Title: Memory of A Distant Past
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Josef Kostan/Mick St. John
Fandom: Moonlight
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,440
Warning: Rape.
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Josef Kostan or Mick St. John, unfortunately. Please do not sue.

***

"Well, well, what do we have here?"

Josef's head turned from side to side, taking in the men who surrounded him. His eyes widened, realizing that they weren't people from the lower classes; no, these were upper-class nobility, people who he'd been taught all his life to be subservient to.

"Pretty little thing, isn't he?" one of them said, reaching out to cup Josef's chin in his hand. "Wonder what he's like without all those clothes on? I think we should find out." He pulled roughly at Josef's shirt, ripping it halfway off before the young man could make a sound.

"No!" Josef's protest was swept away in the men's laughter as hands clutched at his body, throwing him to the ground. More hands were ripping at his clothes, holding him down, jerking his wrists behind his back and tying them with a rough length of rope.

It only took a few minutes for them to strip him naked; they stood there, looking down at him with lust in their eyes and appreciative expressions. "Much prettier than the last one," the leader said, his voice rough with desire. "This should be fun."

Josef shook his head, tears coming into his eyes even though he tried to hold them back. "N-no," he repeated, fear taking away his voice, reducing the plea to barely more than a whisper. "Please .... please don't ...." He choked back a sob, cringing away from them.

"Ah, begging," one man laughed, sneering down at Josef. "Such a sweet sound."

With those words, they were on him. Rough hands turned him over onto his stomach, then dragged him up on his knees, spreading his legs, cupping his ass, squeezing his balls, drawing more cries of pain and fear from his throat.

And then the worst pain of all -- being taken from behind, entered with no preparation, just a grunt and a thrust from his assailants. Josef screamed, the sound thin and reedy even to his own ears; his struggles useless against the four men who held him down.

He could feel the blood trickling down his thighs when the first man had finished with him; the second took his place, and it all started again. More screaming, more thrusting, pain knifing through his body as though he was being ripped to shreds.

When it was over and they were standing and fastening their breeches again, he didn't cry out, didn't move. He couldn't have cried out even if he'd wanted to; his throat was too raw from screaming and sobbing, the tears caught in his throat.

One of them nudged him with a booted foot, then kicked him. Josef rolled over onto his side, curling up into a fetal position, trying to protect himself from another kick, from more cruelty. The men all laughed, regarding him with dispassionate eyes.

"Leave him here," one of them said with a disparaging sniff. "We're done with him."

"In the ditch," one of the others said, grabbing Josef's shoulders and half-dragging him to the side of the road from the field they'd been standing in. He was rolled unceremoniously into the ditch, barely able to register the fresh pain as his body hit the ground.

With raucous laughter, the four men turned and left, leaving Josef there as though he was no more than a piece of trash they'd thrown away. He didn't call out, didn't beg for help; he was past doing so. The pain of his body was seeping into his soul, just as the life was draining from his veins ....

"No!" Josef screamed, the sound ringing off the walls of his bedroom, sitting bolt upright in bed. He raised his hands in front of his face, the fingers curled, hands that were trying to claw their way out of the dirt of a ditch to freedom and life.

Someone was beside him, a pair of strong arms sliding around his waist, pulling him close against another man's body. A voice in his ear, warm breath against his hair. He wanted to struggle against that embrace for a moment, until he realized who it was.

Mick. He was here in bed with Mick, his boyfriend. Mick was holding him close, comforting him.

Josef sagged into Mick's arms, closing his eyes and letting his body go limp. It had been a while since he'd had one of those flashbacks to his last night as a human, but this one had been worse than most. And this time, Mick had been right here to see it.

"You're reliving that memory again, aren't you?" his lover asked softly, lips against his hair. "The night you were turned." Mick's words weren't so much a question as a statement; he knew enough about that night to know exactly what Josef had been dreaming about.

Josef could only nod at first; it was a few moments before he could trust his voice again. The remembered pain still felt as though it was tearing through him, ripping him apart; he could almost feel those men inside him, their hands on his body.

"I'm sorry," he finally managed to whisper, his voice a thin thread of sound in the quiet room. "I hate when I have that dream. I didn't mean to freak you out .... I just ...." He fell silent, realizing that his voice was wobbly, knowing that he sounded near tears.

"Shhh, babe." Mick's arms tightened around him; his boyfriend's lips were against his hair, his whisper soft and comforting. "I'm here, and it's okay. Nobody's going to hurt you, Josef. Not again. Never again. I won't let anybody do anything like that you. Ever."

Josef nodded, knowing that Mick was telling the truth, that he could believe those words.

Mick would protect the person he loved with his life. That was the kind of person he was; loyal to the end to those he cared about. Josef considered himself lucky to be the person who was first and foremost in Mick's heart; no one had ever loved him so completely and so fiercely before.

And he'd never loved anyone else the way he loved Mick. His lover was everything to him; in spite of all his efforts to hold himself aloof from everyone after he'd been turned, he hadn't been able to deny his feelings for Mick. He hadn't wanted to.

If he didn't have Mick in his life, he'd be completely alone with the memories -- and the pain. There would be nobody there to hold him, to assuage the pain, to take it away and turn it into nothing more than a memory from the far-distant past.

"Thanks," he whispered, letting himself relax in Mick's embrace. "Thanks for being here." It was all he could think of to say at the moment, but he knew that Mick understood the sentiment behind those few words -- and that he understood just how much he was needed.

"It's okay," Mick said again, brushing his lips across Josef's forehead. "I might not know what it feels like to go through what you did, but I can be here to make it better. At least, I hope I do." His words were soft and gentle, his kiss tender and loving.

Josef couldn't keep himself from smiling. How could Mick doubt that he made everything better?

"You know you do," Josef whispered, raising his face to look up at his boyfriend, their gazes meeting and locking. I don't know what I'd do without you, Mick." He sighed softly, closing his eyes and resting his head against the other man's chest.

"You won't ever have to find out," Mick said, leaning back against the pillows with Josef in his arms. "I'm not going to leave you, Josef. You'll always have me around when you need me. I'll always be here, babe. I promise you that. For now, and for always."

Josef could only hope that those words would prove to be true. The memory of the pain was still there, in the back of his mind, but at least it was receding now, running from the strength of Mick's love, the warmth of his comforting embrace.

He could only hope that it wouldn't pounce on him again when Mick wasn't around.

***