Half an hour later, Marshall pulled up in his driveway and into his garage, a lucid, but quiet AJ in the seat next to him. Cutting the engine, he got out of the car. Walking around it to the door to the house, he turned back and realized AJ hadn't budged. Walking back to the car, he opened the passenger door and leaned down, looking at AJ with a concerned expression.

"You alright? Fuck. Strike that, stupid fucking question." Marshall said, taking a step back and straightening as he tried to figure out what to say to him.

AJ blinked and turned his head, focusing on Marshall. "What?"

Marshall looked down at him. "You coming in?"

AJ blinked again and turned to look around him, realizing they were in Marshall's garage. He'd been zoning out, trying to block the feelings and images of what had happened earlier from his head and he hadn't even realized where they were going.

"You didn't take me home?" AJ asked, confused.

"Did you really want to go there?" Marshall answered with a question of his own.

AJ thought about it for a second, remembering Kevin had a key to his house still and shook his head. "No." Home…alone, was the last place he wanted to be.

Marshall nodded. "Didn't think so. That's why you're here."

"Oh." AJ said, making no move to get out.

"So, are you going to sit here all night, or come in?" Marshall asked patiently.

AJ was making him nervous. Granted, he hadn't known him that long…on a personal level, but he doubted very much he was ever like this.

AJ gave himself a mental shake, trying to pull himself back to the here and now. "Yeah. Sorry."

Marshall shrugged. "It's alright. You've got a right to be out of it."

AJ only nodded and followed Marshall into the house, not wanting to talk about it, even in a round about way.

After they were in the house, Marshall turned back to AJ and asked, "What now? You wanna sit and watch some TV? Listen to music? Go to bed?"

AJ thought about it. Sleep. Escape. No more thoughts about Kevin. "Bed."

Marshall nodded and again led the way, even though AJ knew it. Again AJ followed without a word.

When they got to the guest bedroom, Marshall stepped aside for AJ to enter first. AJ hesitated, then stepped in, staring at the bed longingly. He started toward it, then stopped, fidgeting.

Marshall had been about to turn and leave when he noticed AJ stop and stand in place, fingers worrying the bottom of his shirt. Marshall couldn't get over how different the insecure, depressed man in front of him was from the man he'd gotten to know recently.

"What's wrong?"

AJ had been lost in thought and forgotten Marshall was there. He jumped at the sound of his voice and turned, his heart beating wildly. When Marshall's question sunk in, he let go of the bottom of his shirt to rub at his arm through his sleeve. His skin felt like it was crawling.

"Shower. I need a fucking shower. I feel…dirty."

Marshall wanted to kill Kevin. No, correction. He wanted to maim and mutilate him and make him beg for mercy and then kill him. The sad, ashamed look in AJ's eyes was reason enough to do that.

"Sure. Go ahead."

AJ fidgeted again, and Marshall asked, "What now?"

AJ turned away. "I can't. No clothes to change into."

Marshall didn't even hesitate. The whole borrowing his boxers issue from last week seemed trivial now. "You can borrow something of mine."

AJ's eyes flickered back to him, surprised at the offer. "You sure?"

Marshall nodded. "Yeah. Go get in the shower. I'll grab some shit and drop it off in the bathroom for you."

AJ offered him a small smile. The first hint of anything besides sadness, depression and shame Marshall had seen from him since he'd found him with Kevin earlier. "Thanks."

Five minutes later AJ's clothes were laying in the trash where he'd thrown them, having no intention of ever wearing them again, and he was standing under the too hot spray of the shower, welcoming the pain as it scalded his skin and turned it cherry red. It felt good. It took his mind off the pain in his soul.

Finally he started scrubbing at his body with the soap, not even aware of Marshall coming in to set some clothes on the counter for him then leaving. Ten minutes later, he gave up on trying to get the dirty feeling from his skin that wouldn't seem to go away and sank to his butt on the bottom of the shower, drawing his knees to his chest and hugging them tight as he stared at a point on the opposite wall.

Half an hour after he'd dropped off the clothes for AJ, Marshall sat in his living room staring at the clock. He was getting worried. AJ was taking too long. It had been a fucking sauna when he'd went in there to drop the clothes off and he realized AJ had to have been using almost purely hot water for the bathroom to fill up that way so damn fast, which meant that the hot water had to be all but gone by now.

