Another fever. Bad this time, too. Tanim slides the back of his hand from Daren’s hot brow and down his cheek, brushing his thumb over the man’s cracked lips. He wonders again, as he has wondered so often since they met, what monster left such lasting damage on his companion. Bruises fade; bones heal; but the nightmares, the physical and emotional trauma, the brokenness verging on madness, those will cripple Daren the rest of his life. Of course, Daren will never admit the abuse he’s suffered or the identity of his abuser. And normally Tanim would respect this decision, honor Daren’s need to keep the darkest aspects of his past to himself, but tonight…

Tonight Tanim can’t bear to watch Daren twist and shiver in the fever’s hold, eyes glassy and breath uneven, too weak to block out the terrors which claw at the edges of his consciousness. Tanim’s heart aches with the knowledge that nothing he can do will fix Daren, rage rising in his throat with the burn of sour bile. He can’t fix Daren, no, but he can bring his lover a modicum of vengeance. Taking Daren’s limp hand in his, Tanim leans over and asks softly, “Who was it, Daren?”

“Nnn…” Daren shakes his head dizzily, eyelids fluttering, not yet delirious enough to answer.  “Stop, Tan…”

“Shh…” Tanim strokes Daren’s cool skin. “It’s okay,” he soothes. “Tell me, darling. Please.”

“I-I…” Black eyes try to focus, fail, and Daren turns his face into the sweat damp pillow with another shiver. The sickness is pulling him back down into uneasy sleep and Tanim knows now is his best chance to draw the secret from Daren’s disoriented mind. “Tell me, Daren,” he urges gently, gliding his fingers through the man’s silky hair as he bends so close their lips nearly touch. “Tell me who hurt you all those years ago, my love. It’s easy; just say one name. Let me bring you justice. Please, Daren.”

Shuddering, Daren speaks a name and sinks into fevered sleep. Tanim smiles.

“Thank you, darling.”

Daren hurts. Every part of him hurts. He knows he should get up but he can’t bear to move a single muscle and so he remains crumpled on the floor, head cradled in Tanim’s lap like a sick child. He knows, too, that he shouldn’t speak, yet he finds his cracked lips parting and the unexpected, unwanted question rasping softly, “Why me, Tanim? I’m not worth it.” A tremor shudders up his body and he breaks off for a moment as his muscles spasm. After, sucking in a pained breath, he forces himself to continue, though now the words barely escape his lips. “I’ll hurt you. You’ll be the one left behind. Right now you’re lonely, but at least you’re not grieving.”

Tanim sighs over him in the darkness. He arrived too late during this latest attack, nightmare or seizure or whatever strikes Daren so violently, to keep the man from tumbling out of bed and earning yet another set of bruises. Daren knows Tanim blames himself for that – for a lot of things. Tanim’s fingers glide absently over Daren’s sweat damp hair as he replies with painful honesty, “Of course I’m grieving. I’m grieving for you; for what I don’t have but can’t let go of. I’d rather grieve for what I’ve lost than what I’ve never known.” He swallows to steady his voice before adding, “Have faith in me, Daren. Please.”

Daren means to laugh at such naïveté yet the sound that emerges from his aching throat is closer to a whimper than a mocking snort. “You’re a fool, Tanim,” he chastises, but instead of pulling away he turns his face into the solid warmth of Tanim’s thigh. He hurts so deeply that when Tanim replies gently, “You’re no less of one,” Daren doesn’t even bother arguing. Instead he allows the soothing caress of Tanim’s fingers through his hair to lull him into an exhausted and mercifully dream-free sleep.

[ This piece gave me soooo much trouble. Jeeze. ]

The shadows hid him well, and from Tanim’s vantage point in the alley mouth he could watch passersby without being seen himself. He had waited hours in this same spot and would wait hours more if necessary. Eventually his quarry would cross into the light of the streetlamp and they would be reunited, albeit briefly.

It was Daren. Tanim felt the surety of this in his blood, in his bones. Twenty years may have passed; he may have known his companion at thirty, while this young man could be no more than nineteen; still, he knew they were one and the same. Something subtle first tipped him off, a familiar coolness in the eyes or a certain grace in the movements, and so he waited and watched and yes, he recognized the old spirit in this new body. Tanim had found his lover again.

But things would work out no better this time than last. At least then they had been closer in age and in similar situations. What would this young boy want with an aging alcoholic who silenced his nightmares with sleeping pills? Tanim had struggled to win Daren over once yet he had no misguided belief he could do it again. Not now. If the system wanted to play them, though, then Tanim would play the system right back. He understood the rules of the game now. Life for death; death for life. He could laugh, it was so simple. Laugh or weep.

Footsteps. Tanim drew in a silent, steadying breath, fingers shifting around the grip of the gun. He knew Daren, or whatever this most recent incarnation’s name was, wouldn’t appreciate the poetic justice of using the same gun this time around that Daren used on himself so many years ago. Yet it seemed proper to come full circle and Tanim could think of no more fitting method for their demise and reunion.

