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Choices
By TalithaX
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Handing my entrance fee over without comment to the half-comatose looking doorman, I step through the door into Fantasia. Loud, pulsating dance music assails my hearing and I bite back a sigh as my eyes adjust to the dim, ambient lighting of the club. Despite the witching hour having come and gone hours ago, Fantasia is buzzing. I can't see the bar for the throng of bodies pushed against it. And, well, let's just put it this way, it would take a braver man than me to try and elbow my way onto the packed dance floor. Scantily clad bodies bump and grind against each other, lost in the rhythm of the music. Be it thanks to alcohol or other, less socially acceptable drugs or not, everyone looks happy. I don't know whether to be envious of their simple, inane pleasure or to feel pity for them.

Having come to Fantasia for reasons far removed from a desire to drink, dance and be merry, I glance around me, carefully looking for what I know is hidden here. Spotting it in the form of an unobtrusive looking door next to the bar, I make my way towards it, carelessly pushing my way through the crowd. Those that want to tell me to watch the fuck where I'm going take one look at my face and quickly decide not to bother, that I'm best left to my own devices.

Reaching the door, I read the small, silver print stencilled on it and know that I'm in the right place.

Fantasy. Members Only.

Noticing my interest in the door, a man dressed in a pair of tight fitting black leather trousers and nothing else places himself in front of it. "No membership, no entry," he states disinterestedly, his cold, blue eyed gaze flicking over me.

Prepared for this, I stare flatly at the man and, bringing the fingers of my right hand together, spark up. He watches, his expression impassive, as I hit the electronic keypad protecting the door with just the right voltage to open it. "I forgot my card," I mutter, shrugging.

His eyes briefly glowing orange, giving away his Feral nature, the man steps back into the shadows. "Enjoy your visit," he murmurs, bowing slightly.

Ignoring him, I push through the door and, leaving the public face of Fantasia behind me, step into Fantasy.

Fantasy. The city's premier club for the discerning gentleman with liberal, extreme tastes and the ability to turn a blind eye. Adam calls it a new mutant brothel. The fact that all his attempts to shut it down have been unsuccessful isn't something he likes to talk about. Me, I have no opinions on the subject. To each their own and all that. Those that work here do so of their own volition, and get paid well for it. Contrary to Adam's vehement opinions on the subject it's more of a gay sex club than it is a brothel anyway. Members pay an exorbitant yearly fee for the privilege of having their fantasies brought to life while new mutants, because it helps the club's reputation, get in for free. Again, to each their own. God knows I'm not here to judge.

Framed photographs of scenes that would make Adam see red line the walls of the reception area. Picking up a preference questionnaire from the unattended desk, I pay the pictures no attention and concentrate on placing ticks in the relevant boxes.

Top or bottom?

Bottom.

Safe word?

No, I don't need a safe word and understand that by ticking this box I absolve Fantasy from any blame for any harm that may come to me.

Preferred Mutation - Elemental, Feral, Psionic, Molecular?

Molecular.

If you have any specific requests in respect to appearance, please list them here.

Don't care.

The ticks come to me effortlessly.

I've just finished completing the questionnaire when, right on cue, a slim man in white, loose fitting silk pants materialises behind the desk. Wordlessly he takes my sheet and, his expression unreadable, gestures that I should follow him. A dim part of me thinks that I should find the whole
scenario surreal, but I don't. Quite frankly I'm too numb to care much about anything at the moment.

All I want is to be abused, for my body to ache like the blackness consuming my heart.

Want...

No, need.

Need...

No, deserve.

I'm here because -- he won't, would *never*, do it -- it's where I deserve to be.

For the high cost of the past week, I deserve the pain. And if this is the only way I can achieve it then, well, so be it. I'm here and I'm going to take it because it's what I deserve.

Want. Need. Deserve. Crave.

Anything to alter the source of the obliterating pain.

Following the man in the white pants deep into the bowels of Fantasy, I feel nothing as I take in the debauched scenes taking place around me. An orgy is in full swing in what I suppose has to be the main room. In the centre, sprawled on a mound of brightly coloured cushions, an overweight middle aged man is having sparks of electricity shot through his cock and balls by a
young, bored looking Elemental. In another room two naked and muscular Ferals are wrestling each other for the prize of getting to top while men stand around watching and stroking themselves.

I look at these scenes and still I feel nothing.

Stopping in front of an open door, my guide indicates that I should step into the room and, autopilot well and truly ruling me, I do just that. The room is empty save for a double bed, a black lacquer chest of drawers, and a large, floor length mirror embedded in one of the blood red walls. For a
second I'm almost disappointed. I don't know why, I just am. Perhaps I was expecting an BDSM dungeon. Who fucking knows. I sure as hell don't.

But, hey, what else is new.

Walking further into the room, I turn to face the man just as a list of instructions are flashed Psionically into my mind.

// Undress. Relax. Make yourself comfortable. Your choice will be with you shortly. //

His job done, the man hesitates over closing the door and, pausing in the doorway, gazes at me. "Your motives are pure, yet misguided, dreadfully so," he comments softly, shaking his head. "The one you do this for would not want it. Nor, seeing things differently to you, would he understand.
It is however, as I can read so clearly from you, your choice, one that I know I can not sway you from." With that, his cryptic piece said, he pulls the door shut and disappears.

Alone, my heart beating dully in my chest, I stare at the door for a moment before deciding to get undressed. Just like that. As the saying -- sorta -- goes, I've made my bed and now I have every intention of lying face down on it. Or, to put it another way, I'm going to see through what I've started. It's not, not if I want the darkness in my head and heart to shift, like I have any other choice. Not to my way of thinking, anyway. There just isn't.

