Space AU (Part One) (NSFW)
Day 43.
I clear my throat. The recorder flicks off, screen going static, and I flick it with my index finger. Curse under my breath, the recorder picking up the last two syllables. -ucker- when it clicks back on.
Day 43. Things are, uh, falling into place, so to speak. Got the papers, the clearance, and if my informant's right... Well, the trail is shortening... God, this sounds really fucking lame, don't it? I hate these things... But I figure maybe I should make a record, you know? Well, I've been over all that... Day 43, and I been makin' these since Day 1. Dunno who'll listen. Maybe there'll be no one left. But I can't stop lookin'... I'm not ready to give up. I gotta believe he wouldn't give up on me.
Pause. My face goes out of frame. Rustling and another cough 'fore I turn back to the recorder, looking even more haggard than before.
This might be my last recordin'... Might not. But I know I gotta find him soon, or there won't be nothin' left to bring home.
Uh, Neil McCormick, resident Mars Colony B... Year 2797... August 19th... Signing off.
---
It’s not the whole chained up thing that Logan minds. Not really. In fact, under the right circumstances it would be great. It’s the fact that he’s been chained up by a bunch of life draining sex-craving aliens that he finds off putting. More so because of who their 'leader' looks like.
He looks like Neil. ...If Neil were blue at least.
He's got those eyes though, same colour, same shape... and he slinks about the way McCormick always does. He even swaggers a bit like him whenever he comes to get Logan. And that's what really makes him feel sick.
The sex isn't bad, but when it's over, everything feels different. There's a little less fight in him, a little less energy. In the beginning he just lay there, letting them do whatever they wanted while he waited for someone to come back for him. But when he realized what it was doing to him... well then Logan started fighting. As best he could at least.
He doesn't look up when he hears someone turning off the bars to his cell. Hell, he's not even sure why they bother turning them on. It's not like he's going anywhere. And today? Today Logan's not going to fight. The way he figures, this could be the last time he ever gets laid, he may as well try and enjoy it.
---
"Whatcha got 'for me today, Dobs?"
Illegal cigarette perched 'tween my lips, curling smoke up into the rafters of the shop. It's cut with something. Tobacco's grown in garages now. Basement labs and secret warehouses. I might as well be smokin' oregano, I don't think there's anything resembling nicotine in this fucking thing.
"Told you. Not here. Go around back."
Real fucking friendly one, this guy, but he's the only supplier I got, so I do what he says. The ground's slick with rain. It's like diluted battery acid, coming down in a fine, hazy mist. Fake rain. Fake weather for our fucking fake civilization. The atmosphere they pump into this city smells like frying electricity. I can taste it in the back of my mouth. I fucking hate this city.
The back alley's dark, but I don't mind. Easier to do business that way. I learned to budget these last few weeks. How to stretch ever last cent. Dobs is waiting for me at the back door. Slips a small, brown-wrapped box into my coat pocket. It weighs down the leather, more than I'd think for such a small package.
"This what I ask for?"
He nods, narrow eyes staring over my shoulder toward the mouth of the alley. He could get in real trouble for this. Almost as much trouble as me.
I spend nearly every cent I got left on this fucking thing. Undetectable, he says, and all I can do is trust him. Small, easily concealed. Nearly silent. Doesn't pack as much power as some of the other shit he could've gotten me, but it'll do the job.
Dobs gets his envelop and then I'm heading down the alley with a dark look and a swish of leather. Real fucking sinister. Yeah, that's me. I look like I haven't eaten in a week. Haven't slept in even longer. Like I'd fall over in a strong breeze. But I got somethin' else keeping me going...
I got just enough money for the shuttle to take me off this rock.
If I were the prayin' type, I'd pray he could hold out just a little longer. As it is, all I can do is hope.
---
They don’t bother tying him down anymore, Logan sits and waits on the bed in the room without being told and the few times he’s tried to make a run, he's never made it more than a few steps. Besides, where would he go if he got out the room? He wasn’t even sure where the hell he was.
They even take his chains off now, which he figures is thanks to Lazuli. Logan’s not sure what he is to the blue skinned life form, but he knows the game well enough now to know Lazuli likes to decide how the encounter will go down by himself, and was obviously pleased when Logan was finally too weak to fight.
He used to wonder what the point of it was. He wondered if he was just some sort of toy, of if there was some sort of reason behind it. He's tried asking, but Lazuli's never answered him that. They talk, sure, words here and there. Sometimes the alien even asks him if there's something Logan would like in return, but when Logan tells him that he just wants to go home, Lazuli simply ignores him.
He looks up when the Alien in question enters, and without being asked, he starts to undress. It's better to guess than wait to be told, because even though Lazuli seems to want to keep him, he doesn't have any problems with punishment. It's not worth the risk anymore. The things he used to be able to take would likely kill him now.
"Gonna take me to dinner after?" Logan asks, letting his shirt fall to the floor as he sits back down, his voice tired but still unmistakably his. There are some parts of Logan Echolls that nothing can break.
Accustomed to the banter, Lazuli simply smirks. "Lay down, and maybe I'll bring you something."
---
Getting on the shuttle was easier than I thought. Just slip into the crowd, flash my papers real quick at the guard, and sit my ass down in back. Don't look at anyone, but don't look like I've got something to hide. I get left alone just like everyone else. There's a baby crying in the front somewhere. It's rare on B colony. Pregnant women usually get sent somewhere else. Somewhere safer. Don't think I've heard one in a year. More. It'd be comforting if I weren't trying to fucking sleep.
The shuttle touches down on Deimos right on schedule. The Black Rock, and I get why they call it that as soon as I step off the ramp. Loose black sand, like lava rock, crunches under my boots. There's a dust of it in the air, looks like smog. Why the fucker's have stopped here, of all places, I'll never figure out. Just another pit stop on the way to Planet... Wherever.
But what I notice most, aside from all the black... Blue. The woman at the check-in counter is blue. She smiles at me, and I've gotta look in her eyes or I'll seem suspicious. This isn't the one I'm after, but it's all I can do not to lean over the fucking counter and shove her radio-clip down her fucking blue throat while she looks over my papers.
My ID says my name's Bob Warner for now. Fucking shit name, but it's what they gave me. I'm a real estate agent for the colonies, lookin' to buy property for a fucking mini-mall or some shit... Whatever.
