fredbassett (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fredbassett) wrote2011-11-24 04:38 pm
fredbassett) wrote2011-11-24 04:38 pm
Fic, The World Keeps Turning, Leek/Ryan, 15
Title : The World Keeps Turning
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Leek/Ryan
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Ryan and Leek try to get on with their lives and their work after a brutal captivity. This is a sequel to the mini-series Between a Rock and a Hard Place, in which a clone of Leek took his place in the ARC while the real Leek, and then later Ryan, were kept prisoner.
A/N : Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fififolle’s birthday. I hope you have a lovely day!
“Coming to the pub, boss?” Finn asked.
It was Friday night, no one had died on that afternoon’s shout, and for some reason Ryan hadn’t quite fathomed, Cutter had offered to buy the lads a drink. Ryan wouldn’t be surprised if someone had run a flag up a pole somewhere in honour of the occasion.
He nodded and looked in his locker for his jacket. There had been a light dusting of snow on the roads as they’d driven back from an anomaly in the Kent countryside and it was cold enough outside to freeze the balls off a brass dinosaur, which was probably why the little buggers that they’d had to deal with earlier on had mostly just turned around and scurried straight back to somewhere warmer.
When a quick search failed to discover any jacket other than his black work kit, Ryan remembered that he’d thrown the one he’d worn that morning into a corner of his office and not picked it up again. “I’ll follow you,” he told Finn and headed for the stairs.
The route to his office took Ryan pass Oliver Leek’s room and he noticed that the light was still on in there, even though the rest of the administrative staff had probably all left a couple of hours ago. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed Leek working late – and to be fair, Ryan had to admit that he was no better at going home on time, but even he drew the line at doing overtime on a Friday night.
Leek looked up at the sound of Ryan’s light tap on the door. He looked tired, but his expression lightened slightly when he saw Ryan and a smile quirked his thin lips. Ryan and Leek had endured several weeks of a particularly harrowing captivity together as a result of a conspiracy to infiltrate the ARC. After being rescued they’d then had to go through several more weeks of being forced to discuss what had happened to them with a variety of psychiatrists and psychologists before finally being declared fit for work. But since their arrival in the newly-opened Anomaly Research Centre, both of them had been too busy to spend much time in each other’s company, and Ryan had wondered if perhaps Leek would prefer not to be reminded of what they’d been through together.
It had been hard enough for Ryan to return to work on the project after what had happened, knowing that others knew – if not all the details of his captivity – but enough to be aware of some of the abuse he’d suffered. But Leek had to live with the knowledge that other people on the project had interacted with the clone that had been infiltrated into their midst, a clone that – from the stories Ryan had heard – had not exactly been popular. Leek had done his best to change the perceptions of his colleagues, keeping a close-cropped beard was one of the most obvious differences, and whilst the clone had been obsequious and irritating, the real Leek had a self-deprecating manner and a dry wit that enabled him to cope easily and efficiently with both Lester and the motley crew that had come to make up the anomaly response teams.
“You can’t work late on a Friday,” Ryan told him without preamble. “You’ll get drummed out of the civil service or something.”
Leek waved a hand at the piles of paper on his desk. “Got a magic wand up your sleeve?”
“It’ll wait ‘til Monday, just like the crap on my desk. Come on, the lads are going to the pub and Cutter’s buying. You can’t miss that.”
Leek’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What’s brought that on?”
Ryan shrugged. “Haven’t a clue, but I don’t want to miss the sight of the Queen blinking in the light when the old bugger gets his wallet out.”
Leek hesitated then nodded. “All right, you go and I’ll catch you up.”
Ryan leaned against the door and folded his arms. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Oliver. Come on, it’ll do you good to get a break from this place.”
He’d spent long enough in Leek’s company to be able to see behind the façade that the man was so careful to project. For all Leek’s calm, composed exterior, Ryan knew that he almost certainly still woke up in a cold sweat most nights, just like Ryan did, even though the pair of them would no doubt continue to lie through their teeth on the subject at their monthly meetings with their Home Office imposed counsellors.
Leek stared at his computer screen for a moment and then saved the document he was working on, turned his computer off and stood up. Ryan grinned. It looked like he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to miss the sight of Cutter buying a round.
* * * * *
Cutter was still at the bar when Ryan walked into the pub with Leek. The professor’s smile held genuine warmth and if he was surprised to see Ryan in Leek’s company, he was tactful enough not to let that show. Ryan asked for a pint of Director’s and after a moment’s thought, Leek opted for the same.
