The Lucky One

[Kenneth Branagh]

They were both young, that was what it all came down to. They were kids, raised to kill, to become good little soldiers. A thing like that wasn't easy to accept--killing, that was. Ken wasn't born with a taste for it, the way Jem and Junior and some of the others were. It wasn't even an acquired taste.

He killed when he had to. When he came across those that posed a danger to themselves or to the population at large, then he knew that his purpose was clear. But when they were harmless and only wanted to live in peace, he let them be. No longer being part of the hunting clan meant that he could exercise his own judgment now.

Amidst the killing and the playing at being soldiers, they didn't have much time to be themselves. Ken felt the most freedom when it was just him and Niall, and sometimes Lor too. He could speak his mind without having to mind his manners. He laughed at inappropriate jokes, made inappropriate jokes himself, jumped and ran and swam and rolled around on the grass. And when he realized that he had feelings for Niall that went beyond simple friendship, he thought foolishly that he could hide it from everyone.

But the community that raised them suddenly turned all against them and it was like having the rug yanked right out from under them. They coped in different ways. Ken withdrew, distanced himself, and Niall ran. The circumstances and their immaturity pushed them apart, but necessity pulled them together again. Ken knew now what Cain had meant back at the clinic.

Niall needed him--but he needed Niall, too.

"And now?" In the darkness, he sought for Niall's face. His fingertips trailed against a jaw. "Do you still... need me?"

[Niall Gallagher]

Living out there, amongst people that genuinely hated him, that was tough. It was easier not to care or to shrug it off when he had something worth staying for. Lorcan. Ken. They were his pillars and he felt, too, that he was their pillars. They leaned on one another for support when they needed it and boy, did Niall use up his share of that during their last year together. Dealing with Lorcan's death was hard enough to do with Ken's hand in his. It was damn near impossible when he was standing on foreign soil without a clue as to what to do or where to go.

It wasn't like he had family here and even if he did, they would have gotten wind of his past in Ireland. All he wanted to do was escape that past, the judgment, the fact that daggers charged his heart every time he even so much as heard Ken's name or voice. He didn't even have to see him and everything hurt.

But he thought now, sitting here in the dark, he sort of got it. Ken was scared, too. What was Ken supposed to do? Slightly younger than him and with more duty bound in him than Niall ever had... Of course he stayed. Niall couldn't keep resenting him for that. Tilting his head into Ken's touch, he gazed at his shadow in the darkness.

Oh, what a question to ask.

"If you only knew..."

Ken had no idea. It seemed almost unfair to plunge him into the mess that Niall had made for himself. Now all he wanted to do was take Ken's hand and tell him to run with him this time, anywhere. But he didn't know if he could do it. If it meant dropping everything he'd been using to cope, could he actually do it? Or would he die? Niall heard stories of going cold turkey and dying. He didn't so much mind the dying part but he didn't want to go out in pain. He really didn't.

Slowly, he reached out to touch the hand on his face, making sure it was real, that he wasn't dreaming again.

"...are you still going to be here in the morning?"

[Kenneth Branagh]

Would he be here in the morning? Oh, what a question to ask.

In the darkness, Ken smiled. He turned his hand and pulled Niall's down with him, to the bed, their fingers twining securely. If he squinted hard enough, he could just about make out Niall's face. Not the finer details, but the familiar shape of it, and the curve of an ear, his throat, a shoulder through the blankets surrounding him.

Niall was strong--stronger than anyone gave him credit for.

He ran, but he also survived. All this time, on his own, alone and frightened and unsure, somehow he made it. The drugs and the vampires and everything else were demons on his back but Ken was sure, in that moment, that Niall would find the strength of will to discard them. And Ken would be there, not only through the next morning, but into the day, and night, into the weeks and months--for as long as Niall needed him.

They were partners, and partners never gave up on each other.

"Hey, look. That one. It's so bright!"

Ken pointed up, straight up, into the star-strewn sky. One star in particular was feeling extra showy; its light flickered in colors of blue and red and yellow.