Stripping quickly, perfunctorily, I throw my clothes carelessly in the corner and stand naked in front of the mirror. Although it's just about the last thing I feel like doing, I stare, unblinking, at my reflection, my dead eyed gaze finding fault in everything being reflected back at me.

Unblemished. Uninjured. The perfect fucking specimen.

Despite being the cause of everything, my skin is not tainted by so much as one bruise or cut. If not for the full force of Adam's antidote taking immediate effect I would have been able to walk out of Hillview unaided.

It's not right. Not by any stretch of the imagination.

I'm the one who should be needing industrial strength painkillers in order to simply get out of bed, not Jess. Just as it should be my body showing the full impact of what went down, not his. The fact that it's all my fault yet I have nothing, well, not physically anyway, to show for it is like some
sort of sick joke.

Sensing the air shift behind me, I turn away from the mirror and watch impassively as the man I've come here for phases through the wall. If he's expecting me to be impressed by his party trick he hides his disappointment well. Time stands still as we look each other over. His eyes betray nothing as he checks me out. Not caring what he thinks, whether he likes what he sees or not, I stare back at him, my blank expression not even something I have to concentrate on effecting. I note with neither interest nor care that he's about my age and blandly attractive. The fact that he's big, bigger than I am, does however interest me and, pleased, I smile coldly.

Returning my flat, detached smile, the man shrugs out of his black silk robe and stands before me naked. He has a good body and a more than adequate cock. Noticing the angle of my gaze, he masses his cock, pointing it at me like a weapon.

Oh yeah. Show time.

Nodding, I walk over to the bed and clamber inelegantly onto the mattress. My breathing sounding both loud and ragged to my ears, I position myself in a way that saves the man from wasting valuable energy on having to think about what he's doing. Palms flat on the mattress, knees spread, ass in the air. Barring coming out and commanding him to fuck me I couldn't be any more freakin' obvious if I tried.

C'mon, big boy, I can take it.

For some, being rammed by a massed cock might be a dream come true, for me it's meant as penance. There may be better, less sordid ways, but if there are I can't think of them. I need to pay for everything I've caused and I know that Jess would never do it, would never give me what I know I deserve. Hell, the mere thought would be distasteful to him. I know that as well as I know anything. He's only ever massed that part of his anatomy for me once and that was only to put my idle curiosity, that I kept harping on and on about, to rest. To this day I can remember, even though we'd been lovers for months by this stage and I was *well* acquainted with his naked body, how embarrassed he was, how he couldn't just laugh off my ill advised attempts at jokes. Sex, to Jess, is about love. Not punishment.

Bracing myself for what's to come, I'm somewhat nonplussed by the fact that, well, nothing *does* happen. A slight 'whooshing' sound coming from the vicinity of the door surprises me a little but I don't turn around. I'm so far gone that I don't even care if we have an audience.

Then...

Oh God.

"Charming view..."

A voice. An all too familiar voice.

"... shame I didn't bring a camera with me."

Shit.

I now know the 'whooshing' sound was actually that of one Molecular phasing another Molecular through a wall.

Fuck.

Releasing a breath, that I hadn't even been aware I was holding, I flop down on the bed, my mind threatening to call a stop work meeting on me. "What are you doing here?" I mumble into the pillow, well *and* truly not wanting to look over my shoulder.

"Good question," Jess replies conversationally. "It's actually one I'm hoping you'll be able to answer for me."

I sigh. Heavily. "You never should have left Sanctuary."

"Disappearing like that, you didn't leave me much choice," Jess murmurs matter-of-factly. "What was I supposed to do, huh? Just sit around and twiddle my thumbs while worrying myself silly?"

"I *didn't* disappear," I mutter wearily, my attempt at sounding querulous failing dismally.

"No? You mean it was just absent mindedness that made you leave your comlink on the bed then?" Jess responds, making no move to shift from his position near the door. "Oh! As for the Mustang's GPS, don't tell me, your finger just slipped, turning it off, right?"

"Something like that," I sigh, counting to ten before biting the bullet and rolling over onto my back and sitting up. "I didn't know I needed permission to..." Trailing off, I take in the sight of Jess and flinch. Dressed all in black, his battered face a ghostly death mask, he looks as though even the simple act of breathing is causing him pain. "Oh dear God." Unbidden, the words slip softly out.

"I'm taking it that's your way of telling me I should steer clear of small children for the next couple of days," Jess murmurs, wincing as he shakes his head. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Bren."

"Huh?" I grunt, not quite following. "Small children, I don't..."

"Your expression tells me that I look bad enough to frighten children," Jess interrupts, shrugging. "It's okay though. Tell me something I don't know."

"You shouldn't be here," I reply weakly, glancing down and feigning fascination with my knees.

"Again with the telling me something I don't already know," Jess replies. "First Hillview and now Fantasy, honestly Bren, you take me to the nicest places."

"I didn't bring you here," I mutter flatly, looking up and gesturing at the door. "You don't belong here, Jess."

"And you do?" Jess queries, raising an eyebrow. "Given that I'm not buying it for a second, you can tell me all about it during the drive back to Sanctuary."

I shake my head. "I'm not going back to Sanctuary, I'm staying here. Whether you buy it or not, Jess, I came here for a reason."

"You're not going back to Sanctuary?" Jess repeats quietly, his too bright, almost feverish blue eyes boring into me. "Oh."

"I'm staying here," I confirm, making a performance of running my hands over my torso, pretending that I'm merely here to have my previously uncommented on kink scratched.

Jess nods, his fingers starting to undo the buttons on his three-quarter length woollen coat. "Fair enough," he comments, shrugging out of the coat and dropping it on the floor. He then, biting back a hiss of pain, pulls his sweater over his head, throwing it down to join the coat.

