Invincible

Title: Invincible
Chapter 1: Memento Mori
Rating: NC-17.
Pairing: William Beckett/Damian Kulash.
Warnings: Rape and mature themes.
Disclaimer: The following story is fiction. All fiction, all a product of my own imagination. I do not own William Beckett or Damian Kulash, but if they were really a couple, I'd love to have a hidden camera in their bedroom. Just in case it didn't come through loud and clear the first time, THIS IS FAKE. All fake, all the time. Never happened, not true, no film at 11.


".... Damian?"

William Beckett's voice was a weak thread of sound, his slender hand moving across the expanse of the bed he shared with his boyfriend. He expected to connect with Damian's warm body, feel the older man slumbering next to him; he wanted to curl up next to Damian and feel warm, safe and protected.

Damian wasn't there. The bed was empty.

Where .... what .... where was he?

Will's eyes snapped open, wide and dark, staring first at the ceiling, then moving to the people clustered around his bed. Stark white walls, white clothes, machines beeping.

A hospital. What was he doing in a hospital?

What .... No.

A dream. It had been a dream. None of it had really happened. It wasn't real, it couldn't be. He wouldn't let it be real. If he didn't think about it, if he refused to believe it, then it couldn't be.

His eyes met the gaze of the nurse standing by the head of the bed, her own eyes sliding away from making contact with his. She obviously wouldn't tell him why he was here. Would any of them tell him?

Will wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, his mind racing in several directions at once. He tried to speak, tried to form words that would make sense, that would make everything okay.

But he could only say one word.

"Damian ...." His lover's name. The only word in his universe at the moment.

"Shhh, William." A doctor, a firm hand resting on his forehead, like the guy was taking his temperature. He didn't want a doctor. He didn't want to be here in a hospital, or wherever the fuck he was. He wanted to find Damian and go home and be told that it was all a bad dream.

"Will, it's okay." The words came from Andy, his band's drummer, sitting near the bed. He'd risen and come to the side of the bed to take Will's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Just relax, okay?"

WIll shook his head, feeling panic rise in him. "Damian .... where's Damian? Why isn't he here? What am I doing here?"

"Do you remember anything that happened, Mr. Beckett?" The doctor's voice was dry and professional, pulling him into reality. Into the fact that Damian wasn't here -- and that in the back of his mind, he knew why.

Will shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. "Bits and pieces .... I don't really remember ...." His voice was weak and thready, and it sounded petulant even to his own ears. "Where's Damian?"

The doctor and nurse exchanged a look over Will's bed, the man shaking his head almost imperceptibly. The woman sighed and looked down at her patient, her voice bright and cheery -- too bright.

"Just rest and relax, Mr. Beckett." We'll come back in a while, when you're a little more oriented. The doctors have some questions to ask you, when you feel up to talking with them."

The two of them turned and left the room, leaving Will alone with his bandmates. He looked around at the four of them, eyes resting on each of their faces in turn.

Secretive. That was how they looked. Like they didn't want to tell him something -- something that he needed to know.

"Come on, guys. Why am I here? What the hell is going on? Where's Damian, dammit?" Will's voice was rising, almost panicked. He knew that Damian wouldn't have left him alone in a hospital -- not unless something was really, really wrong.

Only he knew what was wrong, didn't he? He just didn't want to face it.

With a soft moan, Will closed his eyes again, turning onto his side and burying his face in the pillow. He knew. He'd known since he'd opened his eyes. And now, it was all flooding back.

How many men had there been? It had seemed like dozens, hundreds. They'd grabbed Damian, dragged him out of the room .... where had they taken him? What had they fucking done with him?

He didn't want to remember what else they'd done. But his aching body was physical proof that it wasn't a dream. It had happened.

When he finally spoke, Will's voice was hoarse, bled of all emotion. "They took him, didn't they? Is he ...."

He couldn't bring himself to say the four-letter word he dreaded.

Damian couldn't be dead. Not the man who'd been his lover for the last six months, the man he planned to spend the rest of his life with. Now that they'd finally found each other, after four years of being friends, four years of Will crushing on him, wanting him.

It couldn't end like this. No god would be so cruel as to take Damian away from him. No real god would make him live without the love of his life.

Mike shook his head, frowning. "We don't know, Will. We haven't heard anything. We don't know where he is."

Will's voice was a sob. "He can't be dead. I'd know it if he was. I'd feel it." He looked up at his bandmates, tears starting to course down his pale cheeks. "I'd be dead inside."

Adam moved forward, kneeling by the bed and twining his slender fingers through Will's. "We'll find him. I swear we will. Don't cry, Will," he whispered, reaching out to wipe the tears from his friend's cheeks. Seeing Will cry was heartbreaking; it made them all want to cry themselves.

Michael sat down on the side of the bed, looking worried as Will's crying became more intense, his sobs more jagged. Looking around at the others, he moved to take Will into his arms, cradling the young vocalist as though he was a child who needed comfort.

At this moment, he was.

Michael rocked Will back and forth, letting the young man cry himself out, making soft, comforting sounds. Adam sat beside them, Andy and Mike on the other side of the bed, all of them touching Will in some way -- Adam with an arm around the slim waist, Mike stroking his hair, Andy's hand on his shoulder. They all lent their solidarity in any way they could.

After a while, Will's tears stopped, and he lifted his head from Michael's shoulder, sniffling. "Have you told the other guys in OK Go? Do they know he's missing?" His voice caught on a sob.

Mike nodded somberly. "Yeah, we called Andy and Tim. They know. They've got the police looking for him, Will. It's only a matter of time until we find the scum who took him."

Andy nodded, his hand tightening on Will's shoulder. "The police think it's a clear-cut case of kidnapping. They'll ask for money, we'll find a way to pay it, and we'll get him back."

Will nodded, willing himself to believe his bandmates' words. He had to. If he didn't, he would go insane.

Those guys -- those thugs, those rapists -- had his Damian. And there was no way of telling what they would do to him. He didn't want to think about it.

But he had to. He had to keep his thoughts on Damian, hold onto him like a talisman. He had to keep the image of the man he loved in his mind, in his heart. He had to feel close to Damian, somehow put his heart and soul out there and hope that it would reach his lover.

Adam laid his head against Will's shoulder, both arms encircling the young man's tiny waist. "We'll get him back, Will. I promise," he whispered, and Will's heart surged at the words, praying that the young bassist was right.

He had to believe that. It was all he had to hold on to.