[FIC] Patchwork Heroes

[riastarstruck]

FINAL CHAPTER

Title: Patchwork Heroes -Chapter Six FINAL CHAPTER
Author: RiaStarStruck
Rating: R
Pairing: VAM
Summary: They were just two regular teenagers for the most part, but when they meet each other they have to start dealing with the demons that lurk in their shadows, and also each others’. Snapshots of how they found each other, and how it became more.
Disclaimer: nope, none of the characters are mine, just the basic story and the order of the words.
Warnings: Abuse, Ref to child abuse, Violence, Angst
Authors note: Beta’d but the fantabulistic Alicez17. Who convinced me this was good enough to post and being utterly ego boosting at the same time :P. I hope you all like chappie, I’m quite fond of it. its been so much fun writing this story, as fucked up as it may have turned out, and I’m going to miss it terribly. My first chaptered fic for this fandom! My baby!

Prologue, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five


Chapter Six

Bam watched as Ville sat up from the casual slouch he had sunken into and frowned down at his phone as it vibrated silently in his hand. Bam felt a strange sense of dread fill him when Ville answered in Finnish, replying to unknown things in short sharp sentences. Linde also glanced up, watching with a wary look on his face as he stood up and moved away from the group, conscious of his audience, even if only one of them could understand him.
In a jerky movement, Ville snapped his phone closed and reached for his coat, Bam was on his feet and following him out of the room before anyone else even knew what was happening.
“Were are you going?” Ville's movements were rough as he pulled on his coat, but not careful enough Bam noted, when he pressed his hand against his ribs quickly before continuing.
“Ei johon” he muttered, before shaking his head and glancing at Bam, stilling his movement’s entirely. “Home, I have to go home.” Bam moved further into the hallway and lowered his voice.
“Home? Are you crazy? Is your dad there?” Ville averted his gaze and Bam had his answer, he felt ice cold dread fill him. “Who was that on the phone?” Ville grabbed his bag from where he’d dumped it earlier and wrapped his scarf around him with the other hand.
“It was my mama. She-“ he cut himself off and walked to the front door, fussing with the strap of his bag. “She told me he was angry.” The words slammed into Bam with surprising force, and for a split second he could see from the drivers’ seat as a car crashed through ice and into black water.
“Are you crazy?” he hissed, moving quickly and slamming the door shut just as Ville got it open. He dimly heard the voices in the lounge grow quiet. “Ville, you can’t go back there if he’s angry.” Ville looked pale and Bam noticed he was shaking as he pulled futilely on the door against Bam's weight.
“I can’t not!” he exploded turning on his heel and heading into the kitchen, Bam followed quickly behind him
“He will kill you.” Bam hissed ignoring the faces that watched the pairs procession from the hallway. His vision was edged with white and he didn’t feel the usual thrill that accompanied it. “You’re still fucked up from last time!” Ville was shaking even worst now; he fumbled helplessly trying to unlock the patio doors.
“He’ll kill mama if I don’t.” he whispered thickly but Bam heard it like it was screamed into his ear.
“Ville-” his voice was weak and he was shaking as the buzzing started up in the back of his mind. Ville turned, looking at him and Bam saw it written across his delicate features; he was going. He could die. He was scared. Then he was out the door and in the cold air outside.
“No!” Bam flew across the kitchen in three steps and ran through the glass doors, into the wind in a heartbeat, the cold sliced the exposed skin of his arms and face but he didn’t feel anything. The white was clouding his vision and he wanted to shake it away. “No, Ville, don’t go, please.” He didn’t know if he was shouting or whispering as Ville paused but didn’t turn around. “Ville, I can’t lose you, not now, please don’t do this.” Slowly Ville turned, his eyes were wet and his hands shook as he pushed his hair out of his face.
“I have to Bam, she’s my mama.” He pleaded for Bam to understand “I can’t leave her to face him alone.” He moved forward when Bam let out a strangled growl of frustration and started to pull at his hair to stop the white from clouding over and the buzz from getting any louder.
Ville’s hands cupped his face and the white and noise vanished, and there was just Ville's warmth and Ville's green eyes watching his face.
“Bammie...” he leant forward, brushing his lips across Bam's cheekbone and again over his lips. “I love-” Bam shook his head viciously, it sounded too much like goodbye, he didn’t want to hear it. Ville tightened his grip, “Yes! Yes I do...” Bam lifted his hands to the lapels of Ville’s jacket and concentrated on the contrast of his pale hand against the black fabric.
“Don’t say it, not now. Tell me tomorrow.” Hurt flickered through Ville’s eyes and he stared at Bam for a long second before trying to smile.
“It’s not our fault death is in love with us.” He sang softly and before Bam could react he was half way across the yard.
Bam fell to his knees onto the cold ground and watched the darkness swallow Ville whole. He looked up at the house and the last thing he saw before the white closed in and the buzz became deafening, was his brother and Linde standing in the open doorway with matching expressions of horror.

