The Rain - Chapter 1
Title: The Rain
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: NC-17 occasionally
Warnings: some violence and horror elements
Summary: AI8 tour. Adam is involved in a serious car accident that leaves him struggling to recover emotionally. Kris tries to help but is soon dealing with his own internal crisis.
Chapter 1
Kris was glad he had decided not to go anywhere for the three days the American Idol tour had a break in performances. A storm had moved in and wrought noisy violence on the trees outside. If he’d gone, he’d just be returning through all that. The few people who’d been away were telling stories of a return from the airport featuring falling branches and lashing rain so hard the road vanished in front of you and windshields disappeared in an explosion of rain that wipers had no effect on.
Danny walked up and joined Kris in his stare out the window of the hotel lobby. “Wow,” he stated. Kris grunted agreement and watched as a sedan made a left-hand turn and threw up a bow-wave higher than the roof of the car.
“You want to have dinner?” Danny gave a nod in the direction of the hotel restaurant.
“Yeah,” Kris said with a shiver from the air coming off the window. “Something warm sounds good.”
Various people from the tour and some of the other Idols were wedged around a big table. Allison was listening to Anoop tell a story. Megan flirted with Matt. Kris and Danny took chairs and the waiter descended immediately to give the specials of the evening.
As everyone was debating dessert, Kris noticed one of the tour managers at the end of the table take a call. Her face went quickly from mellow contentment to a frown, and when she hung up, her expression was the unnaturally blank one worn by people whose intention is not to convey what they’re thinking. She didn’t rejoin the table conversation. A moment later, she excused herself and left.
“Wonder what’s going on?” Kris said quietly to Danny.
“What?”
“Samantha. She’s not happy about something.”
“Maybe there’s a leak in the roof of the venue tomorrow night.”
Kris smiled. “We’ll all have to hold umbrellas when we sing.”
“Can you hold an umbrella and play guitar at the same time?”
“Sure. Yeah. Maybe. Not. Probably not. Are you gonna have dessert?”
“Nah. I’m done.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
* * *
It was about 11:00 when Kris wandered to the ground floor of the hotel to drop off some laundry. A small group of their tour managers and handlers was standing near the door to the business center. But what caused a hitch in Kris’ step and drew him over to them, were the eyes that were a bit too wide, mouths too tightly shut. These people were not just unhappy, they were scared.
“Hey,” he said quietly, by way of announcing himself. “What’s up?”
Silence smote them as if they’d been hit with a Mute button. Looks were exchanged. Geoff, the lead organizer, shook his head. “I’d like to keep it a secret, but we’re not gonna be able to. Adam and Carrie,” he mentioned the tour publicist, “are missing.”
“Missing?” Kris felt a physical jolt of shock. “How? What do you mean?” Kris suddenly realized he hadn’t seen Adam all evening. Just assumed he’d gotten back from out of town. He felt another stab - this time of guilt - that he hadn’t noticed that Adam wasn’t there.
Samantha stared out into the night, where the storm still shook the trees. “They both came in on the same flight from LA and were sharing a cab back from the airport. Carrie called from the cab about 5:00 when they were leaving the airport. But they never got here.”
Kris tried to process this. “But. Don’t the cabs have radios?”
“Yeah,” Geoff said tersely. “There’s no answer.“
* * *
Kris wasn’t someone who enjoyed negative thought or who was inclined to stressing out. It seemed reasonable to him that something might have happened that sidetracked the car - an electrical issue, maybe - that would end up being no big deal in the long run. He imagined Adam sitting in the wet, chilly car, disgusted, and knew it would make for a great story when he finally arrived. Kris hung out with the tour managers, waiting for news that the missing travelers had turned up somewhere.
Everyone tried to keep the atmosphere positive. The hotel lent them a small conference room as an event room. The tour organizers gathered there, making phone calls back to LA, and meeting with police officers who came to take information, but had none to give. The roads were black, the rain was blinding, and searching was basically impossible. Finally, at 4am, Kris went up and made himself go to bed. While he was thinking he wouldn’t be able to sleep, exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he slept until light sneaking in the curtains woke him at 7:20.
He tugged on a shirt and got into his jeans. A quick glance past the curtains showed that the rain had slowed to a soft, steady fall. He almost ran out the door. There’d be good news by now, and he was anxious to get it.
There was no news at all. The cab, its two passengers and driver, had simply disappeared somewhere between the airport and the hotel. Police units were searching, but the storm continued. Roads were flooded, some impassable. The airport was situated about 10 miles outside the city, and there were various routes that connected the two, all of which cut for miles through hilly terrain, often thickly forested. That the cab had gone off the road in one of these areas seemed the likeliest circumstance.
Kris walked out to the hotel lobby, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, and stared through the glass doors, hoping somehow, maybe, Adam would come walking in. Tall, wet, carrying his luggage, pissed off, ready to tell everybody just how much hardship he’d endured. Kris smiled at the image, then the smile faded at the reality of the empty sidewalk and quiet street, gray and drenched. Two businessmen on their way to a breakfast meeting pushed through the door and shook water from their coats.
