Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

- Maya Angelou

It was weird to be home. Ryan’s apartment was exactly the same as he’d left it, dishes lying unwashed in the sink, clothes thrown haphazardly over a chair. There was a calendar on the wall, and when Ryan looked at it, when he marked off the days he’d missed, days spent first tied up in a basement, then in a hospital bed, then by his best friends side leaving only to shower and change at the hotel room he’d booked but never slept at, he felt...nothing. Well, not nothing. Too much, maybe. So much that his brain didn’t know how to handle it and locked all  his emotions in a box so that all he could feel was numb. Ryan felt a little bit like he imagined Shane felt most of the time.

And that was another thing. Maybe the biggest thing. Ryan was home and so was Shane. Shane was in Ryan’s home. He’d been there before of course; more than that, he’d spent countless nights passed out on the couch, had taken to leaving a toothbrush at Ryan’s place ‘just in case’. 

But Shane wasn’t at Ryan’s apartment because he’d had too much to drink and didn’t feel like going home. He wasn’t at Ryan’s apartment because they were so behind on editing that they had no choice but to keep working even when it was too late to beat the offices. He wasn’t there because Ryan was freaking out and needed a friend. He wasn’t there because he himself was panicking a little (despite what Shane might say, the big guy did need some reassuring himself every now and again, he wasn’t actually a robot). He wasn’t there for any of the countless normal everyday reasons Shane usually wormed his way into Ryan’s apartment. 

He was there because he’d gotten out of the hospital and had nowhere else to go. He was there because his family had flown back to Schaumburg and the doctors told Shane that he wasn’t under any circumstances allowed to live by himself. He was there because in that moment, Shane’s hands wrapped in bandages, the bruises on his pale skin still visible if one knew to look for them, his face oh so desperate as his eyes flicked to Ryan’s... Ryan had taken one look at Shane and volunteered his own living quarters. He’d done it for his friend. That’s all. Not because he was afraid of what would happen if Shane left his side. Not because he didn’t like the idea of being alone. He did it because he was a good friend, and that was that. 

The third thing that’d been bothering Ryan since arriving back at his apartment for the first time in over a month was that even with Shane there, the whole place was too quiet. The first day, Ryan had passed it off as a testament to how many hours he’d spent in the bustling hospital. Of course, his apartment seemed quiet in comparison, there was no beeping of machinery, no muttering of nervous family members, no constant footsteps or nurses checking in. But by the second day, Ryan could confidently say it was a result of his trauma. He’d tried to talk to Shane about it. Tried to talk to Shane about anything really, but the man would just nod or smile or give him a one word answer. It was like Shane had locked himself inside his head and he didn’t seem to be coming out anytime soon.

Ryan had considered going out with Steven for a while, but, despite Shane saying it was fine, Ryan didn’t want to leave his best friend alone. He didn’t want to think about what had happened the last time they’d been separated. Shane’s screams. Pale skin contrasted with bright blood. So instead he stayed by Shane’s side. Gave him the bed, despite his protests, and slept on a blowup mattress in the same room. He was with Shane constantly, but it was like Shane wasn’t really there. 

Ryan tried to remind himself that it was too soon to be pushing Shane. He knew that Shane didn’t process things the same way he did, that he needed space and time and quiet to get his brain in order. But Ryan was worried that this time, those things might not be enough. When Ryan had been checked out of the hospital the doctors had recommended a therapist. Ryan had ignored them. When he was eventually forced to give an official statement to the police, they’d again suggested a therapist. That time Ryan had taken it a bit more seriously, perhaps because he’d had no less than three panic attacks throughout the course of giving his statement.

Ryan had been there when the doctors had suggested a therapist for Shane as well. He hadn’t been in the room when Shane had given his statement to the police, but afterwards an officer had pulled him aside and made him promise to get his friend some professional help. Ryan hadn’t brought it up to Shane, but he knew the man would need some convincing. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in therapy, on the contrary Shane was very supportive of all things mental health, it was just that he typically didn’t need them. Shane was the most level headed, laugh it off, anxiety free guy Ryan knew. Well, had known. 

Shane was different now. Jumpier. Distant. His hands still shook constantly despite the fact that medically speaking there was no reason they would be anymore. Ryan knew, from the nights in Shane’s hospital room and the past two nights at Ryan’s apartment, that Shane slept in short, terror-filled bursts, awoken each time by his own choked gasps. Yet Shane never brought it up. Never let Ryan bring it up. Just said, “I’m fine, Ryan. Go back to sleep,” and then rolled over like that was that. Like the whole thing was just a bad dream.

---

Steven took a deep breath before pushing open the doors, and walking into the Buzzfeed offices. He’d been to the office a few times since that weekend (as he tended to refer to it) to get work or turn things in, but always at night, never when others were around. It wasn’t a conscious thing, avoiding his coworkers, it was just that he’d been spending most of his time working remotely from Shane’s hospital room or else running errands for Shane and Ryan, or else forcing them to take care of themselves. Ryan in particular required extra cajoling to leave Shane’s room for a shower or a solid night’s rest. So Steven had informed his bosses that on no uncertain terms was he returning to work while Shane was still in the hospital, and that had been that. Now though, Shane had been released from the hospital and Steven was free to return to business as usual.

The room fell silent as he entered. Steven knew that Shane and Ryan were still the hottest gossip item in the buzzfeed ecosystem, Andrew had kept him appraised of that, but he was still surprised that the room went silent just for him. After a moment or two, the veteran employees, Steven’s friends, returned to their work thankfully leaving Steven to walk to his desk with minimal awkward conversation. The newer employees, interns mostly, were not quite as kind. 

“Steven!” a voice called.

Steven turned to find three of the newer interns. He had worked with one of them before, an eager kid straight out of college named Jack. The others, Steven had yet to work with. He held in a sigh, before putting on a polite face.

“Hi guys, how can I help you?”

One of the interns, a young woman with long hair and a bright blue beanie leaned in conspiratorially. 

“So,” she lowered her voice, “How are Shane and Ryan?”

Steven looked around awkwardly trying to make eye contact with someone who would save him from this.

“They’re uh...they’re alright.” 

Was that the right thing to say? Steven wasn’t sure. But he certainly wasn’t going to spill any of his friends’ private information to some people he barely knew. 

“Are they coming back?”

Again, Steven paused. As far as he knew, both men were dead set on returning to buzzfeed, but he didn’t want to say anything in case they changed their minds. It’d only been two days since they’d left the hospital. It was much too early to decide anything. 

“I’m not sure,” Steven said dryly, attempting to scoot around the interns and make his way to his desk. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to come back to work. Though, despite his best efforts to work from the hospital room, he and Andrew were already behind on the new season of Worth It and Steven would be damned if they fell behind any more.

One of the interns moved to block his path.

“Are they gonna make a video about it? I mean it’s so on brand right?”

Steven froze.

“What?”

The intern stepped forward again, holding out a manilla folder with some loose leaf paper inside. 

“I drew up some ideas, in case they do make a video. Would you pass those on to them?”

Steven just stood there. He didn’t take the folder.

Another of the interns stepped forward.

“Let them know I’m involved too! I worked on an unsolved shoot before so they might remember me. Brandon Sutton. Unsolved has already seen an uptick in numbers since the incident, so now is the time to capitalize. Plus, we should probably shoot it before they look too healthy right? Do they have bruises still or stitches or anything? Any nightmares? All of that would be great content!”

Finally Steven snapped out of it. He took a deep breath to control the anger brewing in his stomach and narrowed his eyes at the interns.

“ No one is making a video about what happened. That would be exploitative, and immoral and... cruel. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

Then he turned and stalked to his desk, fingers clenched into fists, teeth grinding painfully. He tried to take a mental snapshot of what the interns looked like, because if there was ever a time to use his influence to get someone fired, this was it. 

