Exposure

[suneater]

For Existentially Odd

Luke let a long breath grow stale in his lungs before finally pushing open the door of the clinic and stepping inside.

The interior was surprisingly put together. Brightly lit, well-maintained. If it weren't for the thick bulletproof glass and sturdy, coded security door that separated the waiting area from the rest of the facility, it would have been at home in any part of the city. Luke had chosen it exactly because of its location, though. He didn't want to be seen, and he didn't think that anyone would be looking for him here.

He'd opted to wear a hoodie and jeans, along with his scuffed leather combat boots. He hadn't shaved in a few days, and while the stubble wouldn't serve as a complete disguise, it made his handsome, Caucasian presence in the clinic that much more plausible. The sun had set a few hours before, and Luke had come directly from a patrol, albeit via a laboriously circuitous route. He didn't want word of this spreading around, and he particularly didn't want it getting back to Jake.

He kept his hood up as he approached the counter. The woman behind it barely looked at him as she went through a thoroughly rehearsed set of instructions in monotone. Her voice came out tinny through the speaker set in the glass. The instructions related to a thick sheaf of forms on a clipboard that she slid through the small gap. He mumbled thanks before taking the clipboard back to a seat and getting to work. The waiting room had only a few other souls in it, people of color who waited listlessly for their turn with the no-doubt-harried staff of doctors and nurses.

Gripping the plain plastic pen in his gloved right hand, he quickly filled in all of the biographical data. Jake had outfitted him with what he assured him was the finest false identity money could buy, complete with every form of identification imaginable, even a library card. He'd committed all of it to memory and breezed through the more perfunctory sections of the paperwork.

Reason for Visit hung him up for a few seconds. He tapped the pen against his chin and then scrawled STD testing. Unconsciously, he scratched at his inner thigh before moving on.

After that were a series of boxes to check. Symptoms, sexual history, drug use, family medical history, allergies. He indicated several symptoms that he'd been feeling since last night's encounter: a slight fever, weakness, itchiness, the beginnings of a sore throat. He never should have done it. He'd known it was a mistake, but he'd needed to get away from the White Rabbit and lose himself a little. He'd had the impulse to dance, and he'd had a little bit too much to drink. The next thing he knew, he'd ended up fucking some guy's brains out in the bathroom. His memory was a little alcohol-hazy, but he certainly hadn't had any condoms with him, and his general impression was that it hadn't come up.

He'd woken up feeling awful, and it wasn't a hangover. Whatever tinkering had been done to his body left him pretty resilient to that sort of thing. The symptoms had only gotten worse as the day went on. He'd resisted the urge to start Googling every sexual malady he could think of. Jake had provided his phone, and there was a solid chance it was bugged in some fashion. He didn't need his benefactor getting a report that showed him getting up to speed on syphilis.

Hospitals were too much for him. He had a sneaking suspicion that the shards of memory sifting in his head might shake loose in a large institution like that. Non-legitimate medical assistance would mean going through Jake or one of Jake's subordinates, so that was out. So he'd come here. It seemed like his best option for getting himself fixed up without anyone finding out about it.

He returned to the counter and submitted his papers, along with the driver's license Jake had procured for him.

"You got insurance?" she asked him. He shook his head. "Alright then, have a seat," she droned without even looking at him. "I'll give you your ID back after. Doctor will be with you shortly."

Luke sighed silently and returned to his seat. About thirty minutes passed, and in that time, two more patients were called ahead of him. The process was the same both times. A slight buzz sounded from behind the heavy door, and then it opened partway. A large man in powder blue scrubs leaned out and called a name, then carefully ushered the patient in question through, be sure the door closed securely afterward. He wondered how long things had been like this. The security measures no doubt had a cause, and he strongly suspected that cause to be people trying to get their hands on pain killers or even just stealing valuable medical supplies.

Another buzz. This time, the man called out "David Hart!", which was the name on his forged identification. He rose and moved to follow. The big guy, who looked like he actually could have put up a fight if it came to it, cocked an eyebrow at him as he approached. "Right this way," he said skeptically before letting Luke through, closing the door, and then forging ahead. The hallway was clean, if a little dated. The tile was a hideous beige, and the walls were in need of a fresh coat of paint, but overall it could have been worse.

The big fellow led him to the third door on the right. There was a counter with a sink, cabinets above, drawers below, a variety of disposable medical supplies arrayed on top. There was also an adjustable chair with a fresh paper cover on it. "Have a seat. You're here for STI screening, right?" Luke nodded. The man smiled approvingly. "Good to get tested regularly. Hang tight and someone will be in soon." With that he breezed out of the room.

Luke took a seat, the paper sheath crinkling against the pleather beneath it. His eyes flicked to the clock. It was nearly nine now. He reached down and pushed up the left sleeve of his sweatshirt, exposing the pale skin beneath. He had to hope he could direct them to his left arm for any blood-taking, because otherwise he was going to be leaving in a hurry. His unnatural gray right arm had been one of his major concerns when considering this solution, but he'd learned that he was a consummate liar, even compared to the extensive network of vampires he kept company with.

Swinging his feet in an almost childlike fashion, he waited.

