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No. No no no. No no no no no no no. He tried to move but fear held him still. His legs were paralyzed, he couldn't breathe. Fear was heavy on his lungs and pinned him to the ground like chains. Why was he here? He should be in prison. He was put under high security why was he HERE?!

Tim's heard was beating heard in his ears, watching as Andrew moved closer. His mind was on high alert, trying to work past the fear and alcohol mix, but it was hard...

"You really are such a whore, Timmy."

Cold, his stomach was heavy and cold, eyes brimming with tears at the pure disappointment in the man's voice. Why? Why was he already crying? Because he was Pavolv's dog. One insult and he'd cry, Andrew liked tears. If he cried the man would always be nicer.

He felt the warm fingers, no longer smooth from personal care, the sharp nails in his cheek. His, he was Andrew's.

he looked away, down at the house keys before looking at the couch, remembering Daren's words. The gun. He looked back at Andrew, shoving his fist into the man's gut before scrambling for the couch and pulling out the gun, not bothering to aim, he just pointed it at Andrew and shot, the loud sound echoing in the room and the hallway.

Tim looked at the gun, trying to figure out how to reload. Was there a reload? Were there bullets? His breathing was fast now, in and out through his alcohol tainted lips, tasting the tequila on his tongue. Growling, he was growling. Oh god he was angry. He was angry he was going to hurt Tim. He looked up to see where the man was and screamed seeing him charge. He pointed the gun at him again, crying out as Andrew reached and gripped his arm. Tim wanted to let go, it hurt to hold on to the gun but, but he couldn't.

He looked at Andrew, fear in his eyes as he yelled. So much anger and hate in those sharp eyes. "L-Let me go!" Tim shouted nervously. "I'll shoot! Let me go!" and tried to free his hand. He had taken classes for this. He'd taken classes he had to remember how to do it. Whimpering he finally let go of his hand and grabbed Andrew's shirt, yanking him forward and smashing his forehead against the other's, knowing that it was definitely hard enough to break skin.

Andrew let go thank god, Tim aiming his gun once more. "D-Don't move! i'll shoot!"

"Shoot him!" he heard himself screaming at Daren, seeing Daren aim at his dad. "Shoot him! Shoot him! Shoot him!"

But could he? His arms were trembling, he was afraid, he was afraid of shooting. He wasn't sure he had the courage to shoot.

'Shoot him! Shoot him dammit! Daren Shoot him!'

Hazel eyes were wide, looking at the fresh blood spewing from Andrew's nose.

"Now you're tainted and ugly!"

Tim tried to step back, feeling the door frame and yelping as it cut through his shirt and into his skin, right where the other scar was nearly healed. It burned with shame, looking down as he realized where he had cut.

"You'll make him dirty too."

"SHUT UP!' Timothy screamed, pulling the trigger, watching the bullet hit straight in his chest. And he pulled again, and again, and again. He couldn't breathe. He forgot how. He just knew to pull and pull, the gun roaring like constant thunder, echoing around him until he was deaf.

Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.

That echoed around Tim for a few minutes, watching the body stand there before falling. There was so much blood. Blood. It was leaking like on tv. But it was so much more blood, so much more, and it was dark like Andrew's eyes, dark and thick and spreading like a pool of sin. The grin, that stupid, disgusting grin.

The dead body exhaled, the last of the oxygen leaving his lungs, but Tim heard a chuckle and he yelled, running forward and straddling the body, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. "Shut up!" he shouted, turning the gun and smashing the corner of it into his skull. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" he screamed, continuing to beat the metal against the bone, unaware that Andrew was already gone. He just saw the smile and that cold look in his eyes like he'd won. "Shut up! Shut up!" The skull finally caved, but Tim didn't stop, he didn't feel the blood on his hands, on his shirt and face, the knees of his pants absorbing the red liquid.

He just kept screaming at the man to shut up, arm moving on it's own, working to remove the dead grin.