He sat down hard, biting back a wince as his butt hit the chair at a strange angle. Andrew gave him a questioning look, but Steven ignored him. He couldn’t talk about it. Not now. Not in this building, where anyone could be listening. Steven couldn’t protect his friends when they’d needed it most, but he could protect them here. So, Steven thought as he composed an email to the head of the intern program, no matter what it took, that’s what he was going to do.

---

Shane was making a very concerted effort to sit perfectly still. He drew in a slow, careful breath, and let his muscles relax into the couch. His gaze landed unfocused somewhere in the vicinity of the tv. Ryan had been watching some sports thing earlier and when he’d gotten up to shower, Shane hadn’t bothered to turn it off. He felt still, like a statue, but he’d been doing this long enough to know that if he looked down he’d see his own hands betraying him with each minute shake. Oh well, it wasn’t like he could really use them anyway.

Shane shook his head in an attempt to physically rid himself of that line of thought. If he didn’t think about it, he didn’t have to deal with it. Shane knew it was a childish attitude, but he didn’t give a shit. Whatever it took to never have to feel that way again. Weak. Desperate. Suffocating. Trapped. Shane no longer yearned to feel small.

Shane leaned forward to pick up the remote from the coffee table where Ryan had left it. He bit his lip at the sharp twinge of pain in his wrist. His fingers spasmed around the plastic stick and he dropped it into his lap. He thought about the physical therapy exercises he did every morning. Clenching and unclenching his fingers. He thought about the pain medicine in his- well, Ryan’s -medicine cabinet. He wondered if he was addicted to it. It would be impossible to tell until the doctors told him to stop taking it. He wondered if they’d already told him when that was supposed to be. He’d have to ask Ryan later. Ryan always remembered. Shane tried to rephrase that in his head so it sounded less bitter. 

He flipped through the channels mindlessly, looking for some sort of reality show or other trashy program. All those weeks spent tied to a hospital bed- not tied, not tied, not tied, not tied -had given Shane a taste for daytime television. It only took a few presses of the button to find one he was familiar with. He tried to raise the volume but his hand spasmed and he hit the channel button again. He almost changed it back, was planning to even, but then he saw what was now showing on the tv. 

It took him a second to process it. He took in the woman, dressed in a navy pantsuit with short hair and a serious expression. There was a familiar logo in the corner, a news channel Shane watched sometimes when he was feeling patient enough to deal with the familiar anger of delving into American politics. This time however, there wasn’t some dirty politician on the screen. No, nothing to do with politics at all. The photo on the screen was a few years old, Shane knew because he’d been there when the photo was taken. Because the photo was of him. Shane and Ryan strapped up in ghost hunting gear, smiling at each other like they hadn’t a care in the world. It had been a promo shot for whatever season of unsolved they’d been working on at the time. It was a nice picture, Shane thought. A nice picture that had no business being on his goddamn tv. 

It wasn’t until the image switched that Shane’s damaged brain connected the dots as to why there was a picture of him on the television. The new image, well, more of a live video it seemed, was straight out of Shane’s nightmares. It was Natalie, sitting on a bench in front of a grassy field. Objectively, she looked small and weak, but the more Shane looked the more he saw the expression she wore in his worst nightmares. That lust-filled smirk. Those dark dark eyes. She was speaking, but Shane had to struggle to make out the words.

“-and that’s the thing about public opinion.”

Her voice was softer than it’d been when she’d spoken to him. Kinder.

“Once they see you one way, they’ll never change their minds. It won’t matter to them that I was forced into this. Th-that I was raped too. They’ve seen the video and they’ve labeled me as a,” she took a short breath in through her nose, her eyes were wet, “as some sort of predator. But..I’m n-not.” At this point tears flowed from her eyes and Shane felt a twinge of sympathy in his chest. He felt his hands begin to shake harder, his whole body following suit. Was he blaming the wrong person this whole time? When she’d...when she’d done what she did to him, was she just as helpless as he was? Images of the men who’d been alongside her flashed through his head. Did they make her do this?

Shane shook his head roughly. It couldn’t be. She’d seemed so into it. So crazed. She couldn’t have been faking it. Definitely. Probably. Maybe.

He jumped at the sound of the bathroom door opening behind him. Oh right. Ryan.

On the screen an older woman put her arm around Natalie. She too was speaking through tears.

Shane could tell the exact moment Ryan looked up at the tv from the way his footsteps came to an abrupt stop.

“Sh-shane?” His voice was small and shaky.

As if responding to the shaking of his friend’s voice, Shane’s body began trembling so much the remote fell from his lap. The crash of it hitting the floor couldn't have been that loud but it echoed over and over again in Shane’s ears. If Natalie was innocent...

Shane felt nausea rise in his stomach. He tried to scramble to his feet but almost immediately fell back against the couch, dizzy. Oh right, breathing. He’d forgotten to be doing that. Shane frantically gulped in air, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He didn’t want to see the screen. He didn’t want to see the so-very-young girl who he’d-

A firm hand on his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts. He screamed and pulled away harshly, wrist colliding with the back of the couch hard enough to cause the already burning pain of his injuries to skyrocket. 

His eyes flashed open to find Ryan crouched in front of him, hands held out as if calming a frightened animal. He looked...scared. Something in Shane broke at the sight. He stood, this time making sure he took it slow, well slow enough not to fall over at least, and took a step backwards, away from Ryan, towards the door. Ryan was speaking but Shane couldn’t hear him. That was okay. It was all okay. 

Ryan took a step forward prompting Shane to take another backwards. He wasn’t scared of Ryan, really he wasn’t. It was just that the tv was still on and he could still hear Natalie’s voice echoing through the room. Shane glanced around frantically for the remote, desperate to turn it off, turn it off, turn it off, but the remote lay at Ryan’s feet and, for some reason he couldn’t explain but felt deep in his gut, Shane couldn’t get any nearer to Ryan.

Instead he took a few more rapid steps backwards, back colliding harshly with the wall behind him. Shane didn’t care. Without taking his eyes off of a rapidly speaking Ryan- Shane couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t hear anything really, just her voice whispering in his ear, her moans as she clenched around him, her - Shane fumbled blindly for the door handle. He wrenched it open and stumbled backwards through the doorway, closing the door behind him before Ryan could stop him. Then he turned, anxiously putting his back to the apartment, and ran.

Chapter Text

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I've got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

- Maya Angelou

Shane wasn’t sure how he got there. It was too far to walk, except he must have walked because he didn’t own a car and he certainly hadn’t taken any public transportation. His breathing was still too shallow, too quick. He shouldn’t have come there. Not like this. Not before he’d had time to figure out how to present himself in a way that wasn’t so damned pathetic. 

Pathetic.

The word echoed in his head. No one had said it, not yet at least, but Shane could read it in their eyes. They all thought he was pathetic. He was pathetic. So pathetic he had run from the guy who’d spent the last few months doing nothing but take care of him, his own life be damned. So pathetic he’d ended up at the house of an ex-girlfriend, someone who didn’t deserve to have to comfort him like this, someone he didn’t deserve to be comforted by. 

He considered leaving. Heading back to Ryan’s with his tail between his legs and some half-assed explanation on his tongue. Ryan wouldn’t push him. Wouldn’t make him talk about it. But he’d look at him with those searching eyes. That lip trapped between his teeth as if it was the only way to stop himself from asking what Shane knew he wanted to ask. He was going to have to talk to Ryan sometime, but right then his heart was beating a rapid staccato in his chest and his vision was blurring and he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

Even if he had wanted to return to Ryan’s apartment, it wouldn’t have been possible. Shane was dead on his feet. He estimated he’d been walking for hours, the sun was much lower in the sky than it had been last he remembered, but he didn’t have his phone so he couldn’t be sure. Either way he was certain he couldn’t walk all the way back without collapsing, and he didn’t have his wallet so an uber was out of the question.