"Enjoy your stay, Mr. Warner." Fuck you.
Now that I'm here, I feel like I should be able to relax, but I can't... I was told they wouldn't be hard to find. It's not like they're hiding. We're at peace with their fucking race or whatever. But these guys? I guess they didn't get the fucking memo.
Why'd they take him? Wrong place at the wrong time's all I can figure. But it's not the why that matters to me anyway...
---
It rarely hurts, and Logan can’t help but wish that it wasn’t so gentle… so falsely tender. If you’re going to rape someone or make someone your bitch, you should have the balls to make it hurt. Lazuli isn’t into to inflicting pain really though, not unless Logan’s at his worst.
The bed they’re on is oddly comfortable, not like the one Logan used to sleep in back home. Most beds are small, just big enough to be usable to take up less space for the common folk. Lazuli’s is like nothing he’d ever seen before, big and plush. Like it was built for this sort of thing.
Sometimes when they’re finished Lazuli tells him stories about earth and the way things were long before Logan was born. Lazuli has never been there, but he’s studied it for years. He tells Logan about wars and houses… whole buildings that almost anyone could own… all by themselves. It’s interesting enough, but Logan’s never been a listener.
Tonight Lazuli is talking about baths, giant sinks that people used to sit in to get washed. It sounds bizarre, and Logan’s almost interested. Almost. He’s drained though, drained and hungry, and when it seems like the alien just isn’t going to shut up about the wonders of giant-fucking-sinks, Logan interrupts, not caring that it’ll probably end badly for him.
“That’s really great and all, but I’m fucking starving,” he says, butting in with a scowl.
Lazuli doesn’t say anything right away, but Logan’s hardly finished speaking before the blue man backhands him. “We’ve talked about your manners before, Logan,” he says coolly, getting to his feet.
---
Food here, just like everywhere else I've been the last month, is shit. I don't even know what it is I order from the marketplace cart. The old man working the stand didn't speak a fucking word of English. It tastes like nothing, but at least it fills me up. I sleep in a room for rent above a retail store fronting for a strip club. Tits everywhere, and half of 'em are blue. I really just wanna go home.
I get up early. Not that you could tell. Day and night look the same here. It's cold no matter what time of day it is. Cold fucking desert. Nothing'll grow here 'cept in greenhouses. I heard stories 'bout things growing in fields... Whole fields of wheat and corn and tobacco... Might as well be a fucking fairy story, 's not something I can imagine.
The man I'm supposed to see, Winslow, he's an old pilot from C colony. He knows his shit, knows how to get 'round, and he knows everyone's business. Say Dobs sent me, and he's supposed to take me where I need to go. No questions. His bike... the technology's gotta be a hundred years old. Hell, maybe more. Churns out black smoke and coughs and sputters... I can hear it coming a mile away. Fucking embarrassing.
Spend my last bit of cash to get on the bike. Dobs was right. He didn't ask questions.
Pulling up behind the gray building- From the outside, it looks like something outta an old history disc... Nothing special. Almost like a factory... I'll worry 'bout getting us home when this is all over. I just hope my plan works. Not that its much of a plan... I was never good at that kind of shit anyway.
I hold my breath as I slide the clearance card I bought planet-side. Lights beep and there's a long pause. Long enough I think maybe they sold me something marked and I wonder if I can get away fast enough 'fore security is on me. But the door opens with a soft click, and with one last look over my shoulder, I slip inside.
---
Some nights Lazuli lets Logan sleep in his bed. He used to refuse, but now he actually finds himself feeling hopeful that he won’t be kicked out and locked back behind his bars. The bed in his cell is more like an iron bench, impossible to sleep on. It was always uncomfortable, but it feels worse somehow these days, like his bones just can't take it.
Lazuli’s bed is warm and soft, and even with the other man pressed up close behind him, Logan goes straight to sleep without much trouble.
It’s early when Lazuli wakes him, the lights in the room clicking on and streaming in through this strange pane of glass in the wall. And when Logan let’s his ego drop and actually begs not to be sent back to his cell, the other man agrees. In fact, he doesn’t even lock the door as he leaves for ‘work’. Logan’s not stupid enough to try and leave though, he knows well enough that there is always someone outside.
After another hour of sleep, Logan sits up just enough to study the walls. He’s never really taken the time to look before, and he's surprised to realize that everything in the room is… old. Really old. Mostly Earth relics like they saw in museums back in school. Globes of a planet that used to be kind off beautiful. Blue and green, like fancy glass. Paintings of humans in this crazy garb that looks unreal. Books all written in English that date back to… the 1980’s.
It’s like a shrine, and Logan can’t help but feel a little sick as he realizes he’s part of it. Just another part of Lazuli's collection.
---
It goes pretty much as planned. At first. The map I got seems accurate. I end up in the surveillance room without much trouble. Blow to the back of the head, and the one guard's out cold. My fucking hand hurts. Why is it in stories, they never talk 'bout the hero bustin' his hand on some asshole's hard head? They always leave out the important shit.
I don't know what any of these circuits mean, but that doesn't stop me from blowing a hole in every last one of their visual feeds. The cells were easy enough to find too, but it's a bad sign that there are no guards. Even worse when I find the damn things empty. I was afraid of this. They've moved him someplace else or... Fuck, don't wanna think 'bout the or. So I take a few deep breaths. Think calm fucking thoughts or whatever. Look at the map. Get my bearings... Out in the hall, turn left. Looks just like the last hall. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
But it's sorta embarrassing, for them, how lax security is 'round here. Well, that's what I'm thinking right as I come 'round the corner and nearly run headlong into some blue-faced asshole twice my size, carrying a gun that makes mine sorta envious. I react. Dunno even know how I react that quick, but I'm crouching down and tackling him in the midsection. He goes down with a grunt and his gun goes skidding 'cross the floor. I get too fucking excited too quick. I get sloppy, probably 'cause I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Too busy gloating over my tiny little victory.
'Cause that's when the alarm goes off.
