We'll Be Okay [Solby]

Chapter 8

It had been four days, Colby found out.

Four days he had spent locked in that room.

Everything that had happened to him, that he and Sam had been forced to do, had happened over four days.

It was kind of mind boggling.

In that timeless place (a warehouse outside of LA, Elton had informed him), Colby's life had changed.

Forever.

Irrevocably.

And he didn't know how to handle that yet.

Sam had registered the date on the welcome board at the front of the room before Colby had. It was four days from when they had planned to do the haunted hotel stay over. Technically the 5th, if they counted the night they spent unconscious.

"Hey man," Sam whispered, jerking Colby out of his daze. Sam was staring at him with less than subtle concern. "How are you doing?" His voice was still shredded from... Colby forced the memory from his head.

Unfortunately, as he went to speak, he realized his voice wasn't much better. "I'm okay, I guess." He tried to smile at Sam, but it probably came out more as a pained grimace, an expression Sam mirrored. "Just fuckin'... we're out. We made it."

Sam squeezed his hand. "Yeah, we did," He agreed softly. He stared into space for a moment before murmuring, "It doesn't feel like its over yet does it?"

Colby shook his head. "I still feel like someone's going to jump us and try to..." He shuddered. The room was a pleasant temperature, and the blankets and chair he sat in were soft, but he could still remember fingers jabbing down his throat, neck pulled to straining, pulling desperately against metal shackles that were never going to give, Sam screaming as he was forced to take it...

"Colby?" Sam's voice broke through the flashback. He blinked, shaking his head to look at Sam, just then realizing how his heart rate and breathing had picked up. He consciously tried to calm them. Sam met his eyes earnestly, but there was anger in them. Not at him, he knew that.

Sam wouldn't hurt him.

Sam let out a long breath. "I wouldn't let them," He whispered, and Colby realized he was responding to his earlier statement. "No one's going to touch you again, Colby. Not unless you want it too. I hate that...". Sam was trembling now. Colby could feel it through where he held Sam's hand.

Sam needs a hug, Colby thought to himself. Could he... could he give Sam that, touch him right now? He shifted in the wheelchair, watching where that damn IV was before moving. The motion caught Sam's attention, and Colby watched him started to ask what Colby was doing.

"Colby..."

"Scoot over," Colby tried to throw him a casual smile, but he knew when he felt it across his face that it looked forced.

"You don't have to..."

"Sam, shut up."

That at least got a startled laugh out of his friend. Colby sat on the edge of the bed, wincing slightly at the pressure to injured areas, before wiggling to try to scoot in beside Sam. Sam didn't help or push him away, letting Colby take this at his own pace, a gesture Colby greatly appreciated.

Talking his brain down from panicking at the close contact was a difficult thing. As he pressed his shoulder against Sam's he got brief flashbacks to hot body pressing him down, choking, tearing, begging- Sam. Sam was still looking at him with something like wonder-love- and Colby reminded himself why he was doing this. Because it would be so easy to never let anyone get close to him again but Sam needed him...