Still, he wasn’t sure he could do this right now. Face someone else, someone solidly planted in before . Someone who surely knew what had happened, who’d probably watched the video, who’d borne witness to his greatest humiliation. He couldn’t do this. But he was so damn tired. And his chest was tight. And his breathing was sharp. And though it’d been a while since they’d been together, since they’d seen each other outside of a group setting at all really, Shane remembered. He remembered how firm her hands were, small, yes, but firm against his chest or back or around his neck. He remembered her smell. Not the smell of the perfume she sometimes wore- don’t wrinkle your nose, Shane, it smells nice and besides I like the wolf on the front -but the smell that was uniquely her. He remembered her smile. 

The ending of their relationship had been a mutual thing, a long time coming really, and Shane didn’t miss the fighting or the tears. But he missed the friendship. The thing they’d been before they were a couple. He missed her. And he had nowhere else to go. And so he knocked.

And so she answered.

“Shane?”

He smiled weakly. She deserved a proper explanation, a proper greeting at least, but his breath rasped in his throat and his hands shook and it was all he could do to get out a single word.

“Sara.”

---

Ryan’s hands were shaking as he opened his laptop. He needed something, anything, to distract him from the moment. From the echoes of the TV interview seared into his brain. From the thought of Shane, scared, confused, alone in the crowded streets of Los Angeles. He’d barely managed to stop himself from chasing Shane down the street when he’d run out of the apartment. Part of him still wished he had, especially hours later with no sign of the big guy and the sky growing dimmer and dimmer. But chasing Shane wouldn’t have accomplished anything. Shane was no athlete but his unnaturally long bigfoot legs gave him a sizable advantage, and Ryan was fairly certain he couldn’t catch Shane, if Shane truly didn’t want to be caught.

Ryan’s fingers hovered over the keys. He’d planned on pulling up some shitty movie and zoning out. He refused to admit to himself that it would have been easier and more comfortable to sit on his couch and watch a movie on the tv rather than sit hunched over his laptop like a college student. He didn’t want to look at that damn tv ever again. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure he wanted to watch a movie either. It felt like a betrayal almost. To do something so inexplicably tied to Shane (because their friendship was founded on movie nights) while the man was suffering alone. If he was being one hundred percent honest, he wanted to suffer too. Even though he knew, intellectually at least, that none of this was his fault, he didn’t want Shane to bear the entirety of the night's misery.

Ryan sighed loudly to himself. If he was dead set on suffering, he might as well suffer productively. Ryan swallowed hard, and did something he’d been dreading for the past two months. He opened his work email.

He balked at the number of emails for a moment, but he’d never been the inbox zero kind of guy anyway, so he got over it quickly. He skimmed the subject lines. Most of the emails were office-wide announcements from buzzfeed management. Things like team luncheons or casting calls for the video of the day. Ryan didn’t bother with any of those. Another large section of the emails were well-wishes from co-workers. Not friends mind you, Ryan’s friends had sent their get-well-soons over text, just acquaintances. Coworkers. The type you nodded politely to in the break room. The type you had to double check the name tag of at company functions. Ryan didn’t open any of those emails either.

There were a few emails from his team, the unsolved team that is. Updates on video progress and viewer count, notes from the research team and cost-analysis from the finance guys. Most of the emails were from that weekend, before anyone knew what had happened. After that, it seemed he was left out of most of the email chains. He tried not to be bitter about it. They probably just didn’t want to bother him. Probably thought he wouldn’t want to think about work. In all fairness, he hadn’t, but still, it felt like a betrayal. Like being cut out of his own project. 

He bit back the anger and replied as nicely as he could where necessary. There were only a couple of things that required his input. He had a good team and besides they had mostly been spinning their wheels without Ryan and Shane there to film.

After he finished with his inbox, he refreshed the page out of habit. Surprisingly a new email appeared. Ryan frowned. It was from buzzfeed corporate. Ryan could count on one hand the number of times he’d received emails straight from the top. And he could count on zero hands the number of times they’d been positive. The email was addressed to Shane and him both, and the subject line read, The Next Step.

Ryan hesitated, cursor hovering over the email. He didn’t have to open it. No one would blame him if he put it off for a while. But then again, it would just bother him, linger in his mind. And besides, despite the ominous subject line it was probably just corporate platitudes and a polite demand that they fill in their employers on when they’d be returning to work. 

Ryan opened the email.

---

Sara was clearly shocked to see him. Immediately Shane regretted coming. She was going to tell him to leave, surely. Or if not, she was going to wish she could. Shane wasn't easy to deal with when he was freaking out like this, she knew that better than anyone, and it wasn’t like they were even really friends anymore. Just two people who’d shared the most intimate parts of themselves for a little bit. Just two ships passing in the night, except it was morning now and the ships were miles apart and maybe they hadn’t even been that close the night before but it’d been so dark and the lights of another vessel had been almost enough to fill the void...

The thought of Sara rejecting him, slamming the door in his face like he was some door-to-door bible salesman, made his chest tighten further and his breath catch in his throat. Before he could shut down that train of thought, he was coughing and choking for air and oh god he shouldn’t have come, he shouldn’t have come, why did he come?

His vision became spotty, his hearing went in and out, there was a hand on his shoulder, another on his arm, firm but not painful. Still touching him though, touching him without his permission, touching him when he didn’t want to be touched, when he wanted to be left alone, he just wanted to be left alone, please, just leave me alone.

Someone was calling his name. Sara. It had to be Sara. Logically he knew that, but his heart sped up at the sound. Her voice was soft and feminine and it probably wasn’t that similar to Nat- to hers- but it was close enough and oh god this was his life now wasn’t it. He was broken now. And then his throat spasmed and he wasn’t breathing at all now was he. Distantly he heard shouting. He felt dizzy, like he was falling. He still couldn’t breath but maybe he was okay with that. Maybe he was done with the whole breathing thing. With the whole living thing. Maybe he was just done.

---

The email wasn’t long.

Mr. Bergara and Mr. Madej,

Right off the bat Ryan felt weird about it. No one called them by their last names, not even the management at their own buzzfeed office. It was just too weird, too impersonal, too adult. They hunted ghosts for a living, for god's sakes, it was pretty safe to say they weren’t in the business of taking themselves too seriously.

I hope this email finds you at a good time. 

What the hell was that supposed to mean? How exactly would this be a good time? Shane had just gotten out of the hospital. He couldn’t even hold a phone in his hands for very long, much less check his email. Ryan took a deep breath to settle the rage building in his gut. It wasn’t fair to be angry at buzzfeed. They didn’t have anything to do with what happened, and they’d yet to make a fuss about paying any of the hospital bills or the fact that Ryan and Shane had gone radio silent when it came to addressing the internet. All in all they’d greatly exceeded what Ryan had expected from a large heartless corporation.

Everyone here at Buzzfeed Corporate was heartbroken when we heard what happened. 

Ryan couldn’t help but over analyze every single word of the email. Perhaps it was a defense mechanism, stopping him from having to actually think about the broader situation. It wasn’t his fault, however, that the word choice was deserving of scrutiny. Who used the word heartbroken in business emails? Although, to be fair, who wrote business emails about the livestreamed torture and rape of an employee?

We are more than happy to do whatever we can to aid in your recovery. We understand what a life altering event something like this can be, and we are eager to help you find a way forward. Of course, you may both take as much time as you need before beginning the process of returning to work, but if you deem yourselves ready we’ve devised a series of steps to assist in the affair.

