Pulp Friction: Atlanta

Knights Out Chapter 6

They stood together beside the cold drawer, waiting for the lab tech to pull it open and show Benjamin the remains. Marcus wouldn't let him go to the morgue by himself that time of night, and even though Wick stood a few steps behind, just...no.

Marcus nodded, and the drawer slid open on a sigh. It was nothing like was shown on television, and even though Marcus knew it and was prepared, his Benjamin wasn't. He reached out and caught him just in time. The concrete floors were hard, and it would have hurt, although he knew Benjamin wouldn't have felt it. The face was bruised and swollen, and the pale shoulders showed burns and cuts. It wasn't the worst thing Marcus had ever seen—his years on the streets had hardened him to the worst that men could do to each other. But to see it on such a young face never stopped the bile from rising in his throat.

"It's him," Benjamin said, his voice wobbling. "It's Travis."

Wick's voice was low and sorrowful from behind them. "Ben, I'm so, so sorry, love. I promised to look out for him for you and he skipped out on my guy watching him before I could get him settled in. If I'd known he was in any danger at all, other than just the street, you know I would have locked him up and not let this happen."

He watched as Benjamin reached out and laid a gentle hand against the boy's cheek, wincing as he barely touched him. Then he turned and walked over to Wick and kissed him lightly on the lips. "I know." Without turning back, he said, "Marcus, I'll meet you outside. I...just need a minute alone." He walked slowly to the door and it clicked behind him.

Looking down at the boy, he wondered who did it. And then to leave him laid out in the alleyway, the very one Benjamin worked those short months ago, naked and beaten to death...it made him nauseated. That this could happen to anyone was evil. Vile. But this kid was barely five-six and a hundred pounds. Another throwaway. And all Marcus could see was his young nephew, and niece. His little brother. The faces he just rediscovered and were so tenuously in his life, and they could be snatched away so fucking easily.

He didn't realize he was gripping the end of the drawer so tightly he'd cut himself until Wick wrapped his arms around him and pulled him away. Then he was turned and found himself in a hug, and he was gasping for air and holding on for dear life.

"It's okay, Marc. Get it out before you have to go be strong for Ben. He's gonna need you. And God knows I'm not good at any of this touchy feely bullshit." Which was a lie, but since he appreciated his old friend so much, he wouldn't call him on it. Not tonight. Tonight, he'd take comfort without question or complaint and let his first lover believe all the bad things he chose about himself. Another night, he'd pour the tequila and get drunk and then they could rip the bandages off the old lies, but for now, he'd let Wick put him together so he could do the same for the man he loved.

When the worst of it passed, he laid a kiss against Wick's neck, ignoring the shudder that made him smile and regain a little of his own bravo, and whispered a quick thanks and love you, and heard the yeah, yeah back, all the while never letting each other go. When he did straighten to leave, Wick stopped him with a hand on his arm. "There was something left on his body. It was a page from a bible, Leviticus 18. The part about not lying with a man like a woman. And a key. Babe, it looks like a regulation handcuff key."

Marcus could only shake his head. Sick fucker. Like that gave him an excuse to do that to this boy. "I don't know what it all means, Wick."

"Me either, but I have a really bad feeling about it. Go home, take care of your man. Call me if you need me."

Just before he got to the door, Marcus turned. "Any word on Nick? I know it's not really your job, but anything you might have heard about his disappearance?"