Title: Shattered Dreams
Author: GW Katrina
Beta: Rebecca. Any mistakes are my fault.
Archive: Anywhere. Just tell me so I can go look.
Warning: Slash
Disclaimer: Not mine. If they were, here's the way I would do it
Summary: What happens after Zeke runs
Notes: Sequel to Fallen. This makes no sense unless you've read that.
It's very cold as I type this, so I apologize for typos, which I'm
sure will appear. *grins* I want to thank everyone who wrote with
encouragement. As well as those who threatened to hunt me down if I
didn't get the next part out soon. Thank you.

Shattered Dreams

Tentacles traced his face, and Zeke pressed himself harder against
the wall. A mouth full of teeth clicked shut inches from his nose.

With a strange slurping noise, Marybeth stood before him. She leaned
forward, arms on either side of Zeke's head.

"Hello, Zeke," she drawled, fake Southern accent still in
place. "Did you miss me?"

Zeke stared at her. He had seen the pen sticking out of her eye,
back in Herrington.

"You can't be here," he snarled, determined she wouldn't see his
fear. If she could survive an eyeful of scat, he didn't know what
would kill her. "Casey killed you."

"Oh, did he?" Her voice was a soft purr. "Where's he at, then, hmm?
Maybe I'm not the one who died, Zekey-boy. Maybe Casey was the one
who died. Maybe your little mind," she flicked his forehead with a
finger. "Snapped when you saw his body, mind shredded by my
children."

Zeke shivered. No. Casey wasn't dead. He wasn't human, but he had
been very much alive. Zeke hoped he still was.

Seeming to sense Zeke's stubbornness, Marybeth smiled. "You're
right, Zekey. Casey wasn't dead. At least, his body wasn't. One of
my babies got in him. Wrapped up, all cozy and warm inside that
amazing brain." She leaned closer, hot breath washing over his face.
Ignoring the man's shudders, the alien continued.

"He was the only one to figure it out, you know. If it weren't for
him, none of you would have discovered me. Not until it was too
late."

Feeling like he should run, Zeke found he couldn't move, not even
when Marybeth pressed her naked form against him. "Think about it,
Zeke. That night, before you abandoned him, wasn't it nice to be
with him? To taste that skin that had been marked so often by
others? To see those eyes roll up in pleasure? What was it like to
feel those long, pale fingers touching you, finding ways to make you
quiver?"

Her tongue traced a wet line up his neck. "I bet it felt good, Zeke.
If I wanted, I could pull how it felt for him into my mind. What my
children feel, I can feel.

You tasted good that first day, in the storage closet. When we
kissed, I wanted to keep you for myself."

Now Marybeth moved back, her eyes gleeful. "I don't share, Zekey.
Ever."

She turned and waved, and from the shadows stepped Casey, eyes
blank. Moving as if he was sleep walking, the boy moved forward,
kneeling with his back to Marybeth.

A strange growl came from the blonde, and Zeke watched in horror as
Casey jerked, back arching, arms stiff at his side. There was a
barely audible 'pop', and thin, red tendrils slithered out from
Casey's ear.

As quickly as it had appeared, the alien fell out and laid there,
glistening with liquids Zeke didn't want to think about.

There was a weak groan, and Casey fell forward, catching himself
hard with his arms. Dazed eyes rose and spotted Zeke.

"Ze-ke?" Casey's voice cracked, and Zeke felt his chest tightened.
Why did Casey have to look so lost?

"I'm free," whispered Casey. His look took on a desperate
appearance. "It was true, Zeke. It wasn'-"

CRACK

Marybeth's eyes were cold, and she twisted Casey's head the other
direction, producing another loud crackling noise. Not like the
first one. Not like the one what had snuffed the fire in Casey's
eyes.

"As I said, I don't share."

Dropping Casey's body, she stepped over it, her smile back in
place. "Don't worry, my Zeke. You'll be happy soon."

There was a faint tug on his pants leg, and Zeke looked down. His
eyes widened, and he fought, trying to get away from whatever held
him bound.

Crawling up his leg was the alien that had just been in Casey's head.

Oh, God. Casey.

Petting Zeke's pale face, Marybeth cooed. "You'll see it from his
side. You'll feel what it was like, the touch of your skin, the joy
of waking up smelling like you. You'll also get to feel the hurt,
being abandoned by the only person you trusted.

Sugar and salt, Zeke. Sweet and bitter. It's what life is about."

The alien's tentacles brushed his face, curling around his ear.

Zeke screamed.

Feeling those things pushing inside his ear was the most disgusting
thing he had ever felt. Most of his attention was focused on the
invading creature, but one tiny corner was screaming for a different
reason.

"Sorry, Case."

Then a strange feeling washed over his body. It was like the morning
he had gone to sleep with Casey, who had been brushing a feather
over his face.

Suddenly, the parasite vanished. Marybeth vanished. Casey's body
vanished. Everything was gone. Only a blur and a cold wind, and a
voice talking to him, interrupted periodically by a loud 'fwoosh'
sound.

Unable to make any sense of it, Zeke fell back into the darkness. A
place which was rapidly becoming familiar.

***

His head hurt.

Again.

With a soft moan, Zeke tried to sit up, only to find himself unable
to move. Dry eyes jerked open, and he looked around frantically.

He was in an unfamiliar room, firmly tucked into a bed. That
explained the being unable to move. But where was he? The last thing
he remembered was driving down the road. His whole body felt sore.
What had happened?

