CHAPTER 1:

BADTHINGSHAPPENBINGO PROMPT: GRABBED BY THE CHIN

A/N: This takes place between episode 2 and 3 - After John got raped, but before he woke up at Laszlo's. Cyrus was with Stevie because Stevie couldn't have possibly gotten a drugged John home by himself.

"Work with me, Moore. Come on!" Stevie grunted as John stumbled once again and almost took the boy down with him. The man's bare legs were shaking, clearly straining to hold even half of John's weight. At least the somewhat long shirt hid his dick from clear view.

The fog made it difficult to see what lay in the road and Stevie cursed when a bottle found its way under his foot. It broke when he stepped on it, releasing a pungent smell that nauseated Stevie. At least he managed to hold on to his dinner.

Stevie immediately pushed John to the ground, cringing when the man's knee splashed in a mysterious puddle - the smell of urine immediately solved the mystery, but it was overcome by the bitter stench of vomit. A painful dry heave wrecked John's body and Stevie made sure that at least the illustrator wouldn't fall face first into his own vomit.

"John?" Stevie's voice had already deepened, but fear for both himself and the nearly unconscious man in front of him heightened his voice to an unbearable high pitch. At least it seemed to penetrate the fog of John's mind.

"Get away from me!" John pushed him away, a wild (nearly feral) look in his eyes. They looked blown in the dim lighting, the green almost completely swallowed by the black.

"Wait here, John. Don't wander off!"

He couldn't waste time trying to convince John that he was one of the good guys. Stevie left him sitting on the side, partially hidden by the fog and the shadows that danced in the alley as people passed. John would be somewhat safe for a few moments.

Stevie hurried towards the streets to seek out Cyrus, anxiety quickening his stride. The man was nearly invisible - Stevie only managed to distinguish shadow from man because he knew where Cyrus was going to be. For his bulk, Cyrus was surprisingly stealthy. He waved three times, making sure he caught his friend's attention before heading back into the alley.

Despite the fact that many of the alley's occupants were drunkards, he didn't like leaving John alone - He was too defenceless at the moment, easy prey for robbers and even brothel workers. Thankfully, John was where Stevie had left him, and significantly calmer.

Too calm.

Stevie kneeled down next to John, grabbing the man's chin so as to angle John's head towards him. John's eyes were half-open and utterly empty of anything. He seemed to be staring off at something - something so captivating that he was completely motionless as he stared it.

He looked dead.

Stevie jammed his fingers into John's throat, evoking a choked off cough. He didn't care about that. What he cared about was the somewhat steady, if not rapid, beat underneath his digits. He was almost sure that John usually breathed a bit deeper than he was at the moment.

"Stevie?" Cyrus' voice was a welcome comfort and the boy let the man judge the situation for himself. "Oh heaven's sake. Where are his trousers?" Despite his apparent gruffness, Stevie saw the tender way with which Cyrus slapped John in an attempt to rouse him.

John didn't react.

"I don't know. I found him stumbling around like this. There was blood and something else on his leg; I wiped it away." Stevie shrugged, but Cyrus seemed to tense. Neither one of them was an idiot and Stevie's description allowed for a number of ideas of what could have led John to his current state.

"Keep that between us, I'll doubt he'll remember much. Let's get him back to Laszlo, he'll take care of him." Cyrus removed his coat and handed it to Stevie before he effortlessly picked Moore up, stopping only so that Stevie could drape the jacket over John's legs and preserve a tiny bit of his dignity.

They were off again, blending into the shadows until they got to the carriage and hightailed it out of there.

To say Laszlo was surprised was an understatement.

At first he just stared, dumfounded, as Cyrus carefully lay John on the couch. His tenderness was evident in the way he cradled John's head until it rested on the armrest. Stevie silently grabbed a blanket from the other couch and handed it to Cyrus, who draped it over Moore's bare legs.

"What happened?" Laszlo finally moved, worriedly patting John's cheeks. There was a smudge of red on one cheek that looked horrifically like a bruise, but it was only lipstick.