He tented his knees and drew the blanket up with him; his toes immediately felt the freeze and he shimmied them back under. They were laying on that little grassy knoll just outside of O'Connell's farm. Old man O'Connell was a sympathetic soul. Sometimes in the summer, they'd stop on by and he would give them drinks of cold water out of his well. Or, during the harvest, they'd come around with hopeful smiles and he'd be there with baskets of sweet, crisp apples or handfuls of juicy dark plums.

Tonight, a single light flickered from O'Connell's farm house. He was inside preparing dinner; Ken saw his shadow moving and smelled the smoke rising from his chimney. They were safe here, away from all the prying eyes, and under the blanket, their hands were clasped firmly. Ken shifted closer to get away from the cold, but--mostly to get closer to Niall.

He grinned and Niall grinned and in that moment, Ken felt invincible. Turning, he nuzzled the tip of his cold nose against Niall's cheek. "I'm callin' that one... Wooly."

"Does your mop look like a wooly sheep's coat?"

[Niall Gallagher]

"Nae," he said, in his thickest Irish brogue, the joke being that he was making an animal sound, too. Not so much "bah" but still, it was a stupid joke, okay? They were allowed to have those, after years of knowing one another. His eyes half closed and he laughed softly into the darkness. He understood it, somehow. The reason Ken asked the question. It was his reply to Niall's question. A question with a question.

"No backing out on this deal," he said, although they had never struck any deals so far. In fact, every deal that Niall tried to assert was swept out from under him. At least the one pill was doing something, though not much. In all these years, it took a lot more of the stronger stuff to do anything for him anymore. The dangers of addiction--not that he would say that was what it was--but it did come with that damned tolerance.

Without asking, Niall drew closer, twining a leg around one of Ken's calves, resting his cheek against Ken's chest and slipping a hand over his chest. Better to sleep close. They were going to end up that way, anyway. If it hadn't been for the nightmare, he probably would have woken up this way--which was far more pleasant. His eyes closed and he could hear the thump, thump, thump of Ken's heart. A content smile covered his face.

"...I missed you, Kenny."

[Kenneth Branagh]

"Yer a right auld pair o' rogues," Old man O'Connell used to say of them, usually in exasperation when he found them creeping through his property at night. But Ken knew that he was on their side, and that no matter what he said, he would never have told their parents. O'Connell's two sons had been taken in the hunt; he lived alone in that stone farm house and Niall and Ken were the only frequent visitors there. He treated them like his own sons.

As he accepted Niall into his arms and let his mind wander, Ken thought back to that old stone farm. What ever happened to the old man? A nephew of his was supposed to come live with him, but Ken never had the chance to meet him. Patrick, was that his name? The old man talked at length about him but that was so long ago now.

"I never back out on my deals," he muttered as his lips grazed something that felt like a temple. Maybe the upper side of a face or a cheek. Ken's eyes drifted closed, too; he didn't have to say it, did he? That he missed Niall too? So much that he could barely breathe. Having Niall back in his arms again felt like the first gasp of air after a long, long time underwater. The stale breath was expelled and new life was breathed into him.

"As long as you keep your hand out of my pocket, ye auld rogue."

~~

When the sunlight shafted through the window, Ken's eyes opened immediately. Actually, this was late for him. He'd slept in; normally he was up before the sun peeked out over the horizon. Stretching his sleep-stiffened legs, he looked around, and then down. Sleeping lightly meant that he wasn't often surprised in the morning. He gazed at Niall—or, rather, Niall's puffy head of hair. Niall's face was mashed into his chest.

"Good morning," he said to no one in particular, since Niall was fast asleep and unlikely to hear him. But it felt good to say it anyway. Slowly, Ken disengaged but Niall didn't make that easy, with his death grip. He managed it somehow and slipped off to the bathroom to wash his face, shutting the door in case the sound of water wakened Niall.

