breathing with the aid of denial, 3/4
part one
part two
The library was filled with row after row of oak shelves and old books. Brendon hardly ever entered it; he never had need for research, not since his training. But he entered today, trying to escape his own thinking, hoping to find something to read and fill his mind. He darted past the head librarian, Greta, and made for the back of the massive room. He paused at the third to the last row and stared blankly at the books.
Nearby, a face appeared from behind a table stacked high with books. "You're not going to be able to just absorb the information via eyestrain, you know."
Brendon glanced over at the older man and flushed. "I know that." He took a few steps closer. "What are you doing?"
"My job," the guy replied with a slight smirk.
"Which would be?" Brendon asked with an eye roll. He stepped even closer, pulling out a chair and sitting next to him. The books obscured his view, so he pulled the stack off the table and placed it carefully on the floor. He spotted the tattoos covering the man's arms and tried to hide his shock. This guy didn't really look like some stuffy librarian--Greta was the only exception to the stuffy librarian rule as far as Brendon was concerned. But then, Brendon didn't think he looked like much of a scientist.
"I'm a researcher," he said. "Name's Brian."
"Brendon." He stared at Brian's computer for a moment. "What are you researching?"
"Real history, not that shit they teach you in school," Brian replied as he typed. He glanced between the computer screen and a book laying open at his elbow, mostly ignoring Brendon.
"Like what?"
"Fuck, you ask a lot of questions."
Brendon huffed. "I was just asking. I'll leave you--"
"Nah, I was about done anyway," Brian interrupted, turning to look at him. He narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here, kid?"
"Just thought I'd...you know...get a book," Brendon finished lamely. Brian raised an eyebrow. "On...math."
"Oh, well then, don't let me stop you," Brian replied, starting to grin. "You're looking really stressed out, by the way." Brendon glared. "Hey, I'm just pointing it out. Come on. Let me take your mind off of whatever is bothering you. Give me a topic and I'll lecture you until you fucking fall asleep. How does that sound?"
"Well, okay." Brendon shifted in his seat and thought. A cartoon he had watched as a child popped into his head, of a prince and a princess battling odds and falling in love. "Tell me about bonding."
"You sure you're old enough?"
"Fuck you--" Brendon started.
"I'm joking," Brian laughed, "Yeesh. Take a joke." He smiled over at Brendon, a friendly face that had a sense of sadness in his eyes. Brendon supposed, having lived in the light sider's home base for the years that Brian had, he had probably seen more than Brendon. If Brendon, with barely more than couple of years on his belt, was feeling worn in and about to break, he couldn't imagine what this guy was feeling. "Bonding isn't what they tell you it is, you know."
"I'm starting to think that's true for a lot of things," Brendon muttered, before turning wide eyes onto Brian.
"Yeah, I know," Brian said softly, giving him a sad smile. "Anyway, bonding. They tell you that it's supposed to be for cases where someone becomes too powerful. If someone's power is beyond their control and they bond, they will be able to share that power and need for control with their partner, making it more likely for them to utilize both. But that's not what bonding was always about. Two light siders? Two dark siders? That's not a bond. Yeah, it acts like a bond, it does what the general definition of a bond does, but it's not a real bond. A real, true bond can't exist between two people of the same energy type."
"But then why do they encourage it?" Brendon asked, frowning. "In training, they--"
"Because they want you guys to be stronger, but also easier to control," Brian said with a shrug. "It does help, I'm not saying it doesn't, but it's not a true bond. It's like...a bond's little cousin."
"Does that mean that bonds aren't real?"
"Of course not, they're real, but there hasn't been one established in about two thousand years," Brian replied.
"Why?"
"Because it can only happen between a light and dark sider."
"But light and dark energy cancels each other out, it destroys each other," Brendon protested. "I know, I've seen it happen." I've made it happen.
Brian shook his head. "No, it doesn't."
"Yes, it--"
"Brendon, every time you've seen dark and light energy destroy one another was when it was done with intention. In nature it exists and rebounds off one another. Yes, it doesn't like each other, but it occupies the same space naturally nonetheless." Brian looked at him through a careful gaze. "Before the light siders took over the government, it was common for lights and darks to bond together."
Brendon frowned and looked down at his hands, thinking. He suddenly thought of Ryan, standing in the experiment room, hovering over Michael Way like by just being there he could protect him. He thought of the way Ryan had stood in the back of the room during the entire thing, hand covering his mouth, body almost but not quite trembling. Way had immediately looked toward Ryan when it had been over, his eyes looking...Brendon had had trouble identifying the emotion before Way had passed out. Now, he thought he knew.
He looked up at Brian, who was watching him curiously. "Can two people accidentally create a bond?"
"I don't know," Brian replied. "The records on how it's done have been lost, but from what I've managed to gather? It's not about creating a bond, it's about feeling a strong desire to be one with the person, to share your soul."
"Soul? What do you mean?"
"A true bond, unlike with that between two light siders, causes the two parties to literally give each other half of their soul. It's all speculation of course, but even modern science can't deny that the soul exists."
Brendon nodded and looked over at the clock. He had a meeting in about an hour, one that he couldn't miss, though he wished desperately that he could avoid showing the latest test results to his boss. Thankfully, Ray would be there. Ray never had a problem with doing most of the reports for Brendon. Brendon, after all, was usually the one forced to push the buttons. They shared the burden together this way, knowing they were destroying instead of creating.
Brendon shuddered, bowing his head. He couldn't think like that. He had to just do his job. That's all. Thinking...he couldn't risk thinking and questioning. He wasn't Ryan; he didn't have someone to bring out the best in him like Ryan did. He just had himself and, most days, he didn't think that was good enough.
*
Spencer allowed Jon to press him harder against the brick wall. Tongue diving into his mouth, Spencer moaned softly and parted his lips farther, fingers threading through Jon's short hair. Jon's thigh shifted between his legs, digging upward slightly and causing Spencer to rock his hips forward. He could feel a tingling sensation from where their skin touched, where energy bounced back and forth.
"Fuck, Spence," Jon groaned out, turning to suck on Spencer's neck and thrusting his hips. Spencer's eyes fluttered upward, the bright sky nearly blinding him.
