Hey Stranger

Sea green eyes fell on the still pink molten scar for the hundredth time that night. Somewhere on the other side of the world Adem was crying and Zane could feel every rush of warm breath over his wrist, each time tingles would shoot through his body like artistically rough fingers traced the damaged skin there. His sharp adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the lump in his throat, and tried to force the sting in his eyes to go away.

Why did it hurt so much to be away from him. Each time the sad whiskey colored eyes would flash in his mind and send a bolt of white hot pain through his system. Sometimes it hurt so much he could hardly breath with the agony of it.

Is this how the Adem felt? Surely these couldn't be his own feelings, he had a wife and a small son to look after and yet, he wasn't with them. He was sulking in a dark hotel room, smack in the middle of hostile Russia. What had he been thinking when he'd taken the assignment? Well, about Adem. How could he be so selfishly stupid? Another bolt of searing discomfort rocked his body and had to burry his face in his pillow to keep from screaming.

He rolled over on the bed, bare feet tangling in the white sheet at the bottom of the bed, cradling the wrist to his toned bare chest. His long ebony lashes fluttered against his cheeks, drawing a big gulp of air trying to will the young artist to leave his mind but he couldn't. He missed him, his every waking thought was about his laughter, his hands and his mouth. Then he'd picture those pink soft lips wrapped around the base of his...

He groaned into the pillow and forced himself not to let his hands snake lower. Christ, what was wrong with him? He had a family, responsibility and yet he was haunted by his auburn haired lover. Worse that lover was a man, and his father had already let him know what would happen if he abandoned everything he'd been taught and fallowed his heart.

He wanted to deny the stubborn Russian bastard, but he couldn't. He missed him and being here with his mind constantly preoccupied was putting him danger. One slip at a formal meeting and his life would be over, probably more violently then the angry mob his father had threatened him with. Either way, would be dangerous and he'd have to deny the son his wife had held out to him on that warm spring day but he'd always known Wyatt wasn't his.

Sara Hamilton hadn't always been the glowing beacon of virtue she made herself out to be. When they'd met she'd been a bad girl and being with her had thrilled Zane to no end but then he'd enlisted and traveled Europe watching his friends die. The experience had changed him, made him hard and bitter by the time it was all over.

He'd had a difficult time readjusting and when he'd found Sara had taken up with someone else, he'd veered off on an entirely different path. People disgusted him, women were traitors and one could only take so much of smiling humbly when someone thanked him for the service to their country. He hadn't felt humble, he'd been angry and each time some overweight old-timer clapped him on the back set his teeth on edge.

He'd been home for nearly a year, growing more lonely and detached by the day when slight angel had brought light to his gloomy outlook. He'd been wandering between booths set up for the annul Fall festival, hoping the crisp breeze and light-hearted mood would relieve the frustration he felt. He wanted to smile and laugh like the children darting around his knees, feel the carefree attitude of youth but all around him orange and red leaves swirled reminding him of blood. He been just about to turn around and go home, and sit through another awkward meal with his mother and father when a sharp low shout drew his attention up the street.

A few paces ahead a rather short young man, leaned over the counter toward a agitated art vender. "I won't sell anything that was painted by a commie slug." The portly man snapped and the boy's face seemed to turn six shades of red before his shoulders dropped and he snatched his stacked canvases from where he'd stacked them against the side of the booth.

"I was born here." The artist snarled as he tucked the last covered canvas under his arm.

"Well you don't sound like it, now get out of here before I fetch that officer and have you carted off as a spy." The man growled back motioning up the street, with one stubby fingered hand. Zane's eyes fallowed the motion, glancing back over his shoulder to see the police officer strolling towards them, occasionally waving to the families and couples that passed as if a wave would keep up the semblance of peace.

His eyes came back to the dark haired young man, standing with an iron straight spine one hand curled in a fist against his thigh and Zane was spurned into action. "Come on little brother..." He rasped as threw an arm around the slight artist who lifted amber eyes filled with so much disdain Zane was surprised he wasn't burned. "We don't want any trouble, yeah?" Zane suggested already pulling the boy away surprised when they fell into perfectly synchronized steps.

It wasn't until they'd turned a corner and stepped out of the fair grounds onto a shadowy path, that lead to a small park that Zane's arm was shrugged off rather forcefully.

"I didn't need your help! And now that bastard probably thinks I'm gay now too. Just wait tonight, the local church group with storm my flat and burn the place to the ground with me inside. They chant, "yeah burn the faggot commie!" And then roast marshmallows while my mother and I die horribly." The boy snorted, arms swinging out at his sides, sending canvases scattering into the dirt.