---
The closet is full of… weird shit. Mostly stuff Logan’s been asked to wear before. Costumes he figures, but not like the costumes people usually wear during sex. This stuff is all old Earth fashion. Logan decides that it’s better then spending all day nude though, and pulls out something to wear. The pants, the blue ones that are cooler and looser than the leather Logan used to wear, are called jeans. He knows that much. But he doesn’t know what the other part is called. The weird red shirt that stretches when you wear it with white swirly letters on it that spell out… cock? No wait, coke. It says Coke.
Whatever that is.
He’s about to start reading some shit about a girl who solves mysteries when the alarm goes off, loud as anything. Not caring what the guard’ll do, Logan fumbles with the door, smacking it and searching for a panel to open it. …But there’s none. Just this weird metal… round thing. He looks at it for a moment before giving it a go, stumbling awkwardly as it opens a little and then thumps against something solid.
The guard's head.
That's when he sees Neil. His Neil, standing there looking worn and ragged, but still beautiful as he ever was anyway. And Logan... Well, Logan is starting to wonder if he's really awake. "That's the alarm," he says dumbly.
---
After over a month... A month of looking and planning and hoping, and yeah, a little praying, the actual shock of seeing him standing there's enough to suck the breath right outta my lungs. We blink back at each other, and at least he's got an excuse for lookin' so damn lifeless, but me... I'm just so fucking relieved he's alive it's like, in that moment, nothing else matters. Then, of course, a shot whizzes past my head, and I'm reaching out to grab Logan's wrist- it's thinner than I remember- and shove him back into the room he came from. Three weeks of practice, I handle the gun okay, leaning 'round the corner and gettin' one shot out, and I'm relieved to hear a shout and a groan down the hall when I duck back into the room. But I can hear footsteps on the floor, running this way. More than two. Less than ten? Fuck, who knows. More than I can handle on my own, but I don't got any backup. No one wanted to take this kind of risk.
I slam the door shut, turning around to lean my back against it, chest heaving and my eyes darting to every corner.
Fuck... This isn't going as planned.
But he's fucking alive, and standing right in front of me, but if I let myself get all wrapped up in that now, I might as well have done this all for nothing.
"You don't happen to know a way outta this fucking hell hole, do you?"
---
It takes a moment for Logan to snap out of the daze he’s in, but he’s already on it, studying the pane of glass that the light seemed to flood in from. It had what looked like a latch on it, but it was obviously just for show as Logan couldn't budge it, no matter how hard he pushed it and turned it.
“Think you can shoot that open?” he asked Neil, swallowing hard and wondering if they could lock the door. "I don't... I have no idea where it leads, but that light has to come from somewhere. Maybe we can find a vent or... fuck, I dunno, an exit. I don't... I'm not sure how far I can run before I fall, and I don't know if I could fight if I had to. We can't go out the way you came in, not if you're hoping to take me with you."
---
Tugging Logan outta the way, I aim and fire without thinking. The shot itself is almost silent, but the sound of glass shattering isn't. I'm already pushing him through, warning him not to cut himself, fucking mother hen that I am, and I'm tumbling out just as the door behind us bursts open. It's not a long drop, but I'm worried 'bout Logan as soon as I hit the ground, gun tucked in my waistband and my hands moving quick over him, checking every inch of him over. He goes outta commission, I don't think I'll be able to drag him far. We'll be fucked.
We gotta move quick. I can hear 'em above us, and I'm already dragging him to his feet.
"Come on, Logan." If there's any panic in my voice, I figure it's pretty fucking warranted.
---
"Fuck you, I'm up," Logan insists, wobbling a bit as he gets to his feet and starts to move, following Neil's lead. Everything hurts, every last bone in his body is sore, but Logan keeps going. After all, it's Neil, and Logan knows he'd follow the other boy to the end of the universe if he had to.
There are a million things that need to be said, stories to be told, but none of that shit matters yet. Not until Neil says they're safe.
---
Dunno if I've ever been so fucking relieved to hear someone say 'fuck you' but that in itself is like a sign that he's gonna be okay. It's still him, no matter what's happened to him these last few months. Shit I don't even wanna think 'bout.
I never killed anyone 'fore. But they guy on the bike coming toward us- the vehicle looks 'bout a generation behind the ones you see planet-side... I don't have time to think. The shot hits, where I'm not sure, but the bike tips and skids to a stop, guy projecting off the seat and landing a few feet away. A crumpled ragdoll in the dirt.
"You can give me shit 'bout it later, but you're riding bitch," I say, kicking the bike upright and swinging my leg over the seat. I heard they haven't changed much in centuries. Engines are different. Design's changed a little. Guess its true you don't fix what isn't broke.
---
“I’m a better driver than you,” Logan says as he climbs on the back, wrapping his arms around Neil’s waist as well as he can manage. He’s tired though, and he knows it would be stupid to argue with Neil already ready to go and his own body already pushing it’s limit.
Pressing his face to Neil’s neck, he inhales the other boy's scent deeply as they start to move, his fingers clutching to fabric that seems foreign now after months with Lazuli's earth shit. Stuff that came from the plants that were, all without chemicals and stuff. Probably worth a lot, actually, and as they headed down the shitty road, Logan wondered if maybe they could sell them when they made a stop... anything to get out of 'em and back into real clothes. Back into the life he thought he'd lost forever.
---
There's a safe house on the outskirts of town. Dobs filled me in. I ought write him a fucking thank you note as soon as we get back.
Its another warehouse looking building. Everything on this shit planet looks old, and I wonder why since the colony got set up after the colonies on Mars started to spill over. Deimos is more a trading post than a place to live, and I hear they got a real great blackmarket. Might be good for us, when we start trying to get off this rock, but for now we gotta stop and rest. Ditch the bike in what looks like a scrap-yard, and by now Logan's so wobbly I feel like I'm holding him upright, arm slipped around his waist and letting him lean all his weight against my side.
The woman owns the place is old, and when I show her my papers and the ones I got for Logan, she doesn't ask questions. Seems to be a pattern 'round here.
The rooms are a little more familiar. Stark. Tiny bed against the wall. Tiny sink and toilet in a tiny closet. Water rations. Tiny air-lock chest on rollers under the bed.
Home sweet fucking home.
Punch the lock and practically drop him down on the bed 'fore I even take a breath. 's not until then that I realize how fucking exhausted I am, but I can't relax yet. Not really.
