![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
przedMy first fic of the year, and it's a month late Christmas story. (The writing went slooowly on this one, and now that it's done I don't want to hold onto it until next year.)
Title: Dreaming of a White Christmas
Pairings: Howard/Jason, Mark/Robbie
Word Count: 7379
Notes: AU. It's a sequel to my Mark and Rob as teenage runaways story, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. I didn't quite mean to whump Mark quite so much in this, but my muse had other plans.
Thanks to my lovely first reader,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
soundofthesurf, my fab beta, m. butterfly, and my wonderful source of Manchester details, moth2fic.
Also available on AO3.
As Jason walked down the street towards home and Howard, he felt a definite spring in his step, a sparkle in his eye. It was two days until Christmas and everything was going well. All his clients were happy—no husbands had got drunk and beaten their wives, no teenagers had been arrested for doing drugs or, worse, selling them, and no desperate mothers had called with frantic pleas to help them avoid eviction. Howard was getting more DJ work and seriously considering quitting the body shop. Gary was doing brilliantly at the hospital and had got used to having two teenage boys in his house. Rob was doing well in school, and had joined the local youth amateur dramatic society. And Mark…
Jason's step faltered slightly.
Mark was a bit of a problem. And that was stating it mildly.
When he'd found Mark and Rob on the streets last Christmas, if he'd had to bet on which one of them would have the hardest time adjusting to life in a real home, he'd have put his money on Rob. Rob hadn't come from a stable home in the first place, had been in and out of foster homes for years before ending up on the street. But it was Rob who'd taken to their new situation with ease.
But Mark…Mark wasn't thriving at all. He was struggling in school for a start. Jason had talked to his teachers, and they all said the same thing: Mark was a ghost. He sat in the back of every class, never volunteered an answer, never spoke to anyone but Rob. He did just enough work to keep from failing outright, but Jason reckoned he wasn't going to earn a single GCSE. He had no interests outside of school either. He'd been invited to join the school choir, but had never shown up for a practice. Rob had told them Mark had been a good footballer, back before his life had fallen apart, but he hadn't shown any interest in playing again. He hadn't joined the school team, and wouldn't go to a tryout for a local U18 side Jason had arranged for him. He didn't even take part in the games of kick around that Rob and his friends would sometimes have in the park.
But a lack of interest in school or anything else wasn't even the worst of it. The worst was the times when he'd disappear.
It had started a few months after he and Rob had begun living with Gary, after winter had loosened its grip on the city. One day Gary had got a phone call from the school saying that Mark hadn't shown up for class. Rob hadn't seen him all day, and had been frantic with worry. As the sun set, the four of them were sat in Gary's lounge, waiting and worrying. When dusk had finally turned to night, they'd stopped waiting and set out to look for Mark.
Howard had found him that time, crouched in a corner of the squat where Jason had first met him and Rob. Howard had led him back to Gary's, and Gary had made sure he was alright. Then he'd gone back home with Jason and cried in his arms for long minutes before he could say anything.
"It was like that first night," he'd told Jason. "When I found him in the park. It was like he wasn't really there, like he was reliving his past, and a pretty horrible part of that past. But when I touched him this time, he didn't fight me. He fell apart."
He'd clutched Jason tighter then.
"Breaks my heart," Howard had said, "seeing the poor little bastard like that."
Since that night, they'd all had their hearts broken in similar ways by Mark. They'd all found him in other squats, in alleys and ginnels, under bridges. They'd all found him horrifically blank or equally horrifically shattered. And increasingly, they'd found him drunk or high, surrounded by other kids in the same shape, kids who, like Mark, had somehow had their hope stripped away.
Rob was the one who was taking it all the hardest.
"Why is he doing this?" he'd asked Jason on a night after they'd retrieved a drunken Mark from an alley near Canal Street. They were lucky that Mark had been found by a couple of motherly drag queens who'd kept watch over him and coaxed Jason's phone number from him. "We're safe, we're not on the streets, we've got enough to eat. We get to go to school again, we've got you lot looking after us like family again. Why can't he just fucking enjoy it?"
Rob had cried angry tears that night. Cried while Mark slept off the booze he'd used to deaden the pain he couldn't seem to escape. Pain that none of them seemed to be able to help him with.
Jason shook himself. He shouldn't dwell on the bad, not now, so near to Christmas. No use borrowing trouble that hasn't happened yet., he could hear his mum say. No doubt she'd tell him that in person when they all went over to the Orange house for dinner on Boxing Day. And, before that, he and Howard were hosting a Christmas Eve party at their house, and there would be Christmas Day spent with Howard's family yet again. (Howard's mum had taken to Mark last year. She was always on the phone, asking how he was, and was as concerned as any of them. Rob had been exactly right when he'd said they'd both got family again. The combined Orange, Donald and Barlow households had taken the boys under their wings.)
As Jason walked the last few streets home, it began to snow, the lacy flakes clinging to the ground and walls and shrubbery, giving everything an unearthly glimmer in the twilight. He decided to take the snow as a good omen, and opened the door with a smile.
"How!" He unwrapped his scarf and hung up his coat. "Did you see it's snowing? Looks like it might stay for Christmas."
There were footsteps behind him, and he turned to find Howard standing in the living room, his teeth gritted, his brow furrowed, and his fists clenched at his side.
"How?" The hope he'd begun to feel on the way home evaporated, to be replaced by a cold sensation that started in his fingers and toes and ended in his gut. Not again. He couldn't take this again. "What is it?"
"It's Mark," Howard said.
"What about Mark?" Maybe it wasn't what he feared. Maybe he'd just come down with a cold.
"He didn't come home last night." Howard looked towards the back of the house. "I've got Rob in the kitchen. He's in a bit of a state."
"Shit."
Jason headed for the back of the house, with Howard trailing behind him. When he reached the kitchen, he could see that Rob was in more than a bit of a state. He was shattered. His eyes were watery, his mouth was trembling with the effort he was putting into not breaking down, and his hands were shaking around the tea mug he had clenched between them.
"He didn't come home, Jay," Rob said as he looked up at him. "He didn't come home last night and I don't know where he is."
"Perhaps he was just out with friends," Jason said, clutching at straws. They all knew Rob was the only real friend he had.
"I've been looking for him all day. I've checked all our old squats, asked around our old patch. But no one's seen him."
"Does Gary know?" Jason asked.
"He's out looking as well," Howard said.
"Maybe he'll have better news," Jason said, trying to keep his tone upbeat, even as he felt his own hopes fading.
They didn't have long to wait. Soon enough there was a knock at the door. Jason answered it, and found Gary on the doorstep, alone. His expression told Jason all he needed to know.
"No luck?" he said.
"Oh, I've had plenty of luck," Gary said. "All of it bad." He kicked off snowy boots and joined them all in the kitchen. "There's no sign of him. It's as if he's really managed to disappear this time."
There was silence as they all took in what that might mean. How Mark might have disappeared. A catalogue of all the ways he'd seen young people destroy themselves in his job tumbled through Jason's head until he shook himself and forced the bad thoughts away. He wasn't going to lose Mark. He absolutely wasn't.
And with that conviction, he suddenly had an idea, one place they hadn't yet looked for Mark, one place Mark hadn't yet tried to hide.
"Rob, Mark's from Oldham, isn't he?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know where his family lived?"
"Sort of."
"'Sort of' isn't an address," Jason said.
"Best I can do." Rob jammed his hands into his pockets, looking frustrated and upset.
"Do you think he might be at his family's house?" Gary asked.
"It's the only place left we haven't looked," Jason said. "Unless anyone else has a better idea." But no one did.
"How are we going to find the address?" Howard asked.
"I'll find it." Jason licked his lips and got to work.
It took some doing, finding the location of the old family home of a former runaway and current foster care kid on the day before Christmas Eve, but Jason managed it. He made dozens of phone calls and tracked down every caseworker Mark had ever had and every caseworker he knew, until he finally found the woman who'd first seen him in the hospital, the day his family had died. She'd been working late at the hospital this evening—emergencies didn't stop just because of the holidays—and turned out to be a fount of information. She not only managed to dig up the address of Mark's old family home, but of his school and his three best mates, too.
"I hope you find him," she told Jason, her voice sympathetic. "Mark was always a lovely lad. He deserves so much better than he got."
"Copster Hill Road," Rob said, looking over his shoulder at the address Jason had scribbled on a scrap piece of paper. "Mark never talks about any of it, you know. About his family. Or about Oldham."
"Maybe that's part of the problem," Jason said.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Howard said. "We've got the fucking address. Let's go find Mark." And wasn't that one of the many reasons he loved Howard, his ability to get to the point.
"Someone should stay here," Jason said. "In case Mark comes back."
"I will." Gary patted Jason on the shoulder. "Now go and get him."