"Um..." I have to ask. I don't really want to know the answer, but I have to ask. "What do you think you're doing?"

"This is a sex club, right?" Jess murmurs, untucking his t-shirt and beginning to pull it off. "And, well, seeing as you're not going to leave with me and I'm going to have to wait -- oh, and by the way, Shal dropped me off in the Helix, meaning you've got to give me a lift whether you like it
or not -- for you to achieve whatever the hell it is you think you need to, then, think about it, I'm going to have to kill time somehow..."

"Uh-uh!" I exclaim, the word horrified not doing what I'm feeling justice. "God, Jess, you've got to be freakin' kidding me!"

"Your choice, Bren," Jess replies, glancing down at his bare, motley looking torso and shrugging. "We both leave now or I stay, it's your call. Given the anything goes nature of this place I'm sure someone will want me. Hell, if anyone's got a thing for bruises they'll think all their Christmases have come at once."

"You're... You're being silly," I murmur faintly, not wanting to look at the damage I did to Jess' chest yet unable to look away. As bad as the bruises are, the scorch marks are worse. *Far* worse. "Jess... Just go home. Call Shal on your com, she'll come back for you. I... Listen to me!
I belong here, you don't. You should..." I shake my head, frustrated with my inability to even express myself clearly. "You should get away from me, Jess. Cut your losses, forget about me. It's... It's for the best, okay?"

"No, it's not okay," Jess responds quietly, his hands stilling on his fly. "None of it's fucking okay. I've got a good idea in respect to what's going through your mind but, to hell with it, Bren, you've got to talk to me! I'm not as delicate as I swear you think I am. While I'm at it, you should know by now that I'm not a quitter, that I'll fight for what I believe in. And, Goddamn it, I believe in you. Do you hear me, Brennan, huh? I believe in you, in *us*, and I won't let your misguided need for fucking penance destroy any of it."

His eyes flashing, Jess pauses and fixes me with a look. "If you want to stay, to have some stranger fuck away your perceived guilt then, stay. I can't make you leave. I will however, assuming of course my new friends -- the ones I just know are waiting to make my acquaintance out there -- have finished with me, be waiting for you. And then, after the painkillers I've got in my pocket, and that I *might* be willing to share with you, have taken effect we're going to talk. Got it?"

"You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?" I whisper, rubbing my hands over my face. "Jess, I'm not worth..."

"If you're going to talk now and pass on the anonymous fuck I'd quite like to get the hell out of here," Jess interrupts hopefully, his bravado visibly flagging. "Please, Bren. I tracked you because I want to talk, not to make a scene. If... If for whatever reason you're doing this because of me
then, think about it, don't you owe it to me to talk about it?"

"Fine," I sigh, standing up and walking slowly over to my clothes. Hell, what else am I supposed to do, just let him wander out into the lion's den to be further torn to pieces? Having done enough damage for the week, I really don't think so. "You win. If I had a white flag I'd wave it in defeat. I don't know what I'm going to say but, yeah, whatever, we'll talk."

Smiling wanly, Jess nods. "Good. Now, hurry up and get dressed so you can pass me my clothes. I'm... ah... not very good at bending over at the moment."

There being nothing else I could in all conscience do, I hurriedly pull my clothes on before helping Jess dress. Goosebumps prickle my skin as my fingers brush over his cold flesh. Being so close to him, touching him, brings its own version of hurt. When he's fully dressed, his coat once again buttoned all the way up, Jess reaches into its pocket and brings out my comlink. "Here," he murmurs simply, placing it in the palm of my hand, folding my fingers over it.

"Thanks," I whisper, slipping it on my finger and watching it react to my DNA, feeling, as usual, a sense of awe that something so small could mean so much to me. "Um... Ready to go?"

"More ready than you could possibly believe," Jess mutters, grabbing my hand in his and squeezing it. "C'mon, I know somewhere where we can go to be alone."

"Just tell me where," I murmur, opening the door and gesturing that Jess should go through it first. Following him, his hand a welcome, undeserved weight in mine, I walk out of the room without once glancing behind me. We've barely made it a few steps down the corridor when, his expression decidedly sour, the Molecular that had been going to be 'mine' for the evening steps through the wall and positions himself in front of Jess.

Scowling, he jabs a pointed, massed fist into Jess' chest. "You have some explainin' to do!" he growls, his annoyance clear.

I'm about to take matters into my own hands when Jess glances over his shoulder and winks at me. "This is going to kill," he murmurs, "but it's so going to be worth it." With that, he exhales, phasing the pair of us, and leads me directly through the man. Once I'm all the way through he, with a groan of pain, returns us to normal density. Behind us, the man stammers and stutters an expletive laden diatribe but makes no attempt to follow.

"Oh yeah, well worth the pain," Jess comments mock brightly, tightening his grip on my hand and leading me towards the exit, his gaze never deviating from straight ahead. "Nice place this, Brennan. Been here before?"

Embarrassment slowly creeping over me, I shake my head. "No... God, no." Go figure. Now that we're out in the body of Fantasy I'm beginning to feel embarrassed. Being discovered with my ass in the air wasn't a great concern but, now, now I'm bothered by the whole scene. Good one. I don't think. "This... ah... this was the first time I've ever been here."

"First and last, I would hope," Jess replies mildly, opening the door that will take us back out into Fantasia and waving me through it. "I don't know about you but, speaking for myself here, I think I can live the rest of my life without ever stepping foot in the place again."