---
Logan sinks into the mattress gratefully, peeling off the shirt awkwardly but quickly, as if it's slowly burning him. His bare feet are dirty, but he kicks them under the covers anyway, too worn out to care about the mess he could be making. The place is a dump anyway.
His pulse is still racing as he looks at Neil, still unsure if he can trust his eyes. It all seems too perfect. Too much like a fantasy.
"You really here?" he asks quietly. "You really here Neil? I'm not dreaming, you're here, and I'm here... no Lazuli. No tricks, no mind games. It's really you, right? Has to be you," he babbles softly, taking a shuddering breath as he finally lets himself let go a little. "I thought... I thought you were dead. No one came looking and... I thought they killed you. Didn't even know where I was... where I am. I've never been here, this planet. I couldn't see the outside from the cell, and the times we traveled..."
Logan trails off, feeling his stomach lurch at the memories, things he's not sure he should tell Neil.
"I thought about you everyday. Thought about this."
---
"Me too. Every fucking day."
I sit on the edge of the bed, perched on the edge of the mattress 'cause that's all the room there is. One person beds. One person rooms. There's hardly floor space to walk on. Leaning over him, I reach out to cup the side of his face in my palm and let out a soft sigh and the feeling of his skin against mine.
"You're on Deimos. On the fucking moon." I manage a smile, but my voice sounds rough. Right on the edge of losing control. "They stopped for fuel and clearance. They're set to leave in two days, after that... Dunno if I'd have been able to find you. Intergalactic shuttle rides don't come cheap, you know?"
It takes a lot to pull away from him, feeling like just separating myself from him aches in ways I still haven't gotten used to. I crouch down and slide the chest out from under the bed. Gun and all our papers get locked inside. I shed my coat, pulling out an emergency kit I smuggled onto the shuttle. Drugs are hard to come buy. There's a reason I had to spend every fucking cent we had.
Pull one of the doses outta the kit and reach out to gently turn his arm so the soft underside is facing up. "Vitamins. Protein. Electrolytes... Whatever the fuck else. It'll make you feel a little better," I explain, quickly shooting the cocktail into the vein in the crook of his elbow and tossing the needle away. Little primitive, but it really is the quickest way.
I sit back down, and all I wanna do is climb into the bed beside him, but I'm gonna give him his space. I can't even imagine what its been like... Shit he's seen... Been made to do. Dunno if I'd want someone touching all on me after all that.
---
Logan doesn't jerk away from the needle, but he does make a face at the small sting, watching Neil as he works. Logan wonders if their roles in this were reversed, would he have been as prepared. Logan isn't a thinker, he's a doer. Rash and quick to just do whatever without thinking a step ahead.
When Neil doesn't lay with him, Logan tugs on the other boy's arm, moving over to make room. "You look tired, Neil," he says, giving his lover a concerned look. "You look really fucking tired. You should rest too. Tomorrow we can figure out what to do," he says. Logan's not tired, not really, not enough to sleep anyway. More than anything it just feels good to lay down again. It's all he ever wants to do these days. Easier than sitting up, less strain on his back.
Silently, he wonders how long it'll be before Neil starts asking questions.
---
I kick off my boots and peel off my shirt, thin but somehow warm fabric puddling to the floor at my feet. No use arguing, since I am just on the edge of crashing. The bed's fucking calling to me, but more than that, the need to curl up next to him is damn near overwhelming. All that other shit, it can wait.
"We'll stay here the night. Just get some rest, then we'll have to get a move on. They'll be coming for us." He knows it as well as I do, so there's no point in sugar-coating it. We got away easy, but it's not over. Not yet.
"I got something to help you sleep. You want it?" I ask, slipping under the covers and curling up near the edge facing him, trying to give him as much room as I can manage. I figure he needs the rest more than me. I won't be able to relax 'til we're off this damn moon anyway.
---
"Don't need it," Logan insists, urging the other boy closer. "Please," he says quietly. "Don't... don't act like I'm about to break, alright? I'm not, I swear I'm not. I need you, Neil. I need to touch you... feel you. I figured I never would again, so don't keep that from me. Right now, it's like I can still feel him. He was always cold, so fucking cold. Not like you."
And yeah, Logan knows they'll have to pick up and leave early tomorrow. He knows that Lazuli thinks of him as a trinket... his toy. And that he's not just going to sit back and let them walk away. After all, why let one get away when you can go after him and get an extra one free?
---
"'m right here," I murmur, slipping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. He's so fucking warm and alive. Real. I thought I'd never get to touch him again, and burying my face in his neck, I feel my chest tighten and I let out a long, shuddering sigh. "'m not letting you go again, you hear me? I fucking promise you."
It's foolish, making those kinds of promises. Childish even, but I went through hell to get here, and I swear I'd die 'fore I'd lose him again.
There's the electric twinge of synthetic atmosphere hanging heavily in the room, chemicals pumped in through the ventilation system that keep us all alive. More powerful than that, there's some kind of soap I've never smelled clinging to his skin, trying to cover up the scent of him but not doing a very good job. I'd know his scent anywhere. It's a comfort, that and the familiar shape of him, even if he's thinner than I remember. I brush a kiss against the bit of skin I can reach, the slope of his bare shoulder, and for a moment I actually believe everything'll be alright.
---
"God I missed you," Logan says softly, wrapping his arms around Neil in return and shifting even closer still.
The bed doesn't creak and the foam doesn't make the strange noises that Luzuli's mattress did, it's small and solid. Silent. And Neil... Neil is just as Logan remembers him. Warm whit hot skin that turns pink under the slightest amount of pressure. His hair falls into his face a little, and Logan quickly brushes it out of the way, not wanting anything to block his view of the other boy.
He's still wearing the 'jeans' he stole, and Logan pulls away to shed them, suddenly not wanting any trace of that asshole on him. Not a single damn thing. He's done with being nothing more than a sex object, and this time when he moves closer to Neil, he kisses the other boy softly on the lips. A soft peck of proof that he's in control of himself again.
---
The kiss, tiny as it is, is enough to make my breath hitch and my skin to warm up a few degrees. I hold him a little tighter, letting go just long enough to struggle with my pants, kicking the leather to the floor and then curling up against him again.
"Try and get some sleep," I murmur and I let my eyes fall shut, knowing I'll be up in just a few hours and we'll be on the move again. For now, I'll let myself enjoy just being next to him.