They took Howard's car, a beat-up Fiesta that Howard kept running through constant maintenance and force of will. The snow that had been starting when Jason headed for home was falling in earnest now; the fluffy white flakes now covered the roads and looked less picturesque and more dangerous.
Any other year, Jason would have been looking forward to the white Christmas the snow promised, but tonight all he could think was how much the snow and the cold would be making one lost teenager miserable, and how much slower Howard had to drive in the stuff.
"He's been having the nightmares again," Rob said when they were still only half way to Oldham, his voice from the back seat breaking the silence that had filled the car as soon as they pulled away from their house and Gary standing silently on the kerb.
Rob had told them about Mark's nightmares before, every time they started up. According to Rob, when a nightmare hit, Mark would start thrashing and moaning. "Makes the most God awful whimpering noise," Rob had said. "It scares the fuck out of me before I know what it is. Then it scares the fuck out of me more when I realize it's Mark."
"Has he told you what they're about?" Jason asked now.
"Same as always. The accident. Finding out his family are dead. What happened to him in the group home. Living on the streets. He's got more than enough to choose from where nightmares are concerned."
"Poor bastard," Howard muttered, and put his foot down on the gas just a bit harder.
Jason chewed on his lip and kept quiet. He didn't point out to Rob that he'd also lived on the streets, and he'd lived in the same group home. He often wondered if Rob had any nightmares of his own, but now wasn't the time to delve into that.
It seemed to take them forever to drive to Oldham, and then even longer to find the right street. But find it they did. Howard parked the car in front of Mark's old house and shut off the ignition. And then they all just sat there for a minute.
"What are we meant to do now?" Rob asked as he looked up and down the street. "Sit here and hope Mark appears?"
"No." Jason pulled his collar up around his ears. "Now we go look for him."
They tried the house Mark's family had lived in first, standing in front of the small terraced house for a minute before they worked up the courage to knock. The door was opened by a pleasant-looking middle-aged man. His wife hovered behind him, and Jason could hear their kids playing in the living room. As Jason explained why they were there and Rob showed them the picture of Mark he was carrying with him, one that Howard's mum had taken of the two of them last Christmas, the couple's expressions changed from wary to sympathetic, and Jason saw the woman glance back at her own children with a look that clearly gave thanks for their safety.
"We haven't seen the lad," the man said. "We heard what happened to him, of course. The neighbours told us when we moved in. Terrible thing." He shook his head.
"If you could keep an eye out," Jason said. He scribbled his number on a scrap of paper in his pocket and handed it to the man. "And call this number if you see him. There's someone waiting there."
"We'll ask the boy in if we see him," the woman said. "And we'll let you know he's here."
"Thank you," Rob said, and Jason could hear the gratitude in his voice, see it in his expression. When Rob talked about Mark, there was never any of the teenage snottiness he was sometimes prone to. The past year may have tested their bond, but it was as strong as ever.
They moved on to the addresses of Mark's best friends from his time here, and found a similar welcome at each. Mark's friends remembered him affectionately, as did their parents, but no one had seen him much since the accident, and not at all for the past two years. Everyone promised to keep watch for Mark.
They drove to Mark's old school, St. Augustine's, and checked the grounds, but there was no sign of Mark there, either. At Jason's insistence, they went back again to his old house, and trod the streets there. Jason was convinced the place held the key to finding Mark, with less and less reason to do so.
"We should go home," Howard finally said, putting his arm around Jason as Rob hopped from one foot to the other in the cold.
"We can't." Jason pushed Howard's arm gently off his shoulder. "I can't. But you two should go if you need to."
"'Course we're not going to leave you here," Howard said, reaching out to give him a shake.
"I'm not leaving without Mark."
"Alright, Jay. But we've looked everywhere. What else can we do?"
"I don't know." For the first time since they'd set out for Oldham, Jason felt his confidence that they were absolutely going to find Mark slip. He wrapped his arms around himself and looked up and down the pavement, hoping for inspiration, then he noticed one place they hadn't checked. "The ginnel."
"What?" Howard looked confused.
"We haven't checked the ginnel behind the houses." He was moving down the street before the others could say anything else. "C'mon."
He entered the alley behind the line of terraced houses ahead of the others. This late at night so close to Christmas, the streets themselves hadn't been very busy, but the ginnels were completely deserted. The fallen snow was almost entirely undisturbed here, and muted all sounds from the street.
Howard and Rob appeared beside him, and followed him as he walked along the brick wall that ran behind the houses, stopping as they reached the back of Mark's old house. They checked the house's backyard and those of the neighbouring ones, but there was no sign of Mark. Jason had put so much faith in finding Mark here that he felt gutted.
"He's not here," he said softly to himself, then turned to Howard. "He's not here, How."
He felt lost, but before he could say any more, Howard pulled him into a hug.
"We'll find him, Jay." How patted his back. "I'm sure of it. But we should go home now. There's nothing more we can do here."
Howard was making sense, but Jason couldn't help but feel giving up now was still a betrayal of Mark. He pulled away from Howard, searching for an argument that wouldn't sound completely daft, when he noticed something a few houses down from where they were stood.
"Look at that." He moved closer, until he could see the indents in the snow more clearly. They were footprints that had been partially drifted. Another half hour of these flurries and they'd have been covered completely. This was it, the thing he'd been meant to find. He followed the footprints down the ginnel, and found they ended at a gate leading through to a back garden a few doors down from Mark's family house. Jason pushed the door open and peered through the gate.
The garden was dark. It seemed there was no one home in this house; no light was being thrown by its windows into the yard. At first he thought he'd been wrong again, that there was no one in the garden but the lump of a garden gnome covered in snow. But then his eyes adjusted to the gloom and he saw something huddled in the back corner where a slight overhang of the wall offered some rudimentary shelter. Saw someone.
"Mark?" he said, taking a step towards the someone. "Is that you?" The figure in the corner turned its face to the wall, but he was close enough that he could see this person was wearing Mark's coat, had Mark's build and hair. "Mark, it's Jason."
He crouched down until he was at the same level as the person in the corner, then reached slowly out and turned the boy towards him until Mark was facing him. Mark's coat was army surplus and too big for him, and made him look even younger than his years. He stared at Jason with eyes that were filled with panic but little recognition. Jason couldn't smell alcohol on him, but he couldn't be sure that he wasn't on something else.
"Do you know who I am, Mark?" he said, trying to break through the terror he saw in the boy's eyes.
There was a pause, and then Mark slowly nodded.
"We're here to take you home, me and Howard and Rob." He looked behind him, and saw Howard and Rob standing at the garden's entrance. Howard's mouth was settled into a thin line, the expression he got when dealing with a bloody awful situation that was going to result in tears later. And Rob, he wasn't saving the tears for later. Jason could see them running down his cheeks now, even as he tried to muster his face into some sort of smile for the benefit of his friend.
"Hi Markie." Rob's face shuddered with the effort of keeping that not-smile in place. "Time to go home, now."
Mark clenched his eyes tight, and when he opened them the terror was gone, but it had been replaced by a deep grief, the sort of grief Jason knew it was going to take a lot of work to chase away.
Jason experienced a swelling of his own grief, grief at the death of the sunny kid Mark seemed to have once been in this town. But he stamped down on it. He couldn't afford the luxury of indulging in his own emotions. Not when Mark needed him. He put on his professional face and reached for Mark's elbow.
"'ey up, Mark." He pulled the boy to his feet. "Let's get you someplace warm." He kept up a steady stream of patter as he led the boy out of the garden and towards the car. Without a word, Howard fell in beside him, offering support to Mark. Rob stayed behind them all, the only indication he was there the crunch of snow under his boots and an occasional sniff.
They got Mark installed in the back seat of the car, with Rob beside him, then Jason retrieved an old blanket he kept in the boot.
"I'm sorry I keep cocking things up," Mark whispered as Jason tucked the blanket around him and Rob both.
What could you say to that? Rob didn't say a word, but frowned and put an arm firmly around Mark. Jason could only see the back of Howard's head, but he did see him grip the steering wheel rather tighter than was needed. Jason patted Mark's hand and kept up the same sort of stream of comforting patter he so often used in his job, before he hopped into the passenger seat. Howard kept his eyes straight ahead and pulled away from the kerb with a squeal just as Jason was shutting the door, which was how Jason knew how much he was hurting. He never would have taken off until he knew Jason was safely strapped in otherwise.
No one spoke as they drove back towards Manchester, but Jason kept watch on Mark and Rob in the rearview mirror. It didn't take Mark long to fall asleep, his head resting on Rob's shoulder. Once Mark was asleep, Rob started fading himself, until his head tipped back and he started snoring.
Jason knew he should be happy. They'd found Mark. He should be focusing on that victory. But instead he could only think of one thing.