[Existentially Odd]

The door to Luke's examination room opened around five minutes after he'd been deposited, the opener preceded by a wheeled stool. A blond male - wearing the same powder blue scrubs the first had - followed behind it, pushing it with one hand while he carried a plastic specimen caddy in the other. A clipboard was tucked beneath his caddy arm. He paused to close the door behind him, then kept trundling forward.

"Evening, David," he bade as he rolled his seat towards the bench by the sink, not sparing his patient a glance. "My name's Harm and I'm here to poke a few holes in you to make you feel better," he said playfully as he put his caddy on the sink, sat on the stool and pulled the clipboard out from under his arm in a practiced movement. He adjusted the stethoscope around his neck slightly as he examined the chart in front of him, walking his stool closer to the examination chair. "So, you suspect an STI, is that right?" he queried in his smooth baritone voice.

That was when he looked up at the patient and his jaw dropped. "LUKE?!" he exclaimed.

[suneater]

Luke spend his wait performing a thorough inventory of the room. Cotton swabs, tongue depressors, gloves- nothing unexpected. The drawers and cabinets had small locks built in, no doubt more for the sake of deterrence than anything else; they didn’t look formidable enough to stop a determined thief, but he guessed there wasn’t anything of serious value in them anyway. There was a regular wastebasket, and another more intimidating one with signage indicating that it was meant for biohazardous material only. If they only knew.

The blood he was thinking of froze in his veins. The testing he was signing on for would likely require samples, and it occurred to him that his blood might test positive for more than invasive bacteria and viruses. The gloved fingers of his inhuman right arm flexed into a fist. This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. His embarrassment and the resulting desire to take care of this himself had clouded his judgment. He couldn’t let him take his blood, test it. What sort of red flags might it raise? The people he’d escaped from probably had the resources to look for that kind of thing.

He was just about to get up and leave when the door opened, and another nurse entered. This one was smaller, slimmer, blond. Cute. Like the woman behind the counter, he seemed to have little time or attention to spare his patient. Luke had to imagine that his jokey little entrance was just as canned and rehearsed as her monologue about medical reforms had been. Still, it was cute, and the idea of a healthcare professional named Harm was amusing enough to distract him from his escape plan.

That wasn’t the only source of distraction. As Harm crossed the room, Luke couldn’t help but notice the way the thin fabric of the scrubs fell over his hips. Oh shut up, he silently told his dick. It’s your fault we’re in this mess in the first place. He realized just then that an STD screening would definitely involve his dick, and Harm looking at and possibly even touching it. Why did he have to have a hot nurse?

He pushed those thoughts aside. He needed to get out of this. Make an excuse. Take off. He was in the process of generating a plausible excuse when the other man finally looked up at him and exclaimed his name. His real name. Nerve-jangling anxiety spread from his stomach throughout his body, but he suppressed it and focused.

The surprise and recognition on Harm’s features weren’t manufactured. The guy looked… well, it was hard to say. Was there a word for devastated but hopeful? His paranoia directed him to the notion that this was some sort of set-up, but he dismissed it quickly. There was no way something like this could be engineered, not even with all the resources he had to imagine that a shadowy supernatural organization could bring to bear. This place wasn’t part of any pattern, wasn’t predictable for him. That was why he’d chosen it.

Some of the slivers of memory that had pulled free from his broken brain alluded to his life in the city before. He’d never caught a glimpse of Harm in any of them, but the nurse clearly knew him. Who was he to him? What had they been to each other? It was only a matter of time, now that he was starting to spend more time out of seclusion, before someone recognized him. His heart started to hammer in his chest. Whoever he was, he could provide answers. He could help Luke learn who he had been before.

A single uncertain flicker crossed Luke’s features as his mind raced through those possibilities. Otherwise, he was still, impassive, his intense gaze focused on Harm in a fashion that might even have been a little intimidating. Could he really justify letting this person stumble into the world he lived in now? Wouldn’t it be better to deny everything, to make his exit, to disappear out of his life a second time? Better for Harm, at least. He’d be confused but safe. Not a degree of separation away from vampires and worse. Luke’s teeth ground together behind his lips. Only a few seconds of shocked silence had passed. How should he play this?

He had to know. He had to take what scraps of knowledge he could from Harm while keeping him as uninvolved as possible. It was selfish, but he couldn’t run away from this opportunity. He needed to extract as much information as he could… and that meant playing dumb. His left hand found its way to his right arm, scratching through the thick fabric of his hoodie.

“I’m sorry,” he imparted quietly, his deep voice tinged with guilt. “But I have no idea who you are.”

[Existentially Odd]

Harm’s mouth snapped shut. His jaw sort of... tilted to the left as his right shoulder lifted in a defensive partial shrug, all his fingers tightening reflexively around the clipboard. “Ohhhh,” he warbled. It was a nothing sound, really, an exhalation of pain released against his will. He didn’t wish to telegraph that the blow of not being recognised went right through him and cut his heart to ribbons.

It fucking hurt.

He remembered days laughing with Luke and his odious (not really, he'd been great, it'd just been Harm's attitude) boyfriend, Trevor, secretly lusting over Luke’s body as they tossed a football on the grassy campus of college, or kicked a soccer ball around or caught baseballs. There’d been a lot of balls, really, with the jocks. Harm had never truly fitted in with them but Trevor had had the ability to draw anyone to him, like a shining beacon of hope that the gay world wasn’t so crushingly judgemental or vilified. Harm’s parents had always been accepting of him but that hadn’t made leaving the safety of high school and moving into the big, open world of college and freedom any easier to navigate.