Fantasia still in full swing, I'm saved from having to reply by the deafening music being pumped out by the somewhat insane looking DJ behind the mixing desk and merely nod when Jess glances behind him. If anything has changed since I stepped through the door into Fantasia it's that Fantasy is even more packed, the dance floor a sea of gyrating bodies, the music even louder than it was earlier. Flinching at both the noise and mass of people, Jess lets go of my hand and, squaring his shoulders, sets off determinedly across the dance floor. Turning around and retreating back into Fantasy not an option, I hurry after him, trailing in his wake. Those blocking his route only have to take one look at his pale, bruised face to quickly move out of his way, their drug-induced smiles slipping for all of a split second in the process. Knowing that he's only here because of me is, as far as I'm concerned, yet another black mark against my name.

Although it seems to take near on forever, we eventually make it outside, the cool night air a welcome relief from the suffocating heat of Fantasia. A malfunctioning street light, its globe flickering on and off in a staccato rhythm, alternates between illuminating Jess in a harsh light and painting him in shadow. Neither is flattering. Wrapping his arms around his chest in an attempt to keep warm, he winces as his battered ribs complain about the strain he's putting them under and, not wanting to let on that he's suffering, bites back a sigh. "The car far?" he asks, glancing up the
street.

"You tracked it, you tell me," I mutter, forcing myself to keep my defences up. As much as I want to drop to my knees and beg for his forgiveness, I can't. For Jess' sake more than mine I have to remain strong. Contrary to what he may think, he's better off without me. The whole Hillview debacle proving it once and for all that we were simply never meant to be.

"Smart ass," Jess wheezes, rolling his eyes. "Well, are you gonna take me to it or are we gonna stand here freezing our butts off all night?"

"Come on then," I sigh, striding off down the street. "It's just around the corner."

"I know that," Jess replies, a hint of smugness entering his voice as he follows me. "I was merely checking on the levels of obtuseness you've currently got running around in your system."

"And you had the nerve to call *me* a smart ass," I retort, only just managing to stop myself from laughing. "Hey, you going to tell me how you tracked me here or am I going to have to wait to tickle it out of Shal?"

"Let's just say you're sadly mistaken if you think the GPS is the only tracking device attached to the cars," Jess murmurs. "I found the car and then Shal tracked your scent into Fantasia. It wasn't exactly hard."

"I'll remember that," I reply drily, rounding the corner and retrieving the car keys from my pocket. "Now, where are we going? Are you sure you don't want to go back to Sanctuary?"

"I'm sure I don't want to go back to Sanctuary," Jess responds, leaning against the passenger door of the Mustang as I unlock the car with the keyless entry. "Whether you want to or not, we've got to talk and, before you say anything, I won't take no for an answer."

"Where to then?" I query, lacking the energy to argue. God knows I don't want to talk but, if that's honestly what it's going to take to end it then, really, I don't have any choice in the matter. One way or the other, it all comes to a head tonight.

"Safe-house six," Jess replies, opening the door and clambering slowly into the car. "You'll see why when we get there."

"If you say so," I mutter, shutting his door and walking around to the driver's side. By the time I'm settled in the seat and placed the key in the ignition, Jess is either fast asleep or doing a very good impression of it. My hand stilling on the key, I look at him and contemplate throwing caution to the winds and simply turning the car in the direction of Sanctuary. God knows it'd have to better than safe-house six. Hell, the last time I was there it had been all but gutted. Not to mention that it was always the smallest and grottiest of the safe-houses anyway, one that we only ever used if we were truly desperate. Honestly, why Jess would want to go there escapes me.

But, and this is all that really has to matter, it's where he wants to go. Shit hole or not. And, blind hope always springing eternal, I need every little bit of help I can muster to stay in his good books.

Sighing, I turn the key in the ignition and, pulling away from the curb, start towards safe-house six. As I'm becoming increasingly used to, a numb, empty feeling settles over me and I drive as though on autopilot. Although I have the Mustang's heater working overtime I feel chilled, like my heart
is pumping ice through my veins. Jess, his hands tucked up in the arms of his coat, sleeps on. His features relaxed, he almost seems at peace. I look across at him, my eyes devouring the bruised and cut face of the man I love, and...

And I want to scream.

My fault. All my fault. All. My. Fucking. Fault.

Should have been stronger... Should have kept him at arms length... Should have accepted that we never stood a chance instead of listening to my heart... Should never have fallen in love... Should have insisted he stay the fuck out of Hillview...

Honed and hardened by years on the street, common sense always told me that we'd never make it, that our differences -- background, beliefs, personalities -- were just too great to allow us to make a go of it. Poor little rich boy with his computers, robots, and far too sensitive nature - there was a time I would have eaten him alive for no other reason than I would have felt it was my white trash duty. When I found myself warming to him in ways that went deeper than just -- begrudgingly -- viewing him as a friend, I told myself that nothing would ever come of it, that the day he looked twice at me would be the day Eckhart set off down the Yellow Brick Road in search of a heart.

And, when months later Eckhart was still sans hiking boots and our naked bodies were entwined and flushed from lovemaking, I told myself that it was only a one night stand, that he must have been either curious or just plain bored.

As it turned out he'd raised the courage to come to me because he'd had enough of waiting for me to make the first move. And it wasn't a one night stand either.

Although, to this day I don't really know how, we somehow fell into a relationship. Together, despite our differences, we were happy. Despite my early attempts at trying to convince myself that it was, it was never just about the sex. Confused as I was by what was taking place, I just went with the flow. The way I saw it was that it'd be great while it lasted but that, really, was all there was to it. Logic (or quite possibly paranoia) dictated that Jess was satiating his taste for 'a bit of rough' and that once he was over it he'd, after thoroughly washing his hands, move on.

