Scent of Fear: Chapter 25
Title: Scent of Fear
Chapter: Twenty-Five
Fandom: Whose Line is it Anyway/Green Screen
Genre: Slash; Murder mystery; Thriller
Pairing(s): Brad/Ryan. Drew/Greg. Colin/Wayne.
Warnings: Some strong language.
Disclaimer: Don't own Whose Line. Not making money from this.
A/N: AU. A fic based on Kay Hooper’s Fear series.
Okay, the old plot for this has been well and truly lost. I can't remember it at all. So I have a new one which should hopefully fit with what I've done so far - if I write anything that contradicts anything I've previously written, just take the new information as correct and I'll go back and change the rest later :)
More should be coming soon, then I'll update Evergreen ^_^
Oh, and this chapter is supposed to make little sense.
-----
Brad ran a hand across the maple wood desk in Drew's spare room, his fingers delicately tracing the intricate carvings.
"Sorry it's such a mess," Drew said quietly from the door.
Brad looked around. The room did have quite a lot of furniture in it - a King-sized bed with dark green linen, two matching nightstands, a tall chest of drawers, a large wardrobe, a green couch , a couple of chairs and a TV - but it was far from cluttered. Aside from a vase on one of the nightstands and a clock on the other, it actually looked fairly bare.
"It's fine," he told Drew with a warm smile.
Drew smiled back, "If you need anything, I'll be downstairs in the library with Chip." He backed out of the room closing the door as he went.
Brad glanced over to the open window where Ryan was standing, propping back one of the velvety green curtains with one finger and gazing out over Drew's back garden, watching the water dance in the granite fountain.
Almost poetic, Brad thought, and had to stifle a laugh as he walked over to him.
"You okay?" he asked, putting his right arm around Ryan's waist and plunging his left hand into his jeans pocket.
"I'm cold," Ryan said with a hoarse voice.
Brad chuckled, "Maybe that's because you're standing next to an open window in the middle of October?"
"No," Ryan said distantly, "I mean...cold...on the inside...I don't think..."
"Woah!" Brad staggered as Ryan became limp in his arms. "Oh, fuck, not again..." he picked Ryan up and put him on the bed, then sat next to him and held his ice-cold hand, "Probably should have told you you're a medium, huh? I'm sorry, Ry..."
-----
"Wayne will be here soon," Chip said as Drew entered the room, "Just got off the phone with him. Oh, and I'm sorry if he seems uncontrollably happy. He just had sex with his boyfriend. Not that you wanted to know that," he added hastily.
Drew laughed and waved a hand, "Don't bother. Greg wasn't exactly the most modest of men. Nor was he the most quiet. I'm used to it."
Chip smiled and pulled his jacket a little tighter around himself.
"Are you cold?" Drew asked, "Because I can put the heating on-"
"Nah, I'm okay," Chip said, "My jacket should be enough."
"You sure, man? You look really pale."
"Really?"
Drew swallowed as he noticed the hint of panic in Chip's tone, "Is this...do you think it's a...a psychic thing, or...?"
Chip nodded, "I think something's coming..."
Drew put his arms around Chip's shoulders and led him over to the loveseat at the far end of the library, "Lie down here. Just relax. I'll get you a glass of water."
Chip didn't hear most of it. He'd drifted off into a deep sleep.
-----
"Oh, crap..."
Ryan had the feeling he'd never get used to this sensation, floating in nothingness.
"Okay, I'm here," he said, pointlessly trying to regain his balance, "What do you want?"
The silence weighed heavily on his ears. He looked around. He saw nothing but empty white space.
He shuddered. That piercing, freezing cold. As soon as he'd felt it in Drew's spare room he'd known he'd end up here. It was almost reassuring - the coldness he felt had an explanation. Bizarre as it was.
"Hello...voice?"
Still nothing. He thought for a moment.
"I...I trust you."
Probably fruitless, but worth a try.
Good.
Ryan sighed with relief.
