Author's Note: Believe it or not, a month ago I declared I was giving up on Parkfic altogether. I guess I lied, huh? Because here I am reviewing again. And offending people left right and centre. What can I say, I'm a fucking first class star. This fic was written way back in mid-December originally and can be located on my writing journal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/fyrmaiden/21422.html but I still feel like archiving it here as well. It is slash but what else do you really expect? Chester/Phoenix, because I enjoy fucking with the OTP. Actually, Chester/Phoenix is my OTP... I am aware that the timeline is a little patchy but after it had given me complete brainache, I gave up on that as well. Glitches and faults are all copyright yours truly. You are welcome to archive, but please ask first. These fics are still my babies, even when I bitch whine and complain about them.

Original Sin

You can’t remember much about that night, can you? You remember that it was spring and you remember that she was an excellent driver. You remember seeing on the television as they hauled her body broken from the remains of her car. You remember the numb horror that spread through you as you realised she had made television time only because she was your wife. You remember the call from the hospital in vivid Technicolor detail.

“Mr Bennington?”

“Who is this?”

They told you in person. They told you Sam had been involved in a traffic accident, that they were doing all they could, that they needed you to be there beside her. You didn’t need asking twice. As everything around you crumbled, you grabbed your coat and your keys and bombed from the house.

You remember that you got a parking ticket that you didn’t pay. You refused to pay it, in fact, on the grounds that you were under emotional distress. You told them that your wife died that day and left you a widower and a father. It wasn’t a lie… Well, in a technical sense it was, because they didn’t officially declare her dead until the early hours of the following morning.

You felt bitter anguished rage rise in your stomach. You lay eyes on your son, and you saw only her. Everyone else saw only you. They cooed when he was finally released, but you couldn’t love him in the way you had sworn because there were things about him that reminded you of her. His smile, when he was old enough, and his giggle. Before that, it was in the way his brown eyes would follow you, happy contentment at just being in your presence, like you were his beacon and shining light. You were his father, it was all he knew and needed to know.

It was too much for you. Your wife’s death sent you into a spiral of doubt and hatred. You loathed yourself most of all for still being alive when she couldn’t be. You went through a phase of wanting to see the bastard who had been driving the other car dead, you wanted to see your fingers around his throat, strangling him as he gasped and sputtered, his face turning blue and then purple as his air ran out. The only problem was that his car span out of control as well. No one knows why it happened, why someone had massacred his brake system. He saw Sam’s brake lights ahead of him and he put his foot down as well, but nothing happened. His car kept going. Sam didn’t stand a chance, trapped in front of the concertina effect it had. Her hands tried to protect her unborn child and her airbag failed to operate. Not dead, not when they pulled her from the wreckage of her car – they gave you compensation for the failure; all you wanted was Sam back – when they pulled her from the wreckage, they knew she wouldn’t make it. They never gave you false hope. You did that all by yourself. They told you she was critical, under specialist care. You decided in your mind that modern medicine could cure death. She would be fine.

She wasn’t fine.

They told you that you had to be strong; they told you that you had to care for Draven, that you had to be a father to your little boy. You had to be his dad. You cried and wrapped your arms around yourself, pressing yourself into dark corners and hiding behind drawn curtains. You observed the world through a net curtain. You phoned the store and ordered your groceries. Sunlight became a distant memory to you, unless it was the weak pale rays that streamed through closed windows. The freshest air you got was the short trip to your car, down to the store to buy cigarettes and straight back again. One stop hops. That was all you needed. You lived on take out pizza and dry bread. You drank whiskey neat from the bottle, your mind slowly fading behind thick frames and dull brown eyes. Some father, you laughed at yourself, you promised Draven the world when you had Sam beside you but things don’t always work out the way they should, do they? Never mind. Life rolls along, doesn’t it?

The band gave you time to recover. They didn’t push you to come back before you were ready. Mike phoned you every day and would talk to you for hours about his life, about your life. It was the only time you would laugh. Talking to Mike you almost forgot your absolute isolation in the world. As soon as the line went dead and you cradled the receiver however, you felt even more acutely the void of her death. You would go and watch your son playing, oblivious to the fact that he didn’t have a mommy like normal little boys had… Fat tears would roll from your eyes easily then. You wanted her back so badly. You never took her for granted. The whole reason you applied to the band was because you wanted to provide for her, you wanted for the time you spent together to mean something. You wanted more than every other weekend and two frazzled, exhausted hours after work and before bed when you had to eat and relax before dreading work all over again. You applied to the band to escape the drudgery and tired routine, to escape the tension that you had seen tear so many people apart. One careless accident and everything you worked for was torn apart. Everything, because without Sam, what was it really all for?