Looking around the room again, Zeke saw a dark jacket, heavy enough
to keep out the chill that was starting to creep into the nights.
Problem was, it was familiar, but wasn't his.

It was Casey's.

A noise outside the closed door was his only warning, and Zeke
pretended he was asleep.

Eyes shut; Zeke heard the door click open, and someone rustling
around. There was a gentle touch against his forehead, and a small
sigh.

"Fever's broken," mumbled Casey. He continued to talk as he moved
around, but it was too low for Zeke to make out any words. There was
the sound of water, and a cool cloth was draped over his forehead.

"I bet you still can't hear me, but I'm going to get some more
food." Soft fingers stroked his hair, and Zeke shifted without
meaning to. There was a noise of delight from Casey.

"You can beat this, Zeke. I know you can. You're the most stubborn
and difficult person I've ever known. Be difficult. Be stubborn.
Beat this."

A soft kiss brushed his temple. "I don't care if you do hate me.
Just wake up."

Another sigh, and the sound that was Casey left the room. Zeke laid
still until he heard the sound of a door shutting.

Fever? He vaguely remembered his vision blurring, then Marybeth. Then
the cold air. Had he gotten sick?

It must have hit fast, after he had left (abandoned, chimed in a
small voice) Casey. He remembered driving until dusk, then looking
for a place to stay. Nothing after that.

Opening his eyes again, Zeke struggled until he was able to sit up.
Damn, was Casey trying to keep him trapped?

Casey. What was he doing here? Marybeth had a clear reason. She
wanted to take over the world. What did Casey want? What did he
really look like? It disgusted Zeke that Marybeth had used a pretty
face to hid what she was. What if Casey was doing the same thing?

Pushing back the sheets, which felt like they were lined with lead,
Zeke rose on weak legs and headed for his duffle, which was lying
in a nearby table. Hopefully, what he wanted was still there.

***

Casey pushed open the door with a sigh. While the supplies weren't
as heavy as Zeke has been, it was still a long way to the car and
back.

Stopping in the kitchen, Casey stirred the soup that was cooking on
the stove. He wondered how many more beatings he would have got if
it have gotten out that he liked to cook, and was good at it. Just
the behavior they saw at school was enough to get him labeled 'bitch
boy' by some.

Tasting the soup, Casey smiled weakly. If Zeke ever woke up, he
would have very mushy noodles in his soup.

God, he hoped Zeke woke up. The last reports that had made in on the
airwaves had given the death rate at ninety-nine percent. Out of
thousands infected, only about two dozen had gotten better.

When he had found Zeke, unconscious in the front seat of a wrecked
car, burning up with fever, Casey had gone on autopilot. He had
gotten Zeke out and taken him to the nearest house. There had been
one moment when he thought Zeke had woke up. He had heard his name,
but the older boy had been caught in fever dreams.

After that, everything had been a blur. Periods of haze were broken
by the cold water he had bathed Zeke in, trips to the car for
supplies, and rare, brief, catnaps.

Placing the lid on the pot, Casey grabbed the new container of Vicks
Vapor Rub. It smelled horrible, but Zeke seemed to breathe easier
after Casey rubbed it on his chest.

Zeke was getting better. His fever had broken this morning, and he
had responded to Casey's touch. That was better than good. That was
great. Still, it most likely meant he'd have to go back to his
stalker-boy ways.

Shaking his head, Casey started up the stairs. If he was lucky, he'd
get to see Zeke sleep for a while longer, before he had to leave.

He had pushed open the door and taken several steps in before he
realized Zeke wasn't in bed anymore. He started to turn around, when
a voice stopped him.

"Hey, Casey. Thought I told you to stay away."

Finishing his turn, Casey saw Zeke sitting in a chair across the
room, gun in hand.

"Fuck you, Zeke. See you're feeling better." Not willing to be the
only one standing, and still tired from his supply run, Casey sat on
the bed. "Found your gun, I see."

Zeke's eyes narrowed. Shit. Casey sure was acting casual about the
gun. Did that mean he wasn't afraid of being shot? But he had backed
away before.

"Why are you here? I told you not to come near me."

Now it was Casey's turn to narrow his eyes. "Excuse me. Next time
almost everyone I know is killed, and the last one left besides me
takes off, I won't follow. And if I do find him, I'll let him die in
his smashed up car."

This Casey had bite. Defiantly an alien. Or.... Wait.

Zeke took a closer look. Casey was shaking, and there were dark
circles under his eyes. He looked like someone who had taken too
much scat, and was finally coming down.

"You look like shit."

That earned Zeke a frown. "You try taking care of someone for a
week. It's hard work." Seeing the look of confusion on Zeke's face,
Casey tried to explain.

"Yes, I was following you. It only took a day to catch up. You were
sick. I think you caught the alien virus." Casey shrugged. "So I
brought you here. It was the closest shelter. That's it."

Zeke wanted to trust him. He wanted to trust him so bad he could
taste it. He had just one more question.

"What do you look like? Really look like."

Casey spread his arms. "Basic package, right here."

That was greeted with a growl. "Yah, well Marybeth's basic package
had a few add ons. Does yours?"

The smile on Casey's face could only be called beautiful. No matter
how shitty he looked otherwise, that smile made him look angelic.
Zeke wished he had seen it before the alien invasion.

"One add on."

"Let's see it."

Casey pulled off his shirt. "I don't want to tear it," he said to
Zeke's unspoken question. Silently he pushed out; doing what his
real father had taught him long ago.

Zeke made a noise that sounded like 'gurk', and Casey laughed.

TBC…