Zane slumped against a thick tree trunk, arms folding over his chest as he watched the strange artist rant about his death like they were chatting about the weather over tea. "That's rather vivid imagery." he drawled with a shrug of one shoulders.

"Yeah," The boy's whiskey eyes lit with angry passion, like flames had suddenly burst to life behind his iris. "That's the edited version." He snapped and sighed as he finally saw the ruined mess he'd made of his paintings. He cursed under his breath, the musical words foreign to Zaid's ears. He'd heard plenty of languages during the war, but this one was different. The words formed in soft grunts and rounded vowels that brought goose bumps to his skin.

"What was that?" He asked softly, and the young man dropped into a crouch with a low scoff. He leaned over and started to survey the damage.

"Hmn, let me think. You just heard the asshole call me a communist. What country would that be associated with?" When Zane didn't reply, simply arched a thick black brow the boy groaned. "It's Russian. Alright? It translates to "Victory to the those who wait." My mother's way of telling me to be patient they'll accept me with time." He dragged a hand back through hair, and the light caught in his soft curls and Zane noticed for the first time the tones of red. His mouth was full and his skin was pale and soft. The creamy line of his throat disappeared into the collar of his grey long sleeve shirt, which clung to his slender chest and ribs bagging over what Zane assumed to be a flat stomach and found himself wondering if he was right.

The soldier cleared his throat uncomfortably and dropped his gaze instantly. He didn't want to give himself the chance to examine this man any further. Only when he heard a sharp crunch did he look up. "What's your name?" Zane asked as he watched the young man shove the broken remains of his painting into a tin trash can.

"Adem Warvick." The boy chimed and turned about to extend his hand. Zane stared at the small hand for a moment wondering if it would be rough or soft like the rest like the rest of him. He drew in a breath forcing the thought away, he was a man not a sissy that fancied other men and took Adem's hand in a rough handshake.

"I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you but I'd be lying. Haven't had real pleasure since before they strung the last man that flirted with me up in a tree." He deadpanned and Zane had simply stared at him and surprisingly the artist wouldn't break his gaze. "Can I have my hand back now?" He asked after a moment and Zane snatched his hand away, feeling heat creep up on his cheeks.

"I'm not gay." He muttered after several moments of awkward silence.

"Right..." Was Adem's snarky reply. "But then neither am I. Not officially anyway and if you tell anyone, I'll tell the whole town how you defiled and ruined me right here in this park, soldier boy. They'd call you a traitor before you could blink."

"You seem sure they'd believe you."

Adem chuckled kicking at ground with the toe of his shinny black shoe. "Don't be so sure they wouldn't love to disgrace one of their heroes. People love it when the righteous fall and take pleasure in punishing the wicked."

Zane didn't know what to say, he stood silently slumped against the rough tree trunk, trying not to think about where the bark dug into his shoulder blades through the fabric of his short sleeve button down. A dingy white wife beater covered his chest and chose that moment to look up at Adem. The artist was smirking at him, and Zane found himself shifting uncomfortably under weight of the the other man's whiskey gaze. "Maybe I'll see you around, I'd love to draw you some time." He said and lifted his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Wait do you know the Striker's Pub?" Zane called out and blushed at his own outburst until Adem turned back to him, that smirk still in place.

"I know it." Adem replied already taking a few steps backward.

"I'll be there tonight..." Zane began but didn't know how to ask the other male to accompany him.

"Then maybe I will see you around." The Russian called back before turning away to and disappeared up the path.

Zane sighed, sitting up on the bed as he remembered how confused Adem had left him and reached for his pack of Lucky Strikes on the bedside table. His eyes lifted to the no smoking sign posted on the wall and sighed snatching up his matches and hastily shook out a smoke. He brought the cancer stick to his lips and lit it, drawing a deep drag off the filter-less cigarette.

"Fuck Adem." He sighed and again was drawn back to his second meeting with the beautiful auburn haired man. At the time he'd been reluctant to do more then sip from his mug as he listened to the artist talk for hours about his craft. He talked about a young boy he saw in the park and spent most of the night neglecting his drink while he scribbled away in his hard cover journal.

Zane wouldn't have called it a great time but every week they met in the same little bar and the soldier listened to the artist views on life and people. It seemed Adem wasn't shy about anything, including his sexuality and often made it a show to see whom he could make the most uncomfortable. Such conduct was dangerous but Zane couldn't bring himself to stop meeting with the artist.