You might as well have stayed in Phoenix now, mightn’t you? You might as well have stayed through your twenty-third birthday party and given up your dreams of rock stardom to flip burgers for minimum wage… You shake yourself; no, you had a good job back in Phoenix. You worked real estate and hated every minute of the thankless day.

One month became two, two became three, and before you knew it, you were celebrating your wedding anniversary alone. You spent the day staring at the stucco of your ceiling, your son resting his head against your chest as tears tumbled incessantly from your eyes.

“I love you,” you whispered, to him and to her. To whoever could hear your words. You ignored the strident ring of the telephone and let voicemail take all of your calls. You put the chain across the door so that even people with a key could not disturb your solitude. It was you and him, and that empty house. Nothing could fill it without her there. All the promises that you made to her: that you would carry on without her; that you would be everything to your child that had been denied to you – all of them are forgotten now without her warmth against you and beside you. She was your guiding light, you star that flickered so brightly in the sky. She was… everything. She was everything and more and now she was gone.

Your anniversary passed. The messages on the phone were from Phoenix, wanting to know that you were okay, that you hadn’t done anything dumb. He knew you too well, he knew what you were like. He didn’t count on your tears, your loneliness and your disregard for yourself. He didn’t count on your holding Draven close for a whole day as you both drifted in and out of sleep. For one day at least you managed to stay away from a single drink. You smoked only when you lay Draven away from you, your forehead pressed to the window as you stared unseeing into the street below.

You watched David drive away and didn’t raise a finger.

October into November, Thanksgiving was a farce. What did you have to be thankful for? Were you supposed to be humble and thankful for the fact that they stole your Sam?

November into December and this one was painful for you, because now, at last, eight months on, you did have to go out. You did have to shop for things. You sat behind the wheel of your car and stared blankly at the road. You headed in the wrong direction and didn’t stop driving until you saw a familiar turning. It had been eight long and arduous months since you made this journey, but this was where Phoenix lived. Phoenix and… Phoenix and Linsey. You sat in the car and drummed your fingers in a rhythmic tattoo against the steering wheel. Swallowing your bile, you opened the car door and carried Draven on your hip up the path, steeling yourself for Phi’s bright smile. You smiled back and tears immediately flooded your eyes. He took your arm and guided you inside.

“Where is she?” you whispered and he stared at you with hazel compassion. You didn’t stare back, couldn’t. You only wiped at your eyes and watched Draven closely. He still reminds you so much of Sam. His alert regal stare and the breadth of his smile, just the little things that tug deep inside and most likely always will. You didn’t notice Dave’s hand on your leg, the proximity of his body as he sat beside you.

“She’s gone out Christmas shopping.”

Finally you glanced at him and leant your head against his strong shoulder. “I miss her so much, Dave,” you whispered, brushing at your tears. “Especially now. Everything is for two and… there’s just me and the kid. It’s not right.”

His hand moved to rest against your cheek and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You should have been shocked, horrified, but all you wanted was contact. You wanted someone who could be there for you, who could listen to you.

“When are you getting married?”

“Soon… Too soon,” he laughed a little and gazed at you. Lamplight flickered in his eyes. You sniffed and gazed longingly at the parcels wrapped in cellophane and crepe, in bright festive foil beneath the tree, beneath the exquisite tree with its flickering brilliant white lights. You remembered putting up a tree much like that every year. You and Sam would touch one another continuously, just to make sure that the other was still real. You were no angel and she really was a star. She had been expecting Draven when you fooled around with the tree this time last year. This year, he’s all you have left to remember it by, the only palpable evidence of the love you once shared.

His gaze rested on you for a moment too long this time and you dropped your eyes. “Will you look after him for me? I need to get presents.”

David nodded and squeezed your shoulder, collecting your son from the floor and carrying him from the room. “Sure, take as long as you need.”

It was as bad as you expected. Everywhere there were couples, laughing, joking, holding hands. You bought what you needed and fled as quickly as you could. You also bought a small thing that you remembered Sam saying she liked shortly before she died. You never got the chance to give it to her then and you can’t give it to her now, but if she is watching she will know that you bought it. She will know that you thought of her.