"He could have died, How," he said when he was quite sure Mark and Rob were well past hearing them.
"He didn't." Howard shifted the gears with definite viciousness. "We found him. You found him."
"But if we hadn't…" He couldn't say the words, but the image was seared into his imagination, Mark dying in the snow in an abandoned garden, alone and lonely.
Howard didn't say anything else; he just reached over, grabbed Jason's hand, and held it until the next time he needed to shift the gears.
They were half way home when Jason realized Gary didn't know they'd found Mark, so he made Howard pull over at the first phone box they'd found. When they arrived back home, Gary was on the pavement before Howard had even finished parking. He and Jason gently woke Mark and ushered him into Gary's house while Howard and Rob followed behind.
They got a cheese toastie and a cup of tea into Mark before they sent him and Rob upstairs to bed. When he went up to check on them after a few minutes, Jason found the two of them in Mark's bed. Mark was sound asleep already, and Rob was wrapped tightly around him, as if he wasn't ever going to let him go. Jason crept away as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb the peace they'd found, however temporary it might be.
When he went back downstairs, he found Howard and Gary still sitting in the kitchen, both ignoring the toasties and tea in front of them.
"Are they asleep?" Gary asked.
"Yeah." Jason sat down heavily at the table beside Howard. Without a word, Howard passed him a cup of tea with exactly the right amount of milk and no sugar at all. He took a sip and let the heat of the liquid warm him through.
"Thank God you found him," Gary said.
"You can thank Jason, not God," Howard said. "Rob and I were ready to give up, but Jay wouldn't."
"I just felt he was there." Jason took another sip of tea.
They all sat in silence for a few minutes. Jason struggled with what to say, but couldn't come up with a flipping thing. He was tired and cold and drained.
"We should cancel the party," Howard finally said.
Jason looked over at Howard. As Jason watched, he brought his own mug of tea to his lips and his hand shook. Howard looked as worn down as Jason felt. And Gary didn't look much better.
"Yeah," Jason said. "I don't reckon any of us feel much like celebrating." He turned to Gary. "Someone should watch over Mark. Do you have a shift at the hospital tomorrow?"
"Yeah." Gary frowned. "I got someone to cover me at the last minute today to help find Mark. There's no way I can get off again tomorrow."
"Howard, can you stay here tomorrow? Look after the two of them? Maybe even get them to your mum's early?"
"Yeah." Howard nodded. "There's not much to do at the shop on Christmas Eve."
"Good." Jason took another sip of his tea, letting the astringent taste roll around on his taste buds for a moment as he considered what else needed to be done to keep Mark safe. "I'll stay here tonight."
"Why?" Gary asked.
"To make sure Mark doesn't take off again."
"He wouldn't…" Gary began, then trailed off as if he'd reconsidered.
"He might. And I'm not giving him that chance. I'm not going to risk there being another time. I'm not going to risk us not finding him the next time. So if you don't mind me at your kitchen table…"
"No. Of course not."
"I'll stay with you," Howard said, then reached across the table and took his hand. Howard's hands were both gentle and rough, just like he was, the palm warm, his fingers comfortingly calloused. "Make sure you don't fall asleep."
"Thank you, both," Gary said. "For everything." He stood and stretched. "I'd stay up with you, but I've got to get some sleep or I'll be no use at the hospital tomorrow."
"Off with you," Howard said, and gave him a friendly shove with the hand not holding Jason. "We've got everything covered.
"Good night." With an appreciative nod, Gary climbed the stairs to his bedroom.
Neither Howard nor Jason said anything as they listened to the homely sounds of Gary brushing his teeth and crawling into bed. They kept silent as the sounds of a Manchester night settled around them: the creaking of the house, the occasional growl of a car engine on the street, the rare bark of a dog.
"What are we going to do?" Howard finally asked. Jason could feel the tremor in Howard's hand.
"Whatever we have to, How." He squeezed Howard's fingers, as if he could transmit the little hope he had left to his partner through touch. "Whatever Mark needs."
"And what's that?"
"I'm not sure. But I'm sure we'll figure it out." He reluctantly let go of Howard's hand, drained his tea, and looked around the kitchen. "Now do you want to play a game of poker? I think I know where Gary keeps his cards."
"How can you think of cards at a time like this?"
"It'll keep us awake," Jason said pragmatically. "We can play strip poker, if match sticks aren't interesting enough stakes for you."
Howard looked shocked.
"And what'll we say if Mark does come down and sees us stark-fucking-naked at Gary's kitchen table?"
"I doubt we'd have to say anything. The sight of you naked would probably be enough to drive him back upstairs."
Howard laughed, a short bark of surprised laughter that made Jason glad he'd been ridiculous. They'd had enough worry this evening. A little ridiculousness wouldn't go amiss, for any of them.
"I think we can spare Mark that view," Howard said. "But I wouldn't say no to taking away all your matchsticks."
"You can try, Dougie." Jason stood and went to retrieve Gary's cards from the living room. "You can try."
Howard had lasted until nearly 5, when the night was darkest and coldest. They'd played poker and drunk tea and talked about everything but the boys sleeping in a room upstairs. But then Howard wandered into the living room and sat on the couch to "rest his eyes," and before he knew it, Jason could hear his snoring.
At 6, Jason heard an alarm go off upstairs. There were the sounds of someone getting dressed, and then Gary stumbled down the stairs. He looked like he could have used a few more hours of sleep, but determined to get to the hospital. Jason made him tea and an omelette, and sent him on his way to the hospital.
At 7, with the sky still dark but beginning to show some light on the horizon, Jason heard movement upstairs. He expected it to be Rob, expected Mark to sleep for hours more after yesterday, after spending who knew how long in a cold garden in a snowstorm. But it was Mark who staggered down the stairs in a too-large sweater-top, trackie bottoms and bare feet, and plunked himself down at the table across from Jason.
"Morning," Jason said.
"Morning," Mark said without looking up from the table.
"I was just going to brew some tea. Want some?"
"Yeah."
So Jason boiled the kettle and steeped the tea while Mark sat at the table, bit his nails and avoided all eye contact.
"There you go." He set a mug down in front of Mark. The tea was black and strong because Jason reckoned what Mark needed just this minute was the strongest tea he could provide. Mark picked the mug up with both hands and held it for a minute before finally taking a noisy slurp.
"That alright?" Jason asked.
"Yeah." Mark's tone was utterly monotone and utterly unlike him.
"You alright?"
"Yeah."
"You lying?"
"Yeah."
Jason sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. Not that he'd expected it to be easy. Everything about this was going to be fucking difficult, so he might as well get stuck into it. He took a sip of his own tea before he asked his next question, taking some strength from its heat.
"Were you on anything last night?"
Mark shrugged.
"Were you?" Jason pressed.
"I might have taken a couple of pills." He slouched down at the table. "I don't even know what they were. Could have been E. Could have been acid."
"You couldn't tell by how they made you feel?" Jason kept all judgment out of his voice. This was not about judging Mark; it was about getting him to think.
"Not really." Mark bit at a nail. "I felt like shit. The pills just made me feel shittier."
Jason examined Mark, the way he kept avoiding all eye contact, the way he was gradually sliding out of view under the table. He was going to have to be careful, but he had to keep going. It felt like Mark might finally have got to a place where he'd talk to him. He took a deep breath and spoke again.
"Is that why you've been getting high? Because you feel like shit?"
"I suppose." Mark shrugged again. "You don't take drugs if you're feeling fantastic, do you?"
"No, you don't." Jason took a sip of his tea. "Do you want to feel better?" He tried to pose the question as casually as possible, but he could still see Mark stiffen, see him slide a bit further down in his seat.
"'Course I fuckin' want to feel better." He bit at a nail. "I hate feeling like this." He frowned. "I just…"
He trailed off and looked up at Jason for the first time since he'd come down the stairs. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken, the skin around them bruised by fatigue and stress. His mouth trembled and his hands shook, but when he spoke, his voice was strong and there was finally some feeling behind it.
"I know it doesn't make sense, Jay. I know I'm in a good place. I know you all care about me. I know you all would do anything to help me. But-" His voice broke and he stopped for a moment, then clutched one hand tightly into a fist, swallowed, and started again. "But it doesn't seem to matter. I close my eyes, and I see…horrible things. Things I don't want to remember. Things I can't forget. And it makes everything... hard. It makes me want to forget." He finally looked back down. "I don't know what to do, Jay. I'm afraid of what's going to happen to me, but I just don't know what to do."
Jason put down his own tea and blinked back the tears that were threatening to well up. He was a professional, he reminded himself. He'd dealt with kids who had stories as bad as Mark's, and who'd done far worse than take some E and run away, and he'd always managed to remain calm and composed with them.