For once, the lads were on their best behaviour and no one mentioned dinosaurs, much to Jenny Lewis’s evident relief. Leek appeared reasonably relaxed, joining in the general conversation with something approaching enthusiasm, although Ryan noticed that as the evening wore on he looked increasingly tired, and Ryan wasn’t surprised when he made his excuses rather than joining the others for a curry.
On the spur of the moment, Ryan declined as well. As the noisy bunch of soldiers, scientists and admin staff spilled out onto the street, he picked up his jacket and asked, “Share a cab, Oliver? It’s fucking cold out there and we’re going the same way.”
Leek’s house was only five minutes walk from Ryan’s flat, so travelling together made sense, but Ryan hadn’t taken into account the fact that the foul weather had made taxis a sought-after commodity, so they ended up walking the whole way. By the time they arrived, the snow had turned to sleet and they were both wet and cold.
“Can I offer you a drink?” Leek said as he fumbled in his jacket pocket for his keys. “It might improve if you wait a while.”
Ryan glanced up at the sky and thought that remark was probably over-optimistic, but Leek had seemed glad of the company that evening, and the look Ryan had just received reminded him of a stray dog, shyly offering friendship whilst steeling itself for a kick instead.
“Thanks, that’d be great,” he said.
It ended up being more than a drink. Leek produced a couple of pizzas and a bag of oven chips from his freezer and Ryan was grateful for the food. The crisps and peanuts he’d eaten in the pub hadn’t been enough to soak up the amount of alcohol he’d consumed and he was starving. They ate in silence, and Ryan couldn’t help wondering if Leek was thinking back to the meals they’d shared together in the cell, consisting of nothing more than bowls of porridge that had usually been spat in by the guards.
Correctly divining his thoughts, Leek commented, “I never want to eat porridge again as long as I live.”
Ryan finished eating the last slice of pizza on his plate and then asked, “How are you coping, Oliver?”
Leek’s expression instantly took on the guarded look that Ryan was all too familiar with from their time in the cell. “Good days and bad days,” he said evasively.
“That’s normal,” Ryan said. “There are some days I just feel like staying in bed.”
Leek gathered up the plates from the table and busied himself with the washing up, but his actions did nothing to hide the tension in his neck and shoulders. “Does it get easier?” The question was asked in a voice barely above a whisper. Ryan watched as Leek gripped the edge of the work surface to steady himself and bowed his head.
On impulse, Ryan got up and did what he’d been accustomed to doing in the cell when Leek had come close to breaking point. He simply wrapped his arms around the man’s thin frame and held him.
Eventually, Leek drew in a deep, shuddering breath and said, “Thanks, Tom. I thought I’d got beyond the stage of this sort of meltdown.”
“Are you getting any sleep?” Ryan suspected he knew the answer to that question but he asked it anyway.
“Not much,” Leek admitted. “I can generally get to sleep all right, but I wake up with panic attacks, usually after about an hour.”
“And then you daren’t go to sleep again.” It was a statement not a question. Ryan had been there, done that, worn the teeshirt and lied about the sleepless nights to the therapist. But unlike Leek, he’d been raped before, on more than one occasion, and he knew that things did improve, it just took time. He rested his head against Leek’s and kept his arms around him. “Oliver, would it help if I stayed with you tonight? I can sleep on the sofa.”
Leek drew in a shaky breath and Ryan wondered if he was about to decline the offer.
“The bed’s made up in the spare room.”
* * * * *
Ryan had spent far too long in the army to have any problems sleeping in a strange bed. Leek’s spare bedroom was like the rest of his house: neat, tidy and surprisingly comfortable. The spare bed was a double, with a thick duvet perfect for keeping out the winter chills. He lay in the quiet darkness resolving to make sure he kept a closer eye on Oliver Leek over the next few weeks. He knew from their time in captivity that Leek was tougher than he looked, but the constant abuse at the hands of their clone guards had taken its toll and holding down a demanding job at the same time as trying to come to terms with the abuse that he’d suffered was not going to be an easy feat. Ryan didn’t feel qualified to offer much by way of advice, but nor did he like the idea of his former cell mate struggling on by himself.
Ryan quickly fell asleep but two hours later a helpless cry from the neighbouring room jerked him awake, and without even pausing to gather up his clothes he made his way to Leek’s bedroom. The other man was sitting up in bed shaking, tears streaming down his cheeks. Ryan was at his side in an instant, pulling back the duvet and slipping into the bed, doing what he’d done countless times before in their cell, simply pulling Leek into his arms and cradling him like a child.
It had worked then and it worked now. Leek allowed himself to be held, as he’d always done in the cell, and gradually the tears stopped flowing. He nestled his head on Ryan’s shoulder and finally started to relax. No words were spoken and none were needed.
