Bliss

~*~*~*~
This is it, s'all I gots! Hope you've enjoyed. I have a lot more, as I mentioned a few chaps ago, at my livejournal: http://honeyandvinegar.livejournal.com/, all in my memories section under "My Faculty Fic Archive". Drop by, you're quite welcome to it. :)

WARNING: Aftermath of non-con, angst, ends with H/C
DISCLAIMER: Don't own "The Faculty" at all. It'd be nice though.
~*~*~*~


May pretty horses
Come to you
As you sleep
I'm gonna go to sleep
Let this wash
All over me
-Radiohead, “Go to Sleep”


~*~


All the police needed was Casey to say the name. That was all he needed to do, and it was the hardest thing he’d faced in all of his life. Sitting there in the conference room with his mother and father was bad enough; he’d much rather have had Zeke with him, but his father was the main link to all this. Zeke had told him that if things got bad, he could come to his place for the night, should he want to. He made sure to take his things along; meds, clothes and whatever else. He could only assume the worst.

Their lawyer, Robert West, had advised Casey’s father to have the police come and collect evidence that very morning after, doing so without informing Casey. He hadn’t bothered asking how or why, and right now, didn’t care. Perhaps he would have taken offense at being told of this when he’d woken up in the hospital, but not now. The police had all they needed, and a fate would be sealed once the detective joined them in this cold, stark-lit room.

Casey’s mother had her hand on his back, rubbing in gentle circles. “We’re proud of you, honey,” she said. He nodded slightly, moving uncomfortably in the chair. It felt embarrassing to have to carry his pillow seat with him, but knew he’d need it. Glancing towards his father, he saw the stone like expression he wore, eyes staring straight ahead at the wall.

“Dad?” he started. Mr. Connor looked over at him and smiled; it wasn’t very convincing, and it made Casey look away. He gazed at the knots of the wooden table in front of him, watching them swirl in different patterns and shapes.

“Are you going to tell us who it was before all this?” his father suddenly asked. It made Mrs. Connor’s hand stop a moment as Casey looked up.

“No. I just want to say all this once.” He replied. Mr. Connor gave a great sigh and rubbed his eyes.

“’K,” was all he said. Just then the door opened; Robert West and Detective Falley came in, looking to the three of them with kind smiles.

“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Connor, Casey,” Falley said in greeting. Robert came forth and shook their hands, going to Casey last.

“Hello, Casey,” he softly said. “I’m your father’s lawyer. He’s filing your case with me,”

“I know,” Casey replied, feeling three years old. Falley sat across from him with some paperwork, filing through it as Mr. Connor moved to allow Robert to sit next to Casey. Falley sighed heavily as he pulled out a few sheets of paper.

“This is a strong case,” he said, looking to them briefly. “We’re just here to get your statement, Casey. Once we have your side of this, we’ll be able to arrest your attacker. All the evidence is complete; you were very smart to go to the hospital.”

“I was taken there…” Casey started, but was shushed gently by Mrs. Connor who took his hand.

“If you’ll give us his name and fill out your statement, we can send out a warrant for his arrest. We’ll be making it quick as possible, no fuss,” Falley said, starting to write at the top of a paper. “What is the man’s name?”

God. One name. Casey lowered his head and closed his eyes. “Will… William, I think… William Holden,” he said in a monotone voice. As the officer wrote the name on the paper, Casey saw his father frowning and his mother muttering under her breath.

“Will… Holden? Who’s that-“ Mr. Connor uttered, but was stopped by sudden recognition. His face went beet red.

“The… the m-man who brought you home the other…” Casey’s mother whispered in a shocked voice.

“Wait…” Mr. Connor said, his hands falling on the table, palms flattened. “You said you’d been ‘seeing’ the guy who… Casey??”

Casey bit his lip to still it, feeling it start to tremble. Falley stopped writing and looked to them.

“You know this man?”

“He’s our son’s teacher,” Mr. Connor spat out angrily. He suddenly couldn’t sit still it seemed, moving his back to the chair, legs bobbing up and down. “My… God… God DAMN it…” he nearly roared. Falley looked to Casey now with a serious expression.

“Were you seeing him?” he asked gently. Casey nodded slowly, his eyes stinging now with tears.

“He’s a s-substitute teacher, at… at school,” he said, words trembling. Both Falley and Robert were scribbling furiously on papers now.