This hadn't been what Spencer meant when he suggested they take a walk, but he was going to enjoy it while he could. It wasn't often he really got to indulge.
Pleasure was sparking it's way up Spencer's spine as he wrapped one of his legs around Jon's hip and met Jon's thrusts, their jeans only serving to create even more friction, rough and perfect. Spencer whined low in his throat as Jon bit down on the sensitive skin behind his ear. He tugged at Jon's hair, pulling until Jon's mouth was near his. "I want to fuck you."
"We're in public," Jon whispered, eyes dilated. His small protest didn't stop him from trying to slide his fingers underneath Spencer's jeans. "Someone could see."
"We're in an alleyway. No one would look," Spencer replied, biting down on Jon's lower lip. He slipped his tongue briefly between Jon's lips. "Please? Let me fuck you."
"But, the park--" Jon started.
"Is across the street on the other side of the alley," Spencer interrupted, sliding his hands underneath Jon's shirt. He scratched as Jon's skin lightly with his nails. "We have the dumpsters to keep people from seeing, as long as you're quiet."
"Hey," Jon said, kissing him quickly, "I'm always quiet."
Spencer gently pushed him away, before reaching for his own jeans. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, watching as Jon stared. He stalked forward, grabbing Jon's waist and spinning him around, causing Jon to catch himself on the wall. He reached around and undid Jon's pants, shoving them as well as his boxers down to his thighs. He gripped Jon's hip with one hand, the other pushing his own pants downward.
"Fuck," Jon breathed, back arching even though, at this point, the only place Spencer was touching him was his hip. Spencer rubbed Jon's soft skin with his thumb. Jon moaned.
He pressed in close, his hard erection pressing into the cleft of Jon's ass. Jon thrust back, turning his head to look at Spencer through heavy lidded, dark eyes. Spencer leaned in and kissed Jon's neck gently, hips rolling.
"Oh, yes, yes," Jon reached back with one hand to pull Spencer even closer, "We need, fuck, we need lube. I don't--" Jon let out a strangled sound when Spencer reached around and took hold of him. Jon nodded frantically. "Okay, okay, yeah, that'll work."
"Shut up," Spencer breathed into his ear, chuckling. He continued to thrust against him, hand moving in tune with his own hips.
"Shit, Spencer, don't--" Jon said.
A loud explosion cut Jon off, reverberating through the alley as the sound of screams filled the air. Spencer jerked away from Jon, yanking up his pants automatically as he turned in the direction of the park. He couldn't see it from there, the sound of children screaming echoing in his ears. Jon cursed and fought with his own pants, nearly zipping himself up in the process.
"What the fuck?" Jon demanded, grabbing Spencer's arm and pulling him toward the end of the alley. Spencer rushed to keep up.
The alley opened up to an empty street. Most streets on their side of the town were empty, the residents too poor to afford a vehicle. Across the street was a sight that Spencer swore belonged in a nightmare. Twisted metal from the playground equipment had obviously flown in all directions from whatever had caused the blast. Children were crying, spots of red on their clothes indicating bleeding, and the two parents that were present were trying to calm their own kids, while the others were left alone.
They rushed across the street, the scene looking more gruesome the closer they got. Spencer sucked in a breath as he spotted the two men across the playground, twisted expressions on their faces. Suddenly Jon shoved him out of the way and yelled, "Look out!"
There was a flash of bright light from the direction of the men, so bright Spencer's skin felt like it was momentarily on fire. Then Jon's hands had flung up and a wave of dark energy had flown out, moving like a wave as it blocked the light energy from hitting anyone. Jon's energy always moved like that, slow and sedate and yet the strongest form of defense a person could want. The light collided with the dark, sending sparks into the air, before dissipating.
"You fucking bastards," Jon immediately yelled the moment he was able to lower his arms. He rushed toward the men, face contorted into a form of rage Spencer hardly ever saw on him.
Spencer turned toward the others, the sight of blood pulling him away from Jon. Most of the kids, around five of them, had gathered together. But there was one still on the ground near the playground, with another little girl kneeling next to him. Spencer rushed over, ignoring yet another explosion of energy from across the park, where either Jon or one of the men had thrown an attack. He forced himself to remain calm. Jon was used to dealing with this, it was what he did for a living.
He reached the boy, sliding to his knees, ignoring the way the blood on the ground immediately soaked into his pants. The little girl across from him was pale, flecks of blood and small cuts marring her skin. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, before looking down. "He won't move."
Spencer looked at the boy, carefully scanning his body. His eyes stopped when they landed at his side, opposite to Spencer. A large shard of metal, probably from the destroyed playground, was embedded into the boy's side. It looked huge compared to his small body. Spencer hoped that meant that most of it was on the outside, instead of cutting deep into the boy's vital organs.
"Are your parents nearby?" Spencer asked. The girl nodded. "Okay. Hey, look at me, okay?" He waited until her bright green eyes were on him before he spoke again. "I need you to go get them, okay?"
"What about Nate?" she asked, voice trembling.
"I'm going to take care of him, I promise," he said. He glanced over to where Jon had been. Not spotting him, he scanned the park until he landed on the other children, and Jon. Sighing in relief, Spencer turned back to the girl. "He's going to need his mom and dad, right?"
"Y-yeah, okay," she stammered, standing.
Spencer waited until she was gone, running at full speed, before reaching out and ripping open the boy's shirt. Nate's entire left side was bleed, blood gushing out from around the metal. Spencer bit his lip and took in a sharp breath as he grasped the piece of metal, thankful the boy was unconscious. Slowly, he gently pried it out of Nate's body, before tossing it to the side and quickly pressing his hands to the wound. Blood leaked out between his fingers, but he ignored it as he pushed energy into the wound, using it to pull ragged edges of flesh together and seal it shut.
That was the easy part, of course. That didn't take care of the internal injuries and blood loss.
He slipped his arms underneath the child's body and pulled him into his lap. He wiped at his forehead, ignoring the swipe of blood that appeared as a result. Cradling Nate's body close, he reached out, trying to sense Nate's vitals. His heart was beating sluggishly, but it was slowing down at a rate that alarmed Spencer.