The problem was, Mark wasn't one of his clients. They weren't in his office or an anonymous council flat. He'd long since lost any professional objectivity where Mark was concerned. Mark was family now, and if he hurt, Jason hurt. It was as bad as if it were one of his brothers sitting in front of him.
But it wouldn't help Mark if he fell to pieces, he told himself sharply. He could do that later, if he had to, when he was alone, or when he was with Howard. He took a last sip of tea, letting the warm liquid ease the tightness in his throat, put his hands flat on the table in front of him to hide their shaking, and tried to give Mark his best social worker expression.
"Do you want help?"
"Yeah." Mark's voice had descended to a whisper.
"Do you think you can work at feeling better?"
"I'll try."
"Would you be willing to talk to a counsellor?"
"Why can't I talk to you?" Mark's voice rose to a panicked wail.
"Because you won't talk to me, and anyway, I don't have that sort of training. I can help people get benefits and find housing and look for work, but I can't help you work through the things you need to work through. And besides, even if I could help you with that, you're not supposed to counsel family members. And you're family, Mark."
"Oh." Mark's voice was back to a whisper.
"Will you talk to someone? Please?" Jason knew he was pleading, knew he'd just abandoned all pretence of being detached, but he didn't fucking care. He felt like this was his one chance to get Mark help. That if he couldn't talk Mark into seeing a counsellor now, the next time he disappeared they'd find him dead, OD'd in a filthy squat or frozen to death in a derelict ginnel.
There was a long pause, made longer by the stakes at hand. Mark sat there, slouched down, his eyes downcast, his entire body immobile. Then he began to tremble. As Jason watched, tears began to flow down Mark's cheeks, and his face collapsed into a howl of pain. His arms went around himself and he folded up and toppled onto the floor.
Jason was at his side in a moment, wrapping his own arms around Mark.
"I'm sorry, Mark. I'm so sorry." He kept repeating the apology as he rubbed Mark's back, though he wasn't sure what he was sorry for. That Mark had to go through this. That he hurt so much. But not for what he'd said. He wasn't sorry for any of that.
After a long, long time, Mark's sobbing finally subsided. He slowly uncurled, then pushed himself up to a sitting position.
He looked a right mess. His eyes were even redder than they'd started out, and swollen almost shut. His face was wet with tears, and there was snot running down from his nose. Jason gave him a second, then took him in as firm a hug as he could manage. He could feel Mark's breath against his cheek, could feel the pounding of his heart in his chest, could feel the life of him.
"I'll do it," Mark said. His voice was choked, but no longer a whisper. He pulled back from Jason and wiped his nose on his sleeve before he continued. "I'll talk to someone. I'll talk to a counsellor."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Good." He stood, then reached down a hand to pull Mark to his feet. "Let's get you some breakfast."
It was only then that he felt other eyes on them.
He looked up, and saw Rob sitting at the top of the stairs, wearing nowt but a t-shirt and pants, and looking nearly as wretched as Mark. He heard a sound, and turned to find Howard standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his eyes full of tears and his jaw clenched tightly.
Jason didn't say anything, couldn't have done if he'd wanted. He only held his arms open, and suddenly they were full of his friends and his boyfriend.
Standing in Gary's kitchen, surrounded by three of the people he loved best, Jason felt good. For the first time in months, he felt like they, like Mark, had a chance at a happy ending.
"C'mon you muppets," he finally said as he wiped his own eyes. "I'll make you all pancakes.
One Year Later
Snow gently drifted down from the darkening sky as Jason walked towards home and Howard. The snow dulled the blunt edges of Manchester's streets, made the plain terraced houses pretty, and created a warm glow in Jason's stomach.
He couldn't have been in a better mood. It was two days until Christmas and everything was brilliant. He'd spent the afternoon sorting out the benefits of one of his clients and then seen the grateful old duffer off to visit his daughter in Liverpool for the holidays. Howard had finally quit working at the body shop and was getting good DJ gigs all over the north. He was playing London for New Year's, and there was even talk of him doing a set in Ibiza. Gary was set to graduate and looked to have a brilliant career as a doctor ahead of him. Rob was home from drama school and seemed to love living in London. And Mark…
Jason smiled and sped up as he saw his house in front of him.
"Have you heard anything?" Jason called out as he stepped inside and shook the snow off his coat before hanging it on its hook.
"Not yet," Howard called from the kitchen.
"Flippin' heck, how long are they going to take?" Jason said as he headed to the back of the house. "Don't they know it's nearly Christmas?"
"Maybe they're going to make it a Christmas surprise?" Howard was standing in front of the cooker in front of a big pot that, from the smell of it, held mulled wine for the party tonight. He gave Jason a big smile, then wrapped him in a comforting hug.
"I'm getting too old for surprises," Jason complained.
"I'm older than you," Howard said before giving him a kiss.
"But you act like a kid," Jason said, then gave him a pat on the bum.
"To make up for you acting like an OAP."
"Ha ha." He leaned back against the kitchen table and watched as Howard sliced up an orange and added it to the pot. Howard was a lovely bunch of contradictions; he looked as comfortable at home in the kitchen as he did behind his DJ decks in a crowded club. "How's everything going?"
"Mostly done. But I've left the trifle for you to make."
"I'll get started in a minute. Have you called Gary's to ask?"
"We'll find out when we find out."
Jason was just about to whinge about not being told anything when the front door burst open and Mark pitched into the house.
"They called! They just called!" he said, looking as excited as a toddler on his first Christmas morning.
"And?"
"I'm in!"
"Oh, Mark, that's wonderful news."
"Congratulations, Markie!" Howard said, and thumped him on the back. "You'll look brilliant in red."
"Would have been better in blue," Jason said, "but you can't have everything.
"Don't mind Jason," Howard said with a wink. "He's just upset that you'll be playing for the better team."
"Just think," Mark said, ignoring their good-natured squabbling. "Me in Man U kit. I can't quite believe it."
"Just the U18 squad for now," Howard said. "Be a few years before you're playing with the big boys."
"But I know you'll make it," Jason broke in and gave Howard an elbow in the side.
"I hope so." Mark was beaming. "I couldn't have done it without you two. Especially you, Jason."
"Leave off. You did all the work."
And Mark really had worked for this day, Jason reflected. He'd worked so hard in the past year to turn himself from that broken boy they'd found frozen and high in an Oldham back garden into a young man who'd been invited to try out for a proper football club.
He'd kept his promise. He'd met with a number of counsellors Jason had taken him to until he'd found one he could work with, a sweet, middle-aged lady with a spine of steel. He'd seen her almost every day for the first few months, and still had a regular session with her every two weeks. He'd started trying in school and turned out to be not a bad student. He'd managed to mostly stay away from booze and drugs. And he'd started playing football again.
It had started with kick around games with Rob's friends in the park, where he'd swiftly outclassed everyone. Then he'd joined the school team, and then a proper league. Football had become his obsession, his way of escaping the bad thoughts. And he'd become bloody good at it.
Not that he didn't have bad days. Before he'd left for London in the autumn, Rob had told them Mark still had nightmares. He still would occasionally get a haunted look that gutted Jason. But now he wouldn't let the bad thoughts take him down, he wouldn't try to bury them by taking pills or drinking far too much of whatever alcohol he could lay his hands on. Now he fought the terrible memories by going for a run, or taking his football and running drills in the park, or seeking out one of them, Rob or Gary or Howard or Jason, and talking. Really talking, letting them know what was going on in his head, letting the words flow until he didn't feel quite so rotten.
Jason was so ridiculously proud of him that he couldn't express it. And he knew all of them felt the same, especially Howard. He and Howard would never have children, not the way the laws were at the moment, but Mark and Rob felt like their kids. And their biological parents couldn't have felt prouder of them.
He glanced over at Howard and found him looking at Mark with a fond and proud expression that Jason felt reflected on his own face.
It was going to be a perfect Christmas.
And outside, the snow continued gently to fall.
Title: Dreaming of a White Christmas
Pairings: Howard/Jason, Mark/Robbie
Word Count: 7379
Notes: AU. It's a sequel to my Mark and Rob as teenage runaways story, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. I didn't quite mean to whump Mark quite so much in this, but my muse had other plans.
Thanks to my lovely first reader,
soundofthesurf, my fab beta, m. butterfly, and my wonderful source of Manchester details, moth2fic.Also available on AO3.
As Jason walked down the street towards home and Howard, he felt a definite spring in his step, a sparkle in his eye. It was two days until Christmas and everything was going well. All his clients were happy—no husbands had got drunk and beaten their wives, no teenagers had been arrested for doing drugs or, worse, selling them, and no desperate mothers had called with frantic pleas to help them avoid eviction. Howard was getting more DJ work and seriously considering quitting the body shop. Gary was doing brilliantly at the hospital and had got used to having two teenage boys in his house. Rob was doing well in school, and had joined the local youth amateur dramatic society. And Mark…
Jason's step faltered slightly.