“It doesn’t matter if you two were involved before this, Casey,” Robert offered as he wrote. “If he forced himself on you, the relationship doesn’t make it okay,”

“Relationship…” Mr. Connor growled out. Casey brought a hand to his face, wiping tears away.

“All right,” Falley said, passing the paper he was writing on to Casey. “Fill this out. Tell everything you remember from the time he’d arrived to when he’d left.”

Casey wasn’t expecting this. He knew that in filling out statements, you had to tell the entire truth. “This will… be used in court?”

“Yes.”

Casey’s mouth opened, no sound coming out. It was dead silent in the room now. He began writing, his hand already sweating as he did. He had to; he had to tell everything, didn’t he? Oh God… oh God…


~*~


Casey crawled into the backseat of the car, shutting the door. He felt more comfortable on his side, his back and behind aching from having to sit in that chair. Never mind that he could barely move without his head spinning. After he heard his mother and father getting in, he waited; the car wasn’t starting yet. Casey waited and waited, time passing like molasses and making his chest tighten. All he could hear now was his mother’s small sobs and his father’s heavy breathing.

“Casey…” his mother began; suddenly however, his father punched the steering wheel, making the entire car shake. Casey clenched his eyes shut, his teeth set so close they ached.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” he murmured helplessly. “I’m sorry I did… what I d-did.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mrs. Connor said, turning around to look at him. Her own face was wet, torrents of tears falling upon it.

“You hate me,” he whispered, his throat tight and strained. “You hate me.”

“I hate HIM, Casey.” Mr. Connor suddenly bellowed. “What you did wasn’t the best thing, but if I had my choice I’d KILL him right now.”

“Honey…”

“It’s all my fault,” Casey rushed out with. He took his hands to his face, his fingertips gripping his forehead and hair. “I’d m-made him do it…”

“STOP it, Casey!” Mr. Connor yelled, turning around. “Take your goddamned hands off your face and LISTEN to me,”

Casey was too stunned a moment to move. He felt trapped, his whole body shaking with relentless shock. It became silent again but was broken by a car door opening. “Frank?” Mrs. Connor said. Casey now heard the back door by his head opening.

“Casey? Look at me.”

Trying to muster all of his bravery, Casey moved his hands from his face and looked up at his father. For a moment they simply stared at each other, before Casey swallowed and breathed out slowly. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he whispered. Before he could brace himself, his father leant down and grabbed Casey’s shoulders, lifting him slightly. He then wrapped his arms around them and held Casey tight. He squeezed Casey hard, putting his hand to the back of his head and holding him tighter than he had in years; it made Casey break inside, allowing him to choke out his grief.

He didn’t even hear his mother getting out of the car; he only felt another pair of arms reach around him from behind, joining their embrace. His cries died down as his parents held him tight, no words exchanged.


~*~


There were no arguments tonight; although Casey could tell that his parents weren’t very pleased with his request to stay the night away from home, he was now watching them drive off down the street without him. Sighing, he turned around and walked up to the front porch of Zeke’s house.

The door was opened before he got to the stairs with Zeke standing there, watching him as he approached. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey,”

“How’d it go?”

Casey shrugged as he got to the door now, staring at his feet. “They’re going to be arresting him as soon as possible,” he replied. Zeke nodded and opened the door.

“Good,”


~*~


“Don’t make this a habit, now,” Zeke told Casey as he extended a glass of whiskey his way. Casey had to smile as he took it, putting his nose to the rim. It was very strong, and it was lovely right now.

“Afraid I’ll become some drunk, huh?”

“Yep,” Zeke replied, sitting down next to him. He held his own glass to Casey, raising it up. “A toast.”

“To what?” Casey asked, picking up his own glass to be level with Zeke’s.

“To Casey ‘Don’t Fuck with Me’ Connor,” Zeke said. It made a loud laugh escape from Casey’s chest as he clinked his glass to Zeke’s.

“Yea, yea,”

They both now sipped in silence, the only sounds being the light sound of ice clinking about in their drinks, sounding almost like wind chimes. Casey let the glass leave his lips and he smacked them, taking in a long deep breath. “You know how me and you… we were the only ones who didn’t get taken?”

“Huh?” Zeke muttered, lowering his own glass.

“God, Zeke- when Marybeth-“

“Oh, oh yea."