And there it was. Couldn’t go a whole paragraph without cutting to the chase. Ryan couldn’t stand the falseness of corporate-speak but he was doing his best to stay reasonable about it all. It made sense that buzzfeed wanted them to get back to work. It wouldn’t be exaggerating to say they were practically single handedly keeping buzzfeed relevant. Or well they had been. And would be. Probably. The truth was they’d only really talked about work once, about a week after Shane had come out of the coma. They’d both wanted to get back to making Unsolved. But things had been different then. For one, they hadn’t yet learned the extent of Shane’s injuries. The doctors had been hopeful they’d be able to restore the muscles and nerves in Shane’s wrists, but after a few surgeries they’d deemed the damage too severe. Shane would never regain full use of his hands, something Ryan was fairly certain the big guy had yet to process. 

Buzzfeed, too, might have been happy to have Shane back in theory, but they had yet to face the reality of his newfound disabilities. He couldn’t type or use a laptop without immense pain and frustration. He couldn’t hold cameras or even a goddamn pencil. They could make it work with Unsolved. They would make it work, if that’s what Shane still wanted. But it wouldn’t be the same. It would never be the same.

Ryan took a deep breath and returned to the email.

The first course of action we recommend, is a public address. Your privacy is important to us, so it is up to you how much you are willing to share. As long as you address the situation in some way, the fans will be happy.

And by fans, they of course meant the guys at the top. Nothing sold more than drama, and the more time passed without Shane or Ryan so much as making a tweet, the more the drama faded. 

To assist you in this task, we’ve included the contact information for a publicist who specializes in this sort of thing. She’s been updated on your situation and has begun devising the content of your announcement. Take your time, and contact her when you are ready. 

Get well soon,

Annalise Madison, BA

Buzzfeed Corporate

[email protected]

Ryan couldn’t help but let out a shocked bark of laughter at the sign off. Get well soon? What kind of shitty corporate platitude was that supposed to be? Get well soon was what you said when someone had the flu. It was what you said when someone broke their leg. It was what you said when someone had endured a minor injury and was going to be completely a-okay in just a matter of days. They’d been kidnapped and tortured for god's sakes. They were never going to be ‘well’ at least not in the same way they’d been before. Shane couldn’t button his own shirt for god’s sakes. And Ryan was so damn claustrophobic he couldn’t put on a long-sleeved shirt without feeling trapped and bound.

And what the fuck made buzzfeed corporate think Ryan would ever allow a publicist to dictate how he talked to his fans. His fans, not buzzfeeds. He’d been the one to draw them in. To earn their loyalty and respect by always telling them the truth. And sure, Ryan had no plans to tell them everything when it came to his personal life (and boy was this personal) but he wasn’t gonna bullshit them either. He didn’t even need Shane there to know he’d feel the same. They’d been in agreement on that from the start. Honesty was important, especially when most others in your field were lying their heads off for views. No way was Ryan gonna sacrifice their reputation just ‘cause buzzfeed wanted them to use some flashy publicist. 

Ryan slammed his laptop closed angrily. He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw something. He wanted to have a much-needed discussion with the one person who knew exactly what he was going through. The one person who’d gone off the fucking grid. That was it. He’d given Shane space. He’d given him time. But this was too much. He was gonna find his friend and he was gonna bring him home.

Ryan stood abruptly, knocking his chair to the floor. He ignored it, turning instead to grab his coat. He was halfway through the door when his phone rang.

---

He was breathing better now. Sara had been close to calling an ambulance when Shane had shown up at her door in the midst of what she now realized must have been a panic attack. It had been all she could do not to drop him as he’d stumbled into her arms. Luckily, she’d been able to direct his dissent towards the couch before he went completely limp. She’d covered him in a blanket and slipped a pillow under his head and whether he’d fallen asleep or passed out she wasn’t certain. Either way, Shane Alexander Madej was unconscious on her couch. And wasn’t that a mind-fuck and a half.

It had taken her less than a minute to realize what her next step should be. Ryan answered on the first ring.

“Sara?”

“Ryan. Um..hi..”

Sara and Ryan had been sort of close once, back before she and Shane had parted ways. They’d enjoyed each other's company at least, and had confided in each other more than a few times. But it had taken the break up for Sara to realize that neither of them ever initiated a hang out. It had always been Shane. Looking back, it seemed almost silly the way he’d organized their time together. Sort of like he was a mom booking playdates for his kids. But it had seemed natural at the time. Hey Sara, Ryan’s been dying to check out this new Korean place, you should go with him. Hey Sara, I can’t make that party this Friday, but you should take Ryan, he’s always down for a good time. Hey Sara, you and Ryan should do something this weekend. 

Sara understood it in a way. Shane had done the same thing with his brother, trying to get Sara and Scott to spend time together. It was sweet for the most part, the way he tried to tie his family together, create strong bonds between everyone so that everything would be permanent. It hadn’t worked of course, but it was still sweet.

After the break up, Ryan and Sara hadn’t hung out. There was no bitterness or resentment, the break up had been mutual, and neither Ryan nor Sara were the type to hold grudges anyway. But without Shane, they no longer had a common link, and neither of them had made any effort to make it otherwise.

“Hi. Um..what’s up?”

Still, it was nice to hear his voice. She wasn’t too proud to admit she’d missed him.

“I uh..Shane showed up at my apartment.”

She heard the intake of breath on the other end of the line.

“Is he okay? Is he still there? Can I talk to him?”

The urgency in Ryan’s tone scared Sara. Should she have called an ambulance after all?

“He’s still here, but he’s passed out on the couch. I think he was having a panic attack. Is he... should I have called an ambulance?”

“No he’s just-no, no ambulance if we can help it. He’ll just freak out more. I’ll uh..I’ll be right there.”

She heard the tell-tale sounds of an apartment door being closed and locked. Then footsteps. Then the opening of a car door and the hum of an engine. 

“Okay,” Sara finally whispered.

Ryan didn’t respond but he didn’t hang up either. Sara put the phone on speaker so she could hear the sounds of Ryan driving. It was reassuring in a way to hear proof of the lessening distance between them. Her eyes drifted to Shane, his face lax in sleep. She thought of the video she hadn’t been able to watch, but knew the contents of all the same. She thought of the man she’d dated, the man she’d loved. She wondered if that man existed anymore, or if he’d died in that lunatics basement with his hands tied behind his back and his body exposed to the world. She heard Ryan curse under his breath, presumably in response to traffic or a bad driver.

“It’s okay,” Sara said. She wasn’t sure if she was speaking to Ryan, scared and desperate, ignoring his own pain and suffering for the sake of his best friend, to Shane, so hurt and so lost that no amount of medicine or therapy could ever help him find his way back, or to herself, sitting in her living room with the man she’d once loved more than anyone else, wondering how to put him back together again without breaking her own heart in the process.

“It’s all going to be okay.”

Chapter Text

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I'll rise.

 - Maya Angelou

Shane woke abruptly. The dream left his mind almost instantly but the feelings behind it lingered. He blinked cautiously, then bolted upright as he heard a sound behind him.

“Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

He frowned and turned to find Sara scrambling to pick up the glasses she’d knocked off the side table. 

“What..” Shane cleared his throat. “What am I doing here?”

Sara looked concerned.

“You don’t remember?”

Shane closed his eyes and thought hard. It took a while, these days at least, to remember things. To remember what was real and what wasn’t. But after a moment, it came back to him. Showing up at Sara’s unannounced. Having a panic attack in her living room. Passing out on the couch. He fingered the blanket that had been draped over him. It was soft.

“What time is it?”

Sara looked like she wanted to press the memory issue further but after a moment she just squinted at her phone. 

“A little after eight, you slept through the night...sorry for waking you.”

Shane shrugged and shook his head simultaneously. She shouldn’t be the one apologizing. She didn’t show up at her ex’s house in the middle of a nervous breakdown. That one had been all him. 