For the first time, Kris felt a sick, heavy weight in his gut. Where were they?
News media began showing up before the other Idols were even awake. The hotel arranged to seal the floor where their rooms were, and the tour managers began calling the performers to let them know what was going on, and ask that they stay on that floor and order room service for meals. The event room was moved from the ground floor to a suite on the same level with the bedrooms, to avoid the media.
One by one the Idols showed up at the event room. Kris had been the only one of them who’d had the news from the start, and he patiently explained to each one in turn, answering the same questions.
“I’m sure they’re okay,” Lil said. “I’m sure they are. You know, something happened to the car. They’re probably walking to town.”
“Yeah, wet as hell,” Matt agreed.
Kris nodded. But he knew the police had been back and forth each route from the airport to the city. No one was walking down the road. There was no cab with car trouble parked on the shoulder.
“What do you think, Kris?” Allison asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“You think they’re ok?”
“Yeah. You bet.”
A thought suddenly occurred to her. “What about the show?”
“If they haven’t found them by noon, and everything - I mean, and they’re ok - they’re gonna cancel.”
“Ten-thousand seats? Wow,” Danny said.
Kris didn’t respond. If Adam didn’t show up, he couldn’t imagine how any of them would be able to sing anyway. “Now that it’s light, they’ll be able to search a lot better.”
* * *
Adam was floating. He drifted high in the air, turned gently by breezes as they nudged him this way and that. Below, people walked and went about their business, oblivious of him above them. The amber sunlight fell into a long pool of water. He was so thirsty. He could taste it, feel it in his mouth. He tried to force himself to float down to it, but he couldn’t move.
A cloud, crazy silver at the edges, then dark and massive and full of angry rain, moved in around him, blocking out his view, extinguishing the sun. The chill of the mist sank into his bones, and a voice rose out of the cold, calling him. As consciousness came seeping back, pain swamped him, and with a long moan, he woke up.
A voice made a thin, inhuman sound. “Help me. Help me.” It stretched out in a long thread. It was Carrie. He couldn’t see her. He was trapped, immobile, on his stomach. He knew the car was upside down. He was bound by the seat belt and pinned by the car, which had rolled and collapsed onto its roof. Claustrophobia swam in his mind, and he pushed it away. Stay calm.
“Help me. Somebody help me.” Carrie’s words came out distended, in a long, guttural sob. Adam could feel her fingers softly clawing his arm.
“It’s ok,” he mumbled. “They’re coming. It’s ok.”
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: NC-17 occasionally
Warnings: some violence and horror elements
Summary: AI8 tour. Adam is involved in a serious car accident that leaves him struggling to recover emotionally. Kris tries to help but is soon dealing with his own internal crisis.
Chapter 1
Kris was glad he had decided not to go anywhere for the three days the American Idol tour had a break in performances. A storm had moved in and wrought noisy violence on the trees outside. If he’d gone, he’d just be returning through all that. The few people who’d been away were telling stories of a return from the airport featuring falling branches and lashing rain so hard the road vanished in front of you and windshields disappeared in an explosion of rain that wipers had no effect on.
Danny walked up and joined Kris in his stare out the window of the hotel lobby. “Wow,” he stated. Kris grunted agreement and watched as a sedan made a left-hand turn and threw up a bow-wave higher than the roof of the car.
“You want to have dinner?” Danny gave a nod in the direction of the hotel restaurant.
“Yeah,” Kris said with a shiver from the air coming off the window. “Something warm sounds good.”
Various people from the tour and some of the other Idols were wedged around a big table. Allison was listening to Anoop tell a story. Megan flirted with Matt. Kris and Danny took chairs and the waiter descended immediately to give the specials of the evening.
As everyone was debating dessert, Kris noticed one of the tour managers at the end of the table take a call. Her face went quickly from mellow contentment to a frown, and when she hung up, her expression was the unnaturally blank one worn by people whose intention is not to convey what they’re thinking. She didn’t rejoin the table conversation. A moment later, she excused herself and left.
“Wonder what’s going on?” Kris said quietly to Danny.
“What?”
“Samantha. She’s not happy about something.”
“Maybe there’s a leak in the roof of the venue tomorrow night.”
Kris smiled. “We’ll all have to hold umbrellas when we sing.”
“Can you hold an umbrella and play guitar at the same time?”
“Sure. Yeah. Maybe. Not. Probably not. Are you gonna have dessert?”
“Nah. I’m done.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
* * *
It was about 11:00 when Kris wandered to the ground floor of the hotel to drop off some laundry. A small group of their tour managers and handlers was standing near the door to the business center. But what caused a hitch in Kris’ step and drew him over to them, were the eyes that were a bit too wide, mouths too tightly shut. These people were not just unhappy, they were scared.
“Hey,” he said quietly, by way of announcing himself. “What’s up?”
Silence smote them as if they’d been hit with a Mute button. Looks were exchanged. Geoff, the lead organizer, shook his head. “I’d like to keep it a secret, but we’re not gonna be able to. Adam and Carrie,” he mentioned the tour publicist, “are missing.”