“I was glad I had you as an ally,” Casey said. Zeke smiled, arching an eyebrow.

“Why’s that, lil’ Casey?”

“Because,” Casey said, taking another sip. “You had the scat, man. Plus you’re a tall motherfucker. You could see over those lockers on tiptoe,”

“Hah!” Zeke laughed, shaking his head. “Well, I was glad to be of service.”

“I could only imagine your thoughts at having ME around,” Casey said, chuckling a little. “What, with you all HATING me and everything,”

“Oh Christ, Case,” Zeke said, shaking his head and downing the rest of his drink. “I stopped hating you long before that."

“Ya did, huh? What was it? My finesse at pointing a gun at you?”

“Actually, yea. It was about then,”

“Really?”

“Shit yea,” Zeke replied, pouring out more whiskey. “I’d NEVER had a gun pointed at me. And I OWNED one.”

“Um… wow, okay. The next time I want someone to like me, I’ll threaten them with some weapon,” Casey chortled out. Zeke rolled his eyes.

“You don’t get it, Case,” Zeke said. “Looking over and finding you standing there, arms out holding the gun pointed RIGHT at me… gave me one of the biggest adrenalin rushes ever.”

“Hooray,” Casey said, twirling a finger in the air.

“Still don’t get it.” Zeke said, pointing at him as he sipped. Drawing the drink away, he continued. “There’s little Casey Connor, all dorked out per usual, high like a fucking kite, and what is he doing? Holding and pointing a GUN. It didn’t matter the target Case, it was totally…” Zeke said, stopping as if searching for the words to say. “Cool.”

Now Casey bellowed with laughter, moving to his other side; it made him wince, pains coming up sharp. Zeke looked over at him. “You okay?”

“Yea… just moved a little too quick,”

“All right,” Zeke said. “Need a refill?”

“Sure,” Casey said, handing Zeke his glass. “So should I point a gun at you more often, make you like me more?”
“I like you enough for now, Case,” Zeke said, handing a filled drink to him. Casey’s amused smile died down as he took it, looking at Zeke with an odd expression. Zeke blinked and cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing. Just…” Casey said, looking into the brown liquid now, sipping lightly. “I haven’t really thanked you for everything yet, have I?”

“No, but don’t worry about it,”

“Thank you,” Casey said; ‘oh Christ, don’t start crying,’ he thought. Zeke saved him from more tears in winking at him with a silly grin.

“Anytime, Case,” he said.


~*~


He’d wanted to say “hot”. Not cool; “hot”. Because that was exactly what Casey was in that brief moment of time, standing there with Zeke’s gun.

That one tiny batch of seconds, from where Zeke’s eyes fell to the table in search of his weapon and not finding it, to looking up and seeing Casey in pure shooting-stance meant everything to him. Everything. He’d started doubting his hate towards Casey when he’d been thrown by Furlong, and what did that little geek do? Went to throw his puny body at the guy, a big guy already, now possessed by inhuman strength. It had earned him a hand at his neck, picking him up and going to kill him. And all that had mattered to Zeke was to save him; save Casey Connor, a kid he’d hated just moments before.

But the gun… God damn, Casey didn’t have muscles; but he did; fine toned sinewy arms holding out that damned thing like he’d been born with it in his hands. If Zeke were to die from a bullet, he’d not want anyone else but Casey to have given it to him.

‘I’m fuckin’ nuts,’ he thought to himself, yawning heavily. He walked back to the living room from the kitchen, finding Casey sleeping there, hands tucked under his cheek and resting peacefully. He couldn’t help but lean against the entranceway and just look at him, realizing that no, he wasn’t looking. He was gazing.

He’d been gazing- for awhile now. He’d only come to accepting it instead of shunning it a few months before.
When Stokely and Stan dropped by the day after the “We Hate Delilah” party, Zeke had been working on his car. It hadn’t run the same after crashing it during his escape attempt from Miss Burke, and he’d already been in a bad mood. What they told him definitely didn’t help.

“We uh… found something out last night, when Casey was over… had to do with Gabe…”

Stan was never good at explaining things, but he didn’t have to be. All he had to say was the name “Gabe” in reference to Casey, and Zeke knew it would be something bad. He’d not expected what they told him however.
“It was a couple weeks before I quit the team and uh…I don’t think anyone knows about it…”

“I don’t think Casey knows that he told us, but he did. He told us everything.”

