TDS (act 1, chapter 1)
CHAPTER ONE: you put me on a shelf and kept me for yourself
"Mr. Adam Lambert?"
Adam whipped around so quickly, his coat flared out around his legs. The fog over the bay made the world look like it had been lifted straight from a classic Sherlock Holmes' film, circa Victorian England. Except that he was in Wales, not London, and the man striding towards him looked more the part of the handsome, roguish conman than the intellectual detective. Any other time, Adam would have straightened his posture and tried out a smile, but at that moment the more important thing was the person walking next to the stranger.
"Tommy!" shouted Adam. Maybe a little too loud, but whatever, "where the fuck have you been?"
His friend flinched, visibly flinched, and Adam's anger gave way to the worry that had been churning in his gut for the previous hour. Tommy's eyes didn’t lift up from the ground. Adam noted that the man accompanying him was wearing a uniform. Military.
Adam walked briskly to meet them. Most of his attention was on Tommy, but he kept an eye on the unknown man. Tommy had disappeared while Adam was checking out some storefronts around the bay. They weren’t even supposed to be wandering around on their own, Lane would kill him if she found out. Tommy had a tendency to get distracted, so the worry had built slowly, but he’d been gone for over an hour, in a foreign area where there really weren’t that many places to go, especially without hearing Adam shouting for him like a mad man; all the things that could have happened in that time crowded into Adam's mind now like a medley of fears from years of living as an out gay man.
It was all he could do not to pull Tommy into a crushing hug the moment he got within reaching distance. He glanced at the soldier - who nodded encouragingly - before laying a gentle hand on Tommy's arm. "Tommy? Are you hurt?"
Tommy shook his head. Adam couldn't see any injuries or bruises, but there wasn't much skin visible because his friend had a million layers on, as usual; it was cold in Britain and Tommy could be an icicle on sunny days in California.
"You found him, sir?" he asked the soldier. Who was, unfairly, even more handsome up close.
"Yup. Saw him sitting on a bench down that way," Tall Handsome Soldier pointed at the direction they'd come from, though anything beyond a couple of blocks was lost in the fog, "he was just staring out at the water. Seemed a little disoriented. He had this in his hand." The soldier held up a chain, at the end of which dangled a key. Adam recognized the chain - it was one of his - but not the key. Adam noted, absently, that Tommy wasn’t wearing any necklaces, though he’d put on a good handful that morning. "He kept mumbling your name. Went quiet when I said I'd help him find you. I figured I'd take him down to the police station."
Adam nodded. Just this morning, he realized, they'd woken up in fucking Sweden, two hours before the flight to London, followed by the drive to Cardiff. The jet lag, stress, and change of weather must have been doing weird things to his hearing: some words sounded echo-y and distant.
Tommy still hadn't said a word, and that really wasn’t helping the huge knot of anxiety in Adam’s stomach. But then Tommy took Adam's hand, almost shyly, and okay, Tommy had weird phases when he just didn't feel like talking, at all. He’d disappear into the background, withdrawn and quiet, and left it up to everybody around him to decipher his gestures and touches. It drove Allison crazy. Maybe this was just one of those times, and Adam was getting freaked out because he’s tired and a control freak. Yeah.
He still wanted to shout a bit, especially regarding the part where Tommy disappeared without a trace without letting Adam know where he was going and not answering his fucking cell phone. But whatever, Tommy was with him again and Adam would much rather shout at him when he was in the mood to argue back. Otherwise, it would be like picking on a puppy.
He must have zoned out, instinctively going into the breathe-in-breathe-out exercises his trainer had been drilling into him to release built-up stress, because suddenly they were in a completely different part of the bay, and Adam couldn’t even remember walking there. Tall Handsome Soldier was talking quietly with a woman several feet away, obviously giving him and Tommy their space. Adam wanted to say something about it, he was so used to making sure people didn’t get the wrong idea about the two of them - but Tommy was still holding his hand, so he conceded that it was a very natural assumption to make. And it wasn't as if he minded. He realized he was holding something in his other hand and looked down at it, confused. A mug, empty, but from the scent lingering in the air it had very recently been filled with coffee. Adam licked his lips and confirmed that, yes, he had been the one to drink it.
"It's okay, you don't have to lie, I know it's bloody horrible coffee," said the woman, grinning, her Welsh accent strong. She and the soldier walked back to join Adam and Tommy.
Adam blinked, smiled at her uncertainly. “No, it’s okay. Thank you.” Not exactly a lie when he couldn’t remember drinking the damn thing. He must be exhausted. He turned to the soldier. "If you don’t mind me asking, sir, are you American? Just… your accent." The way the guy talked could have fit right into Adam's childhood neighborhood.