After nearly an hour, Leek slipped back into sleep and once Ryan was sure that the other man had at last found a measure of comfort and peace, he finally allowed himself to relax and sleep wasn’t long in coming. And for once, he slept undisturbed as well.
* * * * *
Friday nights in the pub rapidly became established as a fixture at the end of the working week, with even Lester deigning to join them on occasion. Over time, Ryan watched Oliver Leek start to relax properly in the company of others, gradually losing both the rabbit in the headlights look and the nervous habit he’d had of stroking his beard, as though to remind himself – and his colleagues – that he and the clone were not one and the same, no matter how good a copy it had been.
Ryan’s nightmares had gradually faded, as he’d been certain they would, and he’d finally been able to stop lying to the remarkably sane clinical psychologist who had almost certainly not believed even half of the bullshit Ryan had fed him, but the man had been pragmatic enough not to call him on his crap. Ryan was less sure of Leek’s progress, though. He still worked long hours, looking tired a lot of the time, and on the occasions when Ryan had stayed overnight at Leek’s flat, he’d invariably ended up in his bed in the early hours of the morning, doing his best to drive away the demons that still plagued him. Demons that no doubt all wore the same face.
To Ryan’s surprise, he found himself looking forward to the evenings he spent in Leek’s company. They had almost nothing in common apart from their work, but conversation rarely flagged, even if they did have to be careful to avoid the more esoteric aspects of their current employment when they were anywhere they could be overheard. But for all the time they’d spent together, Ryan felt that in some ways he was no nearer to knowing the real Oliver Leek than he been during their time in the cell. Yes, they’d talked, they’d eaten together, they’d slept in the same bed, they’d even touched obliquely on their time in captivity together, but there were some very fundamental things that Ryan still didn’t know the answer to, and one of those questions were starting to loom large in Ryan’s mind.
When Ryan had first joined the army, he’d had to be careful to keep his sexual preferences to himself, but when all that had changed he’d never made any secret of the fact that he was gay. It hadn’t cost him the respect of his men, nor did it appear to have harmed his career. Yes, there was still some prejudice, it certainly wasn’t all the bed of roses that he’d seen it made out to be, and the army had its fair share of homophobic fuckwits just like any other walk of life, but his own sexuality was something he’d long since ceased to be troubled by.
He hadn’t had a relationship with anyone since joining the anomaly project, not even a one-night stand, and if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t particularly wanted one. Then, after his experiences in captivity, sex hadn’t exactly been high on his list of priorities, but his body had healed and his mind was gradually following suit, and he was starting to take an interest again. Specifically, he was starting to take an interest in Oliver Leek. But Ryan had absolutely no idea whether that interest was reciprocated or how to even broach the subject so, somewhat uncharacteristically, he simply did nothing, not willing to risk losing the friendship that had built up between them by making the wrong move.
After a particularly difficult Friday playing cat and mouse with something that looked and acted like a hyena on steroids, Ryan was more than half-tempted just to grab his things and go straight home, but he’d missed the last two pub nights for similar reasons and, if he was totally honest with himself, he was missing Leek’s company as well. The pub was crowded, his lads and the science teams were squashed into their usual corner, surrounded by office workers from the nearby business park. Ryan quickly scanned the tables and realised with a sharp pang of disappointment that he couldn’t see Leek anywhere. Before he could turn away, Connor saw him and waved, grabbing a stool from a nearby table and pulling it over whilst simultaneously telling everyone else to shove up.
Ryan acknowledged him with a nod and made his way to the bar. To his surprise, he found Leek standing there in conversation with a man of about his own age, good-looking, with dark brown hair brushing the collar of a blue linen jacket. Their heads were close together as they talked over the Friday night noise, and while Ryan watched, the other man laughed lightly and slid his arm around Leek’s back in a gesture that reeked of past intimacy. Ryan was just about to change direction and make for a different part of the bar when he noticed the sudden stiffness in Leek’s posture, a stiffness that he was all too familiar with. Leek half-turned, as though seeking an escape route and when his eyes fell on Ryan there was no mistaking the relief hidden behind the blank expression that Leek all too often used to conceal his true feelings.
Ryan plastered a smile on his face and made his way through the crowd thronging the bar. “Oliver.”
Leek smiled and relief bled into his eyes. “Tom, I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.” The other man let his arm drop to his side and stared appraisingly at Ryan, one eyebrow raised quizzically. Leek’s smile broadened. “George, this is my colleague, Tom Ryan. Tom, this is George Fairley. George is an estate agent in Wimbledon.”
Ryan extended a hand for the obligatory social niceties. The man’s grip was firm and the look he gave Ryan was pleasant. “Nice to meet you,” Ryan said blandly. “What brings you out to this neck of the woods?”