He drew in another long drag and again glanced at the scar on the inside of his wrist. "I miss you too." He spoke into the empty room and slumped as the scar tingled in response. "I..I think it's time to come home." He sighed as warmth spread though his body. He didn't realize he'd even moved from the bed until he stood in the narrow hall pulling on his lose trousers. He stepped into his ratty boots and shrug on his leather jacket, smoke still dangling between his lips.

He took one last at the bedroom, eyes scanning the tangled sheets. Another memory flared behind his eyes and he could already see Adem sprawled there, gasping for him to come to bed. He closed his eyes. "Soon." He breathed and left for the last time, door slamming behind with a sharp bang.

Zaid's P.O.V. (present day)

I awoke with a start hand lifting to wipe the sticky wetness off my chin as he I glanced about the cramped cap of my truck. A low groan left as I realized I'd fallen asleep in at the park again. Every day after school I pulled into the same spot and stared at the swings, trying to picture Arden sitting there waiting for me.

A weak had passed since I'd heard his frantic voice tell me he needed my help only to shout in my ear before the line went dead. I would have been there that day, if I'd known where he was. Of course, later that day I found the area-code belonged matched up with Portland but instead of rushing off like I wanted to I spent hours just gazing at the screen. I'm not sure how long it was but the sweet older library was taping me on the shoulder reminding me they'd be closing in fifteen minutes. I'd trudged back to the Escalade and climbed in still intending to go chasing my boyfriend down when I pulled into the parking space I occupied now.

Every time I thought about going to get him, I ended up here remembering the way he felt under my hands, pressed tightly to my chest while he slept. I missed him and the ache in my chest was only growing worse with each passing day. The dreams I've been having hadn't helped. They all ended in the same place with Zane going to find Adem but I didn't know what it meant. Was I supposed to go swooping in like some hero to save him? Did he even want to be saved. In my dreams Adem was miserable but Arden had asked for me only reject me with in seconds and I didn't know what to think.

"You know what you're supposed to do..." Zane's low agitated voice echoed in my head for the thousandth time. It had become his mantra and I slammed my palm into the steering wheel. "I don't' even know where he is!" I shouted into the silence and nearly jumped when Zane's responding growl actually passed my own lips.

"Go find him...Or I will." The disembodied voice that had become my constant companion snapped at me and I tightened my hands on the wheel.

"He doesn't want me." I replied.

"He doesn't know what he wants." He snarled behind my ears and I sighed. I'd argued with myself about this constantly. Even my aunt had gotten in on my one sided arguments and was steadily agreeing that I needed to find my boyfriend. She'd watched me slowly fall into depression, and it seemed she was growing sick of seeing me wallowing.

The first few days without Arden, I'd felt okay. I'd cleaned my room and did the dishes, I mowed the lawn and fixed things around the house. By the end of the weekend I was up to my elbows in house work and not thinking a thing of my druggy boyfriend. That wasn't true, of course, I'd lay in bed at night with my arms wrapped around his pillow wishing I could take back what I said.

When school started that Monday and people began asking where Arden was it was horrible. I couldn't tell them I'd thrown him out, and told them he was sick. He'd be back soon. At the time I thought maybe all this would be resolved soon, that I'd find Arden in the park and we'd make up and have great sex after he pledged never to do drugs again.

Unfortunately a month passed and when the guys from the team asked about Arden I didn't have an answer for them. I'd go to games and play half-heartily hoping to hear him shouting in the stands but he was never there. I'd lay in bed at night and wish I could hold him, touch him and tell him I was sorry but the time just stretched out behind me.

I rarely left my room except for school and was always back right after practice. I didn't want to be with my friends like my aunt encouraged, I wanted only to see Arden again. When her attempts at making me feel better didn't work, she didn't tell me to move on or let go, she told me to act. She assured me that if I went to him, Arden would return with me.

It amazed me that she could be so confident when all I could think about was being rejected. When she'd come to me with a phone number I'd frowned at her but she insisted I call it and when I heard Arden's soft voice, I felt my heart jump into my throat. And then I'd heard him speak to me softly in Russian and I though I knew it was Adem to hear him ask for me to help him and tell me he loved me had been incredible for the few brief seconds before Arden let the line go dead.

I swallowed hard, and actually made myself focus only to realize I was driving down the highway. How the hell did I get here? I thought glancing down at the speedometer and blanched to see the needle slowly descend past 80. I gently pushed the break and slowed to 60, tapping my fingers against the steering wheel. "So this is how it's going to be? You're going to force me to go after him?" I asked my empty truck.