Mark was a bit of a problem. And that was stating it mildly.
When he'd found Mark and Rob on the streets last Christmas, if he'd had to bet on which one of them would have the hardest time adjusting to life in a real home, he'd have put his money on Rob. Rob hadn't come from a stable home in the first place, had been in and out of foster homes for years before ending up on the street. But it was Rob who'd taken to their new situation with ease.
But Mark…Mark wasn't thriving at all. He was struggling in school for a start. Jason had talked to his teachers, and they all said the same thing: Mark was a ghost. He sat in the back of every class, never volunteered an answer, never spoke to anyone but Rob. He did just enough work to keep from failing outright, but Jason reckoned he wasn't going to earn a single GCSE. He had no interests outside of school either. He'd been invited to join the school choir, but had never shown up for a practice. Rob had told them Mark had been a good footballer, back before his life had fallen apart, but he hadn't shown any interest in playing again. He hadn't joined the school team, and wouldn't go to a tryout for a local U18 side Jason had arranged for him. He didn't even take part in the games of kick around that Rob and his friends would sometimes have in the park.
But a lack of interest in school or anything else wasn't even the worst of it. The worst was the times when he'd disappear.
It had started a few months after he and Rob had begun living with Gary, after winter had loosened its grip on the city. One day Gary had got a phone call from the school saying that Mark hadn't shown up for class. Rob hadn't seen him all day, and had been frantic with worry. As the sun set, the four of them were sat in Gary's lounge, waiting and worrying. When dusk had finally turned to night, they'd stopped waiting and set out to look for Mark.
Howard had found him that time, crouched in a corner of the squat where Jason had first met him and Rob. Howard had led him back to Gary's, and Gary had made sure he was alright. Then he'd gone back home with Jason and cried in his arms for long minutes before he could say anything.
"It was like that first night," he'd told Jason. "When I found him in the park. It was like he wasn't really there, like he was reliving his past, and a pretty horrible part of that past. But when I touched him this time, he didn't fight me. He fell apart."
He'd clutched Jason tighter then.
"Breaks my heart," Howard had said, "seeing the poor little bastard like that."
Since that night, they'd all had their hearts broken in similar ways by Mark. They'd all found him in other squats, in alleys and ginnels, under bridges. They'd all found him horrifically blank or equally horrifically shattered. And increasingly, they'd found him drunk or high, surrounded by other kids in the same shape, kids who, like Mark, had somehow had their hope stripped away.
Rob was the one who was taking it all the hardest.
"Why is he doing this?" he'd asked Jason on a night after they'd retrieved a drunken Mark from an alley near Canal Street. They were lucky that Mark had been found by a couple of motherly drag queens who'd kept watch over him and coaxed Jason's phone number from him. "We're safe, we're not on the streets, we've got enough to eat. We get to go to school again, we've got you lot looking after us like family again. Why can't he just fucking enjoy it?"
Rob had cried angry tears that night. Cried while Mark slept off the booze he'd used to deaden the pain he couldn't seem to escape. Pain that none of them seemed to be able to help him with.
Jason shook himself. He shouldn't dwell on the bad, not now, so near to Christmas. No use borrowing trouble that hasn't happened yet., he could hear his mum say. No doubt she'd tell him that in person when they all went over to the Orange house for dinner on Boxing Day. And, before that, he and Howard were hosting a Christmas Eve party at their house, and there would be Christmas Day spent with Howard's family yet again. (Howard's mum had taken to Mark last year. She was always on the phone, asking how he was, and was as concerned as any of them. Rob had been exactly right when he'd said they'd both got family again. The combined Orange, Donald and Barlow households had taken the boys under their wings.)
As Jason walked the last few streets home, it began to snow, the lacy flakes clinging to the ground and walls and shrubbery, giving everything an unearthly glimmer in the twilight. He decided to take the snow as a good omen, and opened the door with a smile.
"How!" He unwrapped his scarf and hung up his coat. "Did you see it's snowing? Looks like it might stay for Christmas."
There were footsteps behind him, and he turned to find Howard standing in the living room, his teeth gritted, his brow furrowed, and his fists clenched at his side.
"How?" The hope he'd begun to feel on the way home evaporated, to be replaced by a cold sensation that started in his fingers and toes and ended in his gut. Not again. He couldn't take this again. "What is it?"
"It's Mark," Howard said.
"What about Mark?" Maybe it wasn't what he feared. Maybe he'd just come down with a cold.
"He didn't come home last night." Howard looked towards the back of the house. "I've got Rob in the kitchen. He's in a bit of a state."
"Shit."
Jason headed for the back of the house, with Howard trailing behind him. When he reached the kitchen, he could see that Rob was in more than a bit of a state. He was shattered. His eyes were watery, his mouth was trembling with the effort he was putting into not breaking down, and his hands were shaking around the tea mug he had clenched between them.
"He didn't come home, Jay," Rob said as he looked up at him. "He didn't come home last night and I don't know where he is."
"Perhaps he was just out with friends," Jason said, clutching at straws. They all knew Rob was the only real friend he had.
"I've been looking for him all day. I've checked all our old squats, asked around our old patch. But no one's seen him."
"Does Gary know?" Jason asked.
"He's out looking as well," Howard said.
"Maybe he'll have better news," Jason said, trying to keep his tone upbeat, even as he felt his own hopes fading.
They didn't have long to wait. Soon enough there was a knock at the door. Jason answered it, and found Gary on the doorstep, alone. His expression told Jason all he needed to know.
"No luck?" he said.
"Oh, I've had plenty of luck," Gary said. "All of it bad." He kicked off snowy boots and joined them all in the kitchen. "There's no sign of him. It's as if he's really managed to disappear this time."
There was silence as they all took in what that might mean. How Mark might have disappeared. A catalogue of all the ways he'd seen young people destroy themselves in his job tumbled through Jason's head until he shook himself and forced the bad thoughts away. He wasn't going to lose Mark. He absolutely wasn't.
And with that conviction, he suddenly had an idea, one place they hadn't yet looked for Mark, one place Mark hadn't yet tried to hide.
"Rob, Mark's from Oldham, isn't he?"
"Yeah."
"Do you know where his family lived?"
"Sort of."
"'Sort of' isn't an address," Jason said.
"Best I can do." Rob jammed his hands into his pockets, looking frustrated and upset.
"Do you think he might be at his family's house?" Gary asked.
"It's the only place left we haven't looked," Jason said. "Unless anyone else has a better idea." But no one did.
"How are we going to find the address?" Howard asked.
"I'll find it." Jason licked his lips and got to work.
It took some doing, finding the location of the old family home of a former runaway and current foster care kid on the day before Christmas Eve, but Jason managed it. He made dozens of phone calls and tracked down every caseworker Mark had ever had and every caseworker he knew, until he finally found the woman who'd first seen him in the hospital, the day his family had died. She'd been working late at the hospital this evening—emergencies didn't stop just because of the holidays—and turned out to be a fount of information. She not only managed to dig up the address of Mark's old family home, but of his school and his three best mates, too.
"I hope you find him," she told Jason, her voice sympathetic. "Mark was always a lovely lad. He deserves so much better than he got."
"Copster Hill Road," Rob said, looking over his shoulder at the address Jason had scribbled on a scrap piece of paper. "Mark never talks about any of it, you know. About his family. Or about Oldham."
"Maybe that's part of the problem," Jason said.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Howard said. "We've got the fucking address. Let's go find Mark." And wasn't that one of the many reasons he loved Howard, his ability to get to the point.
"Someone should stay here," Jason said. "In case Mark comes back."
"I will." Gary patted Jason on the shoulder. "Now go and get him."
They took Howard's car, a beat-up Fiesta that Howard kept running through constant maintenance and force of will. The snow that had been starting when Jason headed for home was falling in earnest now; the fluffy white flakes now covered the roads and looked less picturesque and more dangerous.
Any other year, Jason would have been looking forward to the white Christmas the snow promised, but tonight all he could think was how much the snow and the cold would be making one lost teenager miserable, and how much slower Howard had to drive in the stuff.
"He's been having the nightmares again," Rob said when they were still only half way to Oldham, his voice from the back seat breaking the silence that had filled the car as soon as they pulled away from their house and Gary standing silently on the kerb.
Rob had told them about Mark's nightmares before, every time they started up. According to Rob, when a nightmare hit, Mark would start thrashing and moaning. "Makes the most God awful whimpering noise," Rob had said. "It scares the fuck out of me before I know what it is. Then it scares the fuck out of me more when I realize it's Mark."
"Has he told you what they're about?" Jason asked now.