Someone was yelling for him. It was faint but he heard it. he couldn't stop. His warm was getting tired but he couldn't stop, the grin was still there. He was pulled off, panic flooding his being once more and he thrashed violently, the gun slipping from hs wet fingers before looking at Daren. "Daren. Daren. Oh god Daren." he said, touching his face and seeing the blood smear.

"You'll make him dirty too."

"No!" Tim jolted away from him, staring in horror at the blood, lookign at his hand and then down at himself. "No no no. I'll get you dirty. Don't touch me!" and looked fearfully at the man, trying to clean off the blood but it kept spreading. it was spreading all over. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." and the tears started building up, listening to him and nodding. Tim was in too much shock to fully understand the serousness of Daren's words. "You shot him. He was hurting me and you shot him. You shot him. I'm a victim. I'm getting you dirty." he cried, looking at his hands and covering his face. "Dirty. Dirty. I'm dirty and everything I touch is dirty." and sank to the floor in the blood, sobbing into his hands.

Because Andrew had won. And Tim would never be able to defeat him. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" he wailed, looking up hopelessly at the man. The blood-stained man. "I'm sorry!"

"You'll get dirty. You're going to get dirty." he said, trying to pull away before sobbing in his arms, fingers digging in to his shirt. He was a sobbing mess, looking up at Daren through blurry eyes, finding comfort in the man stroking his face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." he repeated, sounding like a broken record, closing his eyes and sobbing softly as his hands were rubbed. Dirty together. They could be dirty together, because everything Daren touched was dirty. "But, but I'm not dead.' he said, trying to stay positive, giving a weak and trembling smile. "Not dead." and tried to laugh but ended up crying instead, crying louder as Daren stood to talk to the police. "No! No I don't want them to help!" And stood up, trying to pull him back, to get him to stop. "Daren no! Stop! Daren! Daren!" he shouted, "Get off of him! Get off!' And tried to get the police officers away from the ex-officer, but it was no use, it took a polite shove to get the weak man onto the floor, sobbing harder. "daren!" he wailed, crawling forward before curling up on the floor.

And he stayed there, sobbing until he heard another voice. Looking up he saw iroh, Timothy jolting up and grabbing him. "They took Daren! Iroh they took Daren you have to get him back! Please! Please Iroh get him back I need him!" Part of him felt ashamed, guilty. He was supposed to be independent, but here he was dependent on one man, and without him his sanity was slipping word by word. "They! He didn't! He's fine Iroh please bring him back he didn't do anything!" His stomach was finally twisting, the stress and shock was finally sending his internal systems haywire. "Iroh please!"

Tim couldn't take it, his stomach was threatening to spill. He turned and made a mad dash for the bathroom, kneeling down in front of the toilet and lifting it just in time, stomach spilling its contents. It smelled vile, tasted worse. He shouldn't drink. He shouldn't drink. He was never going to drink again. "You always say that." he managed, bowing his head into the bowl once more, gasping after a few seconds, "you'll do everything you can." he gave a bitter grin at the man, gagging and spitting up stomach bile. He felt lightheaded, the room was spinning. "And now Andrew's dead on the floor." Iroh should get fired for the amount of mistakes that's happened.

and that was the redhead's last thought before his grip loosened on the toilet bowl, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he passed out from shock and adrenaline.

Tim had woken up in the hospital confused and scared. When he bolted upright Akane and Iroh were there and they questioned him. What happened? How had Andrew gotten in? What did Andrew do? Where had he hurt Tim? Tim told them the entire story, he'd gotten a ride home, he was drunk, Andrew was there, he punched and shot him, Andrew cut him, Tim shot again and again, though his memory went sort of black from there because what he remembered next was sobbing about Daren being dirty. The dried blood was still on his hands but as he tried to convince Iroh to let Daren go he did none of it, Akane pointed out that Tim had to stay in the Psychiatry Ward for a few days. Those few days turned in to three weeks. Practically a month.