“A client of mine is thinking of picking up a buy-to-let and wanted a second opinion.”
They chatted for a few minutes, exchanging small-talk, before the other man excused himself for a visit to the toilet.
“Sorry about that,” Leek said. He hesitated and then added, “He’s an old boyfriend. I haven’t seen him for a couple of years, but when he started getting touchy-feely I just froze and said the first thing that came into my head.”
“No worries.” Ryan groped for something to say next and settled for, “Another drink?” It seemed more neutral than any of the other questions that were now jostling for position in his head. By the time George Fairley fought his way back through the crowd to the bar, Ryan had managed to catch the eye of one of the bar staff, a cute, red-haired medical student with a thing for soldiers, and order two pints of beer. “Can I get you something?” he asked out of politeness.
Fairley smiled and shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m driving.” He turned to Leek. “Maybe I’ll see you around, Oliver?”
Leek nodded but without any obvious enthusiasm. When the man had gone, Leek took a long pull at his pint and his hand shook slightly when he set it back on the bar.
Without thinking, Ryan slipped his arm around Leek’s waist for a moment and murmured, “Are you OK?”
Instead of pulling away, Leek leaned against him for a moment, eyes closed, and breathing deeply in the manner recommended by every therapist Ryan had ever encountered. It was the first time they had ever touched in public but Ryan felt no embarrassment, even when the student behind the bar gave him what could only be described as an approving look.
“I think we’ve just made Craig’s night,” Leek said. “The lad’s an incurable romantic.”
“Then what the hell was he doing trying to chat up Finn last week?” said Ryan, emptying his own drink in three long swallows and pushing the empty glass across the bar to attract Craig’s attention. “Finn’s as straight as a die and hasn’t got a romantic bone in his body.”
“I think Craig’s worked that out now. He was fluttering his eyelashes at Becker earlier.”
Ryan laughed. “He doesn’t stand a chance. Unless it’s made of metal and goes bang when you pull the trigger, Becker’s not interested.”
“I imagine Craig would be happy to let Becker pull his trigger any day of the week.”
“I heard that!” Craig said with mock-indignation, setting two fresh pints down on the bar. “I’m clearly destined to die alone and unloved in a garret with only a canary for company.” He picked up the money Ryan had put down on the bar and asked, “Does this mean you two have finally decided to get together? If you have, Finn owes me a tenner, and I could really use the cash.”
To Ryan’s dismay, he felt heat rising up his cheeks in a way that hadn’t happened since he’d been a kid.
At his side, Leek smiled and rested his hand on top of Ryan’s for a moment. “Tom?”
Ryan drew in a deep breath and met Leek’s eyes, encountering a mix of uncertainty and hope that made Ryan want to pull him into his arms and kiss him, but he was too old and had been through too much to believe in fairytale endings. Instead, he smiled somewhat ruefully and said, “How about we join the others for one drink and then go out for a meal? My shout.”
Leek nodded and squeezed Ryan’s hand. “Thanks, I’d like that.”
* * * * *
They went for an Italian meal at a small restaurant just around the corner from Leek’s house, lingering longer than usual over brandies and dessert.
“Will you come back for a nightcap, Tom?” Leek asked, after Ryan had paid the bill. He hesitated then added, “I haven’t had a panic attack in my sleep for three weeks.”
Ryan accepted the invitation with a smile and a nod. They walked in companionable silence and Ryan wondered quite how far they were going to take things. He felt that he’d moved on enough to be able to contemplate a physical relationship again, but he was less sure about Leek. Not having nightmares for a while was one thing, but being ready for something more than simply seeking comfort in another man’s arms was another thing entirely and, if he was totally honest with himself, a small part of his brain was wondering whether whatever had grown up between them was nothing more than a product of the closeness that had sprung from their time in captivity.
Leek poured two large brandies and they settled down next to each other on the sofa. Ryan realised, with wry amusement, that he hadn’t felt like this since he’d been a teenager. The unaccustomed fluttering sensation in his stomach simply highlighted his uncertainty. They were both grown men, no doubt with several relationships behind them, but they were also damaged goods, in more ways that one. What bloody hope did they have of making this… whatever it was… work?
“Tom?” The word was softly spoken and contained that same mixture of hope and uncertainty that Ryan had witnessed earlier in the pub. Without waiting for an answer, Leek leaned over and pressed a light kiss to Ryan’s lips.
As first kisses went, it didn’t exactly set the world on fire. They were both hesitant and it showed, but as tongues gently explored each others mouths and hands roamed over warm bodies and finally slipped under shirts to touch skin, Ryan began to think that maybe, given time and patience, they could make this work.