"Same as always. The accident. Finding out his family are dead. What happened to him in the group home. Living on the streets. He's got more than enough to choose from where nightmares are concerned."
"Poor bastard," Howard muttered, and put his foot down on the gas just a bit harder.
Jason chewed on his lip and kept quiet. He didn't point out to Rob that he'd also lived on the streets, and he'd lived in the same group home. He often wondered if Rob had any nightmares of his own, but now wasn't the time to delve into that.
It seemed to take them forever to drive to Oldham, and then even longer to find the right street. But find it they did. Howard parked the car in front of Mark's old house and shut off the ignition. And then they all just sat there for a minute.
"What are we meant to do now?" Rob asked as he looked up and down the street. "Sit here and hope Mark appears?"
"No." Jason pulled his collar up around his ears. "Now we go look for him."
They tried the house Mark's family had lived in first, standing in front of the small terraced house for a minute before they worked up the courage to knock. The door was opened by a pleasant-looking middle-aged man. His wife hovered behind him, and Jason could hear their kids playing in the living room. As Jason explained why they were there and Rob showed them the picture of Mark he was carrying with him, one that Howard's mum had taken of the two of them last Christmas, the couple's expressions changed from wary to sympathetic, and Jason saw the woman glance back at her own children with a look that clearly gave thanks for their safety.
"We haven't seen the lad," the man said. "We heard what happened to him, of course. The neighbours told us when we moved in. Terrible thing." He shook his head.
"If you could keep an eye out," Jason said. He scribbled his number on a scrap of paper in his pocket and handed it to the man. "And call this number if you see him. There's someone waiting there."
"We'll ask the boy in if we see him," the woman said. "And we'll let you know he's here."
"Thank you," Rob said, and Jason could hear the gratitude in his voice, see it in his expression. When Rob talked about Mark, there was never any of the teenage snottiness he was sometimes prone to. The past year may have tested their bond, but it was as strong as ever.
They moved on to the addresses of Mark's best friends from his time here, and found a similar welcome at each. Mark's friends remembered him affectionately, as did their parents, but no one had seen him much since the accident, and not at all for the past two years. Everyone promised to keep watch for Mark.
They drove to Mark's old school, St. Augustine's, and checked the grounds, but there was no sign of Mark there, either. At Jason's insistence, they went back again to his old house, and trod the streets there. Jason was convinced the place held the key to finding Mark, with less and less reason to do so.
"We should go home," Howard finally said, putting his arm around Jason as Rob hopped from one foot to the other in the cold.
"We can't." Jason pushed Howard's arm gently off his shoulder. "I can't. But you two should go if you need to."
"'Course we're not going to leave you here," Howard said, reaching out to give him a shake.
"I'm not leaving without Mark."
"Alright, Jay. But we've looked everywhere. What else can we do?"
"I don't know." For the first time since they'd set out for Oldham, Jason felt his confidence that they were absolutely going to find Mark slip. He wrapped his arms around himself and looked up and down the pavement, hoping for inspiration, then he noticed one place they hadn't checked. "The ginnel."
"What?" Howard looked confused.
"We haven't checked the ginnel behind the houses." He was moving down the street before the others could say anything else. "C'mon."
He entered the alley behind the line of terraced houses ahead of the others. This late at night so close to Christmas, the streets themselves hadn't been very busy, but the ginnels were completely deserted. The fallen snow was almost entirely undisturbed here, and muted all sounds from the street.
Howard and Rob appeared beside him, and followed him as he walked along the brick wall that ran behind the houses, stopping as they reached the back of Mark's old house. They checked the house's backyard and those of the neighbouring ones, but there was no sign of Mark. Jason had put so much faith in finding Mark here that he felt gutted.
"He's not here," he said softly to himself, then turned to Howard. "He's not here, How."
He felt lost, but before he could say any more, Howard pulled him into a hug.
"We'll find him, Jay." How patted his back. "I'm sure of it. But we should go home now. There's nothing more we can do here."
Howard was making sense, but Jason couldn't help but feel giving up now was still a betrayal of Mark. He pulled away from Howard, searching for an argument that wouldn't sound completely daft, when he noticed something a few houses down from where they were stood.
"Look at that." He moved closer, until he could see the indents in the snow more clearly. They were footprints that had been partially drifted. Another half hour of these flurries and they'd have been covered completely. This was it, the thing he'd been meant to find. He followed the footprints down the ginnel, and found they ended at a gate leading through to a back garden a few doors down from Mark's family house. Jason pushed the door open and peered through the gate.
The garden was dark. It seemed there was no one home in this house; no light was being thrown by its windows into the yard. At first he thought he'd been wrong again, that there was no one in the garden but the lump of a garden gnome covered in snow. But then his eyes adjusted to the gloom and he saw something huddled in the back corner where a slight overhang of the wall offered some rudimentary shelter. Saw someone.
"Mark?" he said, taking a step towards the someone. "Is that you?" The figure in the corner turned its face to the wall, but he was close enough that he could see this person was wearing Mark's coat, had Mark's build and hair. "Mark, it's Jason."
He crouched down until he was at the same level as the person in the corner, then reached slowly out and turned the boy towards him until Mark was facing him. Mark's coat was army surplus and too big for him, and made him look even younger than his years. He stared at Jason with eyes that were filled with panic but little recognition. Jason couldn't smell alcohol on him, but he couldn't be sure that he wasn't on something else.
"Do you know who I am, Mark?" he said, trying to break through the terror he saw in the boy's eyes.
There was a pause, and then Mark slowly nodded.
"We're here to take you home, me and Howard and Rob." He looked behind him, and saw Howard and Rob standing at the garden's entrance. Howard's mouth was settled into a thin line, the expression he got when dealing with a bloody awful situation that was going to result in tears later. And Rob, he wasn't saving the tears for later. Jason could see them running down his cheeks now, even as he tried to muster his face into some sort of smile for the benefit of his friend.
"Hi Markie." Rob's face shuddered with the effort of keeping that not-smile in place. "Time to go home, now."
Mark clenched his eyes tight, and when he opened them the terror was gone, but it had been replaced by a deep grief, the sort of grief Jason knew it was going to take a lot of work to chase away.
Jason experienced a swelling of his own grief, grief at the death of the sunny kid Mark seemed to have once been in this town. But he stamped down on it. He couldn't afford the luxury of indulging in his own emotions. Not when Mark needed him. He put on his professional face and reached for Mark's elbow.
"'ey up, Mark." He pulled the boy to his feet. "Let's get you someplace warm." He kept up a steady stream of patter as he led the boy out of the garden and towards the car. Without a word, Howard fell in beside him, offering support to Mark. Rob stayed behind them all, the only indication he was there the crunch of snow under his boots and an occasional sniff.
They got Mark installed in the back seat of the car, with Rob beside him, then Jason retrieved an old blanket he kept in the boot.
"I'm sorry I keep cocking things up," Mark whispered as Jason tucked the blanket around him and Rob both.
What could you say to that? Rob didn't say a word, but frowned and put an arm firmly around Mark. Jason could only see the back of Howard's head, but he did see him grip the steering wheel rather tighter than was needed. Jason patted Mark's hand and kept up the same sort of stream of comforting patter he so often used in his job, before he hopped into the passenger seat. Howard kept his eyes straight ahead and pulled away from the kerb with a squeal just as Jason was shutting the door, which was how Jason knew how much he was hurting. He never would have taken off until he knew Jason was safely strapped in otherwise.
No one spoke as they drove back towards Manchester, but Jason kept watch on Mark and Rob in the rearview mirror. It didn't take Mark long to fall asleep, his head resting on Rob's shoulder. Once Mark was asleep, Rob started fading himself, until his head tipped back and he started snoring.
Jason knew he should be happy. They'd found Mark. He should be focusing on that victory. But instead he could only think of one thing.
"He could have died, How," he said when he was quite sure Mark and Rob were well past hearing them.
"He didn't." Howard shifted the gears with definite viciousness. "We found him. You found him."
"But if we hadn't…" He couldn't say the words, but the image was seared into his imagination, Mark dying in the snow in an abandoned garden, alone and lonely.
Howard didn't say anything else; he just reached over, grabbed Jason's hand, and held it until the next time he needed to shift the gears.
They were half way home when Jason realized Gary didn't know they'd found Mark, so he made Howard pull over at the first phone box they'd found. When they arrived back home, Gary was on the pavement before Howard had even finished parking. He and Jason gently woke Mark and ushered him into Gary's house while Howard and Rob followed behind.
They got a cheese toastie and a cup of tea into Mark before they sent him and Rob upstairs to bed. When he went up to check on them after a few minutes, Jason found the two of them in Mark's bed. Mark was sound asleep already, and Rob was wrapped tightly around him, as if he wasn't ever going to let him go. Jason crept away as quietly as he could, not wanting to disturb the peace they'd found, however temporary it might be.