Not, it has to be said, that Jess himself actually did anything to feed these coldly clinical thoughts. No. Unable to accept that he loved me and didn't care that I was little more than a glorified criminal with a neat line in shooting electricity from his fingertips, the belief that it was never going to last was mine and mine alone. And, what's more, wanting to protect myself from what I saw as inevitable heartache, I fought to keep it. Even as I realised that I loved him and that nothing was going to stop my heart from shattering when he left me, I clung to the knowledge that at least I was going to be prepared, that there was no way I was going to be able to say that it had came as a surprise. To me, my twisted, convoluted logic made perfect sense.

I *expected* Jess to leave me. It was just one of those facts of life that I'd resigned myself to. What I never expected however was for his loyalty, determination, and love to leave me feeling so fucking worthless. Nor, for that matter, did I ever expect that it'd be down to me to end it. I don't
want to, but that's beside the point. For Jess' sake I have to. He might be able to forgive me but, weighted down by my own perceived failure, I don't think I can. I just don't. My behaviour, even before I was dosed up with Regas' happy juice, was nothing short of deplorable. From the very
moment I learnt of Danny's escape I treated Jess like shit. Faced with my past, with the error of my ways, I reverted to type without so much as a backwards glance. Dimly recalled street cred told me that I was doing the right thing, that Danny and the 'look after your own' mentality of my
brethren meant more to me than Jess ever could. It also told me that, coming from the suburbs, he'd never understand.

Once again, it made sense at the time. The only reason I let Jess tag along at all was because he wouldn't take no for an answer. I hated it though and didn't want him with me. At the time I thought it was because I didn't want to be seen in any of the old haunts with such an obvious yuppie in tow but I realise now that that wasn't it at all. The real reason I didn't want Jess with me was because I didn't want him to see the harsh reality of my old life. Talking to him about it, sharing the odd titbit here and there, was one thing but letting him see it for himself was something else entirely. When I couldn't talk him out of tagging along I went on the defensive. When I wasn't ignoring him I was trying my hardest to bite his head off. I just couldn't help myself. Not only was I worried about Danny but I was also worried that Jess would take offence at my past. And, oddly enough, I didn't know which one worried more.

So, yeah, I got narky. Incredibly so. Jess was only trying to help and I responded by making snide comments and belittling him. Proving once and for all that he's a nicer person than I am, he stuck it in without comment. More than once I wished that he'd just turn around and yell at me that I
could go fuck myself before stalking off in disgust, but he never did. He didn't even hold the fact that Danny -- *my* Danny -- tried to rearrange his face for him against me.

And, being the magnanimous sort of guy that I am, I repaid him my dragging him through Hillview. Adam will argue that it was his call, that Jess went in solely because it was what he'd decided, while Jess will argue that no one forced him, that, ultimately, it was his decision and his alone. I know that it's all down to me though. It simply has to be. If not for both my past and my misguided loyalty none of it ever would have happened.

Regas' serum was simply the cherry on top of what was already a heinous fuck up.

A hand lightly resting on my thigh breaks through my reverie and, reluctantly, I turn to face Jess.

"Stop it," he murmurs softly, his tired eyes imploring me to listen. "I know you're running through things in your head and I want you to stop. You've already justified everything to yourself no doubt a thousand times over and, believe me, it isn't helping. We need to talk, not hold one sided
conversation in our heads."

"You Psionic now, are you?" I mutter flatly, turning my attention back to the road, unable to meet his gaze.

"Don't have to be where you're concerned," Jess replies, giving my thigh a squeeze. "I can read you like a book, Bren."

"Mmm... One that's never going top the best seller list," I snort, picking his hand up and dropping it back on his lap.

"This is going to be a long night if you're going to remain on the defensive," Jess sighs, stifling a yawn. "If I wanted to bang my head against a brick wall I would have stayed at Sanctuary and done it in the comfort and warmth of my own room."

"You should have stayed there anyway," I reply, stopping the car in front of the old abandoned pharmacy that passes for the public façade for safe-house six. "Have you ever thought that if I'd wanted to talk I wouldn't have gone out, hmmm? Never forget that this is your idea, not mine. I was perfectly happy where I was."

"Oh yeah, looked it too," Jess mutters, shooting me a look before opening the door and laboriously climbing out of the car. "If that's perfectly happy," he adds as I join him on the pavement, "I'd hate to see miserable."

"This is your idea," I repeat, striding towards the back entrance. "Whether I was happy or not I was where I wanted to be."

"And that's exactly why we need to talk," Jess replies, trailing after me. "Blaming yourself isn't going to achieve anything, Brennan, nor is it warranted. Come on, think sensibly about..."

"I could have killed you!" I exclaim, choosing hitting the lock with just enough voltage for it to disengage over waiting for Jess to drag out a key. "Goddamn it Jess! Why are you taking everything so fucking calmly, huh? And don't give me any of that 'it was all the serum's fault' bullshit either! Things were shot to hell long before that ever come into the picture. You proved your point by saving me but now the time has come for you to wake up, cut your losses, and leave me the fuck alone! Contrary to what you might think, I'm nothing but bad news and the sooner you realise this the better."

My -- not overly eloquent -- piece said, I shove the door open and, my mouth dry and my heart hammering, stalk inside. To my disgust I'm shaking. Great. Just great. I'm already wrecked and we haven't even started yet.

"Well, that was a start, I suppose," Jess comments, following me in and switching on the overhead light. "Not exactly what I'd call a good one, but a start nonetheless."