One thing he was certain of, though, was that he wanted to try. They both did. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Leek/Ryan
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Summary : Ryan and Leek try to get on with their lives and their work after a brutal captivity. This is a sequel to the mini-series Between a Rock and a Hard Place, in which a clone of Leek took his place in the ARC while the real Leek, and then later Ryan, were kept prisoner.
A/N : Written for
fififolle’s birthday. I hope you have a lovely day!“Coming to the pub, boss?” Finn asked.
It was Friday night, no one had died on that afternoon’s shout, and for some reason Ryan hadn’t quite fathomed, Cutter had offered to buy the lads a drink. Ryan wouldn’t be surprised if someone had run a flag up a pole somewhere in honour of the occasion.
He nodded and looked in his locker for his jacket. There had been a light dusting of snow on the roads as they’d driven back from an anomaly in the Kent countryside and it was cold enough outside to freeze the balls off a brass dinosaur, which was probably why the little buggers that they’d had to deal with earlier on had mostly just turned around and scurried straight back to somewhere warmer.
When a quick search failed to discover any jacket other than his black work kit, Ryan remembered that he’d thrown the one he’d worn that morning into a corner of his office and not picked it up again. “I’ll follow you,” he told Finn and headed for the stairs.
The route to his office took Ryan pass Oliver Leek’s room and he noticed that the light was still on in there, even though the rest of the administrative staff had probably all left a couple of hours ago. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed Leek working late – and to be fair, Ryan had to admit that he was no better at going home on time, but even he drew the line at doing overtime on a Friday night.
Leek looked up at the sound of Ryan’s light tap on the door. He looked tired, but his expression lightened slightly when he saw Ryan and a smile quirked his thin lips. Ryan and Leek had endured several weeks of a particularly harrowing captivity together as a result of a conspiracy to infiltrate the ARC. After being rescued they’d then had to go through several more weeks of being forced to discuss what had happened to them with a variety of psychiatrists and psychologists before finally being declared fit for work. But since their arrival in the newly-opened Anomaly Research Centre, both of them had been too busy to spend much time in each other’s company, and Ryan had wondered if perhaps Leek would prefer not to be reminded of what they’d been through together.
It had been hard enough for Ryan to return to work on the project after what had happened, knowing that others knew – if not all the details of his captivity – but enough to be aware of some of the abuse he’d suffered. But Leek had to live with the knowledge that other people on the project had interacted with the clone that had been infiltrated into their midst, a clone that – from the stories Ryan had heard – had not exactly been popular. Leek had done his best to change the perceptions of his colleagues, keeping a close-cropped beard was one of the most obvious differences, and whilst the clone had been obsequious and irritating, the real Leek had a self-deprecating manner and a dry wit that enabled him to cope easily and efficiently with both Lester and the motley crew that had come to make up the anomaly response teams.
“You can’t work late on a Friday,” Ryan told him without preamble. “You’ll get drummed out of the civil service or something.”
Leek waved a hand at the piles of paper on his desk. “Got a magic wand up your sleeve?”
“It’ll wait ‘til Monday, just like the crap on my desk. Come on, the lads are going to the pub and Cutter’s buying. You can’t miss that.”
Leek’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What’s brought that on?”
Ryan shrugged. “Haven’t a clue, but I don’t want to miss the sight of the Queen blinking in the light when the old bugger gets his wallet out.”
Leek hesitated then nodded. “All right, you go and I’ll catch you up.”
Ryan leaned against the door and folded his arms. “I wasn’t born yesterday, Oliver. Come on, it’ll do you good to get a break from this place.”
He’d spent long enough in Leek’s company to be able to see behind the façade that the man was so careful to project. For all Leek’s calm, composed exterior, Ryan knew that he almost certainly still woke up in a cold sweat most nights, just like Ryan did, even though the pair of them would no doubt continue to lie through their teeth on the subject at their monthly meetings with their Home Office imposed counsellors.
Leek stared at his computer screen for a moment and then saved the document he was working on, turned his computer off and stood up. Ryan grinned. It looked like he wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to miss the sight of Cutter buying a round.
* * * * *
Cutter was still at the bar when Ryan walked into the pub with Leek. The professor’s smile held genuine warmth and if he was surprised to see Ryan in Leek’s company, he was tactful enough not to let that show. Ryan asked for a pint of Director’s and after a moment’s thought, Leek opted for the same.
For once, the lads were on their best behaviour and no one mentioned dinosaurs, much to Jenny Lewis’s evident relief. Leek appeared reasonably relaxed, joining in the general conversation with something approaching enthusiasm, although Ryan noticed that as the evening wore on he looked increasingly tired, and Ryan wasn’t surprised when he made his excuses rather than joining the others for a curry.