---
I clear my throat. The recorder flicks off, screen going static, and I flick it with my index finger. Curse under my breath, the recorder picking up the last two syllables. -ucker- when it clicks back on.
Day 43. Things are, uh, falling into place, so to speak. Got the papers, the clearance, and if my informant's right... Well, the trail is shortening... God, this sounds really fucking lame, don't it? I hate these things... But I figure maybe I should make a record, you know? Well, I've been over all that... Day 43, and I been makin' these since Day 1. Dunno who'll listen. Maybe there'll be no one left. But I can't stop lookin'... I'm not ready to give up. I gotta believe he wouldn't give up on me.
Pause. My face goes out of frame. Rustling and another cough 'fore I turn back to the recorder, looking even more haggard than before.
This might be my last recordin'... Might not. But I know I gotta find him soon, or there won't be nothin' left to bring home.
Uh, Neil McCormick, resident Mars Colony B... Year 2797... August 19th... Signing off.
---
It’s not the whole chained up thing that Logan minds. Not really. In fact, under the right circumstances it would be great. It’s the fact that he’s been chained up by a bunch of life draining sex-craving aliens that he finds off putting. More so because of who their 'leader' looks like.
He looks like Neil. ...If Neil were blue at least.
He's got those eyes though, same colour, same shape... and he slinks about the way McCormick always does. He even swaggers a bit like him whenever he comes to get Logan. And that's what really makes him feel sick.
The sex isn't bad, but when it's over, everything feels different. There's a little less fight in him, a little less energy. In the beginning he just lay there, letting them do whatever they wanted while he waited for someone to come back for him. But when he realized what it was doing to him... well then Logan started fighting. As best he could at least.
He doesn't look up when he hears someone turning off the bars to his cell. Hell, he's not even sure why they bother turning them on. It's not like he's going anywhere. And today? Today Logan's not going to fight. The way he figures, this could be the last time he ever gets laid, he may as well try and enjoy it.
---
"Whatcha got 'for me today, Dobs?"
Illegal cigarette perched 'tween my lips, curling smoke up into the rafters of the shop. It's cut with something. Tobacco's grown in garages now. Basement labs and secret warehouses. I might as well be smokin' oregano, I don't think there's anything resembling nicotine in this fucking thing.
"Told you. Not here. Go around back."
Real fucking friendly one, this guy, but he's the only supplier I got, so I do what he says. The ground's slick with rain. It's like diluted battery acid, coming down in a fine, hazy mist. Fake rain. Fake weather for our fucking fake civilization. The atmosphere they pump into this city smells like frying electricity. I can taste it in the back of my mouth. I fucking hate this city.
The back alley's dark, but I don't mind. Easier to do business that way. I learned to budget these last few weeks. How to stretch ever last cent. Dobs is waiting for me at the back door. Slips a small, brown-wrapped box into my coat pocket. It weighs down the leather, more than I'd think for such a small package.
"This what I ask for?"
He nods, narrow eyes staring over my shoulder toward the mouth of the alley. He could get in real trouble for this. Almost as much trouble as me.
I spend nearly every cent I got left on this fucking thing. Undetectable, he says, and all I can do is trust him. Small, easily concealed. Nearly silent. Doesn't pack as much power as some of the other shit he could've gotten me, but it'll do the job.
Dobs gets his envelop and then I'm heading down the alley with a dark look and a swish of leather. Real fucking sinister. Yeah, that's me. I look like I haven't eaten in a week. Haven't slept in even longer. Like I'd fall over in a strong breeze. But I got somethin' else keeping me going...
I got just enough money for the shuttle to take me off this rock.
If I were the prayin' type, I'd pray he could hold out just a little longer. As it is, all I can do is hope.
---
They don’t bother tying him down anymore, Logan sits and waits on the bed in the room without being told and the few times he’s tried to make a run, he's never made it more than a few steps. Besides, where would he go if he got out the room? He wasn’t even sure where the hell he was.
They even take his chains off now, which he figures is thanks to Lazuli. Logan’s not sure what he is to the blue skinned life form, but he knows the game well enough now to know Lazuli likes to decide how the encounter will go down by himself, and was obviously pleased when Logan was finally too weak to fight.
He used to wonder what the point of it was. He wondered if he was just some sort of toy, of if there was some sort of reason behind it. He's tried asking, but Lazuli's never answered him that. They talk, sure, words here and there. Sometimes the alien even asks him if there's something Logan would like in return, but when Logan tells him that he just wants to go home, Lazuli simply ignores him.
He looks up when the Alien in question enters, and without being asked, he starts to undress. It's better to guess than wait to be told, because even though Lazuli seems to want to keep him, he doesn't have any problems with punishment. It's not worth the risk anymore. The things he used to be able to take would likely kill him now.
"Gonna take me to dinner after?" Logan asks, letting his shirt fall to the floor as he sits back down, his voice tired but still unmistakably his. There are some parts of Logan Echolls that nothing can break.
Accustomed to the banter, Lazuli simply smirks. "Lay down, and maybe I'll bring you something."
---
Getting on the shuttle was easier than I thought. Just slip into the crowd, flash my papers real quick at the guard, and sit my ass down in back. Don't look at anyone, but don't look like I've got something to hide. I get left alone just like everyone else. There's a baby crying in the front somewhere. It's rare on B colony. Pregnant women usually get sent somewhere else. Somewhere safer. Don't think I've heard one in a year. More. It'd be comforting if I weren't trying to fucking sleep.
The shuttle touches down on Deimos right on schedule. The Black Rock, and I get why they call it that as soon as I step off the ramp. Loose black sand, like lava rock, crunches under my boots. There's a dust of it in the air, looks like smog. Why the fucker's have stopped here, of all places, I'll never figure out. Just another pit stop on the way to Planet... Wherever.
But what I notice most, aside from all the black... Blue. The woman at the check-in counter is blue. She smiles at me, and I've gotta look in her eyes or I'll seem suspicious. This isn't the one I'm after, but it's all I can do not to lean over the fucking counter and shove her radio-clip down her fucking blue throat while she looks over my papers.
My ID says my name's Bob Warner for now. Fucking shit name, but it's what they gave me. I'm a real estate agent for the colonies, lookin' to buy property for a fucking mini-mall or some shit... Whatever.
