eckert as he handed the bottle over and sat down.

Just keep him talking. Tom took several long drinks of the water and then said, "So…yeah…you're right…about the girl. And that's not enough? To make me live with that?"

"Nope." Eckert shook his head.

"What about…my friends…family…the people I work with? They know everything now…every detail of what you did to me. I have to face them every day. And some of them…" Tom looked down. "Some of them…they believe what you said."

At that Eckert laughed. "Really?" He leaned back into the cushions and sighed, pleased with himself. "Awesome."

Might as well go for broke. "Did you plan all of this? From the beginning? The set up…Walsh and Kern getting killed? Were you…"

"Shut up, okay?" Eckert was still leaning back, but he looked agitated now. He turned his head and fixed Tom with an angry stare. "I know what you're doing."

"Wh…but I…"

"I said shut up!" In a flash Eckert had Tom by the back of the neck again and pulled the gun out of his waistband, shoving it hard into Tom's stomach. As Tom leaned forward with a grunt, Eckert pushed the gun harder and pulled Tom into an awkward embrace. "No more stalling," he whispered into his captive's ear. "Let's get on with this."

Sorry about that cliffhanger last chapter. Hope this one makes up for it a bit and satisfies some of your curiosity! Although, I guess I gave you sort of another one, didn't I? Ah well...while you're waiting for the next update, go ahead and leave a review. ;-) Thanks again to everyone for reading!