I know where you are.
Ryan raised his eyebrows, "You do?"
In reality, yes.
"In...in reality, what do you mean?"
This is not reality.
Ryan snorted, "Yeah..."
Not as you know it. It's real. But not reality.
"This is real, then?"
As real as my voice.
Ryan paused, "Is that a joke?"
I always was a jester. Drew will tell you that.
"Drew? How do you...? Wait..."
He searched his memory, a task that seemed almost impossible in this environment. His thought patterns were scattered and sparse, and his emotions were bubbling and amalgamated. Thinking straight was pressurising and made his head hurt, but he kept at it.
That morning. Guilt. Brad. He'd woken up feeling guilty because...because he'd almost killed Brad in the night. A raven...no, there was more before that...sex with Brad. Yes, they'd made up over breakfast. Sometimes rather literally. Ryan giggled.
Concentrate!
A raven glaring at him. He'd come back to that when it made any sense... A park. A psychic. A flood. No, no, before all that. Drew. Drew had accused him of murdering...
"Greg?"
And now I can trust you, Ryan.
Shit.
They would never believe this. Brad and Drew and...hell, he doubted even Chip had some ass-crazy psychic explanation for this.
Suddenly, something inside him swelled; an intense rush of hope that made him pleasantly ache. Only living people can speak, right?
"Greg...are you...are you dead?"
Yes.
Damn...
I don't know why I'm dead.
-----
"Your move."
The voice came from Chip's mouth, but it wasn't his voice. It wasn't even Chip. He didn't know who the hell he was.
In front of him was a huge chess board, at least twice the size of a regular board. The squares were crooked and distorted. The pieces were tiny, particularly the pawns.
Opposite him, another man was sat in almost total darkness, with only a sliver of light cutting diagonally across his teary eyes. He remained motionless, too frightened to make a move.
Or...was he frightened? On first glance, it appeared the game and the tears were related, but maybe he was crying over something else. Something that made him oblivious to the game.
"Your move."
.x.Sess.x.
Chapter: Twenty-Five
Fandom: Whose Line is it Anyway/Green Screen
Genre: Slash; Murder mystery; Thriller
Pairing(s): Brad/Ryan. Drew/Greg. Colin/Wayne.
Warnings: Some strong language.
Disclaimer: Don't own Whose Line. Not making money from this.
A/N: AU. A fic based on Kay Hooper’s Fear series.
Okay, the old plot for this has been well and truly lost. I can't remember it at all. So I have a new one which should hopefully fit with what I've done so far - if I write anything that contradicts anything I've previously written, just take the new information as correct and I'll go back and change the rest later :)
More should be coming soon, then I'll update Evergreen ^_^
Oh, and this chapter is supposed to make little sense.
-----
Brad ran a hand across the maple wood desk in Drew's spare room, his fingers delicately tracing the intricate carvings.
"Sorry it's such a mess," Drew said quietly from the door.
Brad looked around. The room did have quite a lot of furniture in it - a King-sized bed with dark green linen, two matching nightstands, a tall chest of drawers, a large wardrobe, a green couch , a couple of chairs and a TV - but it was far from cluttered. Aside from a vase on one of the nightstands and a clock on the other, it actually looked fairly bare.
"It's fine," he told Drew with a warm smile.
Drew smiled back, "If you need anything, I'll be downstairs in the library with Chip." He backed out of the room closing the door as he went.
Brad glanced over to the open window where Ryan was standing, propping back one of the velvety green curtains with one finger and gazing out over Drew's back garden, watching the water dance in the granite fountain.
Almost poetic, Brad thought, and had to stifle a laugh as he walked over to him.
"You okay?" he asked, putting his right arm around Ryan's waist and plunging his left hand into his jeans pocket.
"I'm cold," Ryan said with a hoarse voice.
Brad chuckled, "Maybe that's because you're standing next to an open window in the middle of October?"
"No," Ryan said distantly, "I mean...cold...on the inside...I don't think..."