"Enjoy your stay, Mr. Warner." Fuck you.
Now that I'm here, I feel like I should be able to relax, but I can't... I was told they wouldn't be hard to find. It's not like they're hiding. We're at peace with their fucking race or whatever. But these guys? I guess they didn't get the fucking memo.
Why'd they take him? Wrong place at the wrong time's all I can figure. But it's not the why that matters to me anyway...
---
It rarely hurts, and Logan can’t help but wish that it wasn’t so gentle… so falsely tender. If you’re going to rape someone or make someone your bitch, you should have the balls to make it hurt. Lazuli isn’t into to inflicting pain really though, not unless Logan’s at his worst.
The bed they’re on is oddly comfortable, not like the one Logan used to sleep in back home. Most beds are small, just big enough to be usable to take up less space for the common folk. Lazuli’s is like nothing he’d ever seen before, big and plush. Like it was built for this sort of thing.
Sometimes when they’re finished Lazuli tells him stories about earth and the way things were long before Logan was born. Lazuli has never been there, but he’s studied it for years. He tells Logan about wars and houses… whole buildings that almost anyone could own… all by themselves. It’s interesting enough, but Logan’s never been a listener.
Tonight Lazuli is talking about baths, giant sinks that people used to sit in to get washed. It sounds bizarre, and Logan’s almost interested. Almost. He’s drained though, drained and hungry, and when it seems like the alien just isn’t going to shut up about the wonders of giant-fucking-sinks, Logan interrupts, not caring that it’ll probably end badly for him.
“That’s really great and all, but I’m fucking starving,” he says, butting in with a scowl.
Lazuli doesn’t say anything right away, but Logan’s hardly finished speaking before the blue man backhands him. “We’ve talked about your manners before, Logan,” he says coolly, getting to his feet.
---
Food here, just like everywhere else I've been the last month, is shit. I don't even know what it is I order from the marketplace cart. The old man working the stand didn't speak a fucking word of English. It tastes like nothing, but at least it fills me up. I sleep in a room for rent above a retail store fronting for a strip club. Tits everywhere, and half of 'em are blue. I really just wanna go home.
I get up early. Not that you could tell. Day and night look the same here. It's cold no matter what time of day it is. Cold fucking desert. Nothing'll grow here 'cept in greenhouses. I heard stories 'bout things growing in fields... Whole fields of wheat and corn and tobacco... Might as well be a fucking fairy story, 's not something I can imagine.
The man I'm supposed to see, Winslow, he's an old pilot from C colony. He knows his shit, knows how to get 'round, and he knows everyone's business. Say Dobs sent me, and he's supposed to take me where I need to go. No questions. His bike... the technology's gotta be a hundred years old. Hell, maybe more. Churns out black smoke and coughs and sputters... I can hear it coming a mile away. Fucking embarrassing.
Spend my last bit of cash to get on the bike. Dobs was right. He didn't ask questions.
Pulling up behind the gray building- From the outside, it looks like something outta an old history disc... Nothing special. Almost like a factory... I'll worry 'bout getting us home when this is all over. I just hope my plan works. Not that its much of a plan... I was never good at that kind of shit anyway.
I hold my breath as I slide the clearance card I bought planet-side. Lights beep and there's a long pause. Long enough I think maybe they sold me something marked and I wonder if I can get away fast enough 'fore security is on me. But the door opens with a soft click, and with one last look over my shoulder, I slip inside.
---
Some nights Lazuli lets Logan sleep in his bed. He used to refuse, but now he actually finds himself feeling hopeful that he won’t be kicked out and locked back behind his bars. The bed in his cell is more like an iron bench, impossible to sleep on. It was always uncomfortable, but it feels worse somehow these days, like his bones just can't take it.
Lazuli’s bed is warm and soft, and even with the other man pressed up close behind him, Logan goes straight to sleep without much trouble.
It’s early when Lazuli wakes him, the lights in the room clicking on and streaming in through this strange pane of glass in the wall. And when Logan let’s his ego drop and actually begs not to be sent back to his cell, the other man agrees. In fact, he doesn’t even lock the door as he leaves for ‘work’. Logan’s not stupid enough to try and leave though, he knows well enough that there is always someone outside.
After another hour of sleep, Logan sits up just enough to study the walls. He’s never really taken the time to look before, and he's surprised to realize that everything in the room is… old. Really old. Mostly Earth relics like they saw in museums back in school. Globes of a planet that used to be kind off beautiful. Blue and green, like fancy glass. Paintings of humans in this crazy garb that looks unreal. Books all written in English that date back to… the 1980’s.
It’s like a shrine, and Logan can’t help but feel a little sick as he realizes he’s part of it. Just another part of Lazuli's collection.
---
It goes pretty much as planned. At first. The map I got seems accurate. I end up in the surveillance room without much trouble. Blow to the back of the head, and the one guard's out cold. My fucking hand hurts. Why is it in stories, they never talk 'bout the hero bustin' his hand on some asshole's hard head? They always leave out the important shit.
I don't know what any of these circuits mean, but that doesn't stop me from blowing a hole in every last one of their visual feeds. The cells were easy enough to find too, but it's a bad sign that there are no guards. Even worse when I find the damn things empty. I was afraid of this. They've moved him someplace else or... Fuck, don't wanna think 'bout the or. So I take a few deep breaths. Think calm fucking thoughts or whatever. Look at the map. Get my bearings... Out in the hall, turn left. Looks just like the last hall. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
But it's sorta embarrassing, for them, how lax security is 'round here. Well, that's what I'm thinking right as I come 'round the corner and nearly run headlong into some blue-faced asshole twice my size, carrying a gun that makes mine sorta envious. I react. Dunno even know how I react that quick, but I'm crouching down and tackling him in the midsection. He goes down with a grunt and his gun goes skidding 'cross the floor. I get too fucking excited too quick. I get sloppy, probably 'cause I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. Too busy gloating over my tiny little victory.
'Cause that's when the alarm goes off.
---
The closet is full of… weird shit. Mostly stuff Logan’s been asked to wear before. Costumes he figures, but not like the costumes people usually wear during sex. This stuff is all old Earth fashion. Logan decides that it’s better then spending all day nude though, and pulls out something to wear. The pants, the blue ones that are cooler and looser than the leather Logan used to wear, are called jeans. He knows that much. But he doesn’t know what the other part is called. The weird red shirt that stretches when you wear it with white swirly letters on it that spell out… cock? No wait, coke. It says Coke.