Quickly, Spencer began to pour dark energy into the boy's body, trying to go slowly in case Nate's own energy type didn't work with Spencer's well. He focused on knitting damaged tissue, trying mend everything while keeping track of Nate's heartbeat at the same time.
When Nate's heart stopped altogether, Spencer almost thought he had imagined it. "No, no, no!"
Spencer laid him down on the ground and pressed his right hand over Nate's heart. He closed his eyes and sent a shock of energy into the lifeless body. Nate's body jerked in response, but his heart refused to start. Spencer tried again. And again.
"Spencer," Jon's voice said as hands rested on his shoulders. "He's gone."
"No!" Spencer snapped, shoving Jon away. Behind Jon stood a young couple, who must have been Nate's parents. They stared at the scene in absolute horror. "I can bring him back. Just give me time."
"Spencer, you can't bring someone back from the dead," Jon insisted, trying to grab a hold of him again.
"Darkness is the symbol for death," Spencer growled, shoving Jon hard enough that Jon fell back onto the blood stained grass. "I can do it. I can fucking control it. I can bring him back. You're always telling me to let down my walls, well now I'm going to."
Jon stared at him with wide eyes, mouth dropped open as Spencer turned back to the dead body before him. No, not dead. Spencer couldn't believe that he had allowed someone to die. He had never failed to save someone's life and he wasn't about to do it now. He wasn't going to go through the pain of knowing he had killed, not again. Never again.
Trembling with an overpowering determination, he reached out and placed one palm on Nate's forehead and the other on his stomach. He threw himself into the energy slowly pouring out of Nate's body, energy that was heading in one direction only: the afterlife. Spencer didn't know if there was a Heaven and Hell, or if they were all energy that was to be reused. But he did know that he had the power to take control of that, if he so chose to.
If he could bring death, he could bring life.
He didn't know how long he sat there, pulling energy back from the depths of darkness, pouring it back into Nate's body, mending it all together again. But it wasn't enough, not quite. So he pushed farther and father. He stretched himself so far he was afraid he would never come back again. Then something inside of him crumbled, a wall cascaded down and there was this pure, unadulterated power that he never knew existed before, that he had only thought up in his fears and daydreams.
With this power, he could do whatever he wanted. He could destroy everything and rebuild it the way it was meant to be built. He could...
But no, he had to fix Nate. He had to correct his own mistake first. He had to ignore temptation.
Suddenly, the sound of a thump echoed in his mind. He paused, waiting, and there it was again: a heartbeat, slow, but stronger than it had been before. Sucking in a breath, he continued working, healing Nate's body until it was probably healthier than it had been before the attack. Spencer wasn't a true healer, but he was a healer in the basic sense of the word and a perfectionist.
He kept healing.
*
"It was scariest fucking thing I've ever seen," Jon admitted, arms resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. "He...fuck, I don't know. I love him to death, you know, but I don't know how to take this."
"Just let it settle, man," Joe offered.
"Settle?" Jon looked up at him in disbelief. He glanced at Gabe. "Are you listening to this? Settle."
"Spencer's one scary fuck, I'll give him that, but it can't be that bad," Gabe replied, shrugging as he poked around inside his carton of lo mien.
"He brought a kid back from the dead!" Jon exclaimed.
"Whoa, calm down," Joe said, raising a hand. "We get it, alright, but you've got to admit...Spencer's always been able to do some weird ass shit, okay? I mean, he could probably heal everyone in this building without breaking a sweat. Not even Mikey could do that."
"That's because Mikey understands limits. He knows when to stop," Gabe pointed out. The man fell quiet for a moment, fiddling with his chopsticks, probably thinking about Mikey. Then he turned a devilish grin on Jon. "Let Smith figure out he's being stupid, eh?"
"Am I the only one who remembers the last time someone suggested that?" Jon asked, looking at Joe pointedly.
"How was I supposed to know he was going to go berserk and kill a bunch of people?" Joe countered defensively.
"Look, we're getting past the point." Jon rubbed at his temples. "The point is that my lover has officially put a crack in those wonderful walls of his, has brought back the dead, and doesn't seem to think there is anything wrong with it. He's acting like it was just an normal Saturday. Oh, hey, of course, because he witnesses a terrorist attack on a playground filled with children everyday."
"How did that turn out, anyway?" Gabe asked.
"They got away, but I'm pretty sure they weren't part of the light side regime. They were too disorganized for one thing," Jon said. "Frank is looking into them, just to be safe."
"And the kid?"
"He's fine. Spencer not only brought him back to life, but he even healed ailments he had before the blast."
"See, it's not that bad. Got to look on the bright side," Joe said.
Jon rested his head on the table for a moment. "So, how's the girl you guys brought back? What's her name, Victoria?"
"Vicky," Gabe replied. "Don't call her Victoria, dude, she'll kick you." Gabe started to leer. "And what legs to be kicked by."
*
Frank pushed away from the computer desk, stretching his arms upwards, legs sticking straight out. His eyes felt gritty, but he was finished, finally. The printer emitted familiar sounds as sheets of paper relaying information on the latest light sider terrorists processed. Sighing, Frank cracked his neck, pausing with his head turned when he spotted one of his file cabinets' doors slightly ajar.
Frowning, he stood and walked over, glancing at the letter embossed on the front--'U'--before drawing it open. One of the folders had been hastily shoved back inside. In fact, it wasn't even in the correct place. Frank started to pull it out when his eyes landed on the name and he knew, immediately, who had taken it out.
"Shit, fuck," Frank hissed, trying to remember the last time he had seen Gerard. Had it been yesterday? With Spencer returning to base emitting enough energy to keep the entire city lit up, Frank had been keeping his distance from everyone else, trying to keep his absorption rate low. He hadn't spoken to Gerard since before then.
He headed for the door, feet picking up speed as he rounded the corner. He headed for Gerard's room first, but he knew before he opened the door that Gerard wasn't there. He rubbed at his face and took in a deep breath. "Come on, think. Gerard's not so stupid to go after Urie."
The upper level offices were his next stop. He received a few curious glances from the others, the nameless higher ups that generally dictated the dark sider movement. Gerard was blessed with being an elite member, having an office in the middle of the best activity, working with the top members of their institution. But if they knew that Gerard had disappeared, again, without permission he could lose that position.