“Missing?” Kris felt a physical jolt of shock. “How? What do you mean?” Kris suddenly realized he hadn’t seen Adam all evening. Just assumed he’d gotten back from out of town. He felt another stab - this time of guilt - that he hadn’t noticed that Adam wasn’t there.
Samantha stared out into the night, where the storm still shook the trees. “They both came in on the same flight from LA and were sharing a cab back from the airport. Carrie called from the cab about 5:00 when they were leaving the airport. But they never got here.”
Kris tried to process this. “But. Don’t the cabs have radios?”
“Yeah,” Geoff said tersely. “There’s no answer.“
* * *
Kris wasn’t someone who enjoyed negative thought or who was inclined to stressing out. It seemed reasonable to him that something might have happened that sidetracked the car - an electrical issue, maybe - that would end up being no big deal in the long run. He imagined Adam sitting in the wet, chilly car, disgusted, and knew it would make for a great story when he finally arrived. Kris hung out with the tour managers, waiting for news that the missing travelers had turned up somewhere.
Everyone tried to keep the atmosphere positive. The hotel lent them a small conference room as an event room. The tour organizers gathered there, making phone calls back to LA, and meeting with police officers who came to take information, but had none to give. The roads were black, the rain was blinding, and searching was basically impossible. Finally, at 4am, Kris went up and made himself go to bed. While he was thinking he wouldn’t be able to sleep, exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he slept until light sneaking in the curtains woke him at 7:20.
He tugged on a shirt and got into his jeans. A quick glance past the curtains showed that the rain had slowed to a soft, steady fall. He almost ran out the door. There’d be good news by now, and he was anxious to get it.
There was no news at all. The cab, its two passengers and driver, had simply disappeared somewhere between the airport and the hotel. Police units were searching, but the storm continued. Roads were flooded, some impassable. The airport was situated about 10 miles outside the city, and there were various routes that connected the two, all of which cut for miles through hilly terrain, often thickly forested. That the cab had gone off the road in one of these areas seemed the likeliest circumstance.
Kris walked out to the hotel lobby, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, and stared through the glass doors, hoping somehow, maybe, Adam would come walking in. Tall, wet, carrying his luggage, pissed off, ready to tell everybody just how much hardship he’d endured. Kris smiled at the image, then the smile faded at the reality of the empty sidewalk and quiet street, gray and drenched. Two businessmen on their way to a breakfast meeting pushed through the door and shook water from their coats.
For the first time, Kris felt a sick, heavy weight in his gut. Where were they?
News media began showing up before the other Idols were even awake. The hotel arranged to seal the floor where their rooms were, and the tour managers began calling the performers to let them know what was going on, and ask that they stay on that floor and order room service for meals. The event room was moved from the ground floor to a suite on the same level with the bedrooms, to avoid the media.
One by one the Idols showed up at the event room. Kris had been the only one of them who’d had the news from the start, and he patiently explained to each one in turn, answering the same questions.
“I’m sure they’re okay,” Lil said. “I’m sure they are. You know, something happened to the car. They’re probably walking to town.”
“Yeah, wet as hell,” Matt agreed.
Kris nodded. But he knew the police had been back and forth each route from the airport to the city. No one was walking down the road. There was no cab with car trouble parked on the shoulder.
“What do you think, Kris?” Allison asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“You think they’re ok?”
“Yeah. You bet.”
A thought suddenly occurred to her. “What about the show?”
“If they haven’t found them by noon, and everything - I mean, and they’re ok - they’re gonna cancel.”
“Ten-thousand seats? Wow,” Danny said.
Kris didn’t respond. If Adam didn’t show up, he couldn’t imagine how any of them would be able to sing anyway. “Now that it’s light, they’ll be able to search a lot better.”
* * *
Adam was floating. He drifted high in the air, turned gently by breezes as they nudged him this way and that. Below, people walked and went about their business, oblivious of him above them. The amber sunlight fell into a long pool of water. He was so thirsty. He could taste it, feel it in his mouth. He tried to force himself to float down to it, but he couldn’t move.
A cloud, crazy silver at the edges, then dark and massive and full of angry rain, moved in around him, blocking out his view, extinguishing the sun. The chill of the mist sank into his bones, and a voice rose out of the cold, calling him. As consciousness came seeping back, pain swamped him, and with a long moan, he woke up.
A voice made a thin, inhuman sound. “Help me. Help me.” It stretched out in a long thread. It was Carrie. He couldn’t see her. He was trapped, immobile, on his stomach. He knew the car was upside down. He was bound by the seat belt and pinned by the car, which had rolled and collapsed onto its roof. Claustrophobia swam in his mind, and he pushed it away. Stay calm.
“Help me. Somebody help me.” Carrie’s words came out distended, in a long, guttural sob. Adam could feel her fingers softly clawing his arm.
“It’s ok,” he mumbled. “They’re coming. It’s ok.”