Everything was white after that.

~*~

Bam woke up with his arms wrapped to his elbows in thick white bandages and an ache across his entire body. He sat up with a jerk, his voice raw and his throat felt sore and dry. “Ville!” Strong hands pushed him down. “It’s alright, he’s safe, he’s okay.” And he could breathe again.
They told him he’d gone into a rage, said he’d smashed the patio doors and he’d screamed and cursed, lashing out at anybody that came hear him. When they tried to restrain him, he’d turned on himself; scratching and hitting himself into submission.
Novak looked shaken and whispered to him when they were alone that he’d just kept screaming and didn’t stop; his voice was shaky and his eyes were glassy like he was still seeing it.
Dico wouldn’t look at him and he was eerily quiet. Jess told him Dico had freaked out at the blood when he’d thrown his fists through the glass doors.
“Then you stopped.” Dunn whispered hoarsely later, when they sat alone in Bam’s room. “That was the worst part, it was like you just turned off and you just sat there in the middle of the broken glass, and it was...” he took a shuddered breath and Bam felt sick for scaring him. “It was like you were empty, you didn’t move, you just... stopped.” They sat for a while, listening to the wind howl outside. Through the partially open door Bam saw the slumped figure of his brother leaning against the wall, a silent vigil still watching out for him.
“Do you remember in year eight when I threw that chair across the room at that kid?” Dunn glanced sideways at him, but Bam focused on his hands, fiddling with a lose thread from his bandage. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jess’ head jerk up as he listened.
“Yeah, you said he was being a cunt, provoked you.” Dunn was frowning, trying to remember it all.
“I lied. I didn’t know why I did it.” Dunn shifted to look at him and Bam saw Jess leaning closer to the door. “I don’t remember doing it, or why. One moment I was standing there, then the next I was being held down and I was shouting.” Dunn pulled back and looked closer at Bam's down turned face.
“What? I don’t...” Bam bit his lip and avoided looking at anything, focusing on his hands, still fiddling with the thread, wrapping it around his fingertip again and again, turning his finger purple then blue, before letting it go and starting again.
“That time I jumped into the pool from the roof...” his voice was monotone and dull and he couldn’t feel the tension building in Dunn’s body next to him. “I don’t remember anything about it. There was a second when I was up there that I remember, but it was like I was watching a movie, then it’s all gone again and I just... I don’t remember.” They sat in silence for a few moments,
“That time with the car?” Dunn sounded like he didn’t want to know the answer but couldn’t stop the question from escaping. Bam nodded slowly and Dunn sighed, running his hands roughly through his hair. ”Shit Bam, why didn’t you say anything?” The string snapped and he lost it in the folds of the blanket.
“And what? Be more of a freak then I already am?” he snapped, his anger flaring but wilting just as quickly when he caught a glimpse of Dunn’s white face.
“Bam...” he could hear the tears in his best friends’ voice and his anger was replaced by self loathing.
“No, I just, it doesn’t happen all the time, just... sometimes.” They sank into a tense silence, Bam didn’t feel lighter; he didn’t feel like admitting this helped at all, he felt sick and something like shame washed through him. He closed his eyes and imagined he was running his fingers through Ville's soft curls as the taller boy curled up beside him, warm and safe and there.

