Wormy's note: I'm so sorry it took so long, but I've had the biggest writer's block ever for the past few weeks, and I couldn't force myself to write words that I didn't feel. Sorry, I'll try to update more frequently! And keep reviewing!

Just then, another, older man entered the tiny hospital room. He had a scowl on his stern features, and walked with a powerful stride, his stern features adding to his imposing air. Tyler shrunk back against his pillows, biting his lip against the pain as he struggled to make himself as small as possible. A flash of memory made him whimper softly, and his fear factor soared.

"Tyler," the young man from before began, and Tyler jumped, seeing that he'd taken the chance to get closer to him. Shivering, he tried to back away more.

"This is Dr. Anderson," the nurse continued. Once again, there was a flash of memory, and Tyler wasn't sure if the screams in his head were real or not.

"No," he whimpered, terrified, "please, no. . ." The doctor's frown deepened for a second to be instantly replaced by a fake smile, and he moved one step too close. Tyler couldn't take it-the frightening men and the more frightening memories seemed to press in all around him, and it was too much. Ignoring the suddenly extreme pain, he bolted forward, stumbling out of the bed as the different tubes and needles in his body were ripped out. He managed to scramble a few feet forward before strong hands grabbed him, and he fainted.

Darren stood in the locker room after morning practice, waiting. Like most teams, the MacBaey Titans (A/N: No reference to the real team, anyone that comes up with a better name gets double kudos!) showered together after practice. Darren, being gay, found himself in a rather uncomfortable position when he showered-all the toned, nude male bodies tended to arouse him. Naturally, his teammates didn't really appreciate it when that happened, so he always waited until they were done to hop under the water. It alienated him slightly from his teammates, but it worked out better for both sides. MacBaey was a very open, accepting school, so being gay hadn't been a problem for him, except for the occasional scruples, such as showering.

Once he, too, was clean and dressed, Darren headed to his first class, Voice and Choir. Singing was his minor, something he'd picked solely because he enjoyed it so much. The fact that he was able to manipulate seemingly wooden words with his voice so that they became beautiful fascinated him, and he felt that at least one thing in his life was right through and through.

As he took his place on the risers and joined in the warm-up scales, Darren was home.

Brian McCullough prowled the halls of MacBaey, conversing quietly with his drummer, Stix, a stocky, heavyset Mexican with a low, almost growling voice and a tendency to drum his fingers on everything that stayed within reach long enough. Brian himself was tall and lean, his bleached hair twisted into dreadlocks. Baggy shirts in rainbow colors hung freely from his frame, contrasting sharply with his skin, which was such a dark brown that it was almost black, and always had a slight gloss to it. The first thing people thought when they looked at him tended to be 'basketball', and the second was usually 'drugs'. Only one of the two was right.

"Remind me again why we're doing this?" Stix asked, obviously in a bad mood. "I mean, dude, it's . No way are we gonna get any decent singers there! All they sing are pretty classic things." He pulled a face.

Brian sighed. "I told you, Stix, you never know what you'll find. And we're desperate anyway, none of us can sing and you know it. Kenji might be able to pull it off, but you know how he feels about singing."

"Yeah, I do," Stix gave in, then he sucked in his cheeks and pitched his voice an octave higher, imitating the shy bass player perfectly. "You want me to sing? You can't be serious. Everyone knows I can't sing, and it would only result in me ruining the band's chances. And then it would all be my fault! Oh, no, the band's going to flop and it's all my fault!" Brian had to laugh, that one got him every time.

When he'd calmed down a little, both of the young men could pick up strains of song drifting from the choir room, getting louder as they approached. Suddenly, one voice soared above them all in a solo, and both Brian and Stix unconsciously walked faster as they pursued the elusive sound. It was deep and had a throaty, rough edge to it, contrasting with the overall smooth sound of the voice. But one thing struck them even more: the raw emotion in the song, the feeling threading through the clear tones that made that singer stand out from any other. They made it to the door just in time to peer through the window and pick out the singer as the solo ended.

Brian looked at Stix, and Stix looked at Brian. Finally, the former said, "You sure, dude? He's so . . . normal. That's not exactly grand for our rep."

Brian smirked. "Normal? Not that one, Stix. Darren Steilsen is quite definitely gay."

Darren was faintly surprised when Brian, one of his teammates, approached him after class, followed by a solid-looking Mexican he didn't recognize. Brian was a nice guy, not someone he knew very well, a casual friend, though he had no objections to getting to know him better.

"Hi Brian, what's up?"

"You know I'm in a band, right man?" Darren shook his head, perplexed. This was new information, he hadn't known Brian could do anything but play basketball.

"Um . . . no?"

"No? Guess I forgot to tell you then." He gestured to the man behind him. "This is Stix, our drummer. We've got a bass player too, Kenji, but he couldn't make it. And I'm on guitar. Problem is, none of us can sing."

"And?"

"And we heard you singing just now, and you're bloody fantastic, man!"

Darren's cheeks tinged red. "So you want me to sing for you." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah, we were figuring we'd let you try. Thanks to my inspirational brain," Brian struck a dramatic pose, causing snickers all around, "we've got some lyrics that'll do to practice you on. You game?"