On the spur of the moment, Ryan declined as well. As the noisy bunch of soldiers, scientists and admin staff spilled out onto the street, he picked up his jacket and asked, “Share a cab, Oliver? It’s fucking cold out there and we’re going the same way.”
Leek’s house was only five minutes walk from Ryan’s flat, so travelling together made sense, but Ryan hadn’t taken into account the fact that the foul weather had made taxis a sought-after commodity, so they ended up walking the whole way. By the time they arrived, the snow had turned to sleet and they were both wet and cold.
“Can I offer you a drink?” Leek said as he fumbled in his jacket pocket for his keys. “It might improve if you wait a while.”
Ryan glanced up at the sky and thought that remark was probably over-optimistic, but Leek had seemed glad of the company that evening, and the look Ryan had just received reminded him of a stray dog, shyly offering friendship whilst steeling itself for a kick instead.
“Thanks, that’d be great,” he said.
It ended up being more than a drink. Leek produced a couple of pizzas and a bag of oven chips from his freezer and Ryan was grateful for the food. The crisps and peanuts he’d eaten in the pub hadn’t been enough to soak up the amount of alcohol he’d consumed and he was starving. They ate in silence, and Ryan couldn’t help wondering if Leek was thinking back to the meals they’d shared together in the cell, consisting of nothing more than bowls of porridge that had usually been spat in by the guards.
Correctly divining his thoughts, Leek commented, “I never want to eat porridge again as long as I live.”
Ryan finished eating the last slice of pizza on his plate and then asked, “How are you coping, Oliver?”
Leek’s expression instantly took on the guarded look that Ryan was all too familiar with from their time in the cell. “Good days and bad days,” he said evasively.
“That’s normal,” Ryan said. “There are some days I just feel like staying in bed.”
Leek gathered up the plates from the table and busied himself with the washing up, but his actions did nothing to hide the tension in his neck and shoulders. “Does it get easier?” The question was asked in a voice barely above a whisper. Ryan watched as Leek gripped the edge of the work surface to steady himself and bowed his head.
On impulse, Ryan got up and did what he’d been accustomed to doing in the cell when Leek had come close to breaking point. He simply wrapped his arms around the man’s thin frame and held him.
Eventually, Leek drew in a deep, shuddering breath and said, “Thanks, Tom. I thought I’d got beyond the stage of this sort of meltdown.”
“Are you getting any sleep?” Ryan suspected he knew the answer to that question but he asked it anyway.
“Not much,” Leek admitted. “I can generally get to sleep all right, but I wake up with panic attacks, usually after about an hour.”
“And then you daren’t go to sleep again.” It was a statement not a question. Ryan had been there, done that, worn the teeshirt and lied about the sleepless nights to the therapist. But unlike Leek, he’d been raped before, on more than one occasion, and he knew that things did improve, it just took time. He rested his head against Leek’s and kept his arms around him. “Oliver, would it help if I stayed with you tonight? I can sleep on the sofa.”
Leek drew in a shaky breath and Ryan wondered if he was about to decline the offer.
“The bed’s made up in the spare room.”
* * * * *
Ryan had spent far too long in the army to have any problems sleeping in a strange bed. Leek’s spare bedroom was like the rest of his house: neat, tidy and surprisingly comfortable. The spare bed was a double, with a thick duvet perfect for keeping out the winter chills. He lay in the quiet darkness resolving to make sure he kept a closer eye on Oliver Leek over the next few weeks. He knew from their time in captivity that Leek was tougher than he looked, but the constant abuse at the hands of their clone guards had taken its toll and holding down a demanding job at the same time as trying to come to terms with the abuse that he’d suffered was not going to be an easy feat. Ryan didn’t feel qualified to offer much by way of advice, but nor did he like the idea of his former cell mate struggling on by himself.
Ryan quickly fell asleep but two hours later a helpless cry from the neighbouring room jerked him awake, and without even pausing to gather up his clothes he made his way to Leek’s bedroom. The other man was sitting up in bed shaking, tears streaming down his cheeks. Ryan was at his side in an instant, pulling back the duvet and slipping into the bed, doing what he’d done countless times before in their cell, simply pulling Leek into his arms and cradling him like a child.
It had worked then and it worked now. Leek allowed himself to be held, as he’d always done in the cell, and gradually the tears stopped flowing. He nestled his head on Ryan’s shoulder and finally started to relax. No words were spoken and none were needed.
After nearly an hour, Leek slipped back into sleep and once Ryan was sure that the other man had at last found a measure of comfort and peace, he finally allowed himself to relax and sleep wasn’t long in coming. And for once, he slept undisturbed as well.