For that, there’d been Luke.  Sweet, intelligent, gorgeous Luke. Harm also remembered nights with him, tucked aside in shadowy couches at obnoxious parties, debating the successes and failures of the justice system, the almost certainty of life on other planets, the benefits of recycling... anything and everything. He remembered the relative anonymity of laying on wet grass, staring up at a sky filled with stars so that Luke finally had the courage to open up to him about how unhappy he was with Trevor, never noticing how Harm lay beside him, quivering with guilt-laden hope and a desire so strong it laced his dreams every fucking night.

Pathetic, useless dreams because nothing had ever come of it. He’d received the scraps of Luke’s friendly hugs, laughing punches on the arm, even a grateful touch every now and then, before he’d become too emotional over Trevor and hastened away from Harm, embarrassed to be seen crying. Harm had cried plenty over this man, especially after the beautiful pair had had their car accident and Trevor died. Harm had heard a drunk driver had jumped a gutter and collected them and that Trevor’s casket had been closed. Luke had left college, three or so years in and returned to his family to be cared for. There’d never been a phone call, a Facebook update, another rumour. He’d just disappeared from everyone’s lives like a ghost.

Everyone else had moved on, adjusting to the empty space left behind by the ebullient couple with ease. But not Harm. He’d suffered through a minefield of grief and confusion, the loss so sudden as to have ripped his heart out with it. He’d stupidly fallen in love with a man that wasn’t his, seducing himself with the promise of him when it had never been guaranteed and he’d felt as foolish as he had heartbroken. He’d learnt to adjust eventually and console himself that at least Luke had lived... even if he’d left Harm’s life a gaping wound for a little while (two years or so) and he’d probably never see him again.

Until tonight, apparently. When, here he was, larger and brighter and more beautiful than ever, watching him from those gorgeous, suspicious hazel eyes... and not remembering a fucking thing about him. Jesus fuck. “Um, I’m Harm Bennett,” he clarified awkwardly, touching his chest as if Luke might be confused who he was talking about, making the lanyard around his neck jangle against his stethoscope. “From college? We were f-friends before you and Trevor... had your accident,” he finished sadly. “I was so sorry to hear he died.”

Not really, not at the time. But only because I wanted you... and you have no fucking idea who I am, do you? Please tell me you got amnesia after the accident and that’s why you don’t remember me. Not because I was so insignificant as to be forgettable. Pleasepleaseplease.

[suneater]

Someone else might not have noticed, but somewhere along the line Luke had developed a good eye for the hallmarks of human emotion. Harm's stiff body language, his white-knuckled grasp of the clipboard, his slight clumsiness as he tapped his own chest- it came together to tell a story, or at least, summarize one. It was Harm's eyes, so blue that Luke was submerged in them for a moment, that conveyed most of it. He'd learned that people could often compose their features or still them but could seldom do much about their eyes. Pain shone in Harm's, and Luke swallowed as he studied the man's almost boyish features, watching the turmoil play out.

Even before Harm spoke another word, Luke could tell that he had meant something to him once. Maybe not him, but whoever he was before. There was a good chance that Harm had meant something to him, too. Had they been involved? It wasn't unlikely. Harm was just his type. It would certainly explain how much he seemed to be hurting. He'd never featured in one of Luke's returned memories, but that didn't mean anything. Or did it?

He listened when Harm spoke. The story unfolded, and Luke immediately suspected that it was a lie. Not Harm's lie, but a lie he had been given, and since it was the only explanation he'd had, he'd taken it as truth. An accident would be a convenient way for Project Twilight to justify his disappearance. The name Trevor didn't ring any bells, but the way Harm spoke of him, he must have been someone to Luke as well. Had they killed him, just to sell their lie?

Luke reached up with his gloved hand and rubbed the back of his neck. He tried to summon an apologetic smile, but it arrived stillborn. "I don't... remember any of that. I don't remember a lot. Since the accident. Or before." After a pause, he added, "Sorry." He shifted slightly, resulting in noisy crinkling from the paper seat cover beneath him. It made sense. It was plausible. They'd covered up his disappearance. He wondered what else Harm could solve for him, but then he felt something hard and painful obstructing his throat.

He looked across the small room at Harm. This isn't a source or an asset, it's an actual person. A hurt person. There were mental subroutines still at work, still coming up with a strategy for which mental levers and emotional buttons to pull and push to get as much out of Harm as he could, but Luke did his best to ignore them. How many hours of the life he remembered had he spent wishing he had more of the life that only existed to him in searing, painful glimpses? Here was a piece of that life, sitting just feet away from him.

"I wish I did," he offered. This time, the smile, however slight, came through. His voice was a little tight; he had to force it out past the lump in his throat. "Anyone who works in a place like this is probably someone worth knowing." He meant it, too. He'd thought as much a dozen times throughout the various stages of his experience at the clinic.