It was silent for a moment. Probably it was Shane’s turn to say something; it wasn’t so easy for him to tell, these days. He tried to remember what the old Shane would have said. The Shane that wasn’t so broken he couldn’t even have a normal conversation. The old Shane probably would’ve cracked a joke. Maybe something like I never sleep. Maybe in a weird voice. It felt right but in a sort of abstract sense. Like knowing the next line in a movie you’d seen a hundred times. Like playing a character.

Eventually, Sara broke the silence.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, obviously I’m not glad about the um, circumstances that uh, made you feel like you had to come here, but... I’m glad that you knew you could. I’m here for you Shane, in whatever context you need me. I’m here for you.”

Shane looked away. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t want to know how to respond to that. He wanted to go back to sleep. Not to the nightmares that plagued his slumbering mind, but to the emptiness that surrounded them. The periods in between the terror where he felt nothing. He wanted to feel nothing.

The sound of the door slamming open shook him from his thoughts.

He flinched first at the sound and again as a man rushed into the room. No, Shane blinked, not a man, well, not just any man. Ryan. It was Ryan. He let out the breath he’d been holding and blushed in embarrassment. There was no intruder, no attacker, it was just his best friend walking through the goddamn door. 

“Hey, guys!” Ryan’s voice was loud and cheery. Overly cheery, Shane thought, but if Ryan wanted to pretend everything was all fine and dandy, Shane certainly wasn’t going to stop him.

“Hey Ryan,” Sara smiled, gesturing to the paper bag in Ryan’s hand, “Whatcha got there?”

Ryan shrugged off his coat and set the bag down on Sara’s kitchen table.

“Croissants from that new bakery down the street.”

Shane opened his mouth, but Ryan beat him to it.

“And of course, pan au chocolat for the big guy.” He pulled Shane’s pastry of choice out of the bag and waved it in the air like he was calling over a puppy. Shane was not a dog but he was willing to be treated like one for his favorite snack. He stalked over to Ryan and snatched the pastry out of his hand, stuffing it in his mouth triumphantly. His hands only shook a little.

“You want a plate with that?” Sara teased. 

Shane opened his mouth in spite, revealing his half-chewed food and sending both Ryan and Sara into exaggerated gagging fits. He smiled. The curl of his lips pulled at his face where there used to be stitches. He wondered if he’d ever be able to smile again without that lingering pain.

Before he could get sucked any further into his thoughts, Ryan’s phone rang. He was still giggling slightly, in the way only Ryan could, as he dug it out of his pocket but the sound stopped abruptly when he saw who was calling. He glanced up at Shane hesitantly, biting his lip.

Shane clenched his jaw, preparing for the worst.

“What is it, Ryan?”

Ryan paused, eyes darting from Shane’s to Sara’s to his own sneakers. Shane felt his stomach roll with nerves.

“Ryan?”

Ryan sighed and shook his head.

“I should take, this. It’s Tom.”

---

They’d met Tom sometime during the first month in the hospital. He was an old friend of Ryan’s dad. They’d gone to college together, but while Ryan’s dad chose the dental route, Tom had gone to law school. Apparently, he was some sort of big shot these days, took on all sorts of high-profile cases, was influential in some historic rulings. Ryan hadn’t known any of this until he’d arrived at the hospital, briefcase in hand and fedora perched low on his head. Right from the start, Ryan hadn’t liked him.

Well, perhaps it would be more accurate to say Ryan hadn’t trusted him. Tom had said he was willing to represent them pro-bono, more than willing, he seemed eager to jump on their case, and that had driven a bad feeling low in Ryan’s gut. Even if Tom was truly acting out of the kindness of his heart, his presence would bring even more press to what was already becoming a bit of a circus. It had been weeks and still, Ryan couldn’t leave the hospital without an idiot with a camera shouting questions at him all the way to his car. And besides, Tom wanted to talk to Shane. Shane, who’d only woken from his coma about a week ago and was still struggling to stay focused on conversations for more than a few minutes at a time.

But somehow Tom had talked his way into Shane’s room, and Ryan had leaned against the wall while the man... seemed to charm the living daylights out of his best friend. Ryan wasn’t sure exactly how he did it, but something about his deep soft voice and his steady presence made something in Shane, something that had been tightly wound since he woke up from the coma, unfurl. And at that moment Ryan trusted him. He couldn’t do anything but trust him really, not when he looked Shane right in the eyes and said “I promise I will get you justice. No matter what it takes.”

---

The phrase echoed in Ryan’s head as he stepped outside to take the call. He felt bad excluding Shane from whatever news Tom had to share, but after many meetings, they’d all decided it was better for Shane to be kept out of things he didn’t absolutely have to be involved in, and anyway it was certainly better for him to hear important news from Ryan than from anyone else, even Tom. 

“Hello?” Ryan greeted, trying to maintain a hopeful outlook. After all, there was no reason to assume Tom had bad news. He could have been calling to inform Ryan about a positive development in the case, he certainly had in the past.

“I have bad news.” 

Well, there went that theory.

“Here’s what we are going to do,” Tom continued, “I’m going to give you the news, and then we are going to discuss our next step.”

Tom always began their conversations that way. Like he was creating an agenda. At first, Ryan had found it formal and offputting to be given instructions so blatantly. Sort of like being back in school. But after a while, he had come to see the value in it. Ryan was no idiot, but no amount of law and order viewing could have prepared him for the complexity of even the most simple of legal tasks. Tom’s way of laying out a clear road map stopped Ryan from feeling too lost or confused and it made him feel useful to have tasks to complete.

“Are you in a place you can talk?”

Ryan glanced around at the street in front of him. It was mostly quiet, not many people were out and about in the unseasonably cold morning air. It wasn’t necessarily an ideal place to hear bad news, out in the open, in the cold, but Ryan didn’t have many options and besides, he would rather just get the whole thing over with than have it lingering over him while he found a more comfortable location.

“I’m good.”

“Alright. As you know I’ve been working with the state prosecutor handling this trial. The men involved in your abduction and subsequent torture are being charged at the highest degree.”

“Ok,” Ryan sighed knowing the bad news was coming, “But...”

“But the state is not charging Ms. Orson at this time.”

Ryan paled.

“What?”

“Ms. Orson claims she was as much a victim as the two of you. Her statement has been fully corroborated by all four of the men involved. They say she was under threat the entire time and was following a script they’d forced her to learn.”

Ryan swallowed hard.

“So...so she’s...innocent?”

Tom sighed, the sound crackling through the phone speakers.

“I’ve reviewed the videos she made thoroughly over the course of this case. If she was faking it, she did a hell of a job.”

“So you think she’s lying.” Ryan could feel the anger building in his chest. It wasn’t enough for her just to torture them, now she was trying to gaslight them into believing they’d hurt her as much as she’d hurt them.

“I think,” Tom spoke carefully, “that with your permission I could put together one hell of a civil suit on your behalf.”

“But she won’t go to prison.” His throat tightened and his hands curled reflexively into fists.

“No, you’d almost certainly be looking at damages.”

“That’s money, right?”

“Exactly,” Tom sounded a little angry too, and Ryan realized it was the first time he’d seen, well, heard, his professionalism slip. “I know it’s not much, and it doesn’t seem even remotely fair, but at this stage, it’s our only option.”

Ryan took a deep breath and tried very hard to remind himself that it was over. That even if Natalie walked free, she couldn’t hurt them again. They were safe. They were safe. They were safe. Weren’t they?

“What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing yet. I’ll draw up the paperwork and file it tomorrow morning. But start thinking about what you’re willing to accept.”

“Accept?” Ryan questioned.

“Most civil suits don’t actually go to court. They’re resolved in settlements. And believe me, no one is going to want to see this go to trial. The media frenzy is bad enough as is. Natalie’s family is quite well off. I suspect we’ll receive a settlement offer promptly after filing.”

