Jack slept soundly that night, curled up in Max's arms, his battered and bruised body being tenderly stroked and soothed by delicate hands. Max, however, didn't sleep at all. As usual. He stayed awake, thinking about Jack's words, about what had happened to him, and about his own plans for the next day. Jack would stay inside if Max was firm enough with him. That would give Max the perfect opportunity to go out and sign up for the drug trials without Jack knowing.

He knew Jack would object if he found out. Jack had never been a big fan of medications or drugs or therapy, or anything that he felt would fuck with the way he thought or acted. He'd made this abundantly clear to Max on several occasions. It had never stopped him drinking though, funnily enough. Max had pointed this out in the past but Jack had always denied that alcohol made him act any differently to how he did on any given sober day.

Max didn't think Jack was an alcoholic. He didn't drink often, maybe once or twice a month, but when he did, he always drank a lot. Too much. He became aggressive, and violent, and never remembered anything the next day. He claimed that he didn't remember anything because nothing happened. He never listened when Max tried to tell him otherwise. Max suspected that Jack was afraid of what he heard about himself and his behaviour, and that denying it was the only way he could ignore the angry, hateful side of himself.

He was a willful person though and if Jack didn’t want to admit that maybe he had a problem, then Jack would admit nothing. Max sincerely doubted there’d be anything he could do to change Jack’s mind.

After all, Jack didn’t like people who tried to tell him how to think, either.

However, despite Jack’s refusal to admit his potential alcoholism outright, after a binge the empty beer bottles and dead cans remained littered around their room. An unspoken testament to his problem. Even now bottles lay scattered across the floor from his most recent drinking session.

When morning arrived and Max finaly climbed out of bed, he had to tip-toe around those very same bottles to avoid waking Jack, He made it as far as the bathroom door before Jack stirred, woken simply by Max’s absence. He groaned, ever the night person, and Max froze guiltily in the bathroom doorway.

“Where you going?” Jack grunted, throwing an arm over his face and peering out at Max from under it.

Max looked over his shoulder into the bathroom, then shot Jack a crooked smile. “To pee. If that’s alright?”

Jack yawned widely and stretched as carefully as he could so as not to aggravate his bruises. The toes on Jack’s left foot, sticking out from under the blankets, wiggled. “Fine,” he said, “Be quick though. I’m cold.”

Turning on his heel, Max obediently trotted into the bathroom, swinging the door shut behind him. He went about his morning routine with a small smile, thinking about Jack’s wriggly toes, but when he got to brushing his teeth his thoughts turned to something a great deal more serious.

The drug trials. He’d been thinking about them while Jack was out getting mugged the night before. He’d been planning to sign up in a week or so, but Jack’s condition gave him the perfect opportunity to sign up without Jack knowing. One of them needed to go out and try and get some money, and since Jack had already agreed to stay in today the task fell to Max. It was perfect really.

But... there was no denying that drug trials were not something to jump into lightly. If he went today he’d have no opportunity to research what they’d be testing on him and no time to think it over. After he rinsed his mouth and padded back out into the bedroom though, it took only one look at Jack’s body, covered in bruises darker than his sooty black hair, for him to make his decision.

“Hey, so-” he started, clambering back into bed beside Jack, “I was thinking that since you aren’t going anywhere and you’ll be staying here all day - resting, not jerking off - I should probably go out and see if I can get any money or food for us. After what... happened last night, you didn’t exactly bring much - or anything - home and we’re both-”

As if on cue, Jack’s stomach growled, loud enough to be reasonably be compared to a rockfall in an underground cavern. They both gave it a startled look, before they laughed softly together. Max lowered his head and pressed their forehead’s together, catching Jack’s gaze up close. At this small distance, he could make out every fleck and sliver of blue in Jack’s eyes.

“Yeah, we’re both hungry,” Jack murmured, staring up into Max’s eyes with a kind of dazed longing. It only ever happened when they were this close to each other. Or rather, these situations were the only times when Jack couldn’t hide his rawer emotions from Max.

Max nodded. “Yeah, exactly. So, I’m going to go out today and see what I can get and you...” he lightly trailed his fingertips over one of Jack’s bruises, “You’re going to sleep.”