Grunting noncommittally, I stand flat-footed in the middle of the room and glace around me, my mind not quite computing what my eyes are telling it. No longer coldly functional and decrepit, the safe-house now resembles a five-star motel room. A highly personalised, inviting motel room at that. To my considerable surprise it's like a hybrid of everyone's, and this includes Adam's, bedrooms back at Sanctuary. From the safari coloured bedding and leopard print cushions covering the queen size bed to the Indian design wall hanging and bookshelves neatly stacked with books, it's literally like a miniature home away from home. Kitchenette. Sofa. Home theatre system. Computer. It's all but a baby Sanctuary. Well, almost. I can see signs of everyone but Jess in the room.

"Well?" Jess queries softly, shutting and locking the door before moving further into the room. "What do you reckon? Worth the slave labour I've been putting into it or not?"

"Looks good," I mutter, grudgingly. "What's it for though?"

Reaching the bed, Jess sinks down on the edge of it and shrugs. "I just thought it would be somewhere nice to stay if any of us get stuck in town, or even if we just want somewhere else to go, somewhere private, you know. I've been working on it in my spare time as a surprise."

"What about you?" I murmur, gesturing around the room. "You've made it a hybrid of everyone's tastes but your own. I'm looking but I can't see you in here anyway, Jess."

"But I didn't do it for me," Jess replies, looking puzzled. "I did it for you, and Shalimar, and Emma, and Adam... I did it for my friends. I..." Trailing off, he shrugs again. "I just thought it would make a nice surprise."

"It's lovely," I sigh, backing away and leaning against the wall, wanting to keep as much distance between us as I possibly can. "The gesture, the décor, everything. You've done a good job."

"Thanks," Jess responds quietly, dismissively, "but I didn't bring you here to talk about my interior decorating skills. Without wanting to sound like a cracked record here, we've got to talk."

I shrug. "So talk. I'm here and a captive audience. Knock yourself out."

"Fine, if you want me to start, I'll start," Jess mutters wearily, undoing the buttons of his coat but other than that making no move to take it off. "Is that what you want, Brennan, huh, for me to start?"

"Again, knock yourself out," I mutter, folding my arms across my chest and doing my best to adopt a bored, disinterested expression. Given how weak my knees are feeling, it's hard.

Nodding, Jess fixes his dull blue eyes on me and smiles wanly. "You've got to stop blaming yourself for what happened, Brennan," he states plainly. "I know you think it's all your fault, but it isn't. We all had choices to make, not just you, and you've got to remember that."

"You're kidding yourself if you don't think it's my fault," I whisper hollowly, looking down at the floor and wishing like mad that it would open up and swallow me whole. "If not for me none of it would have happened. If I hadn't got the bee in my fucking bonnet to go after Danny you'd still be
in once piece and, Goddamn it, none of it would have freakin' happened! You may be forgiving by nature, Jess, but I'm realistic. I'm to blame and that's all there is to it."

"Danny was your friend," Jess replies matter-of-factly. "Going after him, wanting to help him, was a natural reaction. You weren't to know what had been done to him or where it would lead us. In your position any of us would have done the same thing."

"I'm to blame for what happened to you in Hillview," I murmur dejectedly, changing tack slightly. "I either should have put my foot down and not let you go in there or I should have looked after you better. I'm sorry, Jess, but I failed you. Thanks to me you could have been killed. I... Oh God!
*I* could have killed you!"

Jess shakes his head. "Again, not your fault. Not really. Besides, look at it another way, if we hadn't gone into Hillview that lowlife warden and Regas would still be up to their necks in it and prisoners would still be being beaten to death in the name of, and I use the term lightly here, sport. You can't deny that, really, we did good. I don't know about you, but I'm proud of what we achieved."

"You could have died," I mumble, shaking my head. "Stopping those fuckers was good, yeah, but..."

"But nothing," Jess interrupts vehemently. "You've got to stop this, Brennan, this being eaten up by guilt and self-loathing. You think the costs were high, but they weren't. Look at it this way, we're both still here."

"No thanks to me," I state, my voice barely above that of a whisper. "If I'd had my way you'd be taking up space in the morgue. Hell, let's face it, it's not like I didn't try my hardest to put you there."

"I put myself in that ring," Jess replies emphatically. "It was my choice. Not only that but, well, don't forget that it was my fault you came to the warden's attention in the first place. If I'd just let McMullen walk all over me none of it would ever have happened."

"You were right to stand up to McMullen," I murmur, hesitantly raising my head and glancing across at Jess. "I know I said to just ignore him but, given that it was clear he was never going to let up on you, I was wrong. If you hadn't hit back he would have just kept at you. I think he had..." Nope. Can't say it. Thinking it is more than bad enough without actually voicing it.

"He had designs on making me his bitch," Jess responds, shrugging. "I know. In hindsight I almost wish I'd just let him. Given what happened, it can't have been any worse. I snapped though, and I made a mistake, a mistake that we're still paying for and one I regret. If it would have kept you out of the ring I would have gladly shut up and taken it."

"Well I wouldn't have!" I exclaim, agitation washing over me at the thought of McMullen getting his meaty paws on Jess. "No! No fucking way! He'd only have had to have laid one finger on you and I would have been all over him like a fucking rash whether you fought back or not. McMullen was scum and there was no way I was just going to hang back and watch him beat on you. I chose to intervene, Jess, no one made me."

"And I chose to go into the ring with you," Jess murmurs quietly. "You wouldn't let McMullen hurt me and I refused to let him have a go at killing you. Actually, no, I lie... I didn't choose to take McMullen's place as, ultimately, I didn't have a choice. If I wanted you to live I had to."

"Of course you had a choice," I mutter, hating being the cause of the pain in his eyes. "I'm sure Adam or Shal could have got the antidote to me some other way."