Tim's mentality was unstable, not that it was hard to figure out. He pleaded to Akane and Iroh to watch Apple. He didn't even remember seeing her when Andrew was there. He hoped she was okay. In group therapy, when asking why is there, his answer was because he murdered someone. That was why his stay of a few days turned into a few weeks. He was talking to doctor after doctor after doctor, none of them Akane. He was repeating the same story to each one, and by the end of it he was exhausted. His mothers did come to visit, demanding what happened and why he was in here. Again, he'd killed Andrew.

Dirty dirty dirty.

It wouldn't leave his head. he'd scrub himself raw in the bathroom, more than once a nurse having to pull him out and stop him from making himself bleed. He washed his hands several times after using the bathroom. His mothers were nice enough to bring a washcloth and his shampoos, but Tim had found bleach, for a moment he was unsupervised and he found bleach, the only notice he had it was when the nurses smelled it and saw him pouring it on himself. That added another week and new medication. But he was alone here, he had no one to talk too and his mothers could only come when they could during visiting hours, staying for an hour or two before having to leave again. He couldn't do this.

He asked one of the doctor's if he could be released early, he didn't like it here, he didn't know anyone here and he didn't like anyone here and the nightmares were just getting worse? 'Nightmares, what nightmares?' Of being dirty, of being a whore, of Andrew's smug grin before Tim beat it away, but even then the man would keep on talking. 'Well you didn't kill Andrew, Timothy, Daren--' Tim yelled, saying he was wrong and grabbed the doctor by his shirt, scraeming that he'd done it and was ready to beat the man until nurses came again. That required sedatives and another week. When Akane came to visit Tim pleaded for her to help him get out, and she did.

His things were returned to him and he walked out with her a few days later, her driving him to pick up his medication (and it came in large, dark green bottles) before taking him to Daren's apartment. and Daren lived there for a week, cleaning, going back to work (he was surprised they kept him on the payroll, but he had enough vacation days they used that to excuse his absence). He'd come home, play with Apple, clean some more, eat, clean again, wash his hands and arms. Everything had to stay clean now. He understood Daren's need for cleanliness. He did invite his mothers over, slowly and carefully explaining to them what had happened, and that he was sorry for hiding it from them. They were just glad he was okay.

But now, an entire month since the incident, Tim was cleaning the coffee table for the fourth time that day, before he heard the door unlock. His entire body went rigid, watching the door, mind taking note where the guns were. But no, it was Daren again. He looked down and finished wiping the coffee table, ignoring the cheerful voice and pulled out his phone. Iroh had texted him earlier that day saying Daren was too be released.

Is Daren out of prison? he texted the man, ignoring the Daren until he was positive it wasn't a hallucination.

"And I took my medication today." he mumbled, gathering his cleaning supplies and walking to clean off the tv and the shelves around it.

Tim hesitated at the touch, closing his eyes and continuing. "It's not real. It's not real." he murmured to himself, resuming with the cleaning despite the hand on his shoulder. It felt warm, it always felt warm, and comforting. Why was his mind doing this to him now he was going to be broken by tonight if it kept this up. He had a dosage to follow he couldn't have his hallucinations do this to him.

The sound of his phone buzzing in his pocket made him stop his cleaning and murmuring. Resting the cloth on the television he duck out his phone and unlocked it, pressing the 'NEW MESSAGE' note and read it. Iroh just dropped him off. He was home. Daren was home.

He looked back at the man behind him, taking note of the bruises, the cuts, fingers reached out to gently touch him, surprised by the feeling of Daren being real, but he held it. He let his fingers drag, other hand slowly touching him. "You're not disappearing." he said softly, eyes wide and tearing up, curling against the shirt, holding it and tugging. Nothing gave away, the image didn't flicker or fade away. And he started crying, looking up at the man before holding him tight and crying into his shirt.

"Why're you so skinny?" he wailed, though it wasn't what he wanted to say but the first thing he noticed. He missed Daren. Daren was real. He wasn't gone away behind bars. "And you're hurt! Why why why why?"