“Oh,” Ryan felt a little overwhelmed, “Okay. I’ll uh, I’ll think about it.”

And by think about it, he meant he'd dive down a rabbit hole of research about what in the world one was supposed to expect their kidnapper, torturer, and, fuck, rapist to pay them in exchange for dropping their case. Because that was what his life was now.

“You’re going to get through this.” The familiar rumble of Tom's voice brought Ryan out of his mental spiral.

Ryan nodded and then promptly felt like an idiot for using nonverbal communication in a goddamn phone call.

“I know.”

He did know. At least most of the time he did.

It wasn’t getting through it that he was worried about really, it was what lay on the other side.

Chapter Text

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries?

- Maya Angelou

When Ryan told Shane that Natalie wasn’t being charged, three things happened. They were sitting in Ryan’s living room, having made their way back from Sara’s midmorning. Shane had taken his meds a few hours later than usual but they were finally kicking in and he was leaning back against the couch cushions listening to the type of music Ryan usually complained about. Ryan had really planned to wait for the right moment to tell Shane (he wasn’t sure what that moment was exactly but he’d know it when he saw it) but suddenly the words were bubbling up from his chest and spilling out of his mouth and there was nothing he could do to stop them.

“Natalie’s gonna go free.”

Ryan flinched at the sound of his own voice saying the name of the person he hated most in the world. Shane just blinked.

“Shane, they’re not gonna charge her. That’s what Tom called to say. They’re not gonna fucking charge her so all we can do is file a civil suit and hope the money is enough to stop us thinking about the fact that she’ll be out there, in the world, free and clear!”

Again, Shane said nothing. He just looked at him. The same expressionless look he always gave the execs at BuzzFeed staff meetings. Maybe he wasn’t getting it.

“Tom wants us to start thinking about the amount of money we want to accept,” Ryan could hear his voice getting higher, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. “Do you hear me? He wants us to put a monetary value on the shit we went through! We’re going to have to decide how much money our lives are worth!”

Shane’s eyes drifted from Ryan’s. Still, he said nothing.

“Shane, are you even listening to me!?”

Ryan sounded hysterical and he knew it. It was enough, apparently, to convince Shane to speak.

“Disneyland,” he said, as if that was supposed to mean something in the context of their conversation.

“What!?”

“Disneyland. Every weekend. For the rest of our lives. That’s the kind of money it’ll need to be.”

“Disneyland?” 

Ryan felt like he was missing something.

“Disneyland.”

“Shane you don’t even like Disneyland that much!”

Shane shrugged slightly, a small gesture that Ryan knew still sent pain up and down his arms and back.

“I know. But you do.”

Ryan blinked. He opened his mouth to respond but couldn’t. Two simple sentences, five words in total, and he was floored. There were tears welling in his eyes that he only barely held back.

“Anyway,” Shane continued, as if he hadn’t just said something life-changing, “We don’t actually have to go to Disneyland every weekend. I’m just saying that’s the type of money we should demand. You know. The amount it takes to be those assholes who go to Disneyland every weekend.”

Ryan could feel something like the beginnings of a smile curling his lips.

“Oh, we’re gonna be assholes, huh?”

“Oooooooooh boy you betcha we’re gonna be assholes,” Shane said, in that exaggerated midwestern way he sometimes spoke just because he knew how much it made Ryan laugh, “We’re gonna have fast passes to every ride, reservations at every restaurant, and enough mickey merch to open our own online Disney shop where we undercut those corporate bastards at every turn!”

Ryan laughed. Shane laughed. They both laughed. Hard. For a while. As if a seal had broken and all the laughter from the past few months that had been tamped down inside them was finally being released. That was the first thing that happened.

---

The second thing didn’t actually happen right then, but later that evening, over pizza they’d ordered in because neither of them felt like going out and Shane’s wrists were aching enough without attempting to cook (neither man considered the possibility of Ryan cooking; anyone who’d ever witnessed the tragedy that was Ryan in the kitchen knew better than to suggest such a thing). Ryan was polishing off his fifth slice, deciding on whether or not to have a sixth, when Shane spoke.

“I keep remembering.” His voice was casual. Perhaps too casual.

“What do you keep remembering?” Ryan asked carefully.

Shane shrugged, looking away.

“Everything. I start to do something normal, to feel normal, and then I remember.”

His eyes flicked briefly to Ryan’s as if gauging his reaction. It took Ryan a moment to realize this was Shane opening up. Shane finally expressing his feelings. Ryan had been waiting for this moment for weeks, but now that it had arrived he had no idea how to respond. He did know that staring in silence probably wasn’t a very good start.

“Oh.” Great job, Ryan thought to himself, very eloquent. “Do..uh..do you want to talk about it?”

Shane frowned.

“We’re talking about it right now.”

Ryan turned red with embarrassment.

“No, I-I know, I mean, like, do you wanna talk more about it...like do you want to get all, like deep and shit.”

Shane stared at him. His mouth tightened. His eyebrows twitched. Ryan thought maybe he was trying to hold back a smile.

“No, Ryan, I do not want to get all ‘deep and shit’ but thank you for the offer.”

Ryan nodded. Trying to take this seriously.

“Well, if you ever do...”

Shane nodded. 

“I know. I will.”

And Ryan knew, at that moment, that Shane meant it. That he wasn’t going to keep everything to himself anymore. That he was going to try to work through his issues. That he knew Ryan would listen, whatever it was he needed to say. They were a team. Ryan knew it. Shane knew it. They both knew it. That was the second thing.

---

The third thing happened much like the second. Actually, it happened a lot like the first too. One of them saying something suddenly. Something simple, mundane. And yet, something life-changing.

It was late and they were slouching low in their chairs, empty pizza boxes surrounding them. If this had been a night in the before , then they would have been a couple of beers in by now. Instead, Shane was basking in the relief of his nightly dose of pain meds and Ryan was growing high off nothing but a much-needed pizza night with his best friend.

They were talking about nothing really, relishing their ability to joke freely. It didn’t feel new anymore. Didn’t feel surprising every time they laughed or smiled. It felt normal. It felt good. Currently, they were discussing Steven and Ryan’s basketball feud. It was an ongoing thing between them, a rivalry that would never be settled despite Ryan’s insistence that Steven had yet to win even a single game. Ryan was in the middle of a sentence, a remark about Steven’s jump shot to be precise, when Shane interrupted him.

“Hey, fuck BuzzFeed.”

It was said emphatically and resolutely. It was met with confusion.

“I..what?”

Ryan wasn’t angry about being interrupted, frankly, he was surprised Shane had let him go on for so long about anything sports-related at all. He also wasn’t against the sentiment of the statement. He was, however, more than a little confused by the timing.

Shane straightened in his chair, turned to fully face Ryan. 

“I don’t want to go back to Buzzfeed.”

Ryan blinked. He thought about Unsolved, and the years they’d spent working side by side. He thought about the crew, the ones who’d left or been fired, the ones who stayed. He thought about joking around with Shane, early in the morning before the coffee had kicked in enough to begin any actual work, sitting at their desks, crammed as close together as they could get.

“Oh.” 

He thought about doing it all alone, without Shane. He thought about never doing any of it ever again.

“Ryan?” Shane sounded nervous like maybe he thought Ryan was angry. Maybe in another time, Ryan would have been. He could imagine, in a world where none of this shit had happened, Shane ditching him might have felt like the ultimate betrayal. Now though, it just felt sad. The end of an era, Ryan mused. It had been a good one.

“Okay,” Ryan said after a moment, refusing to meet Shane’s eyes “that’s okay. We’ll make it work. People are half expecting us both to quit anyway. I’ll retire Unsolved of course,” because no way was Ryan making their show with anyone but Shane, “but there’s lots of other stuff I’ve been wanting to work on anyway.” It was a lie, of course, Unsolved was his baby and it had demanded all his love and attention, but it sounded nice.