"You can't force the willing." Was the snarling reply and I sighed as relaxed in my seat. I was going to find Arden even if it was against my will.

~~~~

Never drive for two days without stop.

My knees throbbed and my head spun as I practically pored myself out the driver side door in front of the seedy looking Motel 6. On my first night on the road I'd called Natia and though he was angry I hadn't bothered to call her sooner but she'd still put money in my bank account so there was plenty of cash on my bank card.

I stumbled up to the desk and rang the bell, surprised when a busty young blonde came to the counter and smiled at me as she popped her gum. "Hi, how can I help you?" She asked blowing a rather large pink bubble.

"I need a room a few nights" I grunted tiredly and she giggled at me as she turned about to retrieve a key and we went threw the motions of paying for the room. When she finally placed the key with it's orange little tab with the room number on it, our fingers brushed and she blushed batting long spikey lashes at me. She was cute and all but I wasn't here for her and I didn't have it in me to be polite so I simple trudged from the office and up the metal stair case, smirking when I heard her scoff. "Why do all the cute ones have to be taken?" She half shouted and soft feminine laughter floated up to me as I shoved the key in the door.

When my gaze landed on the large bed with the cover pulled back I didn't think about what someone else might have done on bleached white sheets and collapsed face first onto the soft comforter.

~~~~~~~

When I opened my eyes again, searingly bright streamed in through the open blinds and I wanted to cover my head and go back to sleep but a loud knocking drew me to my knees. I frowned and glanced at the little digital clock beside the bed expecting to see it was early morning but it read 2:43 pm and I scrambled out of bed to yank open the door.

A short brunette stood in the door looking rather annoyed as he held onto a tall grey trashcan. "House Keeping..." the young man muttered and for a moment I was disappointed that his eyes were a deep chocolate brown, skin tanned by the sun though I don't know where he'd managed to sun bathe considering it was raining and had been since just after I'd arrived last night. "You want to move your ass, you cute and all but I have to work." He said laughing and I instantly recognized his voice. He was probably that blond girls brother.

"Sure, sure..." I breathed stepping aside to let him him. "Hey um...by any chance do you know anywhere I can get something to eat, that's not a total snore fest?" I asked and he grinned as he snatched the sheets off the bed.

"Yeah there's a place on Grand Ave...Big flashy sign in the parking lot, and usually a huge group of kids outside. They rent the space for bands to practice and we all hang out and munch on pizza while we enjoy the music. There's an arcade too..." He told me. "You know if you're into that sort of thing. Personally I go there to skate."

"Um thanks..." I didn't really know what to say, still leaning awkwardly in the doorway.

"You can go if you'd like, you don't have to wait around for me to finish. I'll lock up when I leave." he told me and I gave a nod and started to leave but stopped spinning about to go back to the door.

"Hey you got a name?" I asked, and he lifted his dark eyes to me, blushing behind his long fringe cut into a stylish "emo" look.

"Dane." He replied with a casual smirk. "If you need anything, you let me know alright?"

I frowned at him and gave a quick nod before starting back to my truck.

After I climbed in and started up, pulling out and narrowly missing a bastard that backed out behind me, I started the search for Grand Avenue.

It was nearly twenty minutes before I was able to find the proper street and traffic was such a bitch I had sat for nearly ten of those minutes staring up the sign wishing I had just walked. When I was finally able to pull in, I was greeted by a large group of teenagers standing about outside a set of dark blue steel doors, propped open so they could still hear the music inside.

I parked and climbed out only to stop dead hand still on the door. Whiskey eyes lifted in my direction, only to blink and full pink lips fell open a freshly lit cigarette falling to onto the wet pavement as he gaped at me in surprise. He didn't look well, his cheeks had sunken and I was willing to bet when I wrapped my arms around him I'd feel every bone in poking out of his skin.