The other man chuckled. "Not quite, but I've spent many years there. And only some of them serving Queen and country." He winked, and yeah, definitely the kind of guy Adam's mom had warned him about when he was a teenager, before he’d left to see the big bad world on his first cruise. Adam felt warmth wash over his face. He focused on Tommy's grip around his fingers to keep from smiling back enthusiastically. The soldier, hopefully not noticing Adam’s reaction, waved a hand at him and Tommy. "I guess the both of you are from the States?"
"Yeah, we're here on... business. Mostly." Tall Handsome Soldier grinned, flashing movie-star white teeth. Damn it. Never a hot guy around when he wanted one, and here was one coming on to him, when Adam couldn’t do anything about it.
The woman rolled her eyes. "Jack."
He had a small flash of worry that tomorrow there would be photos all over the place of him and Tommy holding hands, but he'd developed pretty good instincts about that, and these two clearly didn't recognize them. Or didn’t care. He transferred the mug to the fingers still holding Tommy’s, and held out his hand. "Sorry, I'm being rude. I'm Adam, this is Tommy."
"Gwen," said the woman, shaking his hand firmly and smiling. "This is Captain Jack Harkness."
"But you're more than welcome to call me Jack." Captain Jack shook Adam's hand as well, and Adam couldn't help noticing that the man's hand was large, strong, lightly callused. There was no breeze with the dense fog, but somehow Adam caught a whiff of the man's aftershave. So not the time.
Gwen leaned forward and took the empty mug from Adam. Adam pretended not to notice her elbow digging into Jack's side.
There was a tug on his hand. Tommy. Right. His friend wasn't staring at the ground anymore, but he still avoided Adam's eyes. "We should go back to the hotel, we've already been out longer than I said we would be." Adam looked at his watch, and swore loudly. He belatedly remembered they had company. "Sorry. We’ve definitely missed dinner." Everyone probably thought they’d fallen asleep in their rooms. Adam dug into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. Huh. It was off. He pressed the power button, and the screen flashed the low battery symbol. He was pretty sure it had been full when they'd left. Maybe he hadn't locked it and the random jolts against his leg had had it running apps all day.
Adam realized how much his thoughts were wandering. Shit, he needed sleep. Actually, they needed sleep - Tommy still looked pretty out of it. But at least he was looking up and- Adam caught movement at the corner of his vision and turned to see Jack gazing intently at the sea. Which was basically a few feet of water followed by a wall of grey.
"I'll call you a taxi," offered Gwen, who didn't look like she'd noticed anything, and pulled out her phone. They went to wait at a huge open plaza, which Jack called the Plass.
"Thanks again for finding Tommy," said Adam, as they waited for the cab to arrive.
"No problem." Jack looked like he was considering saying more. He eventually reached into his coat and pulled out a calling card, which he gave to Adam. "If you ever get lost down here - or lose somebody again, in this case - call this. It's for the Tourist Information Center. Gwen works there."
Adam was not at all disappointed that the card didn't have contact information for Jack. As if Jack could read his mind, he grinned and added, "She'll usually know where to find me.”
The cab arrived. Tommy got in while Adam thanked Jack and Gwen again. He offered to take them out to dinner while he was in town, but they declined. Finally, they were on their way back to the hotel; a weird weight Adam hadn't been aware of gradually lifted the further away they got from the bay.
Fatigue hit him hard during the relatively short cab ride, and by the time they reached the hotel, Tommy was the one guiding him. Adam dug out his keycard where his room number was written and they figured out which button to press in the elevator and made it down the longest fucking hallway ever, and Tommy got the door open on the first try.
It was night now, and fog had drifted further into the city. Adam was so close to sleep that he had a weird half-dream about a glowing key, a leather wristband with blinking lights on it, and dark shapes in the fog. There was a murmur, Tommy's voice, finally, both close by and far away, saying words he didn’t understand. He slid the rest of the way into sleep before he even hit the mattress.
Adam didn't notice anything for a long time.
He’d woken up the morning after The Cardiff Incident feeling like the evening before had been pretty surreal but already tucked away alongside all the other surreal experiences of his life. Tommy was his usual self at breakfast, giving Adam a sleepy hug hello and flicking cereal at Taylor’s hair when the other guy wasn’t looking. The memories grew fuzzier with every hour, and due to the hectic whirlwind that was his life, he forgot about the whole thing before he could sit Tommy down and go, hey, remember that time you disappeared?