Jack rolled his eyes, one of which was black and swollen, most likely from a well aimed fist to the face the night before. “Yes, nurse.” He reached up and curled and arm around Max, pulling the smaller man down on top of him. Max caught himself with his hands before all of his weight had a chance to land on Jack and hurt him more. “Before you go anywhere though-”

The tip of one of Max’s fingers pressed against the tip of Jack’s nose, and Max grinned down at him. “I know exactly what you’re thinking,” he purred, rubbing his body lightly against Jack’s, just enough to make his breath quicken in anticipation, “And neither of us has the energy for it.”

“I always have the energy for it,” Jack protested.

Max paused for a few thoughtful moments, then twitched his head to the side in a gesture of reluctant agreement. “I kinda believe you, but you’re still injured and I reckon that brings you down to the same level as mere mortals like me.”

“So no sex?”

Looking down at Jack’s pouting face as sternly as he could, Max lasted no more than a few moments before he cracked a smile. “If I bring us something home today, we can have sex after we’ve eaten. Okay?”

Jack fidgetted under Max, looking more and more like a sullen child with every second that passed. When his silent, inner tantrum had ended, he gave a terse little nod. “Fine. But you better find some food fast - I don’t even care if you have to steal it.”

A soft, somewhat nervous, laugh escaped Max before he could help himself, and he leaned down to kiss Jack’s lips to distract him from it. “I won’t come home without food. I promise.” He stroked his hand over Jack’s wavy, shoulder length black hair a few times, staring down at his best friend fondly, before he pulled away and slipped off the bed. “Go back to sleep. I’ll be back before you know it, and then we can have sex. Just like the night before Christmas.”

“Am I supposed to make a cheesy joke about unwrapping you?” Jack asked, pushing himself up on his elbows to grin at Max as the blonde made his way to the door, “Because I’ve got dozens of those jokes. Hundreds even.”

Max gave Jack a wry smile as he pulled on his coat and stepped into his shoes. “Go to sleep, Jack,” he said, one last time, before he opened their motel room door and slipped outside, pulling the door closed behind him.

ooo

The research centre was on the otherside of town from the motel, so Max had quite a trek before him in order to get there. He wasn't worried though. With Jack all wrapped up in bed and none the wiser, Max had no reason to hurry home and no reason to think Jack would find out about his plan.

He felt kinda bad about keeping it from Jack, considering everything he had done to protect him since they'd come to Blacklight city. Before then, even. They'd known each other since they were children, but had only become close friends in their teens when the mutual homophobic bullying they'd found themselves on the end of had drawn them to one another. Birds of a feather and all that.

Jack had been a bully too, though with much different motivations. His father had been abusive, though that came as no surprise to anyone and everyone in town had known it. Jack had given as good as he'd gotten, but his father had always been bigger and stronger than he was. So, inevitably, Jack had turned his attentions to the other kids in their town. Max had been the only one immune to Jack's ire, but even he was safe from the occasional barbed comment.

Still, Max owed Jack a lot. If it hadn't been for him, Max probably would have been stuck in some ex-gay camp somewhere, if not in a coffin. He had never complained about Jack's attitude. Only about the fact Jack never really tried to confide in him about the things his father put their family through. Every attempt Max had made to get through to Jack had ended in sex. That was just the way things were between them.

Max had been so lost in his thoughts about Jack, that he arrived at the research facility without really noticing the journey between. When he stopped at the front doors and looked up and the pristine, contemporary building, he felt his stomach flip-flop nervously. He hadn't had the chance to mentally prepare to walk through the door - or rather he had and he'd wasted it reflecting on Jack.

There was no turning back now though, not if he wanted to make himself useful. He took a deep breath, ran his hands back through his hair, let them drop to his side and shook them, tugged at the hem of his shirt, itched his ankle with the sole of his shoe, then finally pushed glass front doors open and stepped inside.

The first thing that hit him was the powerful chemical smell. He supposed that a place like this needed to be kept clean, and cleaning here involved a great many disinfectants and the like. It made him feel a mixture of on edge and relieved - like arriving at the doctor's for a rectal examine, but being told on the way in that there was absolutely no chance of him contracting ebola. Something Max always liked to hear.

He tip-toed across the laminated wood flooring towards the reception where a pretty girl in a pristine white dress sat, typing at an equally white computer. Despite Max's efforts to remain silent, his dirty, torn yellow converse squeaked against the floor and as he approached the receptionist looked up. He was surprised at all when she smiled a dazzling white smile.

"Good morning sir," she chirped, disgustingly cheery for such an hour, "How can I help you?"