A strange, pained laugh escaped his mouth. "This is really fucking weird. I'm sorry, I know it's not funny, I just... I mean, what can I say but 'nice to meet you'?" He reached out with his left hand, the one that was normal, human, warm, offering it to Harm.

[Existentially Odd]

Harm's aquamarine eyes widened as he was told Luke remembered very little of his life from before the accident. A tiny, hopeful part of him exulted that it had been amnesia! But then... as Luke continued to speak, Harm glanced down at the board in his hands. David Hart, it said. If Luke didn't remember anything from before the accident and he thought his name was David Hart, how had he responded to his proper name? It was very confusing.

He looked back up at the honey-blond in time to be complimented on working at the clinic. He blushed, feeling the heat rise up his neck to the tips of his ears. He giggled at Luke's comment that it was fucking weird and nodded his agreement, dismissing the notion it wasn't funny with a wave of his hand. It wasn't funny, no, but he was feeling light-headed enough to laugh at anything. Luke was right there, in the amazingly fine-looking flesh. His tongue felt as if it was glued to the roof of his mouth and he didn't trust himself to speak for a few moments.

Harm placed his hand in Luke's, feeling the heat of his grasp travel through him. His long, graceful fingers curled around the side of Harm's hand almost gently, caressing the edge of his palm even as his thumb raised tingles across the webbing beside his own thumb. God, his touch made him just want to drop to his knees and...  He cleared his throat, aware that his fair skin was still flushed but for an entirely different reason now.

"Yeah, that is weird, considering we... were such good, uh, well, considering we were friends for a f-few years--you really remember nothing? Your amnesia's that complete... but you remember your own name?" he asked, flustered. Belatedly, he remembered to pull his hand away from Luke's.

[suneater]

… a younger Luke, a younger Harm, their surroundings indistinct and noisy. There was a ball of anxiety vibrating in Luke’s chest, but it seemed to be slowing down. He reached out, clasping Harm’s shoulder and giving a fond squeeze. “Thanks.” His voice hitched, but he continued.” You always know just what to say…”

The instant they made contact the memory overtook him. It was like being trapped in a movie for just a few seconds. He saw what he had seen, felt what he had felt, but the entire thing was on rails. He came out of it dizzy; if he hadn’t been sitting, he might have fallen over. Awareness of the examination room, of the hand in his own, the feel warm skin against his own, flooded him. At least there was no headache or nosebleed this time.

It was over so quickly that if Harm noticed anything, it would only have been that Luke froze for a single frame of time, then blinked when it was over. Harm was talking and Luke struggled to absorb his words and make sense of them as the present reasserted itself. He was questioning Luke’s memory, that was the gist of it.

As he caught up with reality, one thing became painfully clear: Harm’s feelings for him likely crossed the boundary of friendship. It was written all over his face in red, hidden behind his cautious revisions of how he depicted their past, evident in how much being remembered seemed to mean to him. Luke tried to recall how he’d felt in the memory, but it had been so brief. He’d felt… relief. Assurance. No passion. No lust. He wondered how long Harm had felt this way. Had it always been part of their relationship, or had it only emerged once he was gone? He couldn’t imagine holding onto anything that long.

Luke’s mouth was dry when he tried to reply. He circulated some saliva and gave it another go.

“I get pieces. Fragments. Honestly, I only knew my name at first because someone told me it, but I guess some of my memories have confirmed it since then. They get triggered by things. Random things.” He paused warily. “I um, actually just had one. Of you, when we touched. It seems like you were in my corner, back then.”

His gaze dipped to the floor. “My life is pretty complicated. Kind of seems like it always was, though.” He was barely smiling as he met Harm’s eyes. He laughed self-consciously. “This is awkward, but I think maybe we should skip the exam.” His brow creased. “Would that make things hard on your end? Could you just say I chickened out or something?”

[Existentially Odd]

Harm was fascinated by the notion that a handshake could trigger a memory of them. It explained the slightly distant look Luke had adopted but not what his feelings about these memories were. Did it hurt him? Was he actively trying to regain his memory? Could he help?

When the final statements about skipping the exam came, Harm blinked and frowned, professional obligation overwriting his complicated feelings about the man before him. Plus, the idea that Luke could breeze into his life and straight back out again in as little as a few minutes was a very real possibility without something like his health hingeing them together. He couldn't let him go that easily. His heart rate picked up in fear at the mere thought of it.

"Your life was... mostly great. You and Trevor were totally relationship goals for a while, there. But... it went sour, and I... " he lowered his gaze momentarily, lips pressing together and holding back the rest of his comment before he looked up into Luke's eyes again. He was scruffy with his unshaven face and there was an air of being weathered and haunted about him that Harm saw too often in the homeless veterans they treated at the clinic but fuck, he still looked so good. Beautiful. Barricaded. A little broken.

"We can skip it if you want but if you truly believe you've been exposed, you shouldn't. Maybe... " he glanced at the door of the exam room, calculating, then back into those pools of hazel deliciousness, "I could just get a couple of treatments for you to take. They're mostly broad-spectrum antibiotics anyway, just in heavier doses, so they won't hurt you. We give them out like candy and usually before the results are back. The government's pretty lax on monitoring us on those and we have plenty on hand. Can't have the needy masses addicted, malnourished and passing around sexual diseases because it's all they've got in their lives, now can we?"

