Wings to Fly, Eyes that Burn

The men moved like a deadly river through the hallways. Mekhi had his hand locked around Marshall's wrist to keep them from being separated. It hurt. Marshall's ears pounded with the roar of voices. His skin felt raw from the fire and everything was moving too fast. Five guards were found and pulled out into their midst. It was a bloody slaughter. The mob of men swarmed them and beat them down.

Marshall felt sick with the smell of blood and sweat. He couldn't move in the crowd, too hot, too tight. A wild-eyed man turned on him suddenly and Marshall had to defend himself as the other tried to claw at his face. Mekhi's fingers tightened on his arm and he felt himself pulled through the thick hot bodies, leaving the fighting crazy man behind.

They were moving again, away from the bloody mob, moving towards an exit yet to be found. The air was cooler here. Marshall felt himself take hurried breaths to clear his head. Mekhi cast a sidelong glance at him as they hurried along. Marshall twisted his wrist a bit and locked his fingers around the arm holding his. They pushed on, never stopping as others did to take down a guard or to vandalize an area. Marshall's thoughts flickered back and forth between now, moving forward and Remy. Remy's arms, Remy's body hotly pressed against his, Remy's knowing eyes burning into his skin. The further he moved, the further he got from that man, and it scared him that, that made him want to turn around and run back. 'Where the hell was he? Was he all right?'

The thoughts raced so quickly through his head it left no time to focus on anything around him and when he felt an arm on his and a familiar voice next to his ear, it was so startling that it stopped him dead in his tracks. The eyes burned and Marshall felt his grip on Mekhi released as he let Remy wrap him up in his arms. He watched vaguely as Mekhi disappeared into the crowd, moving on while he stayed behind. His thoughts fractured as he felt his body violently shoved against the nearest wall, Remy's hips grinding hard against him. Marshall couldn't breath and his head felt light and dizzy as it banged back roughly against the wall a couple times.

"One more quick fuck wit m' favorite lil' whore before I leave." Remy's voice sounded dark and cruel and his teeth hurt as they sunk deep into Marshall's neck. Marshall's confusion prevented him from instantly fighting back. This was his friend. This was Remy. What the fuck was he doing? He nearly choked as Remy smashed their mouths together, tongue stabbing into his. The kiss tasted like blood. Remy's fingers then curled around his throat and squeezed. Marshall struggled hard against the other man as he felt the air drained from his lungs. Remy was trying to kill him. The realization hit him with panicked horror. He was going to die, right now here in this hallway, at the hands of his master.

Marshall's vision blurred dark around the edges and just as he felt himself begin to slip into unconsciousness the grip on his throat was torn away. He felt a rush of air return to his lungs as Remy was suddenly pulled off of him. He stumbled to move away from the wall and ended up on his knees in a coughing fit. His mind was racing. 'Why? Why the fuck did he want to hurt me?!' Hencednced up just in time to see two men fighting, the same man. There were two Remys. A shape shifter.

"Show m' yer true form coward!" One of them was screaming to the other. Marshall batted back and tried to get to his feet. This was so fucked up.

"That whore was supposed to be mine! Mine to own, mine to fucking end!" The man's form blurred around the edges until a familiar figure stood in its place; Max. It was Max. Marshall's stomach heaved at the sight of him. He was going to pass out, everything felt so hauntingly familiar. He couldn't take it. The memory of his body pressed tightly against him sent him reeling into bad memories ad mad managed to repress.

They were fighting, an explosion erupted somewhere near by and filled his ears with silence.


***


Remy put his foot against Max's throat and stomped down on it twice, just to be sure. The explosion had wounded him enough that it gave Remy the chanc fin finish him off. It wasn't the most honorable fight but then Max had opened himself up for a dirty fight the second he had touched Marshall in Remy's form. Remy turned then to look for his boy. He moved quickly upon seeing him as a huddled mass against the wall.

"Mon cher, it's m'. It's Remy." Remy held Marshall's quivering face in his hands. He smelled the puke on his breath and watched the silent tears track down his face that he was sure Marshall had no idea he was even shedding. His eyes looked far away as if he was caught in some hellish memory. "Marshall c'n y' 'ear m'?" When he got no response he slipped his arms around his waist and pulled him to his feet. He stumbled them into a dark corner, out of the direct way of the mob. His fingers brushed through short dark hair and smoothed across wet cheekbones all whi while murmuring anything he could think of to try and bring him back.

"He's gone. He c'nt hurt y' no more cher. Marshall look at m'. Y're safe now. Y're safe now. Remy's not goin' t' let anyt'ing happen t' y'. Y' safe wit m'." Remy was familiar with flashbacks, because he had so many of his own. He however had never really been on this side of things and was trying desperately to remember what his adopted father had always done to help bring him out of it. He continued stroking his face and whispering reassurances to him in hopes that it would eventually work. It did.

Marshall curled his fingers around the hand petting his face and said; "Don't. Just don't touch me." He pushed the hand away. Remy understood.

"We need t' go now. We c'nt stay here." He moved back a bit giving Marshall room to stand up on his own. His eyes narrowed automatically upon seeing the bloody gash on his boy's neck. "We get y' cleaned up later." He said, but it was more to himself then to Marshall. He was careful of the other man's personal space as they stood next to each other. He wanted to hold him so badly but knew from personal experience that that would only make things worse and probably set him off again. They didn't have time for it either. "Remy be right behind y' cher." He said instead.

The two moved back into the mob and were carried along with it.