You bought presents for the guys and their various partners whilst your stomach churned. Everyone existing and glowing, the heady euphoria of being with someone you love at Christmastime. You lowered your head and avoided meeting people’s eyes. You spent a small fortune on Draven to make up for the fact that mommy can’t be there with him in any real sense, even though you still feel her presence like a shroud. She’s still there at night, but you can’t touch her anymore.

You did all your wrapping at David’s house. He laughed and helped you, sitting on his heels as he smiled easily. He raked his hands through his hair and threatened to just shave it all off. You sniffed and smiled painfully. “You wouldn’t,” you said softly. “You’d be stealing my style, and I carry it off much better.”

He reached out and ruffled your hair before sticking a piece of tape to your nose. You laughed openly for the first time in months and he rocked back on his heels. “Chester?”

“I’m glad I came here today, Phi,” you murmured and reached across to touch his cheek as he had yours. “I’m so glad.”

You finished wrapping presents together in near perfect silence, broken only by the intake of your breathing. When you glanced at him, he glanced away but you knew he was watching you all the same. He helped you put the now wrapped presents into your car, and he smiled when he wished you a merry Christmas. You nodded and said nothing, sure, a merry Christmas.

“Come round here, Chester, everyone is coming here.”

You nodded and shrugged your shoulders. “Maybe, it depends on Draven.”

He knew as well as you that you were making excuses. “I’ll pick you up at eleven.”

You nodded again and looked at your watch. “Eleven is good. I’ll see you, Phi.”

Ten… Ten thirty. What if he doesn’t come? Ten forty-five. You smooth Draven’s head and sigh. Eleven, bang on eleven o’clock… But there was no Phoenix. You perched on the edge of your seat and stared at your son. You loved him so much. Eight months of being unable to look at him but now you loved him with your whole being. You assume you had to love something and the baby was as good as anything else.

Phoenix arrived on your doorstep at almost twelve, and you smiled when he apologised profusely. He tried to explain – the traffic on Christmas day! You nodded amiably and gathered Draven’s belongings. You just needed to get away from the house because it swarmed with too many memories. The parties and the friends, the quiet moments, just you and your wife… You hold back fresh tears.

Somehow you and Phoenix ended up alone together in the spare room. Mike took Draven. He was always so good with him. Everyone loved Mike, his amiable charm and million-watt smile. You sat on the floor and Phoenix sat on the bed, staring at you with his head tilted to one side.

“Hold me,” you whispered.

Did it really begin that simply? Was it really only those two words that sparked what became his sin? You know that it wasn’t, but it’s much simpler to pretend that it was. Looking back, Dave had always been there for you. Every pitfall, every tumble you took, he was like Sam. He was there to put you back together and resurrect your smile. He was always a pillar of strength, unappreciated and unnoticed by so many people. But he listened and he loved, and he settled for second best. Christmas day and he crouched before you, concern in his eyes as he wrapped strong arms around you, holding you against his firm warm body. You clung to him as tears wracked your body. You cried your pain, how much you missed her.

“I will always be here for you, Chester,” he breathed. You guess he was waiting for you to tell him those final three words, words he was dying then to hear and you couldn’t utter. Words you physically could not make yourself say. You still loved Sam – your wedding ring had a permanent home in the cabinet beside your bed, glittering weakly as the sun hit in when you opened the drawer to stare.

You pulled away from him and lowered your eyes to the green band running around your ring finger. “I… We can’t stay here.”

He tilted his head and nodded sadly. “No,” he whispered. “Linsey will wonder where we are.”

And that name lanced through you. He had someone with whom he could curl up when this day was over. He had something you had lost. You bit back tears and nodded slowly.

Why did every month have something in it that reminded you of her?

You got through the year on a drug induced high. Nothing dangerous, you assured everyone who asked. Nothing mammoth or life threatening but the alcohol had stopped working. At the same time as having to record your album, you tried to come to terms once and for all with the pain of loss. But everywhere you looked, something reminded you of her… That voice you had honed until it sounded like raw passion turned the intensity up once more. Your throat gave way completely. By September, you were sick to your core and unable to record the parts you and Mike had finally worked out.

Having to record in October meant that your anniversary approached without you falling into a pit of abject despair. As January rolled around and work almost finished, you understood that you had to gear yourself up for the tour. You called your mom and asked her to look after Draven whilst you weren’t there. You told her that you would bring him to her, that she didn't have to uproot herself. He was only a baby; he had no schedule that you could not disturb yet.