They had two remaining shows in the UK, plus three TV appearances. All of it went off without a hitch. If Tommy seemed quiet, he had always had phases when he would be more withdrawn; he was given his space, no one thought anything of it, least of all Adam. Though it seemed to Adam that he caught Tommy staring at him far more often than he used to. But... well. They'd played this thing between them, this more-than-friends and not-quite-lovers thing, long enough that it felt like choreography.
Anyway. Nothing wrong with looking.
They returned to Los Angeles for a month's rest at home. For the band and dancers, anyway. For Adam there were still the radio interviews, public appearances, movie premieres, but as usual he made sure to keep in touch with everyone. That was how he heard from Monte about Tommy repeatedly turning down invitations to dinner at the Pittmans'. Terrance texted about Tommy sounding weird on the phone when they'd talked. Adam looked at his calendar, cringed, and promised himself he'd do a lunch or stay-in movie night with Tommy in the near future.
A week later, Adam was deeply asleep when his cell phone started ringing. He groaned, remembered it was a Friday night (which invariably made this a drunk dial) and buried the device under his pillows. The call ended. A new one started. Persistent fucker. He took it out again and fumbled for the silence button, or the power button, but somehow he must have hit the button to accept the call.
"Adam, get up." It was Isaac. There was no music in the background, and he sounded the opposite of drunk. "Adam. It's Tommy."
Tommy was missing.
It took Adam several minutes to punch through the fog of sleep in his brain. He mumbled something to Isaac and stumbled around his bedroom for his clothes. A glance at the clock: 3:06AM.
"He hasn't returned any of my calls," Isaac had said. "It can take him a few days, but he always replies, even if it's just a text. So I called his roommates. Mike’s been out of town, and Nick’s been staying at his boyfriend’s, so they haven't seen him since last week."
A whole week. Adam couldn't remember the last time he'd contacted Tommy. It was a text? Right, he'd texted Tommy in the middle of that never-ending awards show, something about the jewelry that one of the women at his table was wearing. They texted each other random shit all the time. He hadn't gotten a reply, but he hadn't been expecting one.
Despite the late hour, Isaac and David had called up most of the people Tommy knew. No one reported seeing him that week. Shit, how long had Tommy been fucking missing and no one had noticed?
Adam tried Tommy's phone, anyway. It went straight to voicemail. He cleared his throat. Leave a message after the tone.
"Hey, Tommy, are you okay? No one's seen you in a while and we're kinda worried. It's cool if you just want some time to yourself, but please call someone and let us know you're okay. Or text. I... just call. Please." Adam ended the call, stared at his phone. Please be okay.
Adam was in his car and heading for Tommy's place when he realized he'd left his wallet behind. And his beanie. He hadn't gone more than a few miles, and the last thing he needed was to be pulled over and have the paps take pictures of him being interrogated by the police for driving without a license. He swore under his breath and turned back around.
In his hurry, he dropped his keys at the door twice. He finally got in and spotted his wallet, on the kitchen counter, right where he'd left it.
But now there was somebody on his couch.
"Hey, how did you get in here?" Adam demanded, still at the doorway. Visions of being attacked by a crazy armed stalker flashed through his mind.
The person lifted their head. Adam blinked.
"Tommy?"
Tommy had pulled his hood so far over his head that only a little bit of his blond bangs were visible. He looked grimy, unkempt, and while his eyes were pointed at Adam, his expression seemed unfocused.
"Tommy." Adam closed the door behind him and slowly approached the couch. Tommy kept staring at him. He didn't look scared. He didn’t look like anything. "Tommy, are you okay?"
Tommy shifted slightly, and Adam saw that he was clutching his phone. His other hand, empty, twitched on his lap. He was wearing the oversized black jacket that Adam recognized from their first trip to Europe; he looked tiny on Adam's couch, which wasn't new, but Adam had never known him to look this fragile before.
Seeing the phone reminded Adam that there were very worried friends out looking for Tommy. He whipped out his own phone and quickly texted Isaac and David, I've found him. He's sorry for worrying you guys, he's just going through stuff.
The second after he sent the text, Adam frowned. He didn't lie if he could help it, and maybe he should have asked Isaac and David to come to his house, because he had a feeling that this was bigger than he could fix himself. At the same time, Tommy had come to him. And... Adam remembered heavy fog over the bay. People appearing out of thin air. Memories as thin as the scent of coffee hanging in the air.
He'd never told anyone about losing Tommy then, either. It hadn’t occurred to him to wonder why not. One hour. It was only an hour. And now he’s sure, somehow, that this was related to that.
He was startled by the touch of Tommy's fingers wrapping around his hand. "Shit, you're freezing," he gasped. It was a little chilly outside. "Have you been wandering around outdoors all night?"