Whatever that is.
He’s about to start reading some shit about a girl who solves mysteries when the alarm goes off, loud as anything. Not caring what the guard’ll do, Logan fumbles with the door, smacking it and searching for a panel to open it. …But there’s none. Just this weird metal… round thing. He looks at it for a moment before giving it a go, stumbling awkwardly as it opens a little and then thumps against something solid.
The guard's head.
That's when he sees Neil. His Neil, standing there looking worn and ragged, but still beautiful as he ever was anyway. And Logan... Well, Logan is starting to wonder if he's really awake. "That's the alarm," he says dumbly.
---
After over a month... A month of looking and planning and hoping, and yeah, a little praying, the actual shock of seeing him standing there's enough to suck the breath right outta my lungs. We blink back at each other, and at least he's got an excuse for lookin' so damn lifeless, but me... I'm just so fucking relieved he's alive it's like, in that moment, nothing else matters. Then, of course, a shot whizzes past my head, and I'm reaching out to grab Logan's wrist- it's thinner than I remember- and shove him back into the room he came from. Three weeks of practice, I handle the gun okay, leaning 'round the corner and gettin' one shot out, and I'm relieved to hear a shout and a groan down the hall when I duck back into the room. But I can hear footsteps on the floor, running this way. More than two. Less than ten? Fuck, who knows. More than I can handle on my own, but I don't got any backup. No one wanted to take this kind of risk.
I slam the door shut, turning around to lean my back against it, chest heaving and my eyes darting to every corner.
Fuck... This isn't going as planned.
But he's fucking alive, and standing right in front of me, but if I let myself get all wrapped up in that now, I might as well have done this all for nothing.
"You don't happen to know a way outta this fucking hell hole, do you?"
---
It takes a moment for Logan to snap out of the daze he’s in, but he’s already on it, studying the pane of glass that the light seemed to flood in from. It had what looked like a latch on it, but it was obviously just for show as Logan couldn't budge it, no matter how hard he pushed it and turned it.
“Think you can shoot that open?” he asked Neil, swallowing hard and wondering if they could lock the door. "I don't... I have no idea where it leads, but that light has to come from somewhere. Maybe we can find a vent or... fuck, I dunno, an exit. I don't... I'm not sure how far I can run before I fall, and I don't know if I could fight if I had to. We can't go out the way you came in, not if you're hoping to take me with you."
---
Tugging Logan outta the way, I aim and fire without thinking. The shot itself is almost silent, but the sound of glass shattering isn't. I'm already pushing him through, warning him not to cut himself, fucking mother hen that I am, and I'm tumbling out just as the door behind us bursts open. It's not a long drop, but I'm worried 'bout Logan as soon as I hit the ground, gun tucked in my waistband and my hands moving quick over him, checking every inch of him over. He goes outta commission, I don't think I'll be able to drag him far. We'll be fucked.
We gotta move quick. I can hear 'em above us, and I'm already dragging him to his feet.
"Come on, Logan." If there's any panic in my voice, I figure it's pretty fucking warranted.
---
"Fuck you, I'm up," Logan insists, wobbling a bit as he gets to his feet and starts to move, following Neil's lead. Everything hurts, every last bone in his body is sore, but Logan keeps going. After all, it's Neil, and Logan knows he'd follow the other boy to the end of the universe if he had to.
There are a million things that need to be said, stories to be told, but none of that shit matters yet. Not until Neil says they're safe.
---
Dunno if I've ever been so fucking relieved to hear someone say 'fuck you' but that in itself is like a sign that he's gonna be okay. It's still him, no matter what's happened to him these last few months. Shit I don't even wanna think 'bout.
I never killed anyone 'fore. But they guy on the bike coming toward us- the vehicle looks 'bout a generation behind the ones you see planet-side... I don't have time to think. The shot hits, where I'm not sure, but the bike tips and skids to a stop, guy projecting off the seat and landing a few feet away. A crumpled ragdoll in the dirt.
"You can give me shit 'bout it later, but you're riding bitch," I say, kicking the bike upright and swinging my leg over the seat. I heard they haven't changed much in centuries. Engines are different. Design's changed a little. Guess its true you don't fix what isn't broke.
---
“I’m a better driver than you,” Logan says as he climbs on the back, wrapping his arms around Neil’s waist as well as he can manage. He’s tired though, and he knows it would be stupid to argue with Neil already ready to go and his own body already pushing it’s limit.
Pressing his face to Neil’s neck, he inhales the other boy's scent deeply as they start to move, his fingers clutching to fabric that seems foreign now after months with Lazuli's earth shit. Stuff that came from the plants that were, all without chemicals and stuff. Probably worth a lot, actually, and as they headed down the shitty road, Logan wondered if maybe they could sell them when they made a stop... anything to get out of 'em and back into real clothes. Back into the life he thought he'd lost forever.
---
There's a safe house on the outskirts of town. Dobs filled me in. I ought write him a fucking thank you note as soon as we get back.
Its another warehouse looking building. Everything on this shit planet looks old, and I wonder why since the colony got set up after the colonies on Mars started to spill over. Deimos is more a trading post than a place to live, and I hear they got a real great blackmarket. Might be good for us, when we start trying to get off this rock, but for now we gotta stop and rest. Ditch the bike in what looks like a scrap-yard, and by now Logan's so wobbly I feel like I'm holding him upright, arm slipped around his waist and letting him lean all his weight against my side.
The woman owns the place is old, and when I show her my papers and the ones I got for Logan, she doesn't ask questions. Seems to be a pattern 'round here.
The rooms are a little more familiar. Stark. Tiny bed against the wall. Tiny sink and toilet in a tiny closet. Water rations. Tiny air-lock chest on rollers under the bed.
Home sweet fucking home.
Punch the lock and practically drop him down on the bed 'fore I even take a breath. 's not until then that I realize how fucking exhausted I am, but I can't relax yet. Not really.
---
Logan sinks into the mattress gratefully, peeling off the shirt awkwardly but quickly, as if it's slowly burning him. His bare feet are dirty, but he kicks them under the covers anyway, too worn out to care about the mess he could be making. The place is a dump anyway.