His smile was bitter but his expression was still as he waited for Luke's response. There was a tension holding his spine rigid that he couldn't dispel no matter how much he shifted on his stool. Was it ethical to ask for a patient's number or grill him on the fake identity he'd provided? Hell no. Would he do it anyway? First chance he got. "Would you prefer that?" he prompted.

[suneater]

There was more in what Harm didn't say than what he did. Luke watched him steer his way through the conversation. He was careful about what he committed into words. Despite having unfettered access to his own memories, it didn't seem like the man trusted them. There was uncertainty, not about where they stood with one another now, but then. Had they been good friends, or friends? What had happened after things went sour with Trevor, who he now suspected was the young man he'd glimpsed in a few of his memories? Luke wished he had the answers. He wished he could validate whatever it was that Harm was so unsure of.

Harm had trailed off. Luke wanted to ask questions, wanted to get some of the omissions clarified. He'd obviously relied on Harm before, and he found himself wanting to be able to again. His mouth had just fallen open to say as much when Harm beat him to the punch - offering a succinct, easy solution to the simpler of the problems at hand.

It was hard not to notice the way Harm was looking at him. Luke felt like the biggest present beneath the Christmas tree, the one that was obviously just what you asked for. Thoughtfulness etched itself onto his features, as if he was considering the offer of medication, but in truth he was using that time to figure out his next move. The anti-biotics were a no-brainer; he was taking them, for sure. But what next? What were his objectives?

He wanted to put Harm at ease. There was something causing him to keep arm's length between them. Luke wasn't ready to trust Harm, but he wanted to, and he couldn't while the blatant editorializing was happening. He wasn't foolish enough to think that he could get Harm to drop his guard completely with a few words, but he could at least start the process.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that this isn't the first time you've made sure I end up alright despite myself." He grinned, and though it started cheeky, it resolved into something appreciative as he reached out and gripped Harm's shoulder with his gloved hand, giving a fond squeeze. "You really do always know just what to say." It was stilted, sure, but he hoped that maybe that memory could connect them. He couldn't guarantee that Harm remembered it, but right now, it was the only shared experience they had.

He let the grip linger for a few seconds, still smiling as he met Harm's gaze. "Maybe we should continue this not at your place of work?" He finally pulled away, bringing his hands together to crack his knuckles slowly, one by one. He laughed. "I'm more than a little embarrassed that this is how we met. Well. Re-met. What are the odds, right? Just, how insane is it that this is happening?" Luke was a little surprised at how true his words were ringing, how little of the mirth and gratitude were manufactured. "It's really weird to say, but I guess I'm glad I made some bad choices last night."

He was still grinning. "If I hadn't, I might never have stumbled into you."

[Existentially Odd]

Harm's breath hitched in his throat and stalled there when Luke touched his shoulder and repeated the words that had haunted him for years. It had been said to him, not once, but many times, from tired Luke, drunk Luke, overwrought and miserable Luke. Every Luke that had ever hedged him back into the fucking friend zone had done it with those words. You always know just what to say.

Yes, because he'd been too fucking stupid to say what he'd meant, which had been that Luke should just let Trevor go and look at what other options he'd had around him. People that cared about his heart, that had words of empathy and encouragement on hand at every needed moment because they were things that Harm would want to hear, if their situations were reversed. He couldn't ever badmouth Trevor - he'd learnt that early on. So he'd had to bolster Luke, remind him how wonderful he was, tell him that there was so much more for him beyond the misery he was currently feeling.

Words he'd needed to tell himself. How did Luke remember those words, if he hadn't even remembered who the fuck Harm was? Was it just some script he threw out at everyone and anyone? Had he been that stupid?

Harm struggled to keep his face neutral as Luke continued speaking, trying not to advertise that he felt like he'd taken everything said thus far directly to the solar plexus. He frowned and the air eased back into his lungs as he listened to Luke try to move them out of the clinic... so they could reconnect properly? Why was he smiling like that? It made Harm uncomfortable but even though he couldn't think particularly straight and his feelings were all over the place, he wasn't going to miss an opportunity to be close to the man he'd dreamed of for so long. At the very least, it might help him get some proper closure so he could move on and stop comparing every guy he ever met to Luke fucking Kingston.

He looked at his watch, calculating. "Yeah, it's a trip alright. I'm off at midnight, three or so hours. You want me to meet you somewhere tonight or is that too late for you?" He stood up, feeling confused and over emotional. His breathing still wasn't working in his favour. "I'll just... go get the meds while you think about it." He practically fled the exam room, not giving Luke a chance to respond. His legs weren't working properly; they felt stiff and uncoordinated as he marched down to the medications vault (it was just a room, really, but so highly secured that the staff referred to it as 'the vault'), using the badge on his lanyard reel and the keys from his pocket to get in.