Ryan glanced up to see Shane frowning.

“No, Ryan.” He sounded frustrated. “I’m not saying I want to stop making videos together. I mean I don’t want to work for those bastards anymore. I don’t want either of us to work for them.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We were planning on leaving anyway, at some point. Why not now?”

Oh. That changed things. Ryan tried to hide the relief in his expression.

“Well, we don’t have a safety net for one thing.”

Shane raised an eyebrow.

“Lucky for you I know two people who are about to come into a bit of money.”

Right. The lawsuit.

“Maybe, but we aren’t exactly in the best states of mind to be founding a freaking company right now.”

Shane smiled.

“We never were, really. The ghoul boys aren’t exactly known for their rationality.”

Ryan opened his mouth to voice one of the hundred other problems with Shane’s plan but the big guy interrupted him before he could speak.

“Plus that’s what Steven’s for. You know he gets all nerdy for the numbers, baby!” 

Ryan wrinkled his nose.

“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”

“Use alliteration like that.”

Shane looked affronted.

“What’s wrong with some good old alliteration? You got something against Shakespeare, baby?”

“Don’t do that either!”

“What!?” Shane’s smile was wide enough that Ryan knew he’d be feeling the pull of the scar tissue in his cheeks. He didn’t seem to care.

“Don’t compare yourself to Shakespeare! And, while we’re on the subject, don’t call me baby!”

“You know, Ryan, I have written a critically acclaimed saga about-”

“Booo!” Ryan shouted throwing a piece of discarded pizza crust at his favorite idiot.

They didn’t talk about it again that night, nor the next day, nor the next, but they both knew, as sure as they knew their own names, they weren’t going back to BuzzFeed. They were going to strike out on their own, Steven Lim alongside them, and make something that was completely theirs. That was the third thing.

---

They started meeting up regularly, Ryan, Shane, and Sara. They’d order takeout and play Mario Kart (well, Ryan and Sara would play Mario Kart, Shane couldn’t hold the controller for very long without getting pain in his wrists where the tendons hadn’t healed right) or else they’d toss back some popcorn and browse Netflix. Steven came too sometimes, though he was taking the brunt of their workload at the office. Unasked of course but that was Steven Lim for you; he took care of his friends whether they wanted it or not.

Shane and Ryan had yet to tell Steven their plans for ditching BuzzFeed. Shane knew they would have to at some point, and there was no particular reason they were holding back, but neither had spoken about it since the decision they reached that night. There was still a while to go before either of them would actually be ready to work on the new company anyway, no need to get the ball rolling quite yet.

---

Unlike Ryan and Shane, who had the good sense to stay off social media these days, Steven had been monitoring the Buzzfeed Unsolved socials, as well as his friends Twitter pages. He’d started doing it just to get a gauge of the situation. Presumably, Ryan and Shane would return to the internet at some point and Steven wanted to know what to prepare them for when they did. Recently though, it’d become a sort of self-torture he couldn’t seem to get away from. Every night he opened Twitter and scrolled through anything mentioning Shane and Ryan.

Laura <3 @buzzstan 3h

Rewatched the video and you can clearly see he’s enjoying it. Can’t believe we all stanned that creep for years, childhood ruined

BwCok @jordanbellll 7h

YO THAT YOUTUBE GUY IS SUING THE GIRL HE RAPED WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS TIMELINE

spooky season starting soon? @lovanotafighta 56m

replying to @BellaFinch

I mean when you mess with ghosts and demons what do you expect lmao kind of got what they deserved if you ask me

He never replied of course. Never engaged. There was nothing to be gained from yelling at random people on the internet. He just read the tweets carefully, over and over again. And then he cried. And then he resolved not to read them the next night. And then the next night came. And he thought to himself, maybe it was just a few bad people. Maybe they’d all moved on by now. Maybe it would be fine. And so he checked. And the cycle continued. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

---

Shane was feeling more and more normal every day. Well, maybe normal wasn’t the right word. He didn’t feel like he used to, he wasn’t even sure he remembered exactly what that felt like. But he was settling into a new rhythm. One that wasn’t as fraught with anxiety and pain as he’d feared it would be. He began to find himself enjoying things again. Good food. Good friends. He was reading a lot, ebooks because the movement required to turn the pages of real books took dexterity his hands didn’t afford him much these days. 

Soon they would be receiving a settlement offer (any day now, Tom promised, had been promising for weeks) and then this would all be over. He could focus completely on moving on, on getting better. Two days ago he’d gone to a coffee shop, Ryan and Sara by his side, and even though the presence of so many people around him (there hadn’t been that many really) in such a small space (it was actually one of the larger coffee shops) had quickened his breathing and distorted his vision, he’d managed to hold off the panic attack until they’d gotten back to the apartment so he was considering that a win. 

Really any time he was able to be around people without throwing up was a win, Ryan, Sara, and Steven excluded (although, even then, sometimes when they were all together in one room he felt himself growing tense, but they were learning, all of them, how to handle it). Ryan was still jumpy, still overly cautious, but Shane could see it lessening, see how he would one day be free of the tension and fear. Sometimes at night, when Shane had woken from another nightmare, he would look up at the ceiling and imagine what life would be like ten years in the future. It was a hazy image. He had no idea where he’d live, what he’d do, but he did know, no matter what, he’d have Ryan there beside him.

---

Ryan had asked, once, about the social media response. Steven had lied. He still wrestled with that fact. He hated lying, especially to people he cared about, but what was he supposed to say. 

Yes, Ryan, all your worst fears are completely correct! Actually, things are even worse than you thought. Not only is everyone still fixated on the trauma, still sharing clips to do who knows what with, but they’ve actually now decided that you two are responsible for all of it. No idea how they got that impression, but you know how people are. They don’t care enough to research the issue so they just regurgitate the first take they see until it’s become their own opinion, until they actually believe they thought of it themselves. 

Or even worse. 

Shane will never work again. Not for Buzzfeed, no matter what they’re saying now. It would be an outrage. People would boycott the channel. And no production company in their right mind will ever hire him. Too much heat. Too much controversy. 

He could’ve just sent him the Joe Rogan clip. The one that had gone viral a few days ago. That certainly would’ve given him an idea of what the world thought about them. Steven himself had gotten so angry after seeing it, he’d gotten halfway through a rage-filled tweet before he remembered tweeting about it could only make things worse. In the clip, Rogan was talking to some conservative political commentator about the me too movement, about safe spaces, all the typical things conservatives liked to bash.

Commentator: “It’s all fake too. This pc cancel culture bullshit.”

Rogan: “Oh, I know.”

Commentator: “It really is. I mean look at what happened to that poor girl with those liberal youtube celebrities. For years and years, they played up the whole ‘nice guy feminist LGBT ally’ thing and then we find out they’ve staged this whole elaborate setup to get their rocks off with an underage girl.”

Rogan: “Did they really stage it?”

Commentator: “Yeah. You didn’t know that? Have you seen the footage? I mean it’s clear as day.”

Rogan: “Let me pull it up.”

*a few seconds of audio from the clip, Shane panting, Natalie moaning*

Rogan: “Oh my god. How is this guy not in jail?”

Commentator: “Because the standards don’t apply to their own. It’s insane. If a Republican does something it’s bad. But if a Democrat does it somehow it’s ok. This guy fucks a little girl and somehow has half the internet thinking he’s a victim! It’s crazy!”

Steven didn’t though. He didn’t send him the tweets or the videos. He didn’t tell him what people really thought. He just shrugged and said, “Mostly they’ve moved on.” What else was he supposed to do?

---

They were sitting in the living room; Shane was reading, Ryan was watching something on his phone, Sara was drawing, Steven was working. It was a Sunday.