[Niall Gallagher]

For the first time in a long time, Niall slept like a baby. Beyond that first nightmare, he slept cradled in Ken's arms without slithering out of his clothing in frustration, without waking in a nightmare and not being able to distinguish it from reality. But he did cling. That was his nature. He'd always been the one that flopped over Ken or insisted on being piggybacked from place to place (even if it sometimes ended with him getting flipped onto his back or head).

He slept straight through whatever might be going on in the bathroom. It wasn't until he stretched out a leg and felt nobody that he took in a confused breath and twisted his head up, looking around the room with a pounding heart.

"Ugh..." He winced as he lowered his head and held it in both hands. He still hurt. That throbbing headache from yesterday was going to need more than a single painkiller. What he needed was something greasy and about 10 liters of water. Reaching out for the glass beside his bed, he knocked it over, finding it was empty anyway. Letting out another groan, he rolled onto his back and slid a hand through his hair.

"Ken?" he said cautiously to the room, eyes darting around. The room looked different, actually, now that he got a look at it. Nicer. Tidier. His clothes weren't spilling out all over the place now and his table.

"Whoa, whoa!" He sat up hastily, realizing that everything that had been on the table was gone. Thumping over to the table, he dropped down to his knees and felt around as if he were blind and the items had just gone invisible. No way would Niall have gotten rid of those things. Ken. He looked over his shoulder at the closed bathroom door. The fact that it was closed and things were missing said it all.

"KEN!" he shouted as he spun back up onto his feet, stumbling in his race to get over to the bathroom door.

[Kenneth Branagh]

He had the bag. The bag of drugs—pills, powders, baggies, drug paraphernalia. He had it and whatever he couldn't throw in the trash or dispose of down the drain, he flushed away. Niall didn't need these rainbow rocks. He didn't need the prescription drugs for someone named Jerry O'Hanlon. He defintely didn't need the needles.

Ken heard moving around outside, but he assumed that was only Niall waking up. He pressed the plunger on the toilet and the last of some unidentifiable white powder went swirling down the pipes. There. That was the last of it. Ken stripped off the disposable gloves—he kept several pairs in his bag—and dropped them into the bathroom bin.

Done.

Niall's frantic voice drew him out suddenly, however; he thought that something was wrong. Was the vampire back? Ken jerked open the door violently, a hand already at the slim blade at his hip. But the detectors were again silent and there was only Niall, looking harried. Ken's hand relaxed; he willed his heart to stop exploding in his chest.

"What? What's wrong?!"

[Niall Gallagher]

"My stuff!" Niall wailed as he stalked toward Ken with outstretched, helpless hands. "All my stuff, it's gone!"

And he wasn't just reporting it because he thought some mysterious stranger crept into his apartment in the night and made off with his hard earned stuff. It wasn't JC, either. Surely she would have wanted him more than the drugs. And there were a lot of them, in various forms. And now there were... NONE! He grasped at Ken, in disbelief.

"All of it. All of it!" He stared at Ken, a step away from a mixture of real and crocodile tears. Real because that was a lot of paraphernalia he no longer had and he worked hard for it. And crocodile because the worse off he looked, the more sympathy he might garner from his dear old friend (who didn't seem to understand in the first place).

"You have no idea the things I had to do to get all that...! Please, please, please tell me you didn't get rid of it." He clapped his hands together--wince--and pleaded with Ken. "Please."

[Kenneth Branagh]

Ken wasn't sure how much he should subscribe to the wailing and the anguish and the threat of tears, but he was having exactly none of it. None of that nonsense. Niall had wandered so far down the path of iniquity that he no longer had the capability to pull himself out. It was up to Ken now to guide him back into the light and onto the path of righteousness.

"I don't want to know the things you had to do to get them," he said quietly, taking hold of Niall's hands in both of his, "and I did get rid of them. All of them. You don't need them."

Just because Niall wasn't used to hearing the word 'no' and had been living like a wild child out here in the poorest part of town, didn't mean that he should continue to destroy his own life. Ken wasn't going to wean him off of those drugs, either. Niall was going to quit cold turkey, whether he liked it or not. What he needed now wasn't a bleeding heart. He needed someone who genuinely cared about him to slap some sense into him (figuratively speaking, of course).