Once he was inside, he leant on a cabinet for a few minutes, taking some deep, calming breaths and trying his best to get himself under control. Was this actually happening? Was he really talking to Luke after all these years, casually organising to meet up with him and have coffee later? WHY? He'd worked through this guy like a fucking grieving widow, why was he opening himself up to more pain? It was even more one-sided than ever before, because Luke claimed to have no fucking clue who he was and he was using a fake name!! That wasn't uncommon around here - Mickey Mouse and Donald Trump had had more visits to this clinic than two year olds took dumps in their pants - but it was suspicious that an upstanding guy like Luke would be doing it. The Luke he'd known had been headed for a career in law enforcement, had been so by-the-book that he hadn't been able to walk past rubbish on the college grounds without putting it in a trash can and now he had a fake identity and was cool with accepting under-the-counter meds? Did he even know this guy??

Fuck. FUCK!!

It was completely insane but he did want to meet up with him later. He was a weak, pathetic masochist but by every God in creation, he needed to know more and he hungered to be close to the sun for just one more night. It was only coffee or a meal or something. A catch-up and confessional. What could possibly go wrong? "Fuck me, you're an idiot," he sighed to himself as he unlocked the appropriate cabinets and got the medication that Luke might need out. The strongest type ought to do it, it'd cover most of the common threats and if it was more exotic... well, Luke should've had the guts to fucking show him his dick and let him take some blood, shouldn't he? Harm locked everything up behind himself and went back into the examination room, closing the door behind him.

"Here you go," he said as he walked up and stood before Luke. He watched his hands, waiting for them to take what he offered, almost afraid of looking up into Luke's eyes now. What if he saw that Luke had changed his mind, now that he'd made his up? What if he was just being nice to get the meds and would walk out now he had what he wanted? His heart was hammering - possibly because he'd stood in front of his stool rather than sitting on it and it put him between Luke's knees. Too close, really... close enough to get a sense of his size and bulk and imagine what it would be like to press into it, have him bear down and... Harm closed his eyes briefly, shoving the wanton thoughts away. Taking a breath, he looked up.

[suneater]

Just like that, Luke was alone. Harm had all but bolted. Great job setting him at ease. His smile, meant to be warm, open, reassuring, had frozen on his face. It chipped away bit by bit as he watched Harm retreat. He fell back against the seat covered his face with his hands. The reclining chair was only elevated 25 degrees, leaving him virtually horizontal. The fluorescent light overhead was stark, too bright, unforgiving. He could feel a headache budding at the crown of his skull, so he squeezed his eyes shut and drew a deep breath.

He had no right trying to be normal. Whatever Harm could tell him didn't really matter. Even if he could regain everything, even if he could step back into the life he'd been ripped from, there would still be people hunting him. There would still be a monster inside him. Knowing who he'd been in college was a luxury. The memories he needed had taken place after their time together. The normal life he was so desperate to learn about wouldn't be possible until he'd dealt with Project Twilight.

He could leave right now. Harm would probably be better off if he did. He'd become a ghost to him, and sticking around, trying to force things to work, he might as well be haunting him.

He let out a soft groan. He was rationalizing, and he knew it. He didn't want to leave to spare Harm pain, he wanted to leave because he had no idea how to do this. He was a weapon. A soldier. His attempts to be something else had been disastrous, and reconnecting with Harm looked to be more of the same. He wasn't human, he wasn't normal, and pretending otherwise was proving a painful process. His flirtations with the mundane kept turning to shit, and the only common factor among those experiences was him.

He filled his lungs again and held the air in until they began to hurt. He pressed his palms into his eyeballs, exerting slight pressure. He needed to stop pretending.

He heard the door click open and slowly sat up. He squinted against the light when he opened his eyes, and then his features resolved into storminess reflecting his deliberation. There was Harm, right in front of him, prescription bottle proffered. Luke had to look up at him, since he'd opted to stand. He reached out with his gloved hand and took it, eliciting a rattle of pill against plastic. His lips pressed together, not quite smiling. "Thanks."

His hand dropped to his lap. He could sense that Harm was waiting for him to speak. After all, he'd been left with a question, hadn't he.

"Let's start over." He forced himself to meet Harm's gaze. His voice was soft but steady. Not unkind, but matter-of-fact. "We're both coming into this with baggage. You lost me, and I was something to you. I can't say for sure what you were to me. I have nothing. Almost nothing. A few months of myself, along with these... fragments. I'm making it work, but it's barely a life. And then there's you. You're something. It's dangerous." He frowned faintly. "It's almost seductive." Saying the word made him aware of their proximity, but he forged on. "The idea that maybe you can help me get back to where I was once, who I was once." His gaze dropped to the spot on the ground between Harm's feet. "But you can't. Even if I get it all back, I can't just pick up where I left off."

Cut him loose. Let him go. He'll survive, he already did once. He'll be better off.

He looked up slowly. He worked his way up from the group, climbing Harm's scrub-clad body. Passing his hips, the way his shirt hung away from his narrow waste, his lithe torso. He marked the divot of his clavicle, the slight broadening of his shoulders, the naturally pouting lower lip. He stopped at the eyes, like tidal pools in miniature. It almost hurt to look into them. There were years of pain there, but Luke forced himself to look.

"If we're going to do this, we're strangers." The words came slowly. He couldn't throw this chance away, but he could be realistic about it. Who he was, rather than who he had been. "I don't know anything about you, but I want to. The things you know about me, they don't count anymore." He swallowed. "But there's something here. So let's try, if you want to. Midnight is fine."

He shrugged. "I don't have anywhere to be."