By February, everything was set. Phoenix kissed his wife goodbye and you trailed behind him as you boarded a plane. He sat beside you and you rested your head against his shoulder. You dozed fitfully, uncomfortable and aching. Your eyes fixed on his wedding ring. You managed to drag yourself to that as well, but you avoided the photographs. Everyone else looked so happy. You felt miserable, and more so because everyone was smiling. You picked at a plateful of food and tried to ignore the looming New Year. Sitting on a plane in that New Year, you breathed in the scent of your newlywed best friend and revelled in the feel of his hand against your thigh.

It had been how long since you felt adult human contact, since you had someone touch you in a way that wasn’t meant to be comforting? Phi’s hand against your leg was not meant as comfort and you knew that when you turned your head a fraction and pressed your lips to his throat. His fingers on your leg tightened a little and you gasped. You pulled away and gazed at him with blind eyes, your glasses in your bag so that you could sleep.

“What do you want from me?”

“I want all of you,” he whispered and pressed a finger to your lips.

You didn’t stop to consider his wife. You needed consecration, you needed to be immortalised on the body of another lover, someone who could touch and love you. You needed someone to remind you what being human was, you needed someone compassionate, slow and kindly. You had him. You worried about the desecration of the memory of your wonderful beautiful Samantha. You wanted to remember her hands against your spine and her legs tangled in yours forever. You wanted to remember lazy Sunday mornings and her smile in the dazzling midday sunlight that streamed through the windows. You wanted to remember the golden glow of her skin and how her body swayed with hypnotic charm when she walked.

You realised in that instant that you would never forget.

The first time was in a dim room with heavy curtains. London traffic poured past the windows that wouldn’t open but he held you against him and kissed you hungrily. You wrapped strong arms around his neck and pulled him against you, fighting against him for possession of his mouth, to own his body. He groaned against your lips, sliding his hands down your chest as your positions shifted, you above him as you won your battle. A cold chill raced through your bones and you pulled away from his lips, gasping for air.

“I… I can’t,” you began and he shook his head, running his hands across your hips.

“Take it slowly, Chester,” he whispered and a smile erased your fears.

The second time was easier. He laid his ring on the bedside table and took control of your body for the night. He took you to places you had seen before, but saw now from a different perspective. Every touch was a similar symphony by a new composer. His beard tickled your throat but made you moan. His fingers were tools of erotic hedonism and your body cried for him, for what he could do. You put yourself completely in his hands and shuddered at the beauty of it.

Every morning you awoke alone. No one knew because no one needed to know. They only commented that you smiled more. You took to wearing Sam’s ring on a chain around you neck so that you’d never forget. It didn’t feel like replacing her if your lover was a man. You honestly couldn’t imagine a female lover, not now and not ever again.

In April, you had a dual celebration. One year since Sam died, one year since your son was born. It was hard, painful, but you got through it somehow. Sam was your life, the mother of your son and everything in between. And he was growing so quickly as well. You had him home for his first birthday. His giggle was infectious and his little arms wrapped around you so tightly as he buried his face shyly in your shoulder. Phoenix was there for the entire day. He arrived early and left late. His beautiful wife didn’t seem at all phased by the attention he paid to you. You were his best friend. She didn’t have to worry, did she? If she couldn’t trust you, who could she trust?

You can’t even hazard a guess.

Whilst Mike and his fiancé looked after Draven, you led Phoenix into the ultimate betrayal. With pleading eyes, you begged him to make you forget. He shared a drink with you and you got high together, a mellow relaxed high as you twirled his buttons between your fingers before crushing your lips to his. His wife was outside, you could hear her laughter. You clung to him, short nails not marking his skin at all as you kissed him hungrily. He pinned you against the door as he stripped your clothes from your body. He had you naked, all you did was fumble with his belt, his pants pooling around his ankles as his hands clawed at you hungrily. He bruised your body but you wanted only to forget the sorrow. You threw your head back as he hoisted you up easily and your legs wrapped around him, your arms thrown around his neck. He didn’t ask, he didn’t need to – he could see in your eyes that he was all you wanted, all you needed. He angled your body to make it easier for himself and you moaned against his neck, your grip tightening against his broad shoulders as your body responded to his invasion.