~*~

The waiting room was painted a strange buttery-yellow cream with mint green highlights. The walls looked faded and grey; the bright florescent lights bathing everything in a harsh white light that washed the colours out of everything.
Bam couldn’t bring himself to sit down on the hard plastic chairs that smelt of old plastic and death, so instead he moved from wall to wall in the small waiting room, staring blindly at the posters and signs. The nurse at the desk cast him another exasperated look as he passed her desk again, rearranging the forms and pamphlets that sat on the counter distractedly for the fourth time in half an hour.  He drummed his fingers on the countertop and stared unseeingly at the clock and counted the ticks absently.
“They’ll be finished any minute now, why don’t you take a seat?” Bam blinked and looked at the nurse for the first time, she was maternal looking and firm, but like everything else in this hospital she was washed out and tired looking.
“No-, I mean, sure.” He muttered moving backwards to a chair.
He could hear the lights buzzing overhead, a low hum that became louder the more aware of them he became. A trolley rattled along a corridor to his left, an echoing tinny sound that was jarring and rhythm less compared to the steady ticking of the clock above the nurses’ station.
Bam shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers tunelessly on the hard plastic chair beside him. His eyes darted from surface to surface tracing the reflections on the shiny plastic floors.
In the distance someone sobbed loudly.
Bam stood up abruptly and the nurse shot him an aggravated look and sighed. Bam rubbed his damp palms on his jeans swallowing thickly as he tugged on his jacket sleeve absently to cover his bandages.
“I need to, I just have to.... ” he was already heading down the corridor. A child screamed down a passage to the right and it lasted three echoing ticks of the clock. “Forget I was here.” He turned on his heel producing a loud screeching sound and quickly made his way to the waiting lift, weaving through the orderlies, patients and trolleys. He didn’t breath again until he was exiting the large imposing white building and heading off down the street at a run.

~~

The board rolled below him, an extension of his legs, another limb. He moved fluidly through the perfectly practiced movements he knew better than breathing and walking. He panted steadily, eyes focused on his path and not seeing anything else, blind to any and all distractions. He was damp with sweat and his limbs tingled with exhaustion, his legs shaking worst with each kick.
The sun was moving across the sky and one group of skaters morphed into another, watching from a safe distance as Bam worked relentlessly, sometimes practicing stunts, sometimes just letting the board take him in a fluid path along the ramps. His lungs burnt and he shifted his stance again on the rough deck. He’d shed his jumper hours ago, the white of his bandages shocking in the clear sunlight, but now turning grey and dirty from the dust and sweat.
A rock lodged itself in his front wheel and he let himself fall, landing on his already bruised arm. He stayed on his knees, curling up on the hard concrete letting his body shiver and shake with dry sobs, before flopping down on his back and staring up at the sky. He lay still, watching as waifs of clouds floated across the expanse of blue. The world was spinning and his injuries hurt threefold. He didn’t even notice at first when his vision blurred with tears.
“I’d thought you might have been doing better.” A heavy accent broke through the silence that had settled around him. His head instinctively jerked to the side and his head slammed against the concrete. Briefly the vision of Linde standing a few meters away blurred before him.  He ground his teeth against the pain which flared up in his head and in his heart at hearing the accent so much like Ville’s and yet so different. Linde approached slowly, towering above him.“How is he?” Bam whispered, looking past Linde and back to the sky.
“Shit.” His voice was like a slap. “He won’t let anyone touch him, he won’t speak, barely eats... he’s broken, Bam.” Bam's chest exploded in pain and he found he had difficulty breathing. “Go and see him,” Linde pleaded.
“I can’t.” He whispered hoarsely.
“He wants to see you.” Linde was earnest, his eyes begging Bam to listen to him. Bam got up, searching for his board.
“I hate hospitals” he tossed over his shoulder to a bewildered Linde.
“Bam! You can’t just leave him! He loves you.” Bam swallowed back his tears and rubbed his face dry roughly with his bandaged arm before stepping onto his board.