"I found him in an alley near Paresis Hall. He threw up, then wouldn't react to anything." Stevie shrugged, a jerky movement that belied his nervousness at seeing John so unresponsive.

"Stevie, can you fetch Lucius? He should be able to help - I think he still remembers how to deal with the maladies of the living." Laszlo said, opening a few of the buttons of John's shirt when the sound of his laboured breathing met his ears.

"At this hour?" Despite his objection, Stevie was already inching towards the door.

"I don't think he'll mind." Laszlo murmured as he took the warm washcloth that Cyrus had grabbed and gently dabbed it over John's face. He didn't care much for the lipstick, but he made sure to remove the grime and vomit from John's face and hands.

John's lips moved, forming soundless words at the ministrations, but he didn't seem to be waking up any time soon.

"This should wake him up." Lucius declared, rubbing harshly over John's chest.

John spluttered as he came to, a hand rising to bat at Lucius' hands. Somewhere along the way it lost direction and swatted at air, landing heavily on John's own stomach. Lucius patted John's cheeks, preventing the other from falling back asleep.

Red-rimmed, seemingly exhausted eyes opened and flickered over the room before settling shakily on Lucius.

"Luc's?" The last few letters were slurred together and nearly indecipherable, but they got the gist of it.

"John. How are you feeling?" Lucius smiled at the bed sofa-ridden man but he didn't see any recognition in Moore's eyes.

"Wha' happen'd? Why can't I move my arms?" Panic was already beginning to bloom in Moore's eyes as he attempted to shift his limbs. The result was definitely not satisfactory.

"You can, you're just clumsy at the moment. Look at me." Lucius grabbed John's chin and Laszlo knew he'd never forget the terror that passed over John's features - What little colour had been in his cheeks was gone in a few seconds, highlighting how gaunt John seemed to be under the candle light. It took the illustrator more than a few seconds to wipe it away even after Lucius released his hold.

The damage was already done. John shifted, attempting to get off the couch, but Lucius barred his attempts by simply sitting next to John's hip, firmly holding the other man down. Cyrus, who had been standing in a corner, moved forward to hold down John's legs. Stevie was nowhere to be seen.

"Let go of me!" John lashed out, attempting to punch the detective holding him down. His coordination was clearly off though as his hand sailed harmlessly through the air once again. That didn't stop him. He buckled, trying to fight off everything and everyone.

Laszlo had never seen such naked rage in Moore. Then again, it wasn't rage. It was frustration, hidden underneath the layers of self-hatred, confusion, and pure adrenaline. A guttural shout echoed off the wall when John realised that he couldn't move an inch, but the realisation only made him fight harder. One of his hands managed to get loose, but Laszlo caught it before John could punch Lucius in the face.

"John, you're at my home. It's okay. It's okay, I won't let anything happen to you." Laszlo gently cupped John's face, making sure that he was not forcing John to look at him or anyone else.

John growled, teeth bared in a snarl that seemed animalistic on his face. He attempted to push them off again but his adrenaline was already crashing and Laszlo watched as the fight in him dwindled into nothing. John's chest heaved in an attempt to catch his breath - horrifyingly evident when he turned on his side and curled up under the blanket. They allowed him, knowing that holding him down would amount to nothing.

"Just breathe, John." Lucius murmured, subtly tracking John's heartbeat through his wrist. John's breaths obediently deepened and slowed and the tension oozed out of his frame as he gradually lost consciousness once again.

"He was drugged, that's for sure." Lucius stated when he was sure that John was asleep.

"Drugged?" Laszlo repeated, worriedly gazing at his friend. He couldn't help the impulse to draw up the blanket and cover John fully with it.

"It will wear off come next morning but he'll be a bit confused, probably drowsy. I wouldn't exactly trust his judgement in the first few hours. He's already moving, so I think the paralysis is wearing off. We just need to keep him hydrated once he wakes up to help flush it out of his system." Lucius said, brushing back John's hair. He reminded him of Marcus after a night out, except Marcus never flinched back from his touch.