Gerard's office was empty, as well. He was gone. And Frank knew exactly where he would find him, if he had the guts to chase him down.
*
"I can do more," Ryan said, sitting on the edge of Mikey's stark white bed. Mikey turned bloodshot eyes toward him, now hidden behind glasses, but he didn't say anything. Ryan knew it was cruel to expect him to. He reached out, fingers lightly brushing Mikey's throat, where vocal chords had ripped apart due to Mikey's screaming.
It had taken Ryan the past few days to heal him, after begging Patrick for Mikey to not be terminated. He had known he could bring Mikey back. Oh, he hadn't been dead, but he had been close enough that their bosses had figured the boy was a lost cause, no longer of use and ready to be tossed to the side. His suspicions of Patrick had been all but confirmed when he had been given permission, without Patrick looking toward the head healer for acceptance. Patrick was definitely going against the regime quietly, making the smallest of choices to help lessen its hold on the world. And if Ryan knew anything about Patrick, he knew that Pete was helping him along.
Ryan pressed his fingers lightly against Mikey's Adam's apple. Mikey reached up and took a hold of his wrist, shaking his head. "But you can't talk."
Mikey shrugged, smiling slightly.
Ryan chuckled. "I guess you don't really talk all that much, anyway."
Mikey's lips parted and a half-strangled sounded escaped his throat. He winced, jaw snapping shut. His thumb rubbed at the inside of Ryan's wrist, right over his pulse. Ryan felt a small tremor run through him at the touch and fought to hold back his reaction, unsure of what it meant or if it would be accepted. Mikey tilted his head, before letting go and slowly pushing himself into a sitting position.
"Careful," Ryan murmured. Mikey reached out, palms cupping Ryan's face. Thumb brushing just under Ryan's lower lip, Mikey watched him a moment, taking in his expression. "Mikey?"
Ryan couldn't stop staring at his mouth. The way it looked soft to the touch, the way it curved upward into the smallest of smiles--like Mikey had a secret that he wouldn't share. For all his staring, though, he didn't notice that Mikey had leaned closer until those very lips were pressed against his own. Ryan gasped, lips parting, unconsciously deepening the kiss.
Everything suddenly stood on end. He felt like he could erupt at any moment as energy boiled to the surface. He could feel Mikey's own energy respond, but not in defense like it normally would have. Instead it almost seemed like the two were reaching out to one another, swirling around each other and fusing together. Ryan pulled back in shock, feeling the immediate tug of a connection trying to draw him closer to Mikey. The other boy blinked behind his glasses, face calm.
"What just happened?" Ryan breathed. Mikey shook his head, making it clear that he didn't know either.
Ryan felt himself being pulled forward again. Mikey kissed him, hands holding his head in place gently. He slowly reached out and placed his hands on Mikey's sides, feeling a tingling sensation shoot up his arms as he slipped his fingers underneath his regulation shirt to touch bare skin. Mikey sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and kiss suddenly turned hard and demanding. It was like Mikey was trying to devour him, tongue sliding into his mouth, and the taste of the other man over empowering his senses. Ryan's mouth opened up further as he allowed Mikey to tip his head even more to the side. He moaned, fingers curling, causing his nails to scratch at Mikey's delicate skin.
Scrambling to move, Ryan mentally cursed his legs as he tried to straddle Mikey's thighs. Hands took hold of his hips, pulling him easily into place. He carefully settled down, not wanting to put too much weight on Mikey's body. Mikey had healed, but his muscles were still tender from the abuse they had suffered. He groaned into Mikey's mouth, hands sliding up Mikey's shoulders and finally threading through his hair.
Teeth bit down lightly on his lower lip and his hips jerked forward, causing him to pull back for air, only to dive into yet another kiss. Mikey made a soft sound at the back of his throat, which seemed to shoot straight through Ryan's already aroused body. "Fuck, Mikey."
Another sound, this one amused.
"I can't," Ryan pulled back and glared at Mikey. "I'm fully healing your throat. I have to be able to hear you."
This time Mikey didn't stop him. It didn't take long; in fact Ryan was surprised at how easily he could heal the damaged vocal chords. Mikey watched him, eyes unblinking, as he worked.
"There," Ryan said, smiling. He kissed Mikey again, soft, like Mikey would break from too much pressure. He could feel Mikey starting to grin against his mouth. "How did you know?"
"What do you mean?" Mikey asked, hands sliding up his spine, skin against skin.
"This. Me. You," Ryan replied, inwardly cursing his inability to say anything correctly. He couldn't, not with Mikey still touching him. "We're on opposite sides, Mikey."
"You don't hurt me," Mikey said, as though that explained everything. Maybe it did, but Ryan sure as hell didn't understand what it meant.
"So you keep saying."
"No, Ryan," Mikey cupped his face once more, forcing their eyes to meet. After a moment, he released him, but continued to stare, not letting Ryan look away. "I'm a healer, Ryan." Ryan started to nod, but Mikey cut him off. "When was the last time you needed someone else to heal you?"
Ryan frowned. "I...not since I was a kid, probably eight, why?"
"True healers heal themselves for the most part," Mikey told him. "Unless the damage is too severe, which is why I haven't been able to heal myself while here. I need access to more dark energy outside of my own. But you've been able to heal me."
"I'm still not getting it."
"What I'm saying is that you healing me shouldn't be possible. That's one of the downfalls of being a true healer; we have to rely on our own power. But you can heal me. You don't hurt me when you try. I knew, the first time I felt you, I knew there was something about you, Ryan Ross."
Ryan swallowed and finally managed pull his eyes away. "I'm nothing special."
Mikey took a hold of his hand and pressed it against his own chest. "Feel that?"
Confused, Ryan focused in on where he was touching Mikey, at the way their energy seemed to pass back and forth. He dug a little deeper and was shocked to sense light energy hidden in the depths of Mikey's darkness, where light had never been before. "What--?"