~~

Warm afternoon light was fading and being replaced by the cool blue of twilight as Bam watched his feet walked along the pavement. It stretched on before him and he traced the cracks and breaks in the smooth white cement with his eyes as he passed, skateboard under his arm. A solid weight against his side, reassuring in its familiarity.
The sun was almost set when he pulled up in front of the dominating building. Red and yellow splashed like paint against the white building and flashed blindingly off the cars that made their way in and out of the car park. Bam sat on a bench beside the entrance and watched blankly as a frail looking woman with a bag of clear fluid attached to her by a thin tube, puffed eagerly at a cigarette as she sat hunched in her thin gown and wheel chair. An ambulance drove by and headed out into the roads to save a life or something and Bam pulled his arms closer to his chest.
The sun was fully set when he got up again, the chill was settling in his bones and he felt cold and hollow. With a deep breath he walked into the brightly lit entrance. He didn’t need to ask for direction and instead made his way to the bay of elevators beside the foyer. A family surveyed him with a critical eye as he stood beside them waiting for a lift. He tugged self consciously at his t shirt and wished he hadn’t left his jacket at the skate park so he could cover his bandaged arms and maybe  brought a beanie with him to hide his bruised face. The lift took forever to come and he chewed on his lip and stared anywhere but at the neat family beside him. He was about to turn around and walk straight out the door and maybe never stop, when the loud ping announced the lifts arrival.
The small enclosure felt cramped as the bodies piled in, the stench of detergent and the clinging smell of illness grew stronger in the small space and he swallowed and tried not to breathe it in. The young girl was whispering to her mother about her friend whose mum had a baby and she got to go and see her new sister when she was still tiny. Her mother nodded absently and cast a quick glance at Bam again, eyes straying to his torn jeans and dirty t-shirt.
The lift stopped and the family moved quickly along the brightly painted corridor. Maternity, Bam noted blankly, restraining himself from pushing the ground floor button and leaving. He tugged on his hair and counted the buttons three times to distract himself. He didn’t notice at first when he arrived at Ville’s floor.
When Bam was eight and had stayed in the hospital for weeks he remembered being wheeled along the long corridors by various orderlies and glancing into the rooms he passed. In one there had been an old woman who, each day when he was wheeled past, sat on the edge of her bed. She looked washed out and pale with her papery skin and white hair against the stark hospital gown she wore. She was always staring down at her arthritic hands and sang softy to herself. Nobody ever came to visit her that Bam saw. One day she was still lying in the bed when Bam was wheeled past, and the next day, the bed was stripped and empty. He might have been a child, but a part of him knew she hadn’t gone home.
There was a young girl who shared his room; she was a small girl with wide brown eyes and rosy cheeks against her pale hair. At night she sometimes snuck across the quiet ward and sat perched on the edge of his bed. She told him her name was Lisa, and she liked fairies and apple pies. She told him her mother was a busy woman and she had a little brother she didn’t like much.
Bam asked her why she was in here, and she shrugged and looked at the wall over his shoulder.
Bam would watch when her family came to visit; her mother cooed and fussed about her, before being distracted and taking a phone call, murmuring quietly into the mobile phone in the doorway of the room for the rest of the visit. Her brother sat on the floor and played with a soft toy, a year old at most. But Bam didn’t watch these things, instead he focused on how Lisa’s face grew pale and blank as her tall, broad father sat on the edge of her bed and ran his hands along her arms in an imitation of comfort. Sometimes when they left, Lisa would look across at him and Bam saw the same emptiness in her eyes that he saw in his own when he looked in a mirror.
Bam hated hospitals because of the smell and the strange reflected light and the hundreds of memories of doctors who asked stupid questions over and over and grew frustrated when he couldn’t answer them right. He hated the memories of cool hands that poked and prodded him and eyes that stared at him with pity when he cried and begged for them to stop.