"You're quitting. Everything. Now put on some clothes, we're going for a jog."

Some healthy, mild exercise was just the thing. Ken let go of the injured hand and led him back out by the good hand. Also, he didn't want Niall diving for the last few prescribed pills still in his pocket.

[Niall Gallagher]

Life flashed before his eyes, all the promises he had to squeeze out of people, all the things he did just for the next fix. Ken didn't want to know? Well, he should know! All the things that Niall had to do were horrible. Rob people, dig through trash, have sex with the most disgusting pigs he'd ever met, and the supernaturals... oh, they were only too happy to get a piece of him. The vampires liked him best when he was stuffed with prystal--they said it made his blood sweeter, more magical. Some of that magic transferred over, too. And he didn't even want to get into what happened at that club full of sex demons. Oh, lord. The things these eyes had seen!

He fit right into those crowds in his black eye makeup and his strange clothing. He was just another one of Those People, the strange people, the goths and the ravers. The clubbers. Nightlife, baby.

Actually, even being awake right now was unusual and he was tired, hungover, and feeling thoroughly shaky and twitchy. He stared at Ken, still in disbelief at what he heard. Everything. Everything was gone! Just the thought of not having those things sent his heart beating faster.

"Yes I do!" Niall cried. "I need them." He couldn't quit it all, everything. All at once. Not like this. While Ken tried to tug him out, Niall dropped down to his knees.

"No, no, no, no... you don't get it. I need them. I need them. I can't... I can't jog like this? Are you crazy?!" He hissed as he glared up at Ken. "You can't do this to me. Why are you doing this to me?"

[Kenneth Branagh]

Addiction was a hell of a demon. Ken had seen it before, when he exterminated a group of incubi. The humans that they kept were glassy-eyed and desperate, just like Niall was becoming. They pleaded with him to let them go, to let them be with their beloved masters but after a while, when the magic left their bodies, they realized what they had been reduced to. Some of them even thanked him for liberating them, so he knew that he had done the right thing.

But those humans were strangers; their pleading was easy to ignore, while they were at the height of their addictions. Niall was no stranger. When he dropped to his knees and begged and wheedled, Ken's heart shook. When he glared with anger and betrayal, Ken's heart bled but... he still knew that this was the right thing to do.

Niall wasn't logical right now. He was still under the influence—under their influence—and he wasn't capable of making good choices on his own. Ken dropped to his knees too, in front of him, and reached up to cup his face. He leaned closer, but not to kiss him. Just to look at him, and so that he could look at Ken.

"I'm trying to save you. This isn't... you. This isn't who you want to be, Niall. And I'm sorry if it hurts you now, but it's for your own good."

[Niall Gallagher]

Ken had obviously never been addicted to anything before. Niall knew what was going to happen next because it had happened before. Oh, sometimes he didn't have what they wanted and he was left without, hands empty. If he thought he hurt now, he was going to be in a whole world of it soon.

"You don't know who I want to be. Maybe this is what I want, ever think of that? What's it been? Nine, ten years? What if I like it? And I do. Oh, I doooo..."

He tipped his head back, just thinking about being high. There was nothing like the prystal, for sure. It was like having every dream he'd ever wanted realized. If he wanted to see Lorcan, he could see him. He could be fifteen again, he could start over. Ken was there, too. And they were all friends and Lorcan grew up and Niall cried when he graduated.

His gaze turned back to Ken's, pleading with him.

"Please, Ken. You can't do this to me. Not cold turkey. Please... please! You're going to kill me. I can't do this, I can't. Look at my hands already. Look at--look me in the eyes! You know it's true!"