So Gabe had just gotten sick of Casey blanking out or tossing a few curse words his way when he’d smack him around. He needed something else, something more, something to have Casey think about for the rest of his life. To be the big man with the small dick that needed some sort of release through violence.

Zeke had had to go inside for a few drinks, afraid that if he let his anger get to him he’d have MORE work to be done on the car. He could crack his hood in half with his bare hands after what they told him.

“It was like… he KNEW everyone would be gone, and took… advantage of it. That’s how Casey put it,”

“If I knew about this, I wouldn’t have quit the team; Gabe trusted me, man. I could have kept an eye on him, or even given him a beat down if I wanted to.”

Stan cared about Casey too, that was apparent. After the aliens had been gone, all at the hands of one small young man, Stan was close to never leaving his side. Zeke was glad for that, because the extra time he had been spending with the team…

“I’ll fucking go for it. Fuck, I can throw a damned ball.”

“What? Football… you? Why?”

“’Cause Gabe’s a rapist prick, and I’ll be the first one to fucking find out if he tries shit like that again.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

It was simple. Give Gabe some free porn. Supply the beer for every party. Even offer him drugs, even if Zeke got refused. Be his best bud. Pretend that he didn’t know about his shoving Casey into lockers and forcing himself on him. Be his best bud.

It was sickening; he knew, fuck, he knew why Casey looked at him the way he did since joining the team. Zeke was a traitor, joining the ranks of everyone Casey had had to deal with since walking into school, all tossing him around like a rag doll, ramming him crotch first into flagpoles, whatever they saw fit. Zeke was one of them now.
“Don’t you fucking tell him. Just let me handle it. Don’t even tell him that you know about this, let him think he’d just rambled about… fucking computers or whatever.”

“What if he doesn’t-“

“Just… keep your mouths shut, guys.”

Zeke didn’t know why he wanted it all kept under wraps, but Stokely did. She said it herself when Stan had left the room.

“You love him, don’t you?”

“Hmm?”

“Casey. You love him.”

“Sure I do. He fucking saved the world, Stokes,”

“No. Zeke, you love him.”...


Zeke now walked from the doorway over to where Casey lay. He bent down and tapped his forehead lightly. “Hey. Case.”

“Hunnmm?”

Zeke chuckled slightly; without saying anything else, he grabbed Casey up underneath his hips and arms, lifting him easily. Eat something was right; he’d lifted much less mass than what Casey took up that felt heavier. Zeke sighed and let Casey’s head curl into the crook of his neck and shoulder, carrying him up the stairs to his bedroom. He kicked lightly at the door to open it, getting inside and walking over to the bed. As gently as he could, he lowered Casey onto it, going to his shoes and shucking them off. Casey moved on his side, burrowing his face into the pillow, not waking. Zeke breathed in deep as he got the unmade blankets out from underneath Casey’s legs, putting it over him and securing it tight around his small frame.

Watching… gazing again. Smoothing the soft fabric of the comforter around his shoulders and neck, feeling Casey’s arm move to go under the pillow. Zeke smiled as he finished tucking Casey in and rested a moment on the bed’s edge, sighing deeply. He looked over at “that boy who saved the world” and smiled wider.

Not now. It couldn’t be now, and not for a while yet. Casey had wounds he needed to heal, and not just physical ones. He’d probably wake up crying for a while; he’d have nightmares about reddened sheets, or that bastard’s face… whichever one happened to pop up, Will’s or Gabe’s. So many stupid fuckers that wouldn’t know beauty if it smacked them in the face. He wondered if Casey HAD done that or at least Zeke hoped he did. Even if it didn’t stop what they did, God, just let him have shown them the TINIEST amount of ‘fuck you’. Casey needed to say that more often, and have some sort of motions to back it up. Maybe he would from now on.

So not now, but someday; Zeke would hope, anyways. He leaned down and kissed Casey’s brow, feeling his lips go shaky as he did. Realizing he’d never done it before, he had to stand up now, afraid that he’d move the wrong ways. He left the room, yawning, grabbing a spare blanket from the hall closet to venture downstairs with to sleep on the couch.

...“Yeah Stokes…I do.”

She’d smiled.

Someday.


~*~*~*~

THE END!