* * * * *
Friday nights in the pub rapidly became established as a fixture at the end of the working week, with even Lester deigning to join them on occasion. Over time, Ryan watched Oliver Leek start to relax properly in the company of others, gradually losing both the rabbit in the headlights look and the nervous habit he’d had of stroking his beard, as though to remind himself – and his colleagues – that he and the clone were not one and the same, no matter how good a copy it had been.
Ryan’s nightmares had gradually faded, as he’d been certain they would, and he’d finally been able to stop lying to the remarkably sane clinical psychologist who had almost certainly not believed even half of the bullshit Ryan had fed him, but the man had been pragmatic enough not to call him on his crap. Ryan was less sure of Leek’s progress, though. He still worked long hours, looking tired a lot of the time, and on the occasions when Ryan had stayed overnight at Leek’s flat, he’d invariably ended up in his bed in the early hours of the morning, doing his best to drive away the demons that still plagued him. Demons that no doubt all wore the same face.
To Ryan’s surprise, he found himself looking forward to the evenings he spent in Leek’s company. They had almost nothing in common apart from their work, but conversation rarely flagged, even if they did have to be careful to avoid the more esoteric aspects of their current employment when they were anywhere they could be overheard. But for all the time they’d spent together, Ryan felt that in some ways he was no nearer to knowing the real Oliver Leek than he been during their time in the cell. Yes, they’d talked, they’d eaten together, they’d slept in the same bed, they’d even touched obliquely on their time in captivity together, but there were some very fundamental things that Ryan still didn’t know the answer to, and one of those questions were starting to loom large in Ryan’s mind.
When Ryan had first joined the army, he’d had to be careful to keep his sexual preferences to himself, but when all that had changed he’d never made any secret of the fact that he was gay. It hadn’t cost him the respect of his men, nor did it appear to have harmed his career. Yes, there was still some prejudice, it certainly wasn’t all the bed of roses that he’d seen it made out to be, and the army had its fair share of homophobic fuckwits just like any other walk of life, but his own sexuality was something he’d long since ceased to be troubled by.
He hadn’t had a relationship with anyone since joining the anomaly project, not even a one-night stand, and if he was honest with himself, he hadn’t particularly wanted one. Then, after his experiences in captivity, sex hadn’t exactly been high on his list of priorities, but his body had healed and his mind was gradually following suit, and he was starting to take an interest again. Specifically, he was starting to take an interest in Oliver Leek. But Ryan had absolutely no idea whether that interest was reciprocated or how to even broach the subject so, somewhat uncharacteristically, he simply did nothing, not willing to risk losing the friendship that had built up between them by making the wrong move.
After a particularly difficult Friday playing cat and mouse with something that looked and acted like a hyena on steroids, Ryan was more than half-tempted just to grab his things and go straight home, but he’d missed the last two pub nights for similar reasons and, if he was totally honest with himself, he was missing Leek’s company as well. The pub was crowded, his lads and the science teams were squashed into their usual corner, surrounded by office workers from the nearby business park. Ryan quickly scanned the tables and realised with a sharp pang of disappointment that he couldn’t see Leek anywhere. Before he could turn away, Connor saw him and waved, grabbing a stool from a nearby table and pulling it over whilst simultaneously telling everyone else to shove up.
Ryan acknowledged him with a nod and made his way to the bar. To his surprise, he found Leek standing there in conversation with a man of about his own age, good-looking, with dark brown hair brushing the collar of a blue linen jacket. Their heads were close together as they talked over the Friday night noise, and while Ryan watched, the other man laughed lightly and slid his arm around Leek’s back in a gesture that reeked of past intimacy. Ryan was just about to change direction and make for a different part of the bar when he noticed the sudden stiffness in Leek’s posture, a stiffness that he was all too familiar with. Leek half-turned, as though seeking an escape route and when his eyes fell on Ryan there was no mistaking the relief hidden behind the blank expression that Leek all too often used to conceal his true feelings.
Ryan plastered a smile on his face and made his way through the crowd thronging the bar. “Oliver.”
Leek smiled and relief bled into his eyes. “Tom, I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.” The other man let his arm drop to his side and stared appraisingly at Ryan, one eyebrow raised quizzically. Leek’s smile broadened. “George, this is my colleague, Tom Ryan. Tom, this is George Fairley. George is an estate agent in Wimbledon.”
Ryan extended a hand for the obligatory social niceties. The man’s grip was firm and the look he gave Ryan was pleasant. “Nice to meet you,” Ryan said blandly. “What brings you out to this neck of the woods?”
“A client of mine is thinking of picking up a buy-to-let and wanted a second opinion.”