When he went back downstairs, he found Howard and Gary still sitting in the kitchen, both ignoring the toasties and tea in front of them.
"Are they asleep?" Gary asked.
"Yeah." Jason sat down heavily at the table beside Howard. Without a word, Howard passed him a cup of tea with exactly the right amount of milk and no sugar at all. He took a sip and let the heat of the liquid warm him through.
"Thank God you found him," Gary said.
"You can thank Jason, not God," Howard said. "Rob and I were ready to give up, but Jay wouldn't."
"I just felt he was there." Jason took another sip of tea.
They all sat in silence for a few minutes. Jason struggled with what to say, but couldn't come up with a flipping thing. He was tired and cold and drained.
"We should cancel the party," Howard finally said.
Jason looked over at Howard. As Jason watched, he brought his own mug of tea to his lips and his hand shook. Howard looked as worn down as Jason felt. And Gary didn't look much better.
"Yeah," Jason said. "I don't reckon any of us feel much like celebrating." He turned to Gary. "Someone should watch over Mark. Do you have a shift at the hospital tomorrow?"
"Yeah." Gary frowned. "I got someone to cover me at the last minute today to help find Mark. There's no way I can get off again tomorrow."
"Howard, can you stay here tomorrow? Look after the two of them? Maybe even get them to your mum's early?"
"Yeah." Howard nodded. "There's not much to do at the shop on Christmas Eve."
"Good." Jason took another sip of his tea, letting the astringent taste roll around on his taste buds for a moment as he considered what else needed to be done to keep Mark safe. "I'll stay here tonight."
"Why?" Gary asked.
"To make sure Mark doesn't take off again."
"He wouldn't…" Gary began, then trailed off as if he'd reconsidered.
"He might. And I'm not giving him that chance. I'm not going to risk there being another time. I'm not going to risk us not finding him the next time. So if you don't mind me at your kitchen table…"
"No. Of course not."
"I'll stay with you," Howard said, then reached across the table and took his hand. Howard's hands were both gentle and rough, just like he was, the palm warm, his fingers comfortingly calloused. "Make sure you don't fall asleep."
"Thank you, both," Gary said. "For everything." He stood and stretched. "I'd stay up with you, but I've got to get some sleep or I'll be no use at the hospital tomorrow."
"Off with you," Howard said, and gave him a friendly shove with the hand not holding Jason. "We've got everything covered.
"Good night." With an appreciative nod, Gary climbed the stairs to his bedroom.
Neither Howard nor Jason said anything as they listened to the homely sounds of Gary brushing his teeth and crawling into bed. They kept silent as the sounds of a Manchester night settled around them: the creaking of the house, the occasional growl of a car engine on the street, the rare bark of a dog.
"What are we going to do?" Howard finally asked. Jason could feel the tremor in Howard's hand.
"Whatever we have to, How." He squeezed Howard's fingers, as if he could transmit the little hope he had left to his partner through touch. "Whatever Mark needs."
"And what's that?"
"I'm not sure. But I'm sure we'll figure it out." He reluctantly let go of Howard's hand, drained his tea, and looked around the kitchen. "Now do you want to play a game of poker? I think I know where Gary keeps his cards."
"How can you think of cards at a time like this?"
"It'll keep us awake," Jason said pragmatically. "We can play strip poker, if match sticks aren't interesting enough stakes for you."
Howard looked shocked.
"And what'll we say if Mark does come down and sees us stark-fucking-naked at Gary's kitchen table?"
"I doubt we'd have to say anything. The sight of you naked would probably be enough to drive him back upstairs."
Howard laughed, a short bark of surprised laughter that made Jason glad he'd been ridiculous. They'd had enough worry this evening. A little ridiculousness wouldn't go amiss, for any of them.
"I think we can spare Mark that view," Howard said. "But I wouldn't say no to taking away all your matchsticks."
"You can try, Dougie." Jason stood and went to retrieve Gary's cards from the living room. "You can try."
Howard had lasted until nearly 5, when the night was darkest and coldest. They'd played poker and drunk tea and talked about everything but the boys sleeping in a room upstairs. But then Howard wandered into the living room and sat on the couch to "rest his eyes," and before he knew it, Jason could hear his snoring.
At 6, Jason heard an alarm go off upstairs. There were the sounds of someone getting dressed, and then Gary stumbled down the stairs. He looked like he could have used a few more hours of sleep, but determined to get to the hospital. Jason made him tea and an omelette, and sent him on his way to the hospital.
At 7, with the sky still dark but beginning to show some light on the horizon, Jason heard movement upstairs. He expected it to be Rob, expected Mark to sleep for hours more after yesterday, after spending who knew how long in a cold garden in a snowstorm. But it was Mark who staggered down the stairs in a too-large sweater-top, trackie bottoms and bare feet, and plunked himself down at the table across from Jason.
"Morning," Jason said.
"Morning," Mark said without looking up from the table.
"I was just going to brew some tea. Want some?"
"Yeah."
So Jason boiled the kettle and steeped the tea while Mark sat at the table, bit his nails and avoided all eye contact.
"There you go." He set a mug down in front of Mark. The tea was black and strong because Jason reckoned what Mark needed just this minute was the strongest tea he could provide. Mark picked the mug up with both hands and held it for a minute before finally taking a noisy slurp.
"That alright?" Jason asked.
"Yeah." Mark's tone was utterly monotone and utterly unlike him.
"You alright?"
"Yeah."
"You lying?"
"Yeah."
Jason sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. Not that he'd expected it to be easy. Everything about this was going to be fucking difficult, so he might as well get stuck into it. He took a sip of his own tea before he asked his next question, taking some strength from its heat.
"Were you on anything last night?"
Mark shrugged.
"Were you?" Jason pressed.
"I might have taken a couple of pills." He slouched down at the table. "I don't even know what they were. Could have been E. Could have been acid."
"You couldn't tell by how they made you feel?" Jason kept all judgment out of his voice. This was not about judging Mark; it was about getting him to think.
"Not really." Mark bit at a nail. "I felt like shit. The pills just made me feel shittier."
Jason examined Mark, the way he kept avoiding all eye contact, the way he was gradually sliding out of view under the table. He was going to have to be careful, but he had to keep going. It felt like Mark might finally have got to a place where he'd talk to him. He took a deep breath and spoke again.
"Is that why you've been getting high? Because you feel like shit?"
"I suppose." Mark shrugged again. "You don't take drugs if you're feeling fantastic, do you?"
"No, you don't." Jason took a sip of his tea. "Do you want to feel better?" He tried to pose the question as casually as possible, but he could still see Mark stiffen, see him slide a bit further down in his seat.
"'Course I fuckin' want to feel better." He bit at a nail. "I hate feeling like this." He frowned. "I just…"
He trailed off and looked up at Jason for the first time since he'd come down the stairs. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken, the skin around them bruised by fatigue and stress. His mouth trembled and his hands shook, but when he spoke, his voice was strong and there was finally some feeling behind it.
"I know it doesn't make sense, Jay. I know I'm in a good place. I know you all care about me. I know you all would do anything to help me. But-" His voice broke and he stopped for a moment, then clutched one hand tightly into a fist, swallowed, and started again. "But it doesn't seem to matter. I close my eyes, and I see…horrible things. Things I don't want to remember. Things I can't forget. And it makes everything... hard. It makes me want to forget." He finally looked back down. "I don't know what to do, Jay. I'm afraid of what's going to happen to me, but I just don't know what to do."
Jason put down his own tea and blinked back the tears that were threatening to well up. He was a professional, he reminded himself. He'd dealt with kids who had stories as bad as Mark's, and who'd done far worse than take some E and run away, and he'd always managed to remain calm and composed with them.
The problem was, Mark wasn't one of his clients. They weren't in his office or an anonymous council flat. He'd long since lost any professional objectivity where Mark was concerned. Mark was family now, and if he hurt, Jason hurt. It was as bad as if it were one of his brothers sitting in front of him.
But it wouldn't help Mark if he fell to pieces, he told himself sharply. He could do that later, if he had to, when he was alone, or when he was with Howard. He took a last sip of tea, letting the warm liquid ease the tightness in his throat, put his hands flat on the table in front of him to hide their shaking, and tried to give Mark his best social worker expression.
"Do you want help?"
"Yeah." Mark's voice had descended to a whisper.
"Do you think you can work at feeling better?"
"I'll try."
"Would you be willing to talk to a counsellor?"
"Why can't I talk to you?" Mark's voice rose to a panicked wail.
"Because you won't talk to me, and anyway, I don't have that sort of training. I can help people get benefits and find housing and look for work, but I can't help you work through the things you need to work through. And besides, even if I could help you with that, you're not supposed to counsel family members. And you're family, Mark."