"I don't know. My brother was always better at folklore and legends, but...I have you inside of me," Mikey whispered. Ryan shivered, closing his eyes, savoring Mikey's words and the feel of their bodies pressed against one another.
part four
part two
The library was filled with row after row of oak shelves and old books. Brendon hardly ever entered it; he never had need for research, not since his training. But he entered today, trying to escape his own thinking, hoping to find something to read and fill his mind. He darted past the head librarian, Greta, and made for the back of the massive room. He paused at the third to the last row and stared blankly at the books.
Nearby, a face appeared from behind a table stacked high with books. "You're not going to be able to just absorb the information via eyestrain, you know."
Brendon glanced over at the older man and flushed. "I know that." He took a few steps closer. "What are you doing?"
"My job," the guy replied with a slight smirk.
"Which would be?" Brendon asked with an eye roll. He stepped even closer, pulling out a chair and sitting next to him. The books obscured his view, so he pulled the stack off the table and placed it carefully on the floor. He spotted the tattoos covering the man's arms and tried to hide his shock. This guy didn't really look like some stuffy librarian--Greta was the only exception to the stuffy librarian rule as far as Brendon was concerned. But then, Brendon didn't think he looked like much of a scientist.
"I'm a researcher," he said. "Name's Brian."
"Brendon." He stared at Brian's computer for a moment. "What are you researching?"
"Real history, not that shit they teach you in school," Brian replied as he typed. He glanced between the computer screen and a book laying open at his elbow, mostly ignoring Brendon.
"Like what?"
"Fuck, you ask a lot of questions."
Brendon huffed. "I was just asking. I'll leave you--"
"Nah, I was about done anyway," Brian interrupted, turning to look at him. He narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here, kid?"
"Just thought I'd...you know...get a book," Brendon finished lamely. Brian raised an eyebrow. "On...math."
"Oh, well then, don't let me stop you," Brian replied, starting to grin. "You're looking really stressed out, by the way." Brendon glared. "Hey, I'm just pointing it out. Come on. Let me take your mind off of whatever is bothering you. Give me a topic and I'll lecture you until you fucking fall asleep. How does that sound?"
"Well, okay." Brendon shifted in his seat and thought. A cartoon he had watched as a child popped into his head, of a prince and a princess battling odds and falling in love. "Tell me about bonding."
"You sure you're old enough?"
"Fuck you--" Brendon started.
"I'm joking," Brian laughed, "Yeesh. Take a joke." He smiled over at Brendon, a friendly face that had a sense of sadness in his eyes. Brendon supposed, having lived in the light sider's home base for the years that Brian had, he had probably seen more than Brendon. If Brendon, with barely more than couple of years on his belt, was feeling worn in and about to break, he couldn't imagine what this guy was feeling. "Bonding isn't what they tell you it is, you know."
"I'm starting to think that's true for a lot of things," Brendon muttered, before turning wide eyes onto Brian.
"Yeah, I know," Brian said softly, giving him a sad smile. "Anyway, bonding. They tell you that it's supposed to be for cases where someone becomes too powerful. If someone's power is beyond their control and they bond, they will be able to share that power and need for control with their partner, making it more likely for them to utilize both. But that's not what bonding was always about. Two light siders? Two dark siders? That's not a bond. Yeah, it acts like a bond, it does what the general definition of a bond does, but it's not a real bond. A real, true bond can't exist between two people of the same energy type."
"But then why do they encourage it?" Brendon asked, frowning. "In training, they--"
"Because they want you guys to be stronger, but also easier to control," Brian said with a shrug. "It does help, I'm not saying it doesn't, but it's not a true bond. It's like...a bond's little cousin."
"Does that mean that bonds aren't real?"
"Of course not, they're real, but there hasn't been one established in about two thousand years," Brian replied.
"Why?"
"Because it can only happen between a light and dark sider."
"But light and dark energy cancels each other out, it destroys each other," Brendon protested. "I know, I've seen it happen." I've made it happen.
Brian shook his head. "No, it doesn't."
"Yes, it--"
"Brendon, every time you've seen dark and light energy destroy one another was when it was done with intention. In nature it exists and rebounds off one another. Yes, it doesn't like each other, but it occupies the same space naturally nonetheless." Brian looked at him through a careful gaze. "Before the light siders took over the government, it was common for lights and darks to bond together."
Brendon frowned and looked down at his hands, thinking. He suddenly thought of Ryan, standing in the experiment room, hovering over Michael Way like by just being there he could protect him. He thought of the way Ryan had stood in the back of the room during the entire thing, hand covering his mouth, body almost but not quite trembling. Way had immediately looked toward Ryan when it had been over, his eyes looking...Brendon had had trouble identifying the emotion before Way had passed out. Now, he thought he knew.
He looked up at Brian, who was watching him curiously. "Can two people accidentally create a bond?"
"I don't know," Brian replied. "The records on how it's done have been lost, but from what I've managed to gather? It's not about creating a bond, it's about feeling a strong desire to be one with the person, to share your soul."
"Soul? What do you mean?"
"A true bond, unlike with that between two light siders, causes the two parties to literally give each other half of their soul. It's all speculation of course, but even modern science can't deny that the soul exists."
Brendon nodded and looked over at the clock. He had a meeting in about an hour, one that he couldn't miss, though he wished desperately that he could avoid showing the latest test results to his boss. Thankfully, Ray would be there. Ray never had a problem with doing most of the reports for Brendon. Brendon, after all, was usually the one forced to push the buttons. They shared the burden together this way, knowing they were destroying instead of creating.
Brendon shuddered, bowing his head. He couldn't think like that. He had to just do his job. That's all. Thinking...he couldn't risk thinking and questioning. He wasn't Ryan; he didn't have someone to bring out the best in him like Ryan did. He just had himself and, most days, he didn't think that was good enough.
*
Spencer allowed Jon to press him harder against the brick wall. Tongue diving into his mouth, Spencer moaned softly and parted his lips farther, fingers threading through Jon's short hair. Jon's thigh shifted between his legs, digging upward slightly and causing Spencer to rock his hips forward. He could feel a tingling sensation from where their skin touched, where energy bounced back and forth.
"Fuck, Spence," Jon groaned out, turning to suck on Spencer's neck and thrusting his hips. Spencer's eyes fluttered upward, the bright sky nearly blinding him.