Ten minutes? Twenty? You didn’t know and you didn’t care. All you cared about was absolution. You cared that someone could wash away everything this day meant. You cared that today, of all days, Phoenix was here for you. He held you gently as he lowered you, trembling, back to your feet again. You placed your hands either side of his face and kissed him softly. He smiled gently and re-buckled his belt. You heard his wife ask if anyone had seen him and the pain that flickered in his eyes scared you. He kissed you once more and left. You heard his laugh and then hers and you imagined her arms around his neck where yours had just been, imagined the kiss… And all you saw was Sam.

Your fragile illusion crumbled.

You redressed yourself and wandered nonchalantly back into the garden, smiling easily as the soft fabric of your pants brushed your skin, reminding you how it felt to be touched. You smiled at your friends and they smiled back. The gift you bought for Sam at Christmas took pride of place on the mantle in the front room. People had been admiring it all day. She had immaculate taste. You sat down beside Mike and glanced at him. He gazed at you with the oddest expression.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Chester.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t,” he murmured and flicked his eyes to Phoenix and Linsey. Phi’s eyes flicked away. “She’s a nice person, she’s waited forever for him. Don’t spoil it.”

“Mike…”

“Don’t deny it,” he murmured. “Don’t insult my intelligence.”

So you didn’t, and Phoenix was the last to leave. He smiled sadly and brushed your cheek again, a familiar touch now. You leant against it and gazed at him from behind your glasses.

“I love you,” you whispered and his smile could have rivalled Mike’s.

So how did it end up like this?

You frittered months away. You took what opportunities you were afforded. He began to remove his wedding band as a matter of course, like he wasn’t cheating if there was no evidence to prove it. Sam’s ring never left your body. Sam’s ring was there, almost strangling you as your body bucked, your hips thrusting in time to his. During the summer, you had precious little time. You were supposed to keep your relationship – that was a big word for what you had, but it worked as well as any other – to keep your relationship from the rest of the guys. You didn’t tell Phoenix that Mike knew. You didn’t want him to stop repairing your ravaged soul and worried that he would do just that if he found out. You needed him. Perhaps at that stage, love was too big a word, but you hadn’t directly lied to him. You needed him so much, so much it clawed inside of you.

Summer festivals and concerts, they all faded quickly, the year playing itself out against the backdrop of your lust. Anna took Draven and, when she could, she and your son joined the convoy. Being able to see him every single day meant you could watch the small changes in him instead of hearing them described over the telephone.

It was the end of May, the beginning of June. Phoenix spent the night beside you for the first time whilst you were in LA. You lay cradled in his arms and he played with the ring still suspended around your neck. He met your eyes and sighed. A frown flickered across his face.

“What?”

Your voice was a low whisper and his was even quieter, “Nothing, forget it.”

You awoke once more alone. He was gone and you had wanted so much for him to be there. His ring was gone from the dresser and his clothes were gone from the floor. Your robe hung as ever across the back of a chair. You pulled it close around you, smelling him on it because he wore it after his shower the night before. You smiled – you remembered when Sam used to do that as well. All of her things were moved into the attic, put in crates and put away. The only things you left out were her ornaments, a few pictures. You didn’t want to obliterate her totally, you couldn’t bring yourself to. She was a part of this life of yours as much as Draven.

You padded silently from your room and across the landing towards the bathroom. You rubbed your eyes exhaustedly and stared at the note jammed between your water mug and your toothbrush. Phi’s familiar cursive script spelt your name and you picked it up with cautious, trembling fingers, reading the words with mounting dread, your breathing growing heavier until you almost hyperventilated.

love is greater than words, chester, greater than actions. it is stronger than death and yet it is weaker than all else. forgive me; i forgive you. she will always be there, your wife, samantha. she is there around your finger, like a shroud across your life. but she is gone and she isn’t coming back to you. so i return to my wife, to her gentle arms and gentler kisses. i return to her love that doesn’t leave me bruised and trembling. you know where to find me. when you let go, i will be waiting in the wings, waiting for my cue. i can’t be your saviour, angel, for then what would you be to me? death shouldn’t be the end. she left you your son and she wouldn’t want for you to follow her. for draven, chester, and for me… one day my ring will be yours and you can cast it far away. for now… i am the original sin. i am lust and i am betrayal. i know you crave me, my warmth and my hazel eyes but i am not an angel and i can’t mend your wings… and so i wait…

until my time comes round, your Phoenix…

You felt your heart constrict and you grabbed for the rim of the sink but missed. As pain tore through your body, you lay shaking on the floor, curling yourself into a little ball. You didn’t know what was wrong, only that it hurt and that no one now was there who could help…

This, then, is retribution.

FIN

© FyrMaiden 18.12.03