[Kenneth Branagh]

"I do know who you want to be. I do." Ken's jaw was tight and he just couldn't believe that Niall was telling him the truth. Addicts would say anything—anything—if it meant getting what they wanted. They would also do anything and Ken was aware of that, too. He had to be firm in the face of Niall's persuasion. Even if it broke his heart to see him like this, Ken had to keep reminding himself that he was right.

He was right.

Ken had to really think about it for a few long moments, as he swung his legs against the old wooden fence. Every time his heel clunked against the thick wooden pole, it shuddered. Kinda fun, actually, to be perched so precariously.

"Ummm... I think... I wanna be..." He tilted his fair head back to look at the clouded sky. "A spaceman!"

Niall laughed beside him, and he turned with a frown to his best friend. "Don't laugh! I can do it if I really wanna!"

"What about me?!" Niall demanded, pointing dramatically at his own chest. "If YOU leave, where am I gonna go?!"

"...you can be a spaceman too! We'll go to the moon together!"

"This isn't you," he repeated again, yet more firmly. "This isn't what you want. You want—" His hands flexed against Niall's face, pressing him into place. Forcing him to look at Ken again even though Niall was the one asking him to look into his eyes. Ken didn't see need in there, though. All he saw was the desperation of an addict and his Niall was not that addict.

"You want me. You need me. Not the drugs or the vampires or whatever else you've been with. You only need me. And I'm here now. You will quit."

[Niall Gallagher]

Niall used to want to be so many things. Artistic things. He used to draw a lot. When he was in one of those sort of manic phases, he could draw for days and days. There used to be sketchbooks filled with the things they did together in the absence of camera phones. Niall drew forests and wild hares and delicate flowers and he drew Ken. He drew their hands together. He drew self portraits, some less accurate than others. He drew his brothers, his parents, he drew sheep, he drew goats, cows. There were a lot of farm animals in a small Irish town like Dingle.

Niall used to paint, too. There were days when he'd be covered in paint, slashed across his forehead or his nose, covering his hands. He was hands on with his work. Even when he drew, the charcoal and the lead stained his fingers black. Niall liked to sing, too. There were peaceful days out in the wilds of Ireland where he would pose Lorcan, lie in the soft, tall grass and sketch him while he sang songs their mother used to sing to them before bed.

Niall wanted to create. That was his problem. He wanted to create but his family was determined only to destroy. And they didn't see how they crushed his spirit with each year that passed, shoving him deeper underground. But at least back then, he wasn't an addict. Sure, he drank and had a smoke here and there but it was just for a good time.

Now he couldn't live without the substances and the creatures. The idea of it scared him. It shook him to the core of his being, the way it made him feel when he started coming down. Everything became so much harder to deal with. All the softened edges became razor blades. The world was louder than it had ever been and he hated it. Colors were too bright and blurred and blended. Voices chattered. A soft touch became metal rasping against bare skin. He burned alive from the inside.

"I don't--I can't--" Yes, he wanted Ken. He needed Ken. But he... he didn't understand. He didn't understand. "I can't..."

[Kenneth Branagh]

He got it. He understood why Niall turned to drugs and vampires and the like. Losing Lor, losing him, coming to this place and facing the harsh reality of the strangeness outside of their secluded clan, Niall needed something to take the edge off. Maybe it started with the painkillers. Maybe he just wanted to numb the pain. Or it could have been one encounter with a 'friend' who shared a bit of this, a bit of that. The first time, maybe it felt good to finally let go of pain and guilt and fear, to float away on serenity.

But Ken had been there too.

Ken knew the same pain, the same guilt, the same fear; he was the other half of all of that. He had been through that and he had survived. And if he could do it, then Niall could, too. Niall had to. In Ken's mind there was no alternative. There was his Niall or there was no Niall at all and he couldn't lose Niall again. He couldn't repeat history and turn his back on him again, when he needed Ken the most.

"You can." His touch was a soft touch, a lover's touch. A touch filled with love and longing and hope for something better than what they were given in life. "You have to. You can't... leave me. Can you?"

If Niall floated away into nothingness, up into the clouds to straddle the moon... then what happened to Ken? Where would Ken go?