This hadn't been what Spencer meant when he suggested they take a walk, but he was going to enjoy it while he could. It wasn't often he really got to indulge.
Pleasure was sparking it's way up Spencer's spine as he wrapped one of his legs around Jon's hip and met Jon's thrusts, their jeans only serving to create even more friction, rough and perfect. Spencer whined low in his throat as Jon bit down on the sensitive skin behind his ear. He tugged at Jon's hair, pulling until Jon's mouth was near his. "I want to fuck you."
"We're in public," Jon whispered, eyes dilated. His small protest didn't stop him from trying to slide his fingers underneath Spencer's jeans. "Someone could see."
"We're in an alleyway. No one would look," Spencer replied, biting down on Jon's lower lip. He slipped his tongue briefly between Jon's lips. "Please? Let me fuck you."
"But, the park--" Jon started.
"Is across the street on the other side of the alley," Spencer interrupted, sliding his hands underneath Jon's shirt. He scratched as Jon's skin lightly with his nails. "We have the dumpsters to keep people from seeing, as long as you're quiet."
"Hey," Jon said, kissing him quickly, "I'm always quiet."
Spencer gently pushed him away, before reaching for his own jeans. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, watching as Jon stared. He stalked forward, grabbing Jon's waist and spinning him around, causing Jon to catch himself on the wall. He reached around and undid Jon's pants, shoving them as well as his boxers down to his thighs. He gripped Jon's hip with one hand, the other pushing his own pants downward.
"Fuck," Jon breathed, back arching even though, at this point, the only place Spencer was touching him was his hip. Spencer rubbed Jon's soft skin with his thumb. Jon moaned.
He pressed in close, his hard erection pressing into the cleft of Jon's ass. Jon thrust back, turning his head to look at Spencer through heavy lidded, dark eyes. Spencer leaned in and kissed Jon's neck gently, hips rolling.
"Oh, yes, yes," Jon reached back with one hand to pull Spencer even closer, "We need, fuck, we need lube. I don't--" Jon let out a strangled sound when Spencer reached around and took hold of him. Jon nodded frantically. "Okay, okay, yeah, that'll work."
"Shut up," Spencer breathed into his ear, chuckling. He continued to thrust against him, hand moving in tune with his own hips.
"Shit, Spencer, don't--" Jon said.
A loud explosion cut Jon off, reverberating through the alley as the sound of screams filled the air. Spencer jerked away from Jon, yanking up his pants automatically as he turned in the direction of the park. He couldn't see it from there, the sound of children screaming echoing in his ears. Jon cursed and fought with his own pants, nearly zipping himself up in the process.
"What the fuck?" Jon demanded, grabbing Spencer's arm and pulling him toward the end of the alley. Spencer rushed to keep up.
The alley opened up to an empty street. Most streets on their side of the town were empty, the residents too poor to afford a vehicle. Across the street was a sight that Spencer swore belonged in a nightmare. Twisted metal from the playground equipment had obviously flown in all directions from whatever had caused the blast. Children were crying, spots of red on their clothes indicating bleeding, and the two parents that were present were trying to calm their own kids, while the others were left alone.
They rushed across the street, the scene looking more gruesome the closer they got. Spencer sucked in a breath as he spotted the two men across the playground, twisted expressions on their faces. Suddenly Jon shoved him out of the way and yelled, "Look out!"
There was a flash of bright light from the direction of the men, so bright Spencer's skin felt like it was momentarily on fire. Then Jon's hands had flung up and a wave of dark energy had flown out, moving like a wave as it blocked the light energy from hitting anyone. Jon's energy always moved like that, slow and sedate and yet the strongest form of defense a person could want. The light collided with the dark, sending sparks into the air, before dissipating.
"You fucking bastards," Jon immediately yelled the moment he was able to lower his arms. He rushed toward the men, face contorted into a form of rage Spencer hardly ever saw on him.
Spencer turned toward the others, the sight of blood pulling him away from Jon. Most of the kids, around five of them, had gathered together. But there was one still on the ground near the playground, with another little girl kneeling next to him. Spencer rushed over, ignoring yet another explosion of energy from across the park, where either Jon or one of the men had thrown an attack. He forced himself to remain calm. Jon was used to dealing with this, it was what he did for a living.
He reached the boy, sliding to his knees, ignoring the way the blood on the ground immediately soaked into his pants. The little girl across from him was pale, flecks of blood and small cuts marring her skin. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, before looking down. "He won't move."
Spencer looked at the boy, carefully scanning his body. His eyes stopped when they landed at his side, opposite to Spencer. A large shard of metal, probably from the destroyed playground, was embedded into the boy's side. It looked huge compared to his small body. Spencer hoped that meant that most of it was on the outside, instead of cutting deep into the boy's vital organs.
"Are your parents nearby?" Spencer asked. The girl nodded. "Okay. Hey, look at me, okay?" He waited until her bright green eyes were on him before he spoke again. "I need you to go get them, okay?"
"What about Nate?" she asked, voice trembling.
"I'm going to take care of him, I promise," he said. He glanced over to where Jon had been. Not spotting him, he scanned the park until he landed on the other children, and Jon. Sighing in relief, Spencer turned back to the girl. "He's going to need his mom and dad, right?"
"Y-yeah, okay," she stammered, standing.
Spencer waited until she was gone, running at full speed, before reaching out and ripping open the boy's shirt. Nate's entire left side was bleed, blood gushing out from around the metal. Spencer bit his lip and took in a sharp breath as he grasped the piece of metal, thankful the boy was unconscious. Slowly, he gently pried it out of Nate's body, before tossing it to the side and quickly pressing his hands to the wound. Blood leaked out between his fingers, but he ignored it as he pushed energy into the wound, using it to pull ragged edges of flesh together and seal it shut.
That was the easy part, of course. That didn't take care of the internal injuries and blood loss.
He slipped his arms underneath the child's body and pulled him into his lap. He wiped at his forehead, ignoring the swipe of blood that appeared as a result. Cradling Nate's body close, he reached out, trying to sense Nate's vitals. His heart was beating sluggishly, but it was slowing down at a rate that alarmed Spencer.