They chatted for a few minutes, exchanging small-talk, before the other man excused himself for a visit to the toilet.
“Sorry about that,” Leek said. He hesitated and then added, “He’s an old boyfriend. I haven’t seen him for a couple of years, but when he started getting touchy-feely I just froze and said the first thing that came into my head.”
“No worries.” Ryan groped for something to say next and settled for, “Another drink?” It seemed more neutral than any of the other questions that were now jostling for position in his head. By the time George Fairley fought his way back through the crowd to the bar, Ryan had managed to catch the eye of one of the bar staff, a cute, red-haired medical student with a thing for soldiers, and order two pints of beer. “Can I get you something?” he asked out of politeness.
Fairley smiled and shook his head. “Thanks, but I’m driving.” He turned to Leek. “Maybe I’ll see you around, Oliver?”
Leek nodded but without any obvious enthusiasm. When the man had gone, Leek took a long pull at his pint and his hand shook slightly when he set it back on the bar.
Without thinking, Ryan slipped his arm around Leek’s waist for a moment and murmured, “Are you OK?”
Instead of pulling away, Leek leaned against him for a moment, eyes closed, and breathing deeply in the manner recommended by every therapist Ryan had ever encountered. It was the first time they had ever touched in public but Ryan felt no embarrassment, even when the student behind the bar gave him what could only be described as an approving look.
“I think we’ve just made Craig’s night,” Leek said. “The lad’s an incurable romantic.”
“Then what the hell was he doing trying to chat up Finn last week?” said Ryan, emptying his own drink in three long swallows and pushing the empty glass across the bar to attract Craig’s attention. “Finn’s as straight as a die and hasn’t got a romantic bone in his body.”
“I think Craig’s worked that out now. He was fluttering his eyelashes at Becker earlier.”
Ryan laughed. “He doesn’t stand a chance. Unless it’s made of metal and goes bang when you pull the trigger, Becker’s not interested.”
“I imagine Craig would be happy to let Becker pull his trigger any day of the week.”
“I heard that!” Craig said with mock-indignation, setting two fresh pints down on the bar. “I’m clearly destined to die alone and unloved in a garret with only a canary for company.” He picked up the money Ryan had put down on the bar and asked, “Does this mean you two have finally decided to get together? If you have, Finn owes me a tenner, and I could really use the cash.”
To Ryan’s dismay, he felt heat rising up his cheeks in a way that hadn’t happened since he’d been a kid.
At his side, Leek smiled and rested his hand on top of Ryan’s for a moment. “Tom?”
Ryan drew in a deep breath and met Leek’s eyes, encountering a mix of uncertainty and hope that made Ryan want to pull him into his arms and kiss him, but he was too old and had been through too much to believe in fairytale endings. Instead, he smiled somewhat ruefully and said, “How about we join the others for one drink and then go out for a meal? My shout.”
Leek nodded and squeezed Ryan’s hand. “Thanks, I’d like that.”
* * * * *
They went for an Italian meal at a small restaurant just around the corner from Leek’s house, lingering longer than usual over brandies and dessert.
“Will you come back for a nightcap, Tom?” Leek asked, after Ryan had paid the bill. He hesitated then added, “I haven’t had a panic attack in my sleep for three weeks.”
Ryan accepted the invitation with a smile and a nod. They walked in companionable silence and Ryan wondered quite how far they were going to take things. He felt that he’d moved on enough to be able to contemplate a physical relationship again, but he was less sure about Leek. Not having nightmares for a while was one thing, but being ready for something more than simply seeking comfort in another man’s arms was another thing entirely and, if he was totally honest with himself, a small part of his brain was wondering whether whatever had grown up between them was nothing more than a product of the closeness that had sprung from their time in captivity.
Leek poured two large brandies and they settled down next to each other on the sofa. Ryan realised, with wry amusement, that he hadn’t felt like this since he’d been a teenager. The unaccustomed fluttering sensation in his stomach simply highlighted his uncertainty. They were both grown men, no doubt with several relationships behind them, but they were also damaged goods, in more ways that one. What bloody hope did they have of making this… whatever it was… work?
“Tom?” The word was softly spoken and contained that same mixture of hope and uncertainty that Ryan had witnessed earlier in the pub. Without waiting for an answer, Leek leaned over and pressed a light kiss to Ryan’s lips.
As first kisses went, it didn’t exactly set the world on fire. They were both hesitant and it showed, but as tongues gently explored each others mouths and hands roamed over warm bodies and finally slipped under shirts to touch skin, Ryan began to think that maybe, given time and patience, they could make this work.
One thing he was certain of, though, was that he wanted to try. They both did. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough.
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