"Do you need a ride back home or do you wish to stay here? I have a spare room." Laszlo offered, still trying to process John's current state.

"I'd like to stay here, just in case something happens to John, if it is not of an inconvenience." Lucius said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Cyrus, escort him up."

Laszlo didn't wait to see if his order was going to be followed. He collapsed on the other armchair and kept an eye on his friend, making sure that he would not disappear from underneath their noses.

John's sleep was fitful at best, non-existent at the worst. His breathing would pick up every now and then, portraying inner fear and panic that Laszlo had not seen in his friend in a long time - He was sure that it wasn't John who was lacking to feel such emotions, but rather his own inability to focus enough attention on his friends and notice when they weren't feeling well. When John's breathing eased, his eyes would roll restlessly underneath their lids, looking upon horrors that Laszlo knew feasted on John's subconscious like hungry crows on a corpse.

He didn't touch John. He had noticed that John -ever so tactile- was now revolted by the idea of someone touching him, especially in his vulnerable state. One didn't have to be an alienist to start drawing up plausible conclusions on what could have happened to evoke such a change.

This nightmare seemed to be going on for too long.

Laszlo sat next to John's hip, reaching out to shake John's shoulder. The man was sweaty and mumbling relentlessly underneath his breath, trapped in a never-ending cycle of terror and helplessness. Despite that, he shot in an almost sitting position the second Laszlo's hand made contact with his shoulder.

A painful expression flickered on his features before he fell back, panting harshly in the quiet room.

"John? It's just a nightmare, you're safe." Laszlo spoke softly, trying to not spook his friend any more.

"Get away from me." The venom in John's voice was a surprise. Laszlo hadn't heard it in quite a few months now, but that didn't matter. John was staring at a point over Laszlo's shoulder, eyes still misty and blown wide.

"John, it's Laszlo."

John seemed to be too deep in his nightmare to acknowledge Laszlo's soft approach, so he grabbed his friend's chin and forcefully, yet gently, turned Moore's face towards him. Moore seemed to blanch at the contact and pull back, so Laszlo let go. It was obvious that contact, especially contact that seemed to restrain movement, was making his friend uncomfortable on many levels.

It was almost as if John was struggling to remain in the present. Laszlo wondered what John could be seeing at the moment - his past? That night?

"Laszlo?" John's voice was hoarse but as tender and inquisitive as always. "Wha's goin' on?" John blinked, a myriad of emotions -too many to register them all-, passing over his face. At least he seemed grounded.

"John!" The exclamation left him involuntarily when John recognised him. "You're going to be okay. Here, drink a bit." Laszlo kept his voice purposefully soft, soothing his friend as he grabbed a glass of water and lifted it to John's lips. John hummed, swallowing a few sips before turning away.

He seemed absolutely exhausted.

"Just rest, I'll be here." Laszlo sat on the other couch again, giving John plenty of space. John seemed to appreciate his actions, but didn't say anything - His tiredness was winning out. John's head lolled to the side as he fell asleep once again, a living victim of whatever demons came out to play in his head.

Laszlo kept on eye on him from the corner of the room.
He couldn't remove the demons, but he could help tame them.

So, this has been sitting in my file for a long time, and I just decided to hell with it, I'll post it.

I'm a bit shaky on Laszlo's character to be honest, so if anyone has any help to offer on it, feel free to point it out - either via pm or reviews.
Feel free to point anything out actually, I live for your feedback guys, hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this installment - this is all written, so I just need to proof it. I shall try to update later this week, you'll have one by next Sunday for sure. Feel free to follow so as to get an email when I do post!

Anyway, next chapter will revolve around the prompt of 'nightmares', so stay tuned!

On another note, my next story might be a Kol!whump one on The Originals because that series is simply too good.

Kudos to you,

Chrisii.