Quickly, Spencer began to pour dark energy into the boy's body, trying to go slowly in case Nate's own energy type didn't work with Spencer's well. He focused on knitting damaged tissue, trying mend everything while keeping track of Nate's heartbeat at the same time.
When Nate's heart stopped altogether, Spencer almost thought he had imagined it. "No, no, no!"
Spencer laid him down on the ground and pressed his right hand over Nate's heart. He closed his eyes and sent a shock of energy into the lifeless body. Nate's body jerked in response, but his heart refused to start. Spencer tried again. And again.
"Spencer," Jon's voice said as hands rested on his shoulders. "He's gone."
"No!" Spencer snapped, shoving Jon away. Behind Jon stood a young couple, who must have been Nate's parents. They stared at the scene in absolute horror. "I can bring him back. Just give me time."
"Spencer, you can't bring someone back from the dead," Jon insisted, trying to grab a hold of him again.
"Darkness is the symbol for death," Spencer growled, shoving Jon hard enough that Jon fell back onto the blood stained grass. "I can do it. I can fucking control it. I can bring him back. You're always telling me to let down my walls, well now I'm going to."
Jon stared at him with wide eyes, mouth dropped open as Spencer turned back to the dead body before him. No, not dead. Spencer couldn't believe that he had allowed someone to die. He had never failed to save someone's life and he wasn't about to do it now. He wasn't going to go through the pain of knowing he had killed, not again. Never again.
Trembling with an overpowering determination, he reached out and placed one palm on Nate's forehead and the other on his stomach. He threw himself into the energy slowly pouring out of Nate's body, energy that was heading in one direction only: the afterlife. Spencer didn't know if there was a Heaven and Hell, or if they were all energy that was to be reused. But he did know that he had the power to take control of that, if he so chose to.
If he could bring death, he could bring life.
He didn't know how long he sat there, pulling energy back from the depths of darkness, pouring it back into Nate's body, mending it all together again. But it wasn't enough, not quite. So he pushed farther and father. He stretched himself so far he was afraid he would never come back again. Then something inside of him crumbled, a wall cascaded down and there was this pure, unadulterated power that he never knew existed before, that he had only thought up in his fears and daydreams.
With this power, he could do whatever he wanted. He could destroy everything and rebuild it the way it was meant to be built. He could...
But no, he had to fix Nate. He had to correct his own mistake first. He had to ignore temptation.
Suddenly, the sound of a thump echoed in his mind. He paused, waiting, and there it was again: a heartbeat, slow, but stronger than it had been before. Sucking in a breath, he continued working, healing Nate's body until it was probably healthier than it had been before the attack. Spencer wasn't a true healer, but he was a healer in the basic sense of the word and a perfectionist.
He kept healing.
*
"It was scariest fucking thing I've ever seen," Jon admitted, arms resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. "He...fuck, I don't know. I love him to death, you know, but I don't know how to take this."
"Just let it settle, man," Joe offered.
"Settle?" Jon looked up at him in disbelief. He glanced at Gabe. "Are you listening to this? Settle."
"Spencer's one scary fuck, I'll give him that, but it can't be that bad," Gabe replied, shrugging as he poked around inside his carton of lo mien.
"He brought a kid back from the dead!" Jon exclaimed.
"Whoa, calm down," Joe said, raising a hand. "We get it, alright, but you've got to admit...Spencer's always been able to do some weird ass shit, okay? I mean, he could probably heal everyone in this building without breaking a sweat. Not even Mikey could do that."
"That's because Mikey understands limits. He knows when to stop," Gabe pointed out. The man fell quiet for a moment, fiddling with his chopsticks, probably thinking about Mikey. Then he turned a devilish grin on Jon. "Let Smith figure out he's being stupid, eh?"
"Am I the only one who remembers the last time someone suggested that?" Jon asked, looking at Joe pointedly.
"How was I supposed to know he was going to go berserk and kill a bunch of people?" Joe countered defensively.
"Look, we're getting past the point." Jon rubbed at his temples. "The point is that my lover has officially put a crack in those wonderful walls of his, has brought back the dead, and doesn't seem to think there is anything wrong with it. He's acting like it was just an normal Saturday. Oh, hey, of course, because he witnesses a terrorist attack on a playground filled with children everyday."
"How did that turn out, anyway?" Gabe asked.
"They got away, but I'm pretty sure they weren't part of the light side regime. They were too disorganized for one thing," Jon said. "Frank is looking into them, just to be safe."
"And the kid?"
"He's fine. Spencer not only brought him back to life, but he even healed ailments he had before the blast."
"See, it's not that bad. Got to look on the bright side," Joe said.
Jon rested his head on the table for a moment. "So, how's the girl you guys brought back? What's her name, Victoria?"
"Vicky," Gabe replied. "Don't call her Victoria, dude, she'll kick you." Gabe started to leer. "And what legs to be kicked by."
*
Frank pushed away from the computer desk, stretching his arms upwards, legs sticking straight out. His eyes felt gritty, but he was finished, finally. The printer emitted familiar sounds as sheets of paper relaying information on the latest light sider terrorists processed. Sighing, Frank cracked his neck, pausing with his head turned when he spotted one of his file cabinets' doors slightly ajar.
Frowning, he stood and walked over, glancing at the letter embossed on the front--'U'--before drawing it open. One of the folders had been hastily shoved back inside. In fact, it wasn't even in the correct place. Frank started to pull it out when his eyes landed on the name and he knew, immediately, who had taken it out.
"Shit, fuck," Frank hissed, trying to remember the last time he had seen Gerard. Had it been yesterday? With Spencer returning to base emitting enough energy to keep the entire city lit up, Frank had been keeping his distance from everyone else, trying to keep his absorption rate low. He hadn't spoken to Gerard since before then.
He headed for the door, feet picking up speed as he rounded the corner. He headed for Gerard's room first, but he knew before he opened the door that Gerard wasn't there. He rubbed at his face and took in a deep breath. "Come on, think. Gerard's not so stupid to go after Urie."
The upper level offices were his next stop. He received a few curious glances from the others, the nameless higher ups that generally dictated the dark sider movement. Gerard was blessed with being an elite member, having an office in the middle of the best activity, working with the top members of their institution. But if they knew that Gerard had disappeared, again, without permission he could lose that position.
