The cell door slammed shut and the sound reverberated, bouncing against concrete walls. The throbbing in my head turned into a full-out explosion, and I gritted my teeth against the pain. The footsteps of the guard slowly faded away. The cell bars pressed hard into my back, and I slid slowly to the ground, barely caring if I fell or not.

Stanley was on the ground. They’d just thrown him in. It looked like he had a hurt shoulder. Either way he had a lot of blood on him, too much running from his nose and dribbling from his lips.

I’d like to think I felt some form of relief at seeing him still alive. I had no idea what had happened to the others, if any of them were still alive, or if the rest of the town had been invaded. Of course the town had to be invaded by now. Once our small line of defense had crumbled, they could just charge right through.

I’d like to think I felt some form of relief that Stanley was alive.

But I was numb.

I stared at his form as he shifted on the floor, trying to find a less painful sitting position. When he stopped moving, I forced my lips, as clumsy as they felt, to form words, push out air.

“Stanley,” I said.

“Jake?” he asked, looking up at me thought he hadn’t known I was there. Maybe he hadn’t.

“You hurt?” I asked, keeping to basics. The words were somehow coming out, I had no idea how, it was like magic. There was no other way I could be speaking and have the words come out so calm. Inside I was falling apart, piece by piece, little by little, and yet somehow my voice didn’t betray me. It made no sense.

“My shoulder might be dislocated, I’m not sure,” Stanley said, touching it with his right hand gingerly and wincing. “I got the crap kicked out of me, but otherwise, yeah, I’m peachy.” He looked at me suddenly. “How are you?”

What kind of question was that to ask in this situation? I’m fine Stanley. The world as we know it has crumbled, Heather’s dead, my father just died and I had to watch it happen, we got our asses kicked by people who want to take over our town, and pretty much everyone I know and love is probably dead or soon will be.

I got to my feet, gripping the cell bars for support. My lips parted and I finally said, “I can’t feel anything.”

Stanley blinked at me. The surprise on his face quickly changed to massive concern, and he tried to get to his feet, easier said than done when you have a dislocated shoulder.

“What do you mean you can’t feel anything?” Stanley asked

“I mean I’m numb. I can’t feel anything. No emotions, no pain, just nothing!” I was yelling now, and I hadn’t realized it. Stanley grabbed me by the base of the neck and forced me to look at him. I tried to pull away, but that one good arm was strong. He pulled me back and put his forehead against mine, looking me in the eyes.

And that did it. That one look into his eyes made this suddenly all too real. I couldn’t feel anything. But I was shivering and shaking. I hadn’t noticed, but I could barely keep myself standing.

I couldn’t feel.

“Hey look, we’re gonna make it through this, okay?” Stanley said. I was slipping, slipping, and my eyes were drawn to the gray concrete surrounding us on all sides. Gray, such a fitting color. What a fitting color for someone like me to die in. The color of nothing. Of nobody. A failure who couldn’t save those he loved, couldn’t protect them when they need it the most.

My father had died on our kitchen table. I’d run away from him and now, by some twist of irony, I would have given anything to have him back. He hadn’t deserved to go like that.

“Jake!” I looked back to Stanley. “Jake, we’ll make it through, okay?”

“Why?” I spat suddenly. “Why do we want to make it? Huh, Stanley? What’s out there that’s so important to go back to? Everyone’s gotta be dead by now.”

“Don’t say that,” Stanley said.

I ripped away from him. I turned and gripped the bars. I felt the cold of the rusty metal and squeezed harder.

“Why?” I asked, voice much quieter now. To my ears, it sounded a bit like I was gloating. “Why not say it? Because you have someone you love out there? Because you want Mimi back, unharmed, in your arms so you can kiss her and tell her that everything will be all right?”

I would have liked to think I was at least mildly horrified by what I’d just said. But it just wasn’t registering. I wanted to feel it, the anger. I missed it. I gripped the bars harder.

“Jake, what’s gotten into you?” Stanley asked.

My hands were oozing blood. I pulled away from the bars when the pain suddenly hit me. So I could feel.

“Why Mimi? Why’d you choose her?” I asked, staring at my bloodied hands.

“Jesus, Jake, what’d you do to your hands?” Stanley asked, taking off his shirt and ripping it into strips. He grabbed my hands and began bandaging them.

“Why!” I yelled. My voice echoed. Stanley stopped, looked at me, a crease between his eyebrows. “Why did you choose Mimi?”

“Why are you asking?” Stanley demanded.

I grabbed him without thinking, without hesitation, digging my fingers into his strong, broad shoulders and kissing him hard, so hard I tasted my own blood. Stanley jerked back, and I fell to my knees.

“It shouldn’t have been Mimi,” I forced out, trying so hard to breathe. My eyes were hot and wet and I knew I was probably crying. Who gave a damn anymore, anyway. Who was around to say men shouldn’t cry, even when they’re fragmented inside and can’t feel?