Bam stood at the doorway of Ville’s room, the room was pale and unremarkable like every other room in this place. Ville was lying in bed, and looked like a child on the oversized mattress. His hair was matted and fanned around him on the crinkly pillows and his hands rested lifelessly on top of the blanket. He looked so pale, and the blue smudges along his skin stood out disturbingly in the harsh white light from above. Ville was staring out the window and breathing slowly, deep breaths, the only suggestion that he was alive.
“You look like shit Willa.” Ville rolled his head to look at Bam in the doorway. His eyes widened slightly and his face relaxed imperceptibly.
“Shit Bammie, what the hell happened to you?” he breathed, his eyes trailing across the exposed bruises and settling for a time on the frayed white bandages on his arms. Bam shrugged and took a step into the room.
“Got into a fight with a unicorn.” He muttered as he made his way to the side of the bed, fingering the metal frames he glanced up at Ville. “I lost.” Ville blinked slowly at him and shook his head sinking back into the pillows.
“Sometimes I wonder about you, Bam.” Silence enveloped the pair, Ville studying Bam's down turned face and Bam stared down at his hands.
“Why are you here?”  The why not before was left unsaid.
“I guess I came to say goodbye” Ville made a move as through to sit up, but stopped before he had even raised an inch off the bed.
“Goodbye?” he almost whispered. Bam avoided his gaze and stared at his hands which fiddled on the bed frame.
“I think it would be best for you if we... if you moved on.” He murmured, trying to convincing himself as he spoke.
“I don’t want to move on.” He spoke acidly, staring at Bam disbelievingly. 
“You should.” he snapped, before making the mistake of looking up at Ville. “Shit Ville, I’m broken, you should have something better.” He pleaded, staring into his lovers eyes, ignoring the tingling that pricked at the back of his eyes.
“I’m not exactly straight off the production line myself,” Ville drawled, and Bam remembered how much he liked Ville’s wit.
“But you can be, you can be fixed now. That bastard is arrested, your mum is safe... you can get better now, become a success. You’re so beautiful and strong and talented, you deserve so much better than a fucked up, broken piece of shit.” He didn’t want to think about Ville with anybody else, Ville’s hands on someone else’s body, Ville's voice whispering in someone else’s ear.
“Maybe I want that broken piece of shit” Bam almost smiled before growing angry.
“Why the hell would you want that? Who wants some coward that lets the man he loves go off and get beaten half to death?” he hissed, keeping his voice low, purely because it was a hospital. If they’d been anywhere else he would have been shouting, shaking Ville to try and get him to understand how desperately not good for him Bam was.
“Bam you didn’t let me, it was my decision.” Ville’s voice was softer, and he made an aborted move to reach out for him.
“I should have stopped you.” Bam's own anger evaporated and he felt tears begin to choke him.
“You tried.” Ville whispered and Bam shook his head furiously, his own curls slapping him in his face.
“Not hard enough.” He hissed through gritted teeth.
“Bam I don’t want someone else, I want you. “ Bam opened his mouth to protest but Ville wouldn’t let him. “No, shut up. I want you, with the missing memories, and the bizarre routines, who has nightmares and hates the cold and who makes me feel safer than anyone else ever has.” His voice was strained as he spoke, choked by his own tears. “I want to be there, to stop you hurting yourself and hold you when you dream about dying.” Bam stared at him, eyes wet though he refused to cry.
“But you can move on, you can be normal,” he whispered, a weak attempt to convince Ville even when his own determination was dwindling.
“I’m never going to be normal. Bam.” Ville’s voice was heartbreaking as he spoke softly, barely above a whisper. “I’m not alright; I can’t sleep without dreaming about it, I can’t close my eyes without seeing it. He may be arrested but he’s still fucking with me.” He took a shuddering breath. ”All I know is that when I’m with you I feel safe and like nothing in this world can hurt me again.” They were silent, both breathing slowly. It hurt to look at each other but at the same time they couldn’t bear to look away, as though this was the last time they would ever get the chance to see the other.
“I should have stopped you.” Bam whispered one final time, his voice choked with tears.
“I wouldn’t have let you.” Ville's voice was firm, and he stared up at Bam’s face sadly. “Is it tomorrow yet?” Ville finally asked. Bam stared at him confused for a second before a bright smile spread across his face. Tell me tomorrow. His own voice rang through his ears, the last seconds before there’s nothing but white.
 “Yeah.. yeah I think it is.” An answering smile spread across Ville’s bruised face and Bam felt his heart swell.
“I love you Bammie.” His voice was soft, and Bam felt happiness explode through his body. Slowly, he climbed up onto the bed, moving gently, so as not to jostle his injured companion.
“Good. Because you’re not getting rid of me now.” The two boys lay on the small hospital bed; bruised limbs entwined, heads close together on the crinkly pillows, sharing breaths as hurt fingers trailed over smiling broken features.
A/N Please comment! because you love me and comments are the best way to show love :D

Epilogue