He could still hear the shower going though. Sighing, he got up off the chair he'd been sitting in and made his way to the bathroom.

Knocking on the door, he called out, "Everything all right?"

No response. Marshall tried again, knocking louder and yelling louder. Still no response. Marshall started to get worried. Turning the knob, he peaked his head in, scanning the room. No AJ.

Stepping inside, he peered around the corner at the shower. His gut clenched. There was AJ, huddled up in a corner, knees pulled up to his chest, head down with the shower still beating down on him.

Marshall started forward. "Alex, man, come out of there."

AJ shook his head no. Marshall didn't know what the hell to do. Taking care of someone who'd been nearly raped was so far outside of his realm of experience, it wasn't even funny…not that it was funny in the first fucking place.

Marshall stood still, debating what to do for another minute, then he noticed that AJ was shivering. Cursing under his breath, he started forward again, opening the shower door once he got to it. He reached in to turn off the water, water spraying down on his hand as he did so. It was ice cold.

"Alex, you've gotta come out of there. You're going to get sick as shit if you don't."

"Don't care." AJ mumbled, not moving his head from its place on his knees to say so.

"Well, I do, so get the hell out here. Now." Marshall said in a sharp voice. Calm and cajoling wasn't working, and fuck it. He didn't have the patience for much more of that anyway. He hoped authoritative and demanding might snap AJ out of it.

AJ started slightly, taken off guard by Marshall's, sudden change in demeanor, but slowly, he lifted his face from his knees and asked, "Towel?"

Marshall almost sighed in relief. Turning around, he grabbed a towel off the towel bar and handed it to AJ, turning his back to him while AJ stood and stepped out to dry off. A minute later he heard clothes rustling and figured AJ was dressing. A minute after that there was complete silence.

Marshall turned around to find AJ standing in the dark blue oversized sweatpants and sweatshirt he'd left for him, staring at himself in the mirror. Marshall walked up next to him and stared too. AJ's face was swollen and bruised in various spots, but at least the blood was gone.

AJ stood there examining himself for a minute, then said in a haunted voice, "He was supposed to love me. Even before we… before we got together…" AJ trailed off.

Marshall didn't know what to say, so he just stood there and listened.

After a few seconds, AJ started up again. "He was my protector. My friend. Like a big brother most of the time. Tonight it was like…he was someone else. I didn't know him at all."

Marshall reached out and touched a hand to AJ's shoulder awkwardly. AJ turned toward him.

Clearing his throat, AJ said in a voice less haunted and more like the old AJ, "I'm going to bed now…I wanna sleep. Like, for a long damn time."

Marshall nodded and dropped his hand away. He wasn't fooled by the false front AJ had just put on. The problem was, he didn't know if it was for his benefit, or AJ's.

Marshall sat in the living room flipping channels, watching the clock. Half an hour had passed since AJ had walked out of the bathroom and Marshall had heard his door click shut. Marshall figured he should be asleep by now. At least he hoped so. He didn't know how much longer he could stay put. He'd made a call right after AJ had went into the shower earlier, and he now had Kevin's address burning a hole in his pocket.

Clicking the TV off, he got up and walked to his room to grab the knife he'd gotten from Dre earlier. He'd forgotten to give it back, and when he'd come in to get AJ a change of clothes earlier, he'd changed too, leaving the knife in his discarded pants.

Picking up the phone in his room, he hit the speed dial and waited for the man on the other end to pick up.

A deep voice said, "Hello?"

"It's time." Marshall said in a low voice, then hung up.

He tucked the knife into the jeans he was wearing and headed out of his room and down the hall. He paused by AJ's door, and decided to check on him and make sure he was sleeping before he took off.

Quietly he opened the door and the sight that greeted him had his jaw clenching again. AJ wasn't even on the goddamn bed. Instead he was curled up in a ball on an upholstered chair in the corner of the fucking room, fully dressed, sound asleep. Marshall quietly shut the door again and stalked out of the house, his determination renewed. He and Kevin were going to have a long conversation…just the two of them.

A little while later AJ woke with a start, his heart pounding, his breathing labored. He'd been having a nightmare about what had happened earlier. He straightened out on the chair and leaned back, putting his hands over his eyes, ignoring the pain it caused where Kevin had punched him, trying to rub away the images emblazoned on the backs of his eyelids.