A tall brown haired man draped an arm over my boyfriends shoulders and I started forward without thinking, eyes locking on the tattooed man. I watched Arden push the arm off and relief flooded my chest making me stop where I stood, paying no mind that it felt like a hundred sets of eyes had focused on my little auburn haired boyfriend and I. "Arden..." I breathed, and unintentionally brought my left wrist up to run my fingers over the pinkish "A" there.

~~~

Arden's P.O.V.

I could hardly breath as my eyes fell on him. I just been thinking about Zaid and there he was only a few hundred yards away. I took a step forward when I felt a strong heavy arm slide around my shoulders and I froze. A guy rapes you once and they think they own you. I growled as I shoved Patrick away. "Leave me alone." I snapped under my breath and focused on Zaid again as I heard Pat call me a bitch and go to sulk with some of the sluttier girls in the group.

Zaid's lips moved and from this far away I couldn't hear him but I knew what he'd said. Softly, he was calling for me and the shock up my arm told me how much he wanted me. My feet were pounding across the cement before I could even get my thoughts straight. When I was only a few feet away his arms opened and I leaped at him feeling his vice like grip close over my ribs as we tumbled into to the side of the S.U.V.

"Fuck Arden...I've missed you." He gasped against my throat, his warm breath against my skin felt like home.

"I missed you too!" I buried my face in his shoulder holding him tighter then I think I ever had before. "You came for me..." I sighed contentedly.

"Isn't that what you wanted?" He asked me turning me about so that it was my back pressed against the side of the big black truck. I looked up at him swallowing hard, and nodded.

"Yes, Zaid...I'm so sorry. About the phone call and leaving, I just I couldn't be there anymore...Everything remind me of you and I though we were over..." I rambled but groaned when his lips were crushed against mine.

"Shut up." He growled against my mouth and I could only comply as his hands found my hip and pulled me tighter against him. This was what a kiss was supposed to feel like, my head spun and my toes curled ever part of me was brought to life as his lips stroked mine in the most sensual way. But it ended to quickly, when someone cleared their throat.

"Arden, who's this?" Came Patrick's angry voice and irrational fear threatened to choke me. I buried my face in Zaid shoulder and couldn't make myself look up. I knew I shouldn't be afraid, that I could take him if Adem wanted it but the other half of myself had retreated into the back of mind the first time Patrick held me down and... I gasped softly at the memory and Zaid's arms tightened around me before he carefully opened the door and pushed me roughly into the back seat. He slammed the door and I watched in horror as he turned to Patrick.

Zaid's P.O.V.

I felt alive again, as I kissed him. He was so soft and warm and delicate that I didn't want to let him go. He was still perfect and fit against me like we were puzzle pieces specifically designed to rest against one another. When the asshole that put his arm around Arden earlier spoke, I felt like every part of me was going to explode.

Arden tucked his fast against my shoulder and I had to hold him tighter as he trembled against me. In that moment something inside me snapped and saw what that bastard had done to my baby. He was no better then Ivan and the mother fucker was going to pay.

It all my control to push Arden inside the Escalade, before I turned to face him. "I'm his boyfriend, who are you?" I snarled, hands curling into fists at my side.

"Bullshit, I own him. He doesn't have a boyfriend or family. No body wants him." Patrick shot back at me and the growl that rumbled out of my chest.

"I want him, now step away from my truck before I make you." I told him and watched as he puffed out his chest, smirking as he glanced over his shoulders at his friends.

"You'd really risk your life for a slut that cheated on you?" He asked.

"Yes." My voice was low and he frowned at me as if I were insane. "I know what you did Pat and that isn't cheating is it asshole? Cheaters don't scream and cry for you to stop?" I stepped toward him not realizing I was shouting. "Do they!"

"Is that what he told you?" He let out a condescending laugh even though he'd stepped back. "Dude, he loved it and begged for me. He's amazing on his knees and it's like heaven whenever he begs to suck my cock." He grinned at me and I glanced back over my shoulder at Arden who was shaking his head at me, hand pressed against the window. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, but his sudden gasp and the fact his eyes shot wide made me step to the side.

Patrick's beefy hand connected with the window and he let out a howl as Arden shot across the back seat, plastering his back against the opposite door. Another low growl rumbled from my chest as my hand curled over the back of his neck and I slammed his forehead into the door as hard as I could.

A gurgling sound left him as he slumped beside the truck in a pile of limbs, and could stop myself from giving him a swift kick to the ribs. "Bastard." I spat, and stepped over him and climbed into the drivers seat of the truck and locked the doors.

I sat there staring at my hands curled over the wheel, wondering how I'd resisted the urge to hit him and I wish more then anything I had. I wanted his blood smeared on his hands and if not for a large group of kids swarming the side of my S.U.V I would have ran him over.

"A-are we going home now?" Arden's weak voice came from the back seat and I drew in a deep breath before turning the key.

"Do you want to come home with me, I won't force you baby but you have to get clean." I told him gravely and pressed the button to unlock the doors. I watched in review mirror as his eyes went to the door and he gazed at it longingly for a moment before determination darkened them and he finally looked at me.

"Take me home." He said and throw his arms around me from behind. A relieved sigh left me and I could stop smiling as I pulled out and he climbed into the front seat and took my hand. A shock shot up my arm, I glanced over at him and while he looked tired and sad, the smile he gave me warmed my heart.

"I love you." I breathed and he nodded.

"I know, I love you too. I'm sorry." He sighed and I turned my eyes back to the road. We had a lot to talk about but it could wait, I thought. I need to just enjoy the feel of his hand in mine for the first time in months. For the first time since I watched him leave my bedroom three months before, I finally felt whole again.