“Daren,”

The young man turned his head at the unfamiliar voice as he stepped beneath the streetlight. Tanim did not give him time to ask “who?” before he pulled him into the darkness.

“Oh…” Daren relaxed against the headboard with a satisfied moan, eyes closed and lips curved in pleasure. From somewhere farther down the bed Tanim chuckled, the mattress shifting as he rolled onto his back, and gloated, “I told you.” The younger man snorted. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. You’re very talented, darling.” A comfortable, sated silence fell over them for a moment before Daren added thoughtfully, “You know, if anyone knew how we are together, they’d think you’re whipped. Maybe it’s good you don’t talk to your family.”

“So?” Tanim stretched languidly, inching up until his head rested near Daren’s shoulder. “I’m not ashamed I enjoy being ordered around by you. I’ve always been drawn to authority.” A sly smile crept over his lips. “And arrogance.” Daren ignored the quip but the teasing smirk on his own mouth undermined his admonishing tone. “Still, you shouldn’t do everything I want all the time; you’ll spoil me.”

“Spoil you?” It was Tanim’s turn to snort and arch one black eyebrow. “You’re in my bed, aren’t you?”

“Oh, come on,” Daren rolled over, propping himself up with one elbow on each side of his lover’s chest, legs slotted between Tanim’s. “This is hardly your bed anymore,” he purred, gently biting at Tanim’s lower lip. “And besides, I’m not always this… companionable.” Stifling a moan, Tanim slid his arms around Daren’s slender waist and pulled the man close, freeing his mouth to seek the tender hollow just below Daren’s jaw. “I don’t mind,” he murmured into the velvet skin. “Really.”

“No?” Daren’s soft laughter rumbled against Tanim’s chest and though he questioned the older man, his body eased into the embrace. “Even when I’m delusional? Half mad? Even when I say cruel things to you?” Tanim nuzzled his face into the curve of Daren’s neck and exhaled a dreamy sigh. “When you’re wild and feral, when I think you might hurt me, oh yes, I love you then as well. Always.”

Daren seemed content with the answer and they lapsed into silence again, a tangle of loose limbs and idly wandering mouths, until without warning he delivered a sharp bite to Tanim’s earlobe. “Arrogant, am I?” he growled, hips grinding Tanim against the mattress. His companion squirmed in mock struggle, fingers digging into bare skin as he swore, “In an unbelievably attractive way, I promise.”

[ I don’t mean to make it seem like Tanim and Daren spend ALL their time in bed, but… well, they spend a lot of time in bed. XD ]

Tanim had thought it would be easier than this. He assumed by the time the end came he would be used to silence, to absence, to aloneness. After all, had he not already been alone so much of the time? Not physically, perhaps, but in other ways. There were times he hadn’t even been sure Daren was aware of his presence, to say nothing of whether the man actually desired his companionship. His eyes, already too dark to read anything within their depths, would go flat and distant as if Daren saw some different place and time, or perhaps nothing at all. Tanim could hardly blame Daren if he had removed himself in those moments on purpose; after all, Tanim might have done the same to escape the constant pain if he’d been the one trapped in a failing body. Yet forced to watch Daren be there physically and yet so very not there emotionally, Tanim had thought this a small glimpse into his future. A sense of what it would be like to move through empty, untouched rooms, to once more lay awake without the comfort of another’s warm weight pressed to his side. He had been wrong, of course. This was loneliness beyond anything he had even begun to imagine in the dark nights of those final months and weeks. Watching Daren waste away had broken his heart, true, but losing him removed it completely.

In his dream the air reeks of ozone, each particle so charged they seem to scrape and snag against his skin, pressed back by the beat of great wings, and upon waking his chest still vibrates with the force of Daren’s voice, a thing more felt than heard as the man turned creature, demon, angel promises, “I will burn them; I will burn them all.”

Daren didn’t rise at 3 AM this time when the thumping above his head woke him from a sound sleep. The attic creeped him out enough in the daylight – and no wonder, now that he knew the noises weren’t floorboards settling or tree branches bumping against the glass– so he had no desire to spend any more time in that dusty space in the dark. Instead he waited until the afternoon sun shone through the single high window before ascending the slick wooden stairs, a flashlight stuck into his belt in case a stray cloud plunged the attic into darkness. He wondered briefly why none of the past residents had bothered to install a light up here, but then snorted at his own folly as he remembered the attic’s resident seemed rather protective of the space.

“Tanim?” Old boxes and sheet-draped furniture muffled Daren’s hesitant call. There was always the chance the specter wouldn’t show. Part of Daren still hoped he’d just gone off the deep end, that the conversation he’d held with a ghost while last standing up here had been either an extremely vivid dream or the beginnings of schizophrenia. Either seemed preferable to the truth, and while standing in the dim space he tried not to think of the brief glimpses he’d caught at the corners of his eyes since, or the constant sensation of being watched.