"I didn't have a choice," Jess repeats dully, rubbing his hands over his face. "I'd seen one of the matches already, remember? And... Oh God, Bren... I've never seen anything like it. It was obscene. Two men controlled by blood lust and pitted against each other to the death. Wrestling is dumb ass entertainment, boxing is barbaric, and dog fighting is just plain wrong, but this was all three rolled into one big horrific package! The only thing worse than the look of rage on the prisoners' faces was the punters' expressions of glee and the amount of cold hard cash that was being bandied about! There was no way I could have sent you in alone to face that."

"You should have," I whisper haltingly. "For your own sake, Jess, you should have left me to fend for myself. Perhaps I could have even taken McMullen. Hell, the way I was feeling I could have taken on a tag team of Mike Tyson and The fucking Rock and still had aggression to spare."

"You're right, perhaps you could have defeated McMullen," Jess replies, a scowl flashing over his features. "Defeating him wouldn't have been enough though, would it? You wouldn't have stopped until he was dead. And how would have that made you feel, huh? McMullen was scum, yeah, but that doesn't mean he deserved to die. Besides, there'd already been enough deaths. I did what I had to do and it's a decision that I stand by. Put back in the same position I'd do exactly the same thing."

"I beat you to within an inch of your life," I murmur, running my fingers through my hair in a classic nervous gesture. "And, you mightn't think it... or even *want* to think it... but I knew what I was doing. I knew it was you, that you were on my side, but it didn't fucking matter. The desire to kill was overwhelming. If you hadn't got to the antidote in time it would have been all over."

"But I *did* get to the antidote in time," Jess sighs, exasperation battling the exhaustion for dominance in his voice. "What's done is done, Bren, and, unlike you, I'm not taking it personally. The serum was bottled blood lust. It wouldn't have mattered who you were up against as you would have reacted exactly the same. Adam. Emma. Your favourite teacher from high school.
Some stranger picked up off the street..."

"I remember what I said to you in the cell," I confess flatly, cutting him off. "How can you say it wasn't personal when I took your private insecurities and threw them back in your face? Listen to me, Jess! I appreciate all the effort you're putting into me but, honestly, for your own sake you should just drop it."

"The personal attack was a by-product of the serum," Jess responds, sighing again. "Not only did it amp up the victim's levels of aggression and physical strength but it also made them more cunning and vindictive. To put it another way, it gave them the ability to know instinctively how best to unnerve their prey. Trust me, it was the serum talking, not you."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," I mutter slowly, the faintest glimmer of hope flaring in the pit of my stomach.

"Call Adam up on your com if you don't believe me," Jess replies quietly, his eyes somehow mirroring the sudden ember of hope I'm feeling. "The warden liked to record his death matches and through them Adam's been able to list the effects of the serum. And, yeah, one of them was instinctively knowing your opponents' weaknesses and what it would take to really push their buttons. The inmate McMullen killed had a wife and two young daughters on the outside and McMullen revved him up by telling him in graphic detail what he was going to do to his children when he got out. Compared to that creative use of the English language, what you said to me was positively tame. Hell, mundane even."

"Oh..." Meeting Jess' eyes, I manage a weak smile. "Thanks... Ah... I didn't know that. For what it's worth, Jess, I didn't mean it... Any of it. I don't think that you're useless -- far from it in fact -- and I hate that the serum made me say those things. I... I actually think that you're pretty amazing. I also think that you can do better, that I'm not good enough for you." Pausing, I take a deep, shuddery breath before pushing on. "Maybe you're right, Jess, maybe I'm not entirely to blame for all of this, but I feel as though I am, that it's all my fault. I..."

Here it comes, what's quite possibly the crux of the matter.

"I pride myself on my loyalty," I continue hurriedly, the words spilling out of my mouth in my haste to finally share them. "Although I hadn't seen Danny for years I knew, because he was a friend and an integral part of my past, that I had to do anything I could to help him. I like to think that
there isn't anything I wouldn't do for a friend. Now, that's all that Danny was - a friend. He was a friend and I willingly put everything on the line to, if you like, avenge his death."

"And?" Jess queries, looking at me questioningly. "What are you trying to get at here, Brennan? You don't have to tell me about how far you're prepared to go for a friend as I already know."

"But this is it!" I retort, my voice inching up in volume. "I'm loyal to my friends but I turn on you, the most important person in my miserable existence! I know it was the serum, and that I didn't have a choice and blah, blah, fucking blah, but that's beside the point. It made me turn on you, Jess, and I just freakin' hate it. Although I'd never willingly hurt you it made me want to tear you from limb to limb and, Goddamn it, it kills me that there isn't a single thing I can do to take it all back."

"But it's okay," Jess murmurs, attempting to stand before giving up with a wince and sinking back down on the bed. "I'm alive and I don't blame you. Hell, if you want to hear me say it, here it is... I forgive you for any and all of your perceived fuck ups, okay? More importantly though, I want you
to forgive yourself. What I don't however want is for you to beat yourself up either mentally or physically about it. Yes it was shit, and yes it sucked, but it's all in the past now. While I'm at it, seeking misguided absolution in places like Fantasy isn't going to achieve a damn thing either. We've just got to move on."

"You should have massed," I sigh, apropos of near on nothing. "In the ring, you should have massed and given some of what I was giving you back."

"And you think that, feeling like I do now, would have made you feel better about things?" Jess replies, his expression one of bemusement. "I didn't mass because I didn't want to hurt you. You were so off your head that I suspect a sudden influx of pain would have pushed you over the edge. Yet again, it was my choice."

"C'mon Jess," I mutter, shaking my head, "I deserve to be feeling some of the pain and discomfort you're feeling. Look at me. I'm uninjured. You can't tell me that that's fair."