There was no society left to dictate those things, was there? I laughed at the thought, laughed good and hard. Stanley looked at me, horrified. He got to his knees in front of me and took my face in his hands.

“Why not Mimi?” Stanley asked, looking me in the eyes, as though he was searching for an answer there.

I let out another laugh, shaking my head. He gripped harder and forced me to face him.

“Why not Mimi?” he asked again.

“Because!” I shouted at him. The word echoed good and long before I found the ability to say the next words. “I thought it would be me. Before all this happened.”

He stared at me.

“I need to feel something,” I said, and I tasted my own salty tears. He pulled me close against him and I felt his lips ghost my forehead. I closed my eyes and thought only about those lips, touching my skin. He held me close and I buried my face in his shoulder. “I can’t feel…” I groaned.

“It’ll be okay, Jake.”

I was about to reply when I realized he would have said that to Mimi. He was trying to comfort me.

“I should hurt,” I whispered against his bare shoulder. His skin felt good against my cheek. “I should be hurting.”

“It’s not your fault, Jake.”

“Yes, it is,” I whispered. I added bitterly, “It always is.”

Stanley looked down at me. He ran his hand across my face, running his fingers through my hair. “None of it was your fault. We were fighting to protect our world, and it’s amazing we got as far as we did. Part of that’s because of you, Jake. You kept everyone together.”

“Don’t…” I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the salt water trail down my face. “Just…please don’t….”

“Don’t what?” Stanley whispered. His lips brushed my ear as he spoke.

“Don’t make me feel better,” I forced out. “I don’t deserve to…”

“Yes, you do, Jake,” Stanley said. His right hand gripped the base of my neck, and he pulled my face to his so our mouths met. It was warm and wet, rough from his stubble. I closed my eyes and I let him kiss me. It was too good, too gentle. I parted my lips more and pressed my mouth harder against his, slipping my tongue into his mouth. He cupped my face gently in his palm and kissed my upper lip, then my bottom lip. He covered my mouth with his own and I moaned when I felt his tongue slide along my upper lip. I tilted my head back and let him trail his lips slowly down my throat. He sucked gently on my shoulder and I swallowed hard, finding it difficult to breathe. He shuddered just slightly, and I ran my hands down his bare chest, feeling his muscles working beneath his skin. He murmured something as I caught his mouth with mine again, kissed him more frantically, and it took almost a whole minute for it to register. The words were almost lost among wet kisses and growing heated passion. I tasted my own tears and his sweat, and I suddenly could feel.

I broke apart from his lips because I was sobbing now. Gasping in air. Stanley grabbed me, wincing from moving his bad shoulder, and pulled me back to him, kissing me softly again and again as I cried, forcing air in and out of my lungs until I was breathing so harshly my throat hurt.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Stanley whispered.

He kissed me again and I let him do it, let his tongue lightly probe my own, half-moaned, half-sobbed into his mouth when he moved his knee so I could straddle him. I pulled away from his lips and ran my tongue down his chest, pausing to kiss and suck his nipple. Without thinking I murmured the words back.

He was breathing hard now, and I was too, but for a different reason now. I was aching for this, for mixed pleasure and pain.

I rocked on his lap, and Stanley gasped, head tipping back. I took his face in my hands, running fingers through his hair, and covered his mouth hungrily as I thrust my hips against his again, harder this time.

He rocked back, and my breath caught in my throat. He began slowly, muscles rolling beneath me, his body hard and ready, moving slightly faster each time until the friction left me burning with desire. “Fuck me,” I whispered hoarsely.

“Are you sure?”

Just one look gave the answer. He thrust up against me, and I clenched my teeth, barely holding in my moan. “Harder,” I murmured. “Just fuck me.”

His hands slid up my back and he managed to remove my shirt, leaving me bare-chested before him. He looked at me with something akin to awe as he slowly touched me, caressing my skin, running his fingertips ever so lightly over my chest. He stopped over my right nipple, and he glanced at me only once before he leaned forward and nipped it, sucking it into his mouth.

I cried out at the delicious sensation, pleasure and pain. He almost brought me then and there, just running his tongue over my nipple, his warm mouth forming a seal over my skin.

I slid my arms around him and ducked my face to his shoulder, biting hard into his skin. I drew blood, but he didn’t seem to notice. Instead, his mouth left my nipple and I felt his hands unzipping my jeans.

“Oh, God…” I whispered, voice stinted. He slid his hand over my erection and I thrust into his hand, barely able to breathe. The warm pressure surrounded me, and he jerked me quick and fast, several times, causing me to cry out and arch every time. Suddenly the pressure lessened and I tried to get my breath back.

“I want you…in me…” I somehow managed to get out.

