This is the twenty-first story in the Rewriting History series, and it follows Mein Lullaby, Liebchen. This story is all Curt, and I have to warn you all, it gets incredibly dark. :(

Warnings: m/m, major angst, AU, bad language, spoilers for the movie.

~Silk

*****

Singing Songs In Exile

By Silk

Jack wrapped his arms around Curt and held him. He could feel Curt struggling within his embrace, and he murmured, "Ssh, it's okay," knowing that it was embarrassment that made Curt want to hide.

Many people thought Jack was cool and unknowable. It was an image he'd carefully cultivated for years. But many people would be *wrong*.

He didn't know Curt well, but he knew what it felt like to be a man in a same-sex relationship who was on the wrong end of a break-up. The loss of control that came with that could be devastating, especially for someone who projected as much toughness as Curt. He might be gay, but he was almost aggressively masculine.

If a man was his image, then suffering this way was a double-edged sword. When Curt broke down, he lost more than control. He lost face.

"Let go of me, man," Curt pleaded.

Jack released Curt, but continued to hover inside his personal space. "You need this, Curt."

"No...I'm never going to need anyone ever again. It fucking *hurts*," Curt said brokenly, finally succeeding in hiding his face beneath the shiny curtain of blond hair. Freshly-washed hair. He choked back a sob as he realized that he'd packed *Brian's* shampoo, not *his*, and the smell of his own hair brought fresh tears to his eyes. Because he smelled just like *Brian*.

Sense memory could be so treacherous.

Curt fell silent, but he didn't move away. He found a certain level of comfort in Jack's proximity, and the fact that Jack truly wasn't interested in making any demands on him helped.

"What happened between you and Brian is *your* business, Curt. I know that. But you can't *get better* if you keep the pain so deep inside."

"Who says I want to *get better*?"

"You want to feel like this *forever*? You want to *stay* this way?"

"No..." There was a long pause which Jack incorrectly interpreted as Curt thinking. But Curt's next words revealed that he wasn't *thinking* but *reacting*. "I know a hundred ways to make the pain stop, Jack, and all I need is *one*."

"Drugs aren't the answer."

"No, they're the fucking *way out*."

"Are you telling me you feel like hurting yourself?"

Curt laughed, a bitter, brittle noise that set off a paroxysm of coughing. "I'm already hurting, Jack. Can't you tell?"

"I'm not going to let you *kill* yourself over Brian Slade, Curt."

"Why do you *care*, man?"

Jack reached out and stroked the hair away from Curt's face with his elegantly manicured fingertips. Curt struggled to maintain his tenuous composure, but the look in Jack's eyes was so compassionate that Curt muttered, "Don't be nice to me, man. I'm this close to losing it."

"Would that be so bad?"

Curt swayed towards Jack, his lips parting involuntarily, the invitation in his wounded gray eyes unmistakable.

"I won't sleep with you, Curt."

"Why not? You don't *want* me?"

"I didn't say that, Curt. But right now you need a *friend*, not another *lover*."

Suddenly Curt's face crumpled. "You don't want me either, man?"

"Curt, you're still in love with *Brian*."

"I'm not asking to get *married*, man. I just don't want to be *alone* tonight."

"I know, baby," Jack said softly.

Curt's eyes widened and for a second, Jack was sure that Curt was going to pass out. Alarmingly pale, Curt whispered, "Don't call me that. *He* called me that."

"That's why I can't sleep with you, Curt. Stay. We'll cut a record together, and maybe someday you'll get over him."

"I'll *never* get over him. I don't *want* to get over him," Curt said, swiping a hand over his tear-stained face. "How fucked up is that, man?"

"It's not your fault, Curt. From what you told me, it's *Brian's*."

"Don't say that."

Jack blinked in surprise. "You're defending him? After what he's done to you? Curt, anyone who could cut you up this bad must be a right *bastard*."

Curt winced at Jack's choice of words, but part of him couldn't disagree. The other part, fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your point of view, wistfully clung to the hope that one day, Brian would suddenly show up and allow Curt to take him back. He didn't care what that said about him.

He'd always wanted the *impossible*. And right now, *nothing* seemed more impossible than reconciliation with Brian.

Curt moved closer and lay his head on Jack's shoulder. But he was careful not to touch Jack anywhere else. Suddenly Jack hugged him, a genuine hug finally, and Curt relaxed against him, burying his nose in Jack's hair.

"Did you know that when I was 13, my older brother *raped* me?" Curt asked rhetorically, his voice nearly colorless. "They gave me shock treatment to "fry the fairy out of me" in my father's words. But my brother...he got off scot-free. Because it wasn't *his* fault that poor depraved little Curt was a fucking pervert."

Jack sighed. "Do *you* think you're a pervert?"

Curt looked bleak. "No. I think I'm just an unlucky son of a bitch who fell in love with the wrong people my whole fucking life."

"Do you wish you'd never *met* Brian?"

Curt closed his eyes momentarily, unconsciously tightening his hold on Jack. When he re-opened them, they were awash in tears again. "No," he murmured. "I could never regret that. From the moment I saw him, he was the only man I wanted. Or loved."

Pause.

"I still do."

Longer pause.

"Does that make me a bad guy?"

"No, Curt. It makes you *human*. I wish you could find a way to work things out with Brian."

"Me, too."

End