His pulse is still racing as he looks at Neil, still unsure if he can trust his eyes. It all seems too perfect. Too much like a fantasy.
"You really here?" he asks quietly. "You really here Neil? I'm not dreaming, you're here, and I'm here... no Lazuli. No tricks, no mind games. It's really you, right? Has to be you," he babbles softly, taking a shuddering breath as he finally lets himself let go a little. "I thought... I thought you were dead. No one came looking and... I thought they killed you. Didn't even know where I was... where I am. I've never been here, this planet. I couldn't see the outside from the cell, and the times we traveled..."
Logan trails off, feeling his stomach lurch at the memories, things he's not sure he should tell Neil.
"I thought about you everyday. Thought about this."
---
"Me too. Every fucking day."
I sit on the edge of the bed, perched on the edge of the mattress 'cause that's all the room there is. One person beds. One person rooms. There's hardly floor space to walk on. Leaning over him, I reach out to cup the side of his face in my palm and let out a soft sigh and the feeling of his skin against mine.
"You're on Deimos. On the fucking moon." I manage a smile, but my voice sounds rough. Right on the edge of losing control. "They stopped for fuel and clearance. They're set to leave in two days, after that... Dunno if I'd have been able to find you. Intergalactic shuttle rides don't come cheap, you know?"
It takes a lot to pull away from him, feeling like just separating myself from him aches in ways I still haven't gotten used to. I crouch down and slide the chest out from under the bed. Gun and all our papers get locked inside. I shed my coat, pulling out an emergency kit I smuggled onto the shuttle. Drugs are hard to come buy. There's a reason I had to spend every fucking cent we had.
Pull one of the doses outta the kit and reach out to gently turn his arm so the soft underside is facing up. "Vitamins. Protein. Electrolytes... Whatever the fuck else. It'll make you feel a little better," I explain, quickly shooting the cocktail into the vein in the crook of his elbow and tossing the needle away. Little primitive, but it really is the quickest way.
I sit back down, and all I wanna do is climb into the bed beside him, but I'm gonna give him his space. I can't even imagine what its been like... Shit he's seen... Been made to do. Dunno if I'd want someone touching all on me after all that.
---
Logan doesn't jerk away from the needle, but he does make a face at the small sting, watching Neil as he works. Logan wonders if their roles in this were reversed, would he have been as prepared. Logan isn't a thinker, he's a doer. Rash and quick to just do whatever without thinking a step ahead.
When Neil doesn't lay with him, Logan tugs on the other boy's arm, moving over to make room. "You look tired, Neil," he says, giving his lover a concerned look. "You look really fucking tired. You should rest too. Tomorrow we can figure out what to do," he says. Logan's not tired, not really, not enough to sleep anyway. More than anything it just feels good to lay down again. It's all he ever wants to do these days. Easier than sitting up, less strain on his back.
Silently, he wonders how long it'll be before Neil starts asking questions.
---
I kick off my boots and peel off my shirt, thin but somehow warm fabric puddling to the floor at my feet. No use arguing, since I am just on the edge of crashing. The bed's fucking calling to me, but more than that, the need to curl up next to him is damn near overwhelming. All that other shit, it can wait.
"We'll stay here the night. Just get some rest, then we'll have to get a move on. They'll be coming for us." He knows it as well as I do, so there's no point in sugar-coating it. We got away easy, but it's not over. Not yet.
"I got something to help you sleep. You want it?" I ask, slipping under the covers and curling up near the edge facing him, trying to give him as much room as I can manage. I figure he needs the rest more than me. I won't be able to relax 'til we're off this damn moon anyway.
---
"Don't need it," Logan insists, urging the other boy closer. "Please," he says quietly. "Don't... don't act like I'm about to break, alright? I'm not, I swear I'm not. I need you, Neil. I need to touch you... feel you. I figured I never would again, so don't keep that from me. Right now, it's like I can still feel him. He was always cold, so fucking cold. Not like you."
And yeah, Logan knows they'll have to pick up and leave early tomorrow. He knows that Lazuli thinks of him as a trinket... his toy. And that he's not just going to sit back and let them walk away. After all, why let one get away when you can go after him and get an extra one free?
---
"'m right here," I murmur, slipping an arm around his waist and pulling him close. He's so fucking warm and alive. Real. I thought I'd never get to touch him again, and burying my face in his neck, I feel my chest tighten and I let out a long, shuddering sigh. "'m not letting you go again, you hear me? I fucking promise you."
It's foolish, making those kinds of promises. Childish even, but I went through hell to get here, and I swear I'd die 'fore I'd lose him again.
There's the electric twinge of synthetic atmosphere hanging heavily in the room, chemicals pumped in through the ventilation system that keep us all alive. More powerful than that, there's some kind of soap I've never smelled clinging to his skin, trying to cover up the scent of him but not doing a very good job. I'd know his scent anywhere. It's a comfort, that and the familiar shape of him, even if he's thinner than I remember. I brush a kiss against the bit of skin I can reach, the slope of his bare shoulder, and for a moment I actually believe everything'll be alright.
---
"God I missed you," Logan says softly, wrapping his arms around Neil in return and shifting even closer still.
The bed doesn't creak and the foam doesn't make the strange noises that Luzuli's mattress did, it's small and solid. Silent. And Neil... Neil is just as Logan remembers him. Warm whit hot skin that turns pink under the slightest amount of pressure. His hair falls into his face a little, and Logan quickly brushes it out of the way, not wanting anything to block his view of the other boy.
He's still wearing the 'jeans' he stole, and Logan pulls away to shed them, suddenly not wanting any trace of that asshole on him. Not a single damn thing. He's done with being nothing more than a sex object, and this time when he moves closer to Neil, he kisses the other boy softly on the lips. A soft peck of proof that he's in control of himself again.
---
The kiss, tiny as it is, is enough to make my breath hitch and my skin to warm up a few degrees. I hold him a little tighter, letting go just long enough to struggle with my pants, kicking the leather to the floor and then curling up against him again.
"Try and get some sleep," I murmur and I let my eyes fall shut, knowing I'll be up in just a few hours and we'll be on the move again. For now, I'll let myself enjoy just being next to him.
---