"Oh." Mark's voice was back to a whisper.
"Will you talk to someone? Please?" Jason knew he was pleading, knew he'd just abandoned all pretence of being detached, but he didn't fucking care. He felt like this was his one chance to get Mark help. That if he couldn't talk Mark into seeing a counsellor now, the next time he disappeared they'd find him dead, OD'd in a filthy squat or frozen to death in a derelict ginnel.
There was a long pause, made longer by the stakes at hand. Mark sat there, slouched down, his eyes downcast, his entire body immobile. Then he began to tremble. As Jason watched, tears began to flow down Mark's cheeks, and his face collapsed into a howl of pain. His arms went around himself and he folded up and toppled onto the floor.
Jason was at his side in a moment, wrapping his own arms around Mark.
"I'm sorry, Mark. I'm so sorry." He kept repeating the apology as he rubbed Mark's back, though he wasn't sure what he was sorry for. That Mark had to go through this. That he hurt so much. But not for what he'd said. He wasn't sorry for any of that.
After a long, long time, Mark's sobbing finally subsided. He slowly uncurled, then pushed himself up to a sitting position.
He looked a right mess. His eyes were even redder than they'd started out, and swollen almost shut. His face was wet with tears, and there was snot running down from his nose. Jason gave him a second, then took him in as firm a hug as he could manage. He could feel Mark's breath against his cheek, could feel the pounding of his heart in his chest, could feel the life of him.
"I'll do it," Mark said. His voice was choked, but no longer a whisper. He pulled back from Jason and wiped his nose on his sleeve before he continued. "I'll talk to someone. I'll talk to a counsellor."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
"Good." He stood, then reached down a hand to pull Mark to his feet. "Let's get you some breakfast."
It was only then that he felt other eyes on them.
He looked up, and saw Rob sitting at the top of the stairs, wearing nowt but a t-shirt and pants, and looking nearly as wretched as Mark. He heard a sound, and turned to find Howard standing in the doorway to the kitchen, his eyes full of tears and his jaw clenched tightly.
Jason didn't say anything, couldn't have done if he'd wanted. He only held his arms open, and suddenly they were full of his friends and his boyfriend.
Standing in Gary's kitchen, surrounded by three of the people he loved best, Jason felt good. For the first time in months, he felt like they, like Mark, had a chance at a happy ending.
"C'mon you muppets," he finally said as he wiped his own eyes. "I'll make you all pancakes.
One Year Later
Snow gently drifted down from the darkening sky as Jason walked towards home and Howard. The snow dulled the blunt edges of Manchester's streets, made the plain terraced houses pretty, and created a warm glow in Jason's stomach.
He couldn't have been in a better mood. It was two days until Christmas and everything was brilliant. He'd spent the afternoon sorting out the benefits of one of his clients and then seen the grateful old duffer off to visit his daughter in Liverpool for the holidays. Howard had finally quit working at the body shop and was getting good DJ gigs all over the north. He was playing London for New Year's, and there was even talk of him doing a set in Ibiza. Gary was set to graduate and looked to have a brilliant career as a doctor ahead of him. Rob was home from drama school and seemed to love living in London. And Mark…
Jason smiled and sped up as he saw his house in front of him.
"Have you heard anything?" Jason called out as he stepped inside and shook the snow off his coat before hanging it on its hook.
"Not yet," Howard called from the kitchen.
"Flippin' heck, how long are they going to take?" Jason said as he headed to the back of the house. "Don't they know it's nearly Christmas?"
"Maybe they're going to make it a Christmas surprise?" Howard was standing in front of the cooker in front of a big pot that, from the smell of it, held mulled wine for the party tonight. He gave Jason a big smile, then wrapped him in a comforting hug.
"I'm getting too old for surprises," Jason complained.
"I'm older than you," Howard said before giving him a kiss.
"But you act like a kid," Jason said, then gave him a pat on the bum.
"To make up for you acting like an OAP."
"Ha ha." He leaned back against the kitchen table and watched as Howard sliced up an orange and added it to the pot. Howard was a lovely bunch of contradictions; he looked as comfortable at home in the kitchen as he did behind his DJ decks in a crowded club. "How's everything going?"
"Mostly done. But I've left the trifle for you to make."
"I'll get started in a minute. Have you called Gary's to ask?"
"We'll find out when we find out."
Jason was just about to whinge about not being told anything when the front door burst open and Mark pitched into the house.
"They called! They just called!" he said, looking as excited as a toddler on his first Christmas morning.
"And?"
"I'm in!"
"Oh, Mark, that's wonderful news."
"Congratulations, Markie!" Howard said, and thumped him on the back. "You'll look brilliant in red."
"Would have been better in blue," Jason said, "but you can't have everything.
"Don't mind Jason," Howard said with a wink. "He's just upset that you'll be playing for the better team."
"Just think," Mark said, ignoring their good-natured squabbling. "Me in Man U kit. I can't quite believe it."
"Just the U18 squad for now," Howard said. "Be a few years before you're playing with the big boys."
"But I know you'll make it," Jason broke in and gave Howard an elbow in the side.
"I hope so." Mark was beaming. "I couldn't have done it without you two. Especially you, Jason."
"Leave off. You did all the work."
And Mark really had worked for this day, Jason reflected. He'd worked so hard in the past year to turn himself from that broken boy they'd found frozen and high in an Oldham back garden into a young man who'd been invited to try out for a proper football club.
He'd kept his promise. He'd met with a number of counsellors Jason had taken him to until he'd found one he could work with, a sweet, middle-aged lady with a spine of steel. He'd seen her almost every day for the first few months, and still had a regular session with her every two weeks. He'd started trying in school and turned out to be not a bad student. He'd managed to mostly stay away from booze and drugs. And he'd started playing football again.
It had started with kick around games with Rob's friends in the park, where he'd swiftly outclassed everyone. Then he'd joined the school team, and then a proper league. Football had become his obsession, his way of escaping the bad thoughts. And he'd become bloody good at it.
Not that he didn't have bad days. Before he'd left for London in the autumn, Rob had told them Mark still had nightmares. He still would occasionally get a haunted look that gutted Jason. But now he wouldn't let the bad thoughts take him down, he wouldn't try to bury them by taking pills or drinking far too much of whatever alcohol he could lay his hands on. Now he fought the terrible memories by going for a run, or taking his football and running drills in the park, or seeking out one of them, Rob or Gary or Howard or Jason, and talking. Really talking, letting them know what was going on in his head, letting the words flow until he didn't feel quite so rotten.
Jason was so ridiculously proud of him that he couldn't express it. And he knew all of them felt the same, especially Howard. He and Howard would never have children, not the way the laws were at the moment, but Mark and Rob felt like their kids. And their biological parents couldn't have felt prouder of them.
He glanced over at Howard and found him looking at Mark with a fond and proud expression that Jason felt reflected on his own face.
It was going to be a perfect Christmas.
And outside, the snow continued gently to fall.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2014-01-23 06:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-23 10:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-24 02:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-23 11:03 am (UTC)This is truly lovely and has just the right balance of happy and sad. You're such an astounding writer and I can't help but fall for your TT stories every time I read one.
Their real life personas (well, at least what we know them to be like) blend in perfectly with their personas in this AU. So beautiful and plausible and just - wow!
Thanks for ending this on a happy note, good to see they all have a good life now and an even better future ahead.
(The part with Mark in the ginnel reminded me strongly of Andersen's Little Match Girl, somehow.)
no subject
Date: 2014-01-24 02:52 am (UTC)This was a really hard one to write, and I think the hardest part was figuring out how to create a plausibly happy ending after the trouble I got Mark into. Once I finally figured that out, if got much easier.
Funny you should mention the Little Match Girl. I had a book of Andersen's tales as a kid and I was more than a little obsessed with that story. (Clearly I was an early h/c fan in the making.) There could definitely have been some unconscious influence going on.
no subject
Date: 2014-01-23 09:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-24 02:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-01-24 08:35 pm (UTC)You’re right, they’re supposed to look after each other, and it’s lovely how Jason’s the star. The ending is perfect and so close to reality! (And, mentioning footie, yay! for Mark taking part in this year’s Soccer Aid!)
no subject
Date: 2014-01-25 05:39 am (UTC)This one was always from Jason's POV. I'm rather fond of social worker!Jay. And I had to mention footie! (I wish there wasn't an ocean between me and England, because I would totally go to Soccer Aid! Ros wants to go too!)
no subject
Date: 2014-01-25 09:48 pm (UTC)That ocean is an annoying obstacle, especially if Ros would like to go too! I should save money for next year’s TT tour, so I’m trying to refrain from buying tickets ;)
no subject
Date: 2014-01-25 09:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-07 05:17 am (UTC)