Darren grinned. Here was his chance to make something of his singing voice, and Brian though he wouldn't be game? Hell, this was the best thing that'd happened to him in a while! "Of course!" He tried not to sound too exited, but it didn't work.

"Great! Do you have anything going on after tomorrow's practice?" Darren took a moment to think, then shook his head. Nope, no classes that morning.

"Good. You can come to my place after practice then, and we'll make sure Kenji's there too. Remember, I'm not guaranteeing that you'll get in, just letting you try."

"Sounds good to me." Darren waved as Brian began to walk away, the silent Stix still with him.

"See you tomorrow man!"

"Yeah," Darren called back, then suddenly thought of something. "Hey Brian," he called after them, "what's the name of the band?"

Brian grinned. "Society's Rejects!" Darren smiled, and then turned around to go to his next class. He was going to enjoy this.

Tyler was vaguely aware that they must have been drugging him. His limbs felt heavy and there was an unnatural calm feeling floating around in his head, numbing the brain which told him to run, run as they lifted him and then started touching him, eliciting a deadened pain that he was too woozy to pay any attention too. There was an underlying sense of panic and pain, but the sleepy feeling smothered it, snuffing it like a cigarette under a snow bank.

The last thought he had was an image of his angry father waving a hospital bill in his face.

He passed out.

'Slowly, painstakingly, Dylan got up and kept running. He stumbled through the vast network of tunnels under the City of Gods, feverishly trying to find a way out. If he got out, if he found the light again, the Shadows might leave him alone for a while . . . It was his last hope.

The cold air and lack of food and nourishment were taking their toll. He stumbled, fever-ridden mind blanking out as his body came to rest on the frigid floor, cooling his burning body.

And the worst of it was that he didn't know why they were after him.'

Tyler didn't know what time it was when he woke up, the fragment of story fresh and clear in his mind. Stretching languidly, he looked around and found out with a shock that he wasn't in his room. In fact, he was in a completely unknown place. The walls and the furniture were white, and an unpleasant smell of cleaning products hung in the air. Artificial lights lit the room coldly, the blinds shut tight over the one small window he had.

In a flash, Tyler remembered what had happened before he'd been drugged. He looked wildly around once more, and his eyes came to rest on an old alarm clock, seemingly the only non-white thing in his room except for the sheets, which were a faded light blue. The blinking, square digits read 8: 34 A.M. A little light on the bottom indicated that it was Thursday. He blinked.

The last thing he remembered before being attacked-Tyler shuddered compulsively-was coming home from school Tuesday afternoon. The nurse had told him he'd been in critical for 6 hours. He'd been drugged, and somehow the times added up to Thursday morning at-he checked again-8: 35 A.M. The world was not making sense right then.

Although he did have to admit that he felt much better. The after-effects of the drug were wearing off, and though he was still hooked up to an IV and covered in bandages, he had to admit that the pain wasn't nearly as bad, though at least one part of his body invariable hurt whenever he moved. He was hungry, and he had to go to the bathroom. Fast.

Gingerly, he drew the covers away from his legs, gasping as the cold air in the room hit his bare legs-a hospital gown was draped over his shoulders and tied at the back, but it did little to cover him. Grumbling slightly at the annoying attire, he limped to a door that had a picture of a stick woman and man on the front. He smirked at the undamaged paint. At school any and all of those pictures were treated with genitals when they were put up.

Biting his lip against the pain that shot up in his legs, he did his business quickly before hobbling back to bed.

By now his legs were on fire, and his breathing came hard and ragged as he got in again. God, they'd never beaten him up this bad before. His father would be furious, they didn't have the means to pay hospital bills. Tyler winced, thinking of his father. He would delay that calamity as long as he could.

He was just getting bored when the door opened and the same male nurse from before walked in, smiling cheerily, though Tyler detected another emotion lurking in those eyes. He shrank back against the pillows.

"Good morning, Tyler!" the nurse said in a fake enthusiastic voice. "How are you today?"

Tyler shook a little. He knew the danger behind that kind of voice. "Fine," he mumbled.

"That's great! I'm going to ask you some questions now, okay?"

God, this overly cheery nurse was frightening him getting on his nerves, if that was at all possible. He barely nodded his head, but luckily the nurse didn't advance like he had before.

"Who should we contact? If you could just give me your parents' phone number, or one of your friends'? We'd like to tell them you're alright and let them come visit you." Tyler just turned his head away. They would be finding that out. There was no way he would give this person his father's number. No way he'd let his father find him that easily.

The nurse moved around to the other side of the room, into his field of vision, and Tyler buried his head in his drawn-up knees, quivering. The nurse kept prattling, asking him questions about where he lived, and who'd attacked him, and why, and for Pete's sake who could they contact, but he ignored them all.

In exasperation, the nurse reached out to touch his shoulder, but the wild panic that flared up in Tyler's eyes and the way he jerked out of range, quivering, made him draw back. Turning with a sigh, he strode out of the room, absently remarking that he'd be back to check on him in an hour or so.

Tyler nearly cried in relief. Nearly.

The anonymous nurse sighed as he walked down the bleached, sterile corridors. Another one who'd be heading straight to the psycho ward.