Gerard's office was empty, as well. He was gone. And Frank knew exactly where he would find him, if he had the guts to chase him down.
*
"I can do more," Ryan said, sitting on the edge of Mikey's stark white bed. Mikey turned bloodshot eyes toward him, now hidden behind glasses, but he didn't say anything. Ryan knew it was cruel to expect him to. He reached out, fingers lightly brushing Mikey's throat, where vocal chords had ripped apart due to Mikey's screaming.
It had taken Ryan the past few days to heal him, after begging Patrick for Mikey to not be terminated. He had known he could bring Mikey back. Oh, he hadn't been dead, but he had been close enough that their bosses had figured the boy was a lost cause, no longer of use and ready to be tossed to the side. His suspicions of Patrick had been all but confirmed when he had been given permission, without Patrick looking toward the head healer for acceptance. Patrick was definitely going against the regime quietly, making the smallest of choices to help lessen its hold on the world. And if Ryan knew anything about Patrick, he knew that Pete was helping him along.
Ryan pressed his fingers lightly against Mikey's Adam's apple. Mikey reached up and took a hold of his wrist, shaking his head. "But you can't talk."
Mikey shrugged, smiling slightly.
Ryan chuckled. "I guess you don't really talk all that much, anyway."
Mikey's lips parted and a half-strangled sounded escaped his throat. He winced, jaw snapping shut. His thumb rubbed at the inside of Ryan's wrist, right over his pulse. Ryan felt a small tremor run through him at the touch and fought to hold back his reaction, unsure of what it meant or if it would be accepted. Mikey tilted his head, before letting go and slowly pushing himself into a sitting position.
"Careful," Ryan murmured. Mikey reached out, palms cupping Ryan's face. Thumb brushing just under Ryan's lower lip, Mikey watched him a moment, taking in his expression. "Mikey?"
Ryan couldn't stop staring at his mouth. The way it looked soft to the touch, the way it curved upward into the smallest of smiles--like Mikey had a secret that he wouldn't share. For all his staring, though, he didn't notice that Mikey had leaned closer until those very lips were pressed against his own. Ryan gasped, lips parting, unconsciously deepening the kiss.
Everything suddenly stood on end. He felt like he could erupt at any moment as energy boiled to the surface. He could feel Mikey's own energy respond, but not in defense like it normally would have. Instead it almost seemed like the two were reaching out to one another, swirling around each other and fusing together. Ryan pulled back in shock, feeling the immediate tug of a connection trying to draw him closer to Mikey. The other boy blinked behind his glasses, face calm.
"What just happened?" Ryan breathed. Mikey shook his head, making it clear that he didn't know either.
Ryan felt himself being pulled forward again. Mikey kissed him, hands holding his head in place gently. He slowly reached out and placed his hands on Mikey's sides, feeling a tingling sensation shoot up his arms as he slipped his fingers underneath his regulation shirt to touch bare skin. Mikey sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and kiss suddenly turned hard and demanding. It was like Mikey was trying to devour him, tongue sliding into his mouth, and the taste of the other man over empowering his senses. Ryan's mouth opened up further as he allowed Mikey to tip his head even more to the side. He moaned, fingers curling, causing his nails to scratch at Mikey's delicate skin.
Scrambling to move, Ryan mentally cursed his legs as he tried to straddle Mikey's thighs. Hands took hold of his hips, pulling him easily into place. He carefully settled down, not wanting to put too much weight on Mikey's body. Mikey had healed, but his muscles were still tender from the abuse they had suffered. He groaned into Mikey's mouth, hands sliding up Mikey's shoulders and finally threading through his hair.
Teeth bit down lightly on his lower lip and his hips jerked forward, causing him to pull back for air, only to dive into yet another kiss. Mikey made a soft sound at the back of his throat, which seemed to shoot straight through Ryan's already aroused body. "Fuck, Mikey."
Another sound, this one amused.
"I can't," Ryan pulled back and glared at Mikey. "I'm fully healing your throat. I have to be able to hear you."
This time Mikey didn't stop him. It didn't take long; in fact Ryan was surprised at how easily he could heal the damaged vocal chords. Mikey watched him, eyes unblinking, as he worked.
"There," Ryan said, smiling. He kissed Mikey again, soft, like Mikey would break from too much pressure. He could feel Mikey starting to grin against his mouth. "How did you know?"
"What do you mean?" Mikey asked, hands sliding up his spine, skin against skin.
"This. Me. You," Ryan replied, inwardly cursing his inability to say anything correctly. He couldn't, not with Mikey still touching him. "We're on opposite sides, Mikey."
"You don't hurt me," Mikey said, as though that explained everything. Maybe it did, but Ryan sure as hell didn't understand what it meant.
"So you keep saying."
"No, Ryan," Mikey cupped his face once more, forcing their eyes to meet. After a moment, he released him, but continued to stare, not letting Ryan look away. "I'm a healer, Ryan." Ryan started to nod, but Mikey cut him off. "When was the last time you needed someone else to heal you?"
Ryan frowned. "I...not since I was a kid, probably eight, why?"
"True healers heal themselves for the most part," Mikey told him. "Unless the damage is too severe, which is why I haven't been able to heal myself while here. I need access to more dark energy outside of my own. But you've been able to heal me."
"I'm still not getting it."
"What I'm saying is that you healing me shouldn't be possible. That's one of the downfalls of being a true healer; we have to rely on our own power. But you can heal me. You don't hurt me when you try. I knew, the first time I felt you, I knew there was something about you, Ryan Ross."
Ryan swallowed and finally managed pull his eyes away. "I'm nothing special."
Mikey took a hold of his hand and pressed it against his own chest. "Feel that?"
Confused, Ryan focused in on where he was touching Mikey, at the way their energy seemed to pass back and forth. He dug a little deeper and was shocked to sense light energy hidden in the depths of Mikey's darkness, where light had never been before. "What--?"
"I don't know. My brother was always better at folklore and legends, but...I have you inside of me," Mikey whispered. Ryan shivered, closing his eyes, savoring Mikey's words and the feel of their bodies pressed against one another.
part four