Max stopped at the counter, touching it hesitantly then dropping his hands to his sides, feeling oddly guilty about touching such a clean surface. "I- um. I read about the drug trials... in the paper, you know, and I was just... um-"

"Would you like to sign up for the tests?" the girl asked, putting Max out of his misery. He sighed in relief and nodded gratefully. "Alright," she continued, before reaching under the counter and taking out a folder. Max couldn't see what was in it, but she flicked through the pages inside until she came to some kind of form. She pulled a copy of it out of the folder and placed it on the counter top. A pen quickly followed. "If you could just fill this out, please."

Stepping closer to the counter again and picking up the pen, Max stared down at the form uncertainly. It asked the typical questions, such as his name and age, which he filled in with Max Rafferty and twenty-one respectively. When prompted to give his address, he nipped his lower lip, then moved on, leaving it blank. The questions after that asked about his medical history and allergies - nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. Except for one question. One that asked about his close social circle. He frowned at it, confused, then looked up at the girl.

"Excuse me," he said, pointing out the question, "Could you explain what I'm supposed to put here?"

The girl boosted herself in her chair to get a better look, then smiled. "Oh, that. Um... just put the people who see you on a regular basis. The people who you have contact with daily. That kind of thing. Just people who are close to you."

Max gave her a curious look, then shrugged it off, figuring that it was just some kind of back up thing in case they needed to get ahold of him. Someone they could contact if they couldn't reach him personally. He quickly jotted down Jack's name, then handed the mostly completed form back. Only the address and phone number lines remained empty.

"Thank you," the girl said, taking the form back from him. "Someone will need to go over this, then they'll get back to you if you're eligable. It usually takes a few hours for someone to get to it, so if you like we can ring you and let you know when to come ba-" She stopped abruptly when the empty number line caught her eye. "Oh. Well... I guess you can... just wait?"

Max nodded hoplessly, "Yeah, I'll... wait. I have nowhere else to be right now anyway, so..." He looked around the lobby and spotted some seats in what appeard to be a small waiting area. Ceiling-to-floor windows surrounded the waiting area on three sides, facing the ocean. If the water wasn't so polluted, Max suspected the view might have been nice. At least the tried.

"You can just sit over there," the girl said, guessing what he was thinking. "I'll call you when someone is ready to see you. Would you like some tea or coffee while you wait?"

"Tea please," Max replied, without hesitating. It wasn't food, but it was warm and it would keep him going for a while. The girl nodded, then disappeared into a doorway behind the counter. Max paid her no heed and padded over to the seats, touching his bottom anxiously before sitting down, hoping his jeans weren't too scruffy. He didn't want to get the facility's nice furniture all dirty.

On the small coffee table in front of him lay a pile of newspapers. One of them was from today, but most of them were from the day before, apparently having not been updated yet.

Max reached out and picked up the nearest one - the date told him it was from yesterday. He skimmed over the front page, but saw nothing of interest, so he delved deeper, looking for the little stories that got shoved into narrow columns beside the bigger stories. They were always the ones that fascinated him the most, because they allowed his imagination to run wild. He liked to think about the little details in those stories, and make it the parts that the journalists left out.

One piqued his interest almost immediately. It was a single paragraph about the latest in a string of muggings. His mind leapt to Jack, and he wondered if it was the same people who had attacked him. It seemed plausible given that this newspaper was a local one, published only in the poorer dockside district.

The girl arrived shortly after he came to this conclusion, with the tea he asked for. Max gratefully took it, but before he took a sip, he asked her the time.

"Ten past eight," she replied, with a smile, before scampering off to her desk again. Max sighed. It had been little more than five minutes since he'd arrived. He sipped his tea eagerly and looked down at the newspapers. He'd have to ration them, if they were going to last him until the doctor - or scientist, or whatever - came to see him. It was going to be long few hours.

ooo

By the time the doctor arrived, Max had read all about a disappeared little girl, a raffle in the local homeless shelter to raise money for people just like Jack and Max, and a rather disturbing story about a serial killer who was on the loose, targetting pretty young brunette women in the financial district. His tea was long gone and he was eager to get out of there too. The chemical smell he'd so appreciate when he'd arrived had left him feeling queasy and light headed.

"You must be Mr. Rafferty," the doctor said as he approached, one hand held out to shake. Max dropped the newspaper he'd been reading on the table again and leapt to his feet, taking the man's hand and shaking it timidly. "I'm Dr. Warrens. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Hi," Max squeaked in reply, looking everywhere but at Dr. Warrens. "I- um. You can just call me Max."