[Existentially Odd]

Harm's memories from college were strong when Luke started speaking, though there was an intensity to his words, a rawness that had never been part of his repertoire before. It caused him to frown but he folded his arms across his body, his hands curled around his biceps as he listened. What Luke had to say - about being fragmented and lost - tugged at Harm's heart against his will. It was a lot. So much. He'd seen less baggage at airport carousels but it didn't deter him. It intrigued him.

He nodded, the 'the things you know about me don't count anymore' statement nagging at his brain. He wanted to argue it - for he saw quite a lot that he did recognise before him - but now wasn't the time or place. He should also not be so cocky and wait to see if Luke was right. That would take time. "Cool. Where will I find you?" he asked simply. He pulled his phone out of his pants pocket and thumbed his way to a contacts entry. "And what's your number, in case something comes up?"

[suneater]

Luke watched Harm fold in on himself while he delivered his little monologue.

He waxed thoughtful, pulling up his mental map of the neighborhood. The options weren't plentiful, but it seemed better to keep things in neutral territory for now. He didn't want to meet Harm anywhere that someone in Jake's employ might see them, and he didn't want to steer things toward Harm's place, either.

"There's a diner a few blocks south of here." His brow knit as he summoned the name. "Neptune Diner? I'll be there." He hesitated slightly before rattling off the digits of his phone number. The phone number that Jake had provided him with. Why did even the aspects of the situation have to be so damn complicated?

He rose to stand carefully. For just a second, their faces were within inches of one another. He slipped to the side and pushed his hands, along with the prescription bottle, into the pockets of his sweatshirt. "See you there."

He hovered awkwardly for a few seconds before turning and heading out. He had to pause inside the security door to deal with the billing (which he handled in cash), but then he was off into the night with three hours to kill.

[Existentially Odd]

Harm watched Luke leave, holding himself rigid until the other man was out of the room and then he collapsed onto his stool, the force of it wheeling him back into the bench behind him. He doubted his own sanity but he couldn't deny the worm of excitement squirming in his belly. He had a few hours and then he'd get to see Luke again, perhaps to help him figure out what had happened in his life, perhaps to just get to know him because 'there's something here'. Something almost seductive, apparently.

God, what he'd have given to have heard those words directed at him five or six years ago.

Right now... he wasn't so sure. Luke was very different and he wasn't backwards in telling Harm that he was. He'd lost his memory - apart from a few fragments - and they were strangers. He'd been almost aggressive in that assertion. Well, perhaps 'blunt' was a better descriptor. Either way, he hadn't prevaricated as he'd said he wanted to get to know Harm anew. He'd even figured out Harm had had feelings for him in about two minutes flat and the old Luke had been fucking oblivious to it for almost three years. The words, 'I was something to you' wouldn't stop rolling around in his head, though he was quite proud of himself for not replying, 'Yes, I was in love with you, you big idiot!'. Maybe he still was.

Who was the actual idiot then, if that was the case?

~*~

Harm was running late to the diner. Someone who'd had a run-in with a particularly aggressive plate glass window (and lost) had come into the clinic at eleven thirty, needing a ton of debriding, sterilising and stitching. She'd bled everywhere, including on Harm's scrubs, which hadn't impressed him. When he'd seen her coming, he'd known she wasn't going to be a quick in and out patient and had sent Luke a text (not waiting for a reply before he pocketed the device and got to work on his patchwork patient).

I will be a little late but I'm still coming! Trying to stitch as fast as I can. Damn these late, bloody customers!
- Harm.

Luckily, he had a hoodie in his backpack so he could pull that on over his blooded shirt. The few drips that had landed on his pants were less noticeable and he anticipated the table would conceal them. He felt disgusting, wishing he was able to shower at the clinic but he didn't want to waste any more time. By ten past twelve, he'd finished scrubbing his skin clean, pulled on his black jumper (checking he hadn't ruined his hair in the process) and thrown all his gear into his backpack. Clipping his helmet into place, he wheeled his bicycle out onto the street and rode south the short distance he needed to, hastening to chain his bike to a sturdy railing outside the Neptune Diner. He'd stopped here a lot on his way home.

Bounding up the steps (fuelled by pure adrenaline rather than actual energy reserves), Harm entered the diner carrying his helmet and pulling his bag off his back. He spied Luke quickly, facing the door - so that he'd find him more easily, he assumed. Harm appreciated the gesture, unaware that militant types had a need to observe all entries and exits to a place just in case. He walked straight up and slid into the seat on the opposite side of Luke's booth at exactly twelve sixteen, placing his belongings on the seat beside him. Their knees brushed in the minimal space below the table and Harm hoped he didn't blush as he slid one of his feet past Luke's, so that their legs alternated.

By the time he looked up, there was a waitress beside the table. "Hey Harm, how was your night?" she asked.

Harm dragged his gaze away from Luke's beautiful face and eyed the waitress. Her name was Sandra but her name badge said, 'Sandy', even though she was well into her fifties and the name didn't suit her squareish, sombre features. He smiled at her anyway. "Bit messy, Sandy, how's yours been?" he queried.

"Living the dream. What can I get for you tonight?"