"Woah!" Brad staggered as Ryan became limp in his arms. "Oh, fuck, not again..." he picked Ryan up and put him on the bed, then sat next to him and held his ice-cold hand, "Probably should have told you you're a medium, huh? I'm sorry, Ry..."
-----
"Wayne will be here soon," Chip said as Drew entered the room, "Just got off the phone with him. Oh, and I'm sorry if he seems uncontrollably happy. He just had sex with his boyfriend. Not that you wanted to know that," he added hastily.
Drew laughed and waved a hand, "Don't bother. Greg wasn't exactly the most modest of men. Nor was he the most quiet. I'm used to it."
Chip smiled and pulled his jacket a little tighter around himself.
"Are you cold?" Drew asked, "Because I can put the heating on-"
"Nah, I'm okay," Chip said, "My jacket should be enough."
"You sure, man? You look really pale."
"Really?"
Drew swallowed as he noticed the hint of panic in Chip's tone, "Is this...do you think it's a...a psychic thing, or...?"
Chip nodded, "I think something's coming..."
Drew put his arms around Chip's shoulders and led him over to the loveseat at the far end of the library, "Lie down here. Just relax. I'll get you a glass of water."
Chip didn't hear most of it. He'd drifted off into a deep sleep.
-----
"Oh, crap..."
Ryan had the feeling he'd never get used to this sensation, floating in nothingness.
"Okay, I'm here," he said, pointlessly trying to regain his balance, "What do you want?"
The silence weighed heavily on his ears. He looked around. He saw nothing but empty white space.
He shuddered. That piercing, freezing cold. As soon as he'd felt it in Drew's spare room he'd known he'd end up here. It was almost reassuring - the coldness he felt had an explanation. Bizarre as it was.
"Hello...voice?"
Still nothing. He thought for a moment.
"I...I trust you."
Probably fruitless, but worth a try.
Good.
Ryan sighed with relief.
I know where you are.
Ryan raised his eyebrows, "You do?"
In reality, yes.
"In...in reality, what do you mean?"
This is not reality.
Ryan snorted, "Yeah..."
Not as you know it. It's real. But not reality.
"This is real, then?"
As real as my voice.
Ryan paused, "Is that a joke?"
I always was a jester. Drew will tell you that.
"Drew? How do you...? Wait..."
He searched his memory, a task that seemed almost impossible in this environment. His thought patterns were scattered and sparse, and his emotions were bubbling and amalgamated. Thinking straight was pressurising and made his head hurt, but he kept at it.
That morning. Guilt. Brad. He'd woken up feeling guilty because...because he'd almost killed Brad in the night. A raven...no, there was more before that...sex with Brad. Yes, they'd made up over breakfast. Sometimes rather literally. Ryan giggled.
Concentrate!
A raven glaring at him. He'd come back to that when it made any sense... A park. A psychic. A flood. No, no, before all that. Drew. Drew had accused him of murdering...
"Greg?"
And now I can trust you, Ryan.
Shit.
They would never believe this. Brad and Drew and...hell, he doubted even Chip had some ass-crazy psychic explanation for this.
Suddenly, something inside him swelled; an intense rush of hope that made him pleasantly ache. Only living people can speak, right?
"Greg...are you...are you dead?"
Yes.
Damn...
I don't know why I'm dead.
-----
"Your move."
The voice came from Chip's mouth, but it wasn't his voice. It wasn't even Chip. He didn't know who the hell he was.
In front of him was a huge chess board, at least twice the size of a regular board. The squares were crooked and distorted. The pieces were tiny, particularly the pawns.
Opposite him, another man was sat in almost total darkness, with only a sliver of light cutting diagonally across his teary eyes. He remained motionless, too frightened to make a move.
Or...was he frightened? On first glance, it appeared the game and the tears were related, but maybe he was crying over something else. Something that made him oblivious to the game.
"Your move."
.x.Sess.x.