Still no response. Adam sighed. "Tommy, are you hungry? Come on, just nod or shake your head if you don't want to talk." The rush of adrenaline receding, he registered that Tommy also smelled pretty bad. "Whoa, when was the last time you showered?"
Tommy kept staring. Frustration welled up in Adam, but also fear, and the growing conviction that there was something going on here, something bigger than he could handle. "Look, you're starting to freak me out, okay? I should take you to the hospital. Don't worry, I'll stay with you, but I can't figure out what's going on here, and I don't want to make it worse. I should call your mom, too."
Some of his words must have registered, because Tommy's expression changed. His brow wrinkled, like he was concentrating hard. Adam waited, doing his best to be patient. Eventually, Tommy mumbled something.
"What's that?" Adam prompted gently, leaning closer. Yeah, Tommy definitely needed a shower. "Baby, you're gonna have to speak up a bit more." He gave Tommy's hand a reassuring squeeze.
"I... I couldn't. Couldn't remember," Tommy whispered, staring at a point in the air between them. His words were slow, almost slurred, and he looked as if speaking was the hardest thing in the world.
"Remember what?"
His friend's mouth opened and closed a few times, silent, before more words tumbled out. "Tommy. I couldn't. Couldn't remember Tommy."
Adam called up Lane and took Tommy to the hospital himself. Tommy was quiet and docile the entire time, and Adam may have thrown a diva fit because no one was taking his insistent, something is wrong with my friend, seriously. They did their time in the waiting room and nurses took blood and measured Tommy’s vitals. Adam had to leave after a couple of hours, but Monte showed up in time to take his place, followed by Isaac, Cam, David. All their friends were gratifyingly eager to keep Tommy company, and Adam even had to talk Terrance out of grabbing the next flight back to LA.
The results were frustrating. Physically, there is nothing wrong with him, the doctor explained. No toxins or drugs or foreign agents in his blood, his vitals are all normal, the X-rays and CAT-scans don't show anything. In my professional opinion, any problems here are psychological.
Tommy did not want to do the psych tests. That disconcerting blankness was still there, but with every hour more of Tommy was leeching back in, and by the time Adam was able to come back in the afternoon, Tommy was his restless, irritated self again. "Look, I'm fine," he protested. "It was just... the stress getting to me. I feel completely fine right now."
It was clearly a lie, but Adam decided not to press the issue. He could work denial like his tallest pair of platform boots, and he simply decided to keep a closer eye on Tommy.
Work grew heavy. He had a couple of performances with the band, and Adam was relieved to see that whatever was bothering Tommy did not affect his playing at all. If anything, he sounded better, smoother. Adam wondered if it was his imagination, but he noticed Monte throwing inquisitive, approving glances at Tommy.
After the hospital visit, Adam did his best to spend as much of his free time with Tommy as he could, and Tommy seemed to cling to Adam’s presence. Which Adam was more than fine with, because now every time Tommy was out of his sight for more than a few hours, a heavy weight would settle in his gut, and his brain would bring up the bad dreams he’d started having, where he searched and searched for Tommy but could never find him. Paranoia, he knew, but he couldn’t figure out why. It felt a lot like a part of his life was slipping out of his control. So, better safe than sorry. Even if it meant Tommy staying at his place more and more, because that was the one place they were guaranteed privacy.
Adam wasn’t sure how they managed to avoid being photographed together, or the fans cottoning on to the fact that Tommy was more or less living in Adam’s guest bedroom. It seemed the sort of thing they’d find out about quickly. But there was not a word about it on the internet, or at least nothing beyond the usual level of craziness and wild conjecture. Their friends had gotten pretty savvy, too, and occasionally engaged in a bit of misdirection by pretending to go out with one or the other in another part of town.
Occasionally, Adam would admit to himself that this was probably the equivalent of slapping a tiny Band-Aid on a serious, about-to-splatter-everywhere wound.
Tommy was a pretty decent person to live with, at least. He seemed to want to just be around Adam, not necessarily needing Adam’s attention, so most days they did their own thing and felt reassured by each other’s company. It was strange, but totally fine.
Everything was perfectly fine.
Adam woke up from a weird but quickly-forgotten dream and felt like a snack, so he headed downstairs. Adam heard Tommy’s voice when he passed the guest bathroom and paused outside the door. Tommy was… babbling. That was the only word for it. Babbling, in the guest bathroom. At 4AM.
It sounded like Tommy was talking, except it wasn’t in any language that Adam was familiar with. Some of the stuff didn’t even sound like words. His hand hovered an inch from the door, but he eventually let it drop and went straight to the kitchen.