He chuckled at her acerbic answer, not needing to look at a menu and deliberating briefly; he only needed to consult his stomach to see how empty it was to know what to order. "Hmn, a beef and bacon burger and fries, thanks. With a Coke. And... maybe some french toast afterwards, but I'll see how I go," he winked, then looked inquisitively at Luke's lonely-looking glass of water and cup of coffee. "You want anything?" he queried.

Once Luke had given his answer, Sandy left and Harm leant forward, arms folded comfortably and elbows resting on the table. "Thanks for waiting for me. Bad timing. Everything tends to go to shit right around midnight," he sighed. It turned into a yawn and he lifted a hand to cover his mouth, rubbing at his face with it before dropping his elbow back down. He tilted his head and fitted his jaw into the palm of his hand, observing Luke through eyes that were an even more iridescent aquamarine and shinier than usual, due to his tiredness. He smiled with the left side of his mouth. "I still can't believe it's you," he confessed, his voice soft and husky.

[suneater]

He started walking as soon as he hit the sidewalk. With everything else going on, he hadn't realized how uncomfortable a brush with the medical establishment made him. By the time he was halfway down the block, he'd wandered down some strange mental corridors. After all, a clinic like Harm's would be a fantastic place to "recruit patients" for a shadowy organization that was making supernatural modifications to human beings. Anonymity and poverty would go a long way towards ensuring that those who went missing weren't actually missed...

A siren howling a few streets away tugged him out of his conspiracy theory. He glanced around. The streets weren't dead, but they seemed to be dying. The people milling about either did so quickly so that they'd make it home to their families or slowly because they had nowhere to go. Not much was open - just a deli on the far corner, and a fried chicken place that was seeing some steady late night traffic from the drugged and drunk. Most of the businesses nearby weren't just closed- they were shuttered, long-vacant, the leasing signs stained and faded with age. He strode quickly down the sidewalk, pulling his hood up. He might not have had much to fear physically, but it would be better to avoid potential encounters entirely. He frowned, imagining Harm making this same walk. Something about it discomforted him, and he almost considered picking him up at the end of his shift.

He didn't have any plans for how to span the gulf of time that lay before him. He wasn't going back to the White Rabbit. It would be strange for him to come in and then go out again, arousing interest he really didn't care to contend with. He continued toward the diner, but paused as he passed a bar. It was barely recognizable as such from the worn exterior. The signage was so faded that he couldn't make out the name. There was tinny music that he could only classify as "kind of Spanish" drifting into the street from it, though, and as he got closer he could hear murmurs of conversation from within.

He pushed inside and had a look around. There wasn't much to it - a bar, some tables, a juke box that was only half lit up. The few souls therein regarded him dubiously before going back to their drinking and talking. That seemed like as much of an invitation as he was likely to get, so he crossed to the bar and ordered a Modelo. The bartender nodded at him and slid the bottle across the counter. Luke scooped it up and stalked to a table with a doorway vantage point.

Three beers later, he checked his phone. The hours had passed quickly. His encounter with Harm seemed to have kicked something over in his brain, and it was easy to let his mind wander while he waited. Mostly, he tried to recall what he could of the college-era memories he'd recovered. Focusing on them, he was pretty sure he knew who Trevor was- the most oft-featured character in the vignettes, and there were enough kisses and closeness that their relationship was confirmed. No other glimpses of Harm, though, or how he fit in to the life Luke had lost.

Harm had already let him know he'd been late (Luke's response: "see you then"), so Luke hadn't been vigilant about keeping track of time. When his phone buzzed again (a text notifying him that two of the vampires from his patrol unit were switching shifts this week), he saw "11:57" and swore. He hustled out, leaving more than enough cash to cover his beers on the counter, and then jogged over to the diner.

"Just sit anywhere," the older woman behind the counter called when she saw him standing just inside the entrance. He staked out a booth and slid habitually into the seat facing the door. He glanced at his phone. Nothing from Harm.

A few minutes later, the woman slid a massive laminated menu in front of him, and a glass of water. He ordered a coffee and then studied the seemingly endless list of food options distractedly. The door opened three more times, and on the third, Harm finally arrived. Luke smiled, lifting his hand in an easy wave. As Harm slid in across from him, their legs ended up a bit tangled. Some strange instinct urged him to nudge Harm under the table playfully, but he didn't give in. It was strange, akin to muscle-memory, but it didn't feel like his own.

He cocked a brow when the waitress appeared almost immediately, and his eyebrow sketched up farther when Harm ordered. He ordered tilapia with mixed vegetables for himself, and more coffee. When she was gone he looked across the table at Harm. Sleepy Harm. It was endearing, and Luke couldn't help the gentle smile that formed on his lips.

"And I can't believe you're going to eat all that. I would have guessed you were a salad guy." He was sitting up, his hands clasped around his mug. He lifted them briefly when Sandy cruised by with his refill, but returned them in short order. He'd spread his legs, briefly brushing against Harm's in the process, but after that they were free of footsies concerns - both of Harm's legs could fit between his wide stance. "But yeah. It's me. I guess." He lifted his mug, looking down at it, and then occupied himself with a sip.

"I guess... tell me about yourself? I'd offer to do the same but there really isn't much." He set the mug down again, regarding Harm with obvious curiosity.