“Anything you say, Jake,” Stanley said, and he grinned.

Next moment he had me on my back on the cold concrete. He kicked off his own jeans and boxers. He tugged off my jeans, and underwear was gone the following second. He moved in between my legs and lifted me slightly.

“I need something to--” he started, but I cut him off.

“No, you don’t,” I said.

Stanley stopped, and I literally ached. He looked worried. “But you’ll get hurt--”

“I’ll be fine,” I cut in. “Just do it, damn it!”

“Jake…” Stanley started warningly.

“I don’t care about the pain, just DO IT!”

He didn’t move, and for a minute I thought I’d lost him. Then he slid his hands over my thighs and leaned down, kissing just below my belly button. His tongue flicked my navel, and he watched me as he moved slowly lower. He kissed a straight path of lips and warm, wet tongue down my stomach, just around my erection, to the inner side of my thigh. I bit my tongue hard to keep in the sounds from seeing him do that.

He positioned himself, watching me carefully as he did, and I felt his tip touch my entrance. He was warm and I needed that warmth inside me. It was the only thing that would keep me from going insane.

He pushed in suddenly, and he thrust in, inch by inch, until he was in all the way. I felt the sudden, searing pain, my skin as it was suddenly forced to stretch, and I bucked against him, barely keeping in the sounds of pain that were being torn from my throat. I whimpered.

Stanley froze above me. “Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.

I forced myself to open my eyes. I managed a small, very grim smile.

“Yeah,” I said, voice stinted by the pain. “Keep going.”

The pain was starting to lessen. I didn’t want that. Stanley moved again, shifting so he could lean on his one good arm, and pulled himself almost completely out of me. His injured arm, which I now realized couldn’t have been dislocated, was running along my thigh. He shifted again and hooked his bad arm under my knee, wincing while he did. He pulled my bent leg up so his body fit perfectly against mine. He thrust back inside me, fighting every inch of the way, I thrust back against him, hard, so he filled me completely again. This time the pain was mixed with more than a little pleasure. I gasped, and that gasp turned quickly into a long moan.

He rocked out and back into me, and I felt the pressure growing below. I looked at him through hazy eyes and forced out, my voice hoarse, “Harder.”

He leaned down and kissed me. He shoved hard and far into me and his lips swallowed my yelp. He changed angles suddenly, using his grip on my leg to lift me more, and slammed into me once, twice, leaving me breathless. Our bodies slid against each other’s, slicked with sweat, and I was close.

I reached down and stroked myself. He was close and I wanted to come with him. The pain and the pleasure quickly came to a sweet, agonizing head and it only took one more hard stroke and Stanley’s groan to make me come in wave after wave of blinding pleasure. I felt him spill himself inside me, and I arched, thrusting frantically against his body, needing the contact between our bodies so badly, needing that heightened sensation, knowing that I could feel.

I could feel.

He collapsed on top of me, breathing hard, and I closed my eyes, trying to just breathe. Stanley rolled off of me and lay at my side, his hand still on my stomach.

“How are you?” he asked softly.

I let the silence stretch a moment. How do I answer that?

“I don’t know,” I said finally. I looked at him.

“Whatever happens, I trust you,” Stanley said, looking me deep in the eyes with his blue ones. “You gotta know what happened wasn’t your fault. It was theirs. They attacked us.”

“Yeah?” I asked. I didn‘t believe him, I just wanted to listen to his voice.

He leaned up on his elbow and almost glared at me. “Yes,” Stanley said, his voice filled with conviction.  I almost smiled.

I closed my eyes. “Look, whatever happens here, you kept me from going insane, Stanley. That’s gotta count for something.”

“I’m sure it does, but we have bigger issues to deal with right now, Green.”

My eyes shot open. Stanley had already sat up. Never mind that we were both completely naked and obviously sweaty from sex. Hawkins stood at the bars of the jail, holding a bunch of keys in his hand.

“Figured you two could use a hand,” Hawkins said, examining each of the keys rapidly as he tried first one then another. “Although you kept yourself busy, I take it.”

Stanley looked to me. I looked at him, then back to Hawkins.

“How the hell did you survive?” I finally managed to ask.

“Never mind that!” Stanley cut in, looking like he might drop his jaw. “How did you get through their camp?”

“Escape now, questions later,” Hawkins said, then, “There we go!” when a key slid into the lock and turned. The cell door swung open. Hawkins looked at us. “Well? Grab your clothes and get out of there.”

There was hope then. It was hard to believe, since I had been facing what seemed like the end of the world just moments ago, but there was some hope. Hawkins kept a cautious watch as we hurried to put on our clothes.

I guess it wasn’t the end of the world yet.

I caught Stanley’s eye, and we shared a quick glance before we rushed out of the cell. He grinned at me, and for a fleeting second I couldn't help but smile back.

No, it definitely wasn’t the end.