Disclaimer: They're not mine...and it's probably just as well considering what I have in store for them! No characters were harmed in the production of this fiction (Well, not much!) and no money is being made from this.

A/N: So, here it is! The next chapter in what's looking to be a rather angsty piece. I'm not used to this type of story, so I'd really appreciate the feedback on this. Much thanks to my beta, lilyeia78, who no doubt is despairing of my never-ending sentences by now, lol.

"First off, you're going to tell me how you got in here." Rocky's voice was low and as hard and cold as steel. His eyes never wavered as he slowly advanced on the other boy.

Knowing they were an even match in both skill and speed, Adam could see it would come down to a simple contest of strength. The young teen felt sick with fear as he watched the movement of solid muscle beneath Rocky's shirt. Unable to form a response, he tried to press closer to the wall, but strong, callused hands seized him and dragged him out from the corner. His heart was beating painfully in his chest. He was fighting for breath, and the viselike grip was hurting him. Adam struggled frantically for a moment before he realized that would only serve to fuel Rocky's anger. His sense of self-preservation caused him to stop resisting. Falling limp, the smaller boy was pulled roughly to the centre of the mattress where his arms were pinned helplessly above his head. An unrelenting weight pressed his legs firmly into the cot's side. With his free hand, Rocky caught Adam's chin and turned his head to force him to look up.

"How did you get in here?" he bellowed. The tide of his rage had carried him into the bloodlust he had never allowed any to see and rarely spoke about even to his best friend - his best friend, who lay quailing on the mattress beneath him. Even as he became aware of the fear in Adams eyes and the viciousness of his actions, Rocky was gasping in horror at what he had just done. He released Adam and stumbled backwards into the wall before his knees gave way beneath him and he dropped to the floor.

Adam didn't move from the bed, the day's events had taken their final toll on his reserves. Curling in on himself he began crying quietly, his slim frame shaking with every breath. Rocky sat watching him, self-loathing gripping his gut. He wanted to cry too, but he couldn't find the tears. Inside he was in turmoil. In times of need Adam had always sought comfort from him: a look, a touch, a hug; as if seeking that great strength to protect him. Now that strength had been used against him; Adam was in pain, and there was no comfort he could offer.

It was a long time before Adam's tears stopped falling. In the silence between them, in the hollow, empty darkness of Rocky's private quarters, lay the fragile remains of a deep friendship – lying wounded and bleeding because of the unthinking acts of one, and the violent temper of another. Memories filtered restlessly into the troubled minds of the teens, together but torn miles apart.