Dr. Warrens smiled warmly. He was an older gentlement with brown hair that was going gray in places making him look refined and mature.  "Then it's a pleasure to meet you Max. Now, I've looked over your application and everything seems to be in order. I would just like to have a brief, informal conversation with you before we make any decisions. Nothing to be nervous about. Is that alright?"

Max nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in his throat with some difficulty. Dr. Warres gave him that smile again, then gestured for him to follow before he turned and made his way down a hallway towards and elevator. Max scampered after him, shooting the receptionist a glance as he passed. She smiled too. Everyone here smiled all the time.

He stepped into the elevator beside Dr. Warrens and pressed himself into one of the back corners, resisting the urge to make his body language even more defensive by folding his arms. Dr. Warrens looked over his shoulder at him curiously, before he pressed the button for the third floor. The research facility was only small. The third floor was the highest in the building. Evidently Dr. Warrens was influential here.

"Tell me something Max," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets in a casual and relaxed manner, "You're very tan. We don't see that much in the city. It's too overcast here for there to be much by way of natural tanning. Where are you originally from?"

Max blinked at him, baffled that he'd deduced he wasn't from the city so quickly. "I'm... well, I'm from a little town. I doubt you've heard of it. It's pretty sunny there though so... lots of tanning."

Dr. Warrens smiled again, pleased with Max's answer by the looks of it, and Max managed to smile back this time, happy that his answer had been approved of.

The elevator stopped at the third floor, making Max's stomach sink from the sudden change in momentum. He pulled an unhappy face at the sensation but shrugged it off and scuttled after Dr. Warren when the taller man strode out of the elevator and towards a simple and elegant wooden door with glass panels. Dr. Warren unlocked it and stepped inside, holding it open to let Max pass him.

Once inside, Max took a moment to look around. The office was beautifully decorated - whites and creams everywhere, and sunlight streamed through the full length windows. A blonde wooden desk sat in the centre of the room, and a computer tower hummed softly beneath it.

"Take a seat," Dr. Warren said, gesturing at a white leather swivel chair meant for guests. Max gave him an uncertain look, still feeling dirty, then shuffled forwards and placed himself carefully into the seat's embrace. It was perhaps the most comfortable thing he'd sat on since he'd left home. The most comfortable thing after Jack, of course.

Dr. Warren circled around the desk and took his own seat. Max's application sat on the desk beside the keyboard and Dr. Warren picked it up to consult it. "So, let's just jump right in and begin with the... rather pressing matter of your address."

Max flinched and looked down at his lap, already preparing for the worst. "Yeah... okay."

"It would appear that you don't have one."

"I guess you could say that."

Dr. Warren placed the form down on his desk again. "Are you homeless, Max?"

Fidgetting in his seat more, Max refused to meet Dr. Warren's eyes. "No- well. Yeah. Kinda. I'm... living in a motel room right now, and that's not really a home and I can't afford another week there, so... I'll be homeless by the end of the week if I don't get some money soon. Real soon."

"And I assume that's why you're here," Dr. Warren replied. It wasn't a question, rather a statement. Max ducked his head guiltily. "Don't feel bad. The vast, vast majority of people who sign up for drugs trials only do it for the money. Let's face it, you'd need to have one hell a deep moral reason to let yourself be injected with the substances that haven't been tested on humans before."

Max felt a little better and nodded. "I really do need the money..."

"That's fine." The application form rustled as it was picked up again. "Now, your medical record seems... perfectly fine. There's nothing here to suggest that I should be worried about testing our ned product on your. No allergies, no long-term illnesses-" Max stomach gurgled sadly and Dr. Warren raised an eyebrow at him. "Aside from some rather dire hunger, you seem quite healthy."

Max nodded again.

Dr. Warren, appearing quite pleased with this, moved onto the next point of interest. "You've only listed one person as a close friend or relative. Tell me about this... Jack Donovan."

"He's my... friend," Max said, suddenly perking up a little when asked to discuss a topic he knew a lot about. "We both came here together. We share the motel room."

“The two of you are close?” Dr. Warren asked. Max half shrugged and half nodded evasively. “What about your family? Other friends?”

“I haven’t spoken to my family in three months. Not since I came here. Far as I know they’ve made no attempt to contact me,” Max said, rubbing his upper arm and staring out the window at the ocean. “I don’t have any other friends.”