He paid closer attention after that. Noticed Tommy drinking up the bar like he was back on tour and having a low day. And then not drinking anything at all but water and juice.
“You can say it, you know,” Tommy eventually said. They were spending a peaceful evening in front of the television. “I think it.”
"What?" Adam frowned.
"That I'm going crazy." Tommy pushed back his bangs, ended up with a fistful of hair. "I think I'm losing my mind. Or I've already lost it."
"If you’ve lost your mind, how are you supposed to know it?"
Tommy made a face at him. "Cut it out, don't think I haven't seen you working Google. I'm just...” Tommy made frustrated motions at his head, “my skull feels like there's another brain trapped in there. Like it’s full, except there are holes in my memory, and I get these weird… thoughts. Like, I suddenly know things but I don’t know how I know them. I woke up this morning with the sun in my face and thought, the speed of light is 299 792 458 meters per second. You know that I can barely remember my own phone number. How the fuck do I know that?”
Adam couldn’t think of anything to say. He just wrapped his arms around Tommy for some heartfelt cuddling, and only rolled his eyes when they somehow ended up watching a M*A*S*H marathon, the sneaky fucker.
Adam was having a really awesome dream. It started out like any show on his most recent tour, all of them onstage and the audience screaming like their life depended on it. He looked at Tommy, and Tommy smirked and put his bass down. But the music kept playing, bass line thumping strong, no one else in the band was looking at them, and suddenly Adam knew that he could do anything up there, anything, and the audience would see a normal show. He pulled off his topmost coat - somehow he was wearing all of his costumes, even the chainmail vest - and Tommy shrugged off his jacket, and things got progressively more naked from there.
He wasn’t sure where the dream-stage released him back into his bedroom, but he became aware of hands running down his body, and legs tangling with his own, and he let out a pleased noise, stroking a hand over lean, smooth arms.
The rest of his brain woke up, and he remembered that there was only one other person in his house.
“Tommy?” he whispered. A soft kiss landed on the back of his neck, and Adam let out a breath, cataloguing the familiar scent and weight of his friend spooning against his back. Tommy was wearing a shirt and boxers, Adam only in boxers, and it was fine, they’d cuddled plenty of times in bed before.
And then Tommy’s hand slipped under his boxers, strong fingers groping his balls and gripping his cock.
Adam gasped, arching instinctively into Tommy’s hand. “Shit, Tommy,” he breathed. They’d crossed the just-friends line a couple of times, because alcohol was very effective at turning many lines bendy, hah, but never like this, stone-cold sober and in an actual bed.
Tommy began stroking him, strong and sure like Adam preferred. Adam’s heart was hammering in his chest. He’d been pretty sure he’d figured the two of them out, it’d only taken him a couple of years, but of course Tommy would always surprise him, Tommy could never stay still - Adam twisted his head around, grabbed Tommy’s jaw, found his lips.
And quickly scrambled back, away, to the other side of the bed and nearly off it, the spike of fear overriding his body’s disappointment at the loss of touch. Tommy was just a shape in the dark, both of them breathing hard, yet Adam knew that shape, could find it anywhere. He also knew the feel of Tommy’s mouth, the taste of him, and thanks to hundreds of moments in front of audiences and hundreds more just for the two of them, he knew how Tommy kissed.
“You’re not Tommy,” he said into the dark.
Silence. Which was an answer, when he thought about it. They stared at each other, caught in a weird limbo, for an indeterminate length of time.
It was Tommy - or, well, not-Tommy - who eventually moved, lying down on the bed and stretching out. Adam kept staring, uncomfortably aware of the darkness and the empty house and how very alone he was. But he remembered the previous time Tommy had... had gone away, gone silent. Plus, if Adam felt alone…
He laid back down, forced his body to relax. There was a good couple of feet of space between them on the bed. Adam took a deep breath and extended a hand out, leaving it halfway into that gap. A moment later, Tommy’s hand met his, and loosely wove their fingers together.
When Adam woke up, morning sunlight sneaking through the curtains, the person in front of him was Tommy again. Their hands were still joined; Adam wondered if Tommy, a restless sleeper, had slept at all.
“Hi,” said Adam, smiling gently.
Relief showed on Tommy’s face, and he smiled back. “Hey.”
“I never asked you what happened,” said Adam carefully. “That day in Cardiff.”
Tommy looked away. “I got lost. Captain Jack found me. I can’t... I can’t tell you anything else. I don’t remember.”
“And last night?”
“I don’t remember.”
Adam swallowed. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so confused and helpless before. And afraid. But he closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Tommy, holding him close. “It’s okay. Whatever this is, we’ll figure it out.”
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