Stifling a yawn, Jess shrugs wearily. "I'm glad you're not in pain," he murmurs calmly. "If it helps I think I'm in enough pain for both of us. Hell, I feel as though I've been driven over by a fully loaded car-carrier. And, yeah, okay, so what if you were the one driving it? Listen to me, Bren. I don't care, okay? Now, I don't think I can put it much simpler than that. I honestly just don't care. Ignoring the serum, we both made our own choices and did what we felt we had to do. I don't blame you, I don't hate you and I don't want you to be hurting like I am. What I do want however is for things to return to how they were..."

"You can't..." I whisper disbelievingly. After everything I've put him through he still wants us to be together? "God, Jess, don't be such a martyr..."

"Martyr!" Jess exclaims, his eyes narrowing as his voice cracks with raw emotion. "Is that what you think I am, huh?"

Ooops. Shit. Perhaps I shouldn't have said that... "I'm..."

"I haven't finished," Jess interrupts, glowering at me. "Like you, I too pride myself on my loyalty to my friends. Unlike you however I can count my friends, my *true* friends, on the fingers of one hand. You still have friends from your childhood, Brennan, I don't. If you wanna know the whole truth of the matter I didn't even *have* friends when I was young and it's because of this that I take the ones I have now so seriously. I love you, Bren, and there is nothing that I wouldn't do for you. If you think that makes me a martyr or a sucker, or even a fucking doormat, then, I'm sorry...
Okay? I'm sorry. It's just that I thought I was doing the right thing... that what we have is something worth fighting for. Again though, I'm sorry. Maybe I was wrong. Who knows, perhaps being stupid goes hand in hand with being a martyr."

Yep. No question about it. I should have kept my big mouth shut.

"Jess..."

"Forget it, Bren, I've had enough," Jess murmurs dispiritedly, his gaze sliding away from mine. "I don't know what else I can say to get through to you. I've tried to cut through your guilt and I've tried to convince you of my side of the story. If there's anything left for me to try it's currently
escaping me. You win, okay? I'm going to bed. Stay, sulk, come to bed with me, return to Fantasy and hook back up with your friend the hard body, self-flagellate until you pass out... It's your call, Brennan. I know what I want, but it's down to you. I've done all that I can."

Flustered by the second chance I'm effectively being handed, the ability to speak deserts me and I watch silently as Jess drags himself to his feet and slowly strips down to his boxers. Despite having seen them earlier, I still flinch at the sight of the myriad bruises and abrasions marring his pale flesh.

"It isn't fair," I whisper hoarsely, the words slipping out of my mouth before I can stop them. "It just isn't fair."

"What isn't fair?" Jess replies, glancing over his shoulder as he pulls the comforter back. "The fact Danny fell foul of the warden and his punch-happy serum? Or is perhaps the fact that I look like this and you don't? I know, you're just pissed that I pulled you away from Fantasy, right? For fuck's sake, Brennan, wake up to yourself. If you really want to get down to the nitty-gritty, whoever said *life* was fair, huh? We've just been through hell. I *get* that. What I also get however is the fact that life goes on. We can't bring back Danny and we can't erase from our memories what took place in Hillview. Without wanting to put a too fine a point on it or anything though, shit happens. We've got to put it behind us and move on."

"You make it sound easy," I mutter, making one last ditch effort to argue my case. I'm wavering though. God knows I'm wavering.

Shrugging, Jess clambers into bed. "That's because, to me at least, it is," he murmurs, settling back on the pillows and pulling the comforter up to his chin. "You might think I'm either stupid or just plain desperate and, well, that's your prerogative," he adds quietly, closing his eyes, "I know that I'm not though and that's all that matters. I'm here, trying to get it through your thick skull that I still love you and want to be with you, because it's where I *want* to be. Again though, it's your call. I've said my piece and now I'm going to go to sleep. Do what you want, Brennan. It's your life."

"Jess..."

"Good night, Bren."

The time for talking apparently being over, I push away from the wall and slowly make my way over to the light switch. Reaching it, I flick it off, immediately enveloping the room in velvety darkness. Although there's a good chance I'm making a mistake, one that could possibly lead to more heartache, I'm not leaving. Part of me, the part that sent me to Fantasy with my tail between my legs in the first place, wants to. Hell, it wants me to bolt out the door without so much as a backwards glance and to keep going until I hit the border. I can't do it though. I just can't... I can't leave Jess. Common sense screams that I should, that the reasons for my guilt are still sitting on my shoulder and gnawing away at my conscience, but my heart, battered and confused as it is, is casting the ruling vote.

I fucked up. I know in myself that I'm to blame, if not for everything then at least for a fair whack of what went down at Hillview. Not only could I have got Jess killed but I could have even killed him myself. It's something I'm going to have to live with for the rest of my life. To put it simply, I made a mistake.

A mistake that I'm being offered absolution for.

To err is human.

So is to love.

Right?

My willpower disintegrating, I hesitantly walk over to the bed. If this is all about choice, as Jess appears to think it is, I choose to stay and fight for a second chance. Life moving in mysterious ways, perhaps my penance is to slowly work up to feeling worthy of his faith and understanding. Given how I feel, I suspect it'll take a considerable amount of time too, time that I'm only too willing to give.

Stripping down to my boxers, I gently clamber into bed, nerves making me hold my breath as I wait for Jess' reaction. When, with a sigh of relief, he wriggles over to my side of the mattress, bringing our bodies in contact, I literally feel as though the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.

Be it deserved or not, I can't deny that somewhere a deity is smiling down on me.

Carefully draping my arm around Jess, I hold him in place against me and kiss the top of his head. "Jess?"

"Mmm?"

Although there's so many things I could say, so many apologies and speeches about not being worthy that I could make, I keep it simple.

Simple, truthful, and heartfelt.

Very, very heartfelt.

"Thank you."

~ end ~