The Perfect Foundation

After Brendon had completed various stages of his rehabilitation: laps of his room (with help), laps of the house (with help), then finally all of the above without help he decided it was time to build on his minimal fitness and go jogging.

He began in the mornings, just before first light. The air was cool and damp with mist and dew, the sky a deep naked blue - possessing a purity of transition - not quite night, not quite day, but somewhere in the middle. The silence of a sleeping house was still quite a shock - no groans of pain, uneasy shufflings of bad nightmares, clanking of the cage bars in the wind, laughs of the guards as they kept watch for escapees. He felt uneasy, tense even as he thought about it. Was he really safe here? Could he make a life for himself out in this broken world? Was his love for Gerard real or just imaginary? He didn't really know the man after all. He could count on his fingers the number of times they'd spent alone together.

But he wanted to get to know him. He wanted to give his feelings - real or not - a chance.

Who knows what might happen. Gerard was a difficult egg to crack. He was wonderful - energetic and encouraging, understanding and unobtrusive in his affections. And yet Brendon knew nothing about him. Thinking about kissing him, touching him was a different kettle of fish entirely. That enticed him yet terrified him. That was a conversation he needed to have with Ryan. And perhaps delve into the whole Spencer thing which was downright weird.

And if course would Gerard want him after all? He was damaged goods. It wouldn't be an easy ride. He giggled to himself at the innuendo as he knelt at the door to tie his shoes.

Gerard still didn't know. About the fair. About Brendon's feelings. About anything really. He didn't know what it was like to wake up every day hollow with hunger. To be in constant pain from violent sex, or beatings, or sleeping in a metal cage like an animal. Brendon took a deep breath, drank in the expanse of blue-ish gold space in front of him and tried to push all the crap out of his mind. This was his reality now. This orchard. Empty of his past. Calm and natural and beautiful. He smiled at the glow of the sun on the horizon and began to run, slow and steady, just happy to be alive.

The sun was a small, barely formed disc above the trees when Brendon finished his third lap and threw himself down next to the roots of an apple tree, closing his eyes and revelling in the feel of the grass beneath his bare hands. It wouldn't be the smartest idea to have a nap right now but man he wanted one. He pushed himself a little bit too hard, he knew that but there was a practical motivation too. If they ever got caught. If they were raided and sold back into slavery then maybe he could run away - maybe he could escape again.

The thought scared him so he jumped to his feet instead, spun in a lopsided circle and burst into song.

"You had my hearrtt! You'll never be worlds apaart! Maybe in maaagazineees but you'll still be my staaarr!"

He laughed and launched into a fair-style dance routine, twirling his fake umbrella (a random stick) with gusto.

"When the sun shines we'll shine together, told you I'll be there forever! Say I'll always be y'friend...something something...stick it out til the end!" He planted the stick firmly into the ground and stood for a moment, feet apart, hands together on top of the twig like it was an old-fashioned cane, then smiled wryly and twirled it like a baton as he walked back to the house, it quickly turning into a sword when he reached the patio.

"Hi-ya!" He whispered, as he mock-attacked the porch pillar, then got bored and threw the stick back onto the grass, letting himself into the house then immediately kneeling to remove his muddy shoes.

As he crouched there in the quiet, he suddenly became aware that someone - presumably Jared - was awake in his old room, just opposite him at the bottom of the stairs. It was pretty early, he guessed, but the boys were new so maybe their sleeping patterns weren't completely stable just yet. It wasn't until he heard a muffled groan that his heart almost stopped beating.

A nightmare...perhaps?

He stayed very still, listening for...well he wasn't sure. There was a soft thump of something against a wall and some scratching that sounded a bit odd. Then some scuffling and murmured voice...s? He wasn't sure. But to be honest it wasn't his business...was it? What even was it? Who gave him the right to listen to someone's private life? He shook his head and undid the knot on shoe number two, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right. He pulled the shoe off, placed them vaguely by the coat stand and stood, stilling despite himself, the silence of the house washing over him like a comforting blanket. His mind wandered back to other things - like whether it was too early to make a cup of tea, or in fact, a piece of toast and he walked the few paces to the junction between the stairs, the downstairs corridor and the kitchen and stopped, indecisively, rubbing his hands together. When he finally came to the conclusion that it was probably a bit too early to be making breakfast and that he wouldn't mind going back to bed, he moved to put his hand on the banister when there was a noise from his right and he stopped.

It was a muffled yelp that sounded like someone was in pain, followed by some angry muttering and then more gasps that made Brendon's heart plummet to the soles of his bare feet and the blood drain from his face.

It wasn't possible. This - this wasn't happening.

Brendon grasped at the wooden rail for dear life, his legs giving way as he slumped onto the bottom step, his breath caught in his chest like a vacuum as his lungs refused to work.

More gasps. A whine of pleasure. Then the unmistakable sound of quiet sobbing.

Brendon tried to think about something...anything, to calm down but he felt like he was choking on air, like he was drowning in oxygen. He was hyperventilating now, desperately trying to fight the panic and regain control of his body but he wasn't getting enough air into his lungs and was feeling light-headed and dizzy. His head was swimming, chest wheezing, he was going to pass out...