Zeke Barnes/Henry Martin, A Gifted Man/666 Park Avenue
Title: No Clear Memory
Fandom: A Gifted Man/666 Park Avenue
Pairing: Zeke Barnes/Henry Martin
Theme: Memory
Rating: PG-13
Words: 496
Warnings: None.
Henry opened his eyes, squinting at the bright light that seemed to attack his senses. He had no idea where he was; the place didn't feel familiar, but he was sure that someone -- anyone -- around him would fill him in on what he had missed. At least, he hoped so.
He had no clear memory of what had happened; all he could remember was .... pain. Pain that seemed to radiate through his entire being. Not just physical, but pain that seemed to converge on him from all sides, trying to make sure that it obliterated him entirely.
And .... a face. A man. A man who had been holding his hand.
He didn't remember word that man had said, but he was sure that whatever those words had been, they had pulled him back from the edge of a black void that he could easily have let himself fall into. Those words -- that man -- had kept him in this life.
Who was that man? Had he been real, or just a figment of Henry's imagination? He didn't know the answers, but he hoped that the man was real. His strongest memory of all that had happened was those eyes, the compassion he saw there, giving him the will to live.
What exactly had happened? Henry frowned as he searched his memory -- and came up blank. The last thing he could remember clearly was stepping into the elevator -- only the elevator hadn't been there. He had stepped into empty space, then fallen through it.
One thing he was sure of -- he hadn't stepped into that space unaided. He could swear that he had felt a hand at his back, giving him a quick, hard shove. But he was also sure that there had bee nobody in the hallway, or anywhere near him. He had been completely alone.
The thought made him shiver, closing his eyes to block out that particular memory.
He had to be wrong about that. Jane was the one who had strange fancies about the Drake harboring some kind of evil; he didn't believe in that sort of thing. It was foolish, ridiculous. He wasn't going to give in to that kind of unreasoning fear.
He was going to concentrate on what he remembered the most clearly -- the man who had been there when he'd needed something to hold on to. Henry hoped that he would show up again, and that he would have the chance to thank his unknown savior.
He wanted to look into those eyes again, not just to tell the man how grateful he was, but to have a chance to drink in those perfect features, to bask in the sight of the most beautiful man he'd ever seen. If he didn't, he'd feel that he had lost something very special.
Henry let out a sharp gasp as the door opened -- and he found himself looking into those very eyes.
Fandom: A Gifted Man/666 Park Avenue
Pairing: Zeke Barnes/Henry Martin
Theme: Memory
Rating: PG-13
Words: 496
Warnings: None.
Henry opened his eyes, squinting at the bright light that seemed to attack his senses. He had no idea where he was; the place didn't feel familiar, but he was sure that someone -- anyone -- around him would fill him in on what he had missed. At least, he hoped so.
He had no clear memory of what had happened; all he could remember was .... pain. Pain that seemed to radiate through his entire being. Not just physical, but pain that seemed to converge on him from all sides, trying to make sure that it obliterated him entirely.
And .... a face. A man. A man who had been holding his hand.
He didn't remember word that man had said, but he was sure that whatever those words had been, they had pulled him back from the edge of a black void that he could easily have let himself fall into. Those words -- that man -- had kept him in this life.
Who was that man? Had he been real, or just a figment of Henry's imagination? He didn't know the answers, but he hoped that the man was real. His strongest memory of all that had happened was those eyes, the compassion he saw there, giving him the will to live.
What exactly had happened? Henry frowned as he searched his memory -- and came up blank. The last thing he could remember clearly was stepping into the elevator -- only the elevator hadn't been there. He had stepped into empty space, then fallen through it.
One thing he was sure of -- he hadn't stepped into that space unaided. He could swear that he had felt a hand at his back, giving him a quick, hard shove. But he was also sure that there had bee nobody in the hallway, or anywhere near him. He had been completely alone.
The thought made him shiver, closing his eyes to block out that particular memory.
He had to be wrong about that. Jane was the one who had strange fancies about the Drake harboring some kind of evil; he didn't believe in that sort of thing. It was foolish, ridiculous. He wasn't going to give in to that kind of unreasoning fear.
He was going to concentrate on what he remembered the most clearly -- the man who had been there when he'd needed something to hold on to. Henry hoped that he would show up again, and that he would have the chance to thank his unknown savior.
He wanted to look into those eyes again, not just to tell the man how grateful he was, but to have a chance to drink in those perfect features, to bask in the sight of the most beautiful man he'd ever seen. If he didn't, he'd feel that he had lost something very special.
Henry let out a sharp gasp as the door opened -- and he found himself looking into those very eyes.