They wouldn't go away. The memories of what had happened and what had almost happened were bad enough, but that wasn't the worst part. No, the worst part was the betrayal he felt. His stomach twisted and his gut clenched as he thought about it. He felt the bile rise in his throat and pushed it back down. He still couldn't come to grips with how Kevin had turned on him.

He figured in a few days, or a week or a month, the fact that Kevin had seemed genuinely sorry when he'd apologized would matter to him, but right then, it didn't mean shit. Kevin had betrayed his trust and purposely hurt him.

He'd taken away AJ's sense of security, and even worse that that was the fact that AJ somehow felt like he was at least partly responsible for Kevin snapping that way. Maybe if he had somehow been more clear about where they stood, or maybe if he hadn't kissed him back in that room, if he hadn't let him stick his hand down his pants…maybe Kevin wouldn't have reacted that way.

Maybe…maybe he just needed a drink.

AJ sat straight up and shot out of his chair. He didn't want to be in that room alone another second. He'd been ignoring the cravings all evening since what had happened with Kevin, but it was getting harder.

He crossed the room and opened the door, stepping out in the hall, trying to figure out where to go. He decided on Marshall's room. He didn't know if he'd be in bed already, but he hoped not. He just wanted someone to sit with and mindlessly watch some TV with. Anything to get his mind off the dull roar in the back of his mind trying to goad him into going and finding some alcohol.

AJ knocked on Marshall's open door and peaked inside. No Marshall. His brows knit together. Maybe he was in the living room. He turned and headed that way, not finding him there either. He ignored the slight panic that gripped his stomach as he quickly searched every room of the house, calling out Marshall's name.

He ended up in the kitchen, fighting the panic of the realization that he was alone. Marshall had left. Kevin knew where Marshall lived, and if he came looking for him again and didn't find him at home, he might come there. Marshall was the only reason AJ had felt halfway safe, and he'd bailed on him.

It was finally all too much for AJ and he started frantically going through cabinets searching for something to drink. Five minutes later, he'd been through the whole kitchen and found nothing. Nada.

He was stumped. He'd never expected Marshall to not have a drop of alcohol in his entire house. Suddenly some of his lyrics came back to him. Marshall had mentioned in a couple different songs that he was an alcoholic. AJ had always thought that was some sort of off the cuff comment directed at some reporter or other who had mentioned his alcohol consumption. Maybe it wasn't, or maybe it was but he didn't have alcohol around because of his probation.

"Fuck!" AJ screamed, picking up the nearest object, which happened to be a glass waiting to be washed and hurling it at the wall near the doorway to the garage.

As he turned around in a circle, he eyed the refrigerator. Hope shot through him suddenly. There hadn't been any alcohol in there last week when he'd been there, but maybe…just maybe there would be now.

He opened the door, his hand shaking, praying there'd be something in there to give him the fix he needed right then. As if his willing it there had magically made it appear, he found himself staring at a nearly full fifth of Jim Beam. It wasn't his drink of choice but it would do.

With clammy hands, he reached out and curled his fingers around it, pulling it out of the refrigerator. Shutting the door, he looked at it for a second, fighting his inner demons, then gave in and brought the alcohol up to his lips.

He closed his eyes and almost moaned in pleasure as the cold liquid slid down his throat. Lowering it from his mouth, he opened his eyes again and headed for the living room. Spotting the CD player, he walked over, checking to see if Marshall's new CD was in there. Finding that it was, he hit play, then repeat so it would keep looping the songs and went to sit down on the couch, bringing the bottle back to his lips as the opening notes to White America blasted through the room.

By the time Say Goodbye To Hollywood came on, the alcohol was singing through his veins and almost half the fifth was gone. AJ stared down at the bottle, his brain slightly clouded by alcohol, musing that the doctors at the rehab clinic had been right. Your body did pick up where it left off. Even though it had been almost a year ago since he'd had his last drink, it was still taking a large amount of it to get him good and drunk. He'd sort of expected to be good and wasted by now, but he wasn't. He was only comfortably drunk. Lifting the bottle to his lips again, he decided he could fix that easily enough.


Chapter Ten
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