“I thought you were ignoring me,”

Even knowing Tanim could sneak up on him, Daren still twitched at the sudden voice from behind and turned with a nervous swallow. Dust motes sparkled in the sunlight, disappearing as they passed through Tanim’s opaque yet insubstantial form. If Daren’s mind had conjured the young man standing before him the delusion was certainly convincing, right down to the unsettling weight of Tanim’s gaze. Daren almost said I was ignoring you, or trying to at least. You’re a fucking ghost. You shouldn’t even be possible, but instead he countered with the first question that came to mind.

“Why did you do it?”

Tanim tilted his head back, providing Daren a perfect view of the bruise hugging his pale throat, and stared up into the rafters as if searching for the rope long molded away. “I was afraid,” he replied, dropping his gaze back down. “And ashamed. It was the only way out. I was supposed to be free.” There was no trace of fear or shame in Tanim’s voice now despite his heartbreaking words. Daren wondered if the specter even felt those emotions anymore or if he simply remembered the words for a sensation long forgotten. Maybe words and places were all you had left to cling to when you were dead and trapped in this earthly purgatory. He hoped he never found out for himself.

“What were you ashamed of?” Daren tried to focus on Tanim’s eerie eyes but his own kept wandering to the bruise. As if sensing Daren’s discomfort, though surely he was unable to read such subtle human cues now, Tanim averted his gaze enough to hide the mark of his mistake. “I wanted something I should not want.”

The ghost didn’t need to elaborate. Although Tanim’s eyes held no light and his voice no emotion, enough of a last vestige of humanity lingered for Daren to interpret the expression on his face. He’d seen it on his own enough times in the past, after all, especially in the beginning. He thought about saying things were better for their kind now, but what good would that do Tanim? He couldn’t even leave the house, let alone settle down in a committed relationship. If Tanim did fall in love it would have to be with someone inside these walls, and right now the only person who qualified was— oh no. Daren refused to go there. “So you…” He gestured around the dim attic, failing to summon the right words, “…did this. And you’ve been here ever since.”

“Mother wouldn’t stop sobbing,” The corners of Tanim’s mouth twitched but never pulled into the grimace Daren suspected he meant to display. “Father had to have the doctor come every morning for three days to dose her. They took my sisters and left our home after that, but I don’t know where they went. They never came back.”

With the loss of his own parents still so raw, so painful, Daren couldn’t ignore the comment. Phantom or no, Tanim didn’t deserve the years of isolation spent in this empty house while the people and world he loved passed away. Daren closed the few feet between them and reached out to touch Tanim’s hand in hopes the contact might provide some comfort. Unlike the dust motes, his fingers didn’t pass through; the skin they touched was as real as his own, albeit cooler, and beneath that skin solid bones shifted as Tanim turned his hand over. “Are you alone like me, Daren?” the specter asked softly. Before Daren could draw back, Tanim wrapped his hand around the living man’s wrist in a grip firm yet not entirely unpleasant. This time a small smile did draw up his lips as he brushed his thumb over Daren’s palm and murmured in wonder, “You’re so warm. I had forgotten what it felt like.”

“Oh, fuck,” Daren yanked his hand away with a strangled curse. Maybe Tanim didn’t have a heartbeat anymore but his raced at the touch, blood surging at the sound of his own name spoken in that low silky voice, and for all the wrong reasons. He’s a ghost. He’s a ghost, he’s a ghost, he’s a ghost. He’s a goddamn ghost. This is insane. He backed up blindly, throat too choked to even mutter an excuse or farewell, and turned when his heel slid over the lip of the first stair. He nearly slipped as he stumbled weak-legged down the attic steps but Daren’s mind wasn’t on physical safety, just on getting away from those staring eyes. Tanim could seek him out anywhere in the house, of course, but there was something so disorienting about the attic that Daren knew he wouldn’t go back up there willingly. He’d stay downstairs and pretend the 3 AM sounds were nothing more than a creaky old house.

A creaky old house haunted by a painfully attractive ghost.

Fuck.

[ This story is a continuation/fragment of a story originally written by my friend Stacy. The original one-shot is soooooo good you should definitely check it out – at least, if you want to see how this turns out. I included links to the companion pieces as well. ]

If Daren concentrated, he could just make out a faint smudge under Tanim’s chin, a line that disappeared into his hair…  (The original one-shot by Stacy)

Tanim waited. He was good at waiting. He’d been waiting a long time, after all…  (An added “ending”, also written by Stacy)

Daren’s heart lurched in a thud eerily reminiscent of the mysterious thunk from the attic – or, he realized with a sudden sick understanding, like the sound of a chair being kicked over… (A piece written by me that takes place earlier than any of the other stories)

“You left,” It was almost an accusation, nearly a plea, but as usual the words fell dull from Tanim’s lips. (Daren finally makes his decision, for better or worse)