Shane’s phone rang. It was Tom. Tom, who never called Shane, only Ryan. Tom who had been promising a settlement offer for weeks, whose assurances had begun to waver, who had seemed just as confused as they had when there had been no response to the lawsuit from Natalie's lawyers. 

He answered it, stepping into the hall as he did. Ryan gave him a questioning look but didn’t pry. They were working on boundaries at Ryan’s therapist's insistence. Shane wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Hello?”

“Shane? Are you busy at the moment?”

Shane looked behind him, at the little family he’d made for himself, all gathered together enjoying a peaceful afternoon.

“Shane?”

Right. He had to answer.

“No, I guess not.”

“Good. You need to come down to my offices. Now, if you can.”

Shane blinked. Tom sounded urgent, nervous. He didn’t know what that meant.

“Ok...Ok, let me just get Ryan and we’ll be right-”

“No,” Tom interrupted, “Not Ryan. Just you. You need to do this one on your own. I’ll be there to counsel you but...this needs to be your decision.”

Shane felt the beginnings of panic swirl in his gut. He swallowed.

“Alright.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Tom said, but this time, Shane didn’t believe him.

Chapter Text

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Don't you take it awful hard

’Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines

Diggin’ in my own backyard.

- Maya Angelou

The chair he sat in was old, the pale blue fabric slightly faded. Rather than appearing cheap or unwelcoming, it gave the room an air of history. Shane had not spent much time in a law office before, but he felt now, amongst the rows of leather-bound books, and solid wooden furniture, as if such rooms had been designed to make it clear to all parties that what occurred within these walls was a very serious matter. There was no room for triviality or even humor. From where Shane sat, it felt as if the fate of the entire world rested upon his shoulders.

Tom had stepped out for a moment, leaving Shane alone with his thoughts. He passed the time as he passed most time these days. Sitting still. Measuring the seconds beneath each breath. Willing that for each moment he remained unmoving, time might offer him the same courtesy. It was no use though. He didn’t have to look to know his hands still shook. Even when he slept, he imagined they continued their incessant trembling. If it really was all in his head like the doctors said, then there was no hope for it, not in Shane’s mind at least. What did it say about him as a man that he couldn’t even get his own limbs to obey his commands?

There had been no easy way to extricate himself from the day’s activities. No point in pretending that for all the relaxed nonchalance they feigned for his benefit, his friend’s awareness never strayed far from his position. They were waiting for him to break, Shane supposed. No. That wasn’t quite right. He’d already broken. He’d been broken for quite some time. So what was it they were waiting for exactly?
He’d told them it was his brother inviting him to lunch. It was a terrible excuse. Were Scott truly in town, he’d have surely asked Ryan to come along, out of midwestern courtesy if nothing else. And Ryan and Scott talked on occasion, probably more frequently now that they had Shane to worry about. There was no way Ryan would buy it for long, but it had gotten him out the door and that was all that mattered. He’d deal with the fallout of lying to Ryan after he dealt with whatever the hell had Tom in such a tizzy.

The man in question re-entered the room and gave Shane a polite smile.

“My apologies for the interruption. As I was saying, thank you for coming on such short notice.”
Tom took a seat behind the large wooden desk and gave Shane a steadying look.

Shane felt the old familiar flicker of affront at the idea he would need any reassurance. He let it pass without acknowledgement.

“Of course. What’s going on?”

His voice was strange to his own ears. Still. In the hospital he’d thought it was an effect of the meds he was on, it made sense to him that the numbing effect on his brain might spread to his voice. But when the dampened warble continued emerging from his throat even upon leaving the hospital he’d figured it was one of the numerous injuries he seemed unable to keep track of. He’d asked his doctor at his first follow up if it would ever improve but they’d been confused. There’s nothing wrong with your voice, Mr. Madej.

“Shane, I want you to prepare yourself. Throughout my career, I have represented countless clients against despicable people and the corrupt systems they work for. I have seen it all. This is not the worst thing I have seen. I want to be clear on that because when I explain it to you it will sound like the sky is falling. I want to assure you that I have sat here across from dozens of individuals who have felt that way, and yet the sky remains as it has always been.”

Shane had asked Ryan if his voice sounded strange to him too, but Ryan had gotten that look on his face that Shane hated. The one that was half pity and half something else. The pity he could handle. It was the other part Shane couldn’t stand. The part that seemed to be in constant mourning. The part that said without any words that the Shane Ryan had cared for was long gone, and the being shuffling around in his corpse was nothing but a cruel reminder. I don’t know what you’re talking about Shane, you sound fine to me.

“I’m prepared.”

“Good. In that case I’m going to tell you about the meeting I had this morning and then present you with some options. Ultimately, I recommend you consult with the appropriate professionals once we have concluded here and take some time to make your decision. I can offer only legal counsel on the matter, and I suspect you will require counsel of a different sort. Before you leave today, we will discuss a timeline for discussing the matter with Mr. Bergara for, as you are aware, I am representing him in this matter as well and am obliged to present any relevant material. Does that sound agreeable?”

Shane nodded. The weight of his head almost too much for his neck to bear.

“This morning, I was summoned by the counsel representing Ms. Orson. They did not present the settlement offer we’d been anticipating for some time now but rather an alternative agreement.”

Shane nodded again.

“Ms. Orson has asked Mr. Bergara and yourself to drop all lawsuits against her as well as to relinquish your rights to pursue any further lawsuits against her pertaining to the events in question in perpetuity.”

Shane frowned.

“But she’s not offering any money?”

Tom shook his head.

“No, she’s not.”

“What is she offering?” Shane asked in a voice that was not his own.

Tom took a moment to answer, as if he too were begging the seconds to stretch themselves thin. When he spoke, it was as if his voice had taken on the timbre of the firing of a starting gun.

“Custody.”

---

There was an illusion that seemed to assert itself upon the world when Shane was present. Ryan had felt this way long before the kidnapping, but the sensation had only amplified in the aftermath. When Shane was there, it was almost impossible to think of anything more important than merely existing together. A moment could feel nearly perfect. Ryan could listen to the click-clack-click-clack of Steven’s keyboard and feel comforted by its steadiness. He could glance at Sara’s hunched posture, curls obscuring her expression as she drew, and feel a fond smile creep onto his face. He could feel nothing but grateful that Shane was sitting across the room from him, slouched in a chair that barely accommodated his sprawling frame, reading some history of something or other Ryan never could seem to remember despite how many times Shane had told him. He could merely exist and that could be enough.

But then Shane left.

The thing was, the new trauma specialist Ryan had been seeing wasn’t exactly the first therapist to tell Ryan his friendship with Shane had become codependent. He hadn’t cared before. So what if they spent all day at work together and still felt like hanging out in the evenings? So what if they spent their weekends together more often than not? He didn’t see anything wrong with going through life with a best friend right by your side and screw anyone who did. It was only now that Shane’s recovery depended on it that Ryan had seen the merit of pulling back.

Steven’s typing had grown more aggressive in Shane’s absence, or at least it seemed that way to Ryan. Sara had stopped drawing. She was staring off into space, mouth drawn tight. Ryan felt the stirrings of anxiety in his gut and tried to refocus on the video he’d been watching. Sports highlights. Easy. Unproblematic.

Sara let out a soft sigh.

Ryan tossed his phone onto the coffee table.

“What?” he said, his tone clipped.

Sara turned to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Hm?”

“What are you sighing about?”

Steven’s typing paused, but he didn’t look over.

“Nothing.” Sara’s voice was cautious, placating.

“No, it wasn’t nothing, you sighed. Is something wrong?”

Ryan knew he was being a dick; he just couldn’t bring himself to care. If something was wrong, he needed to know about it. How anyone expected him to keep Shane safe if they weren’t even going to tell him what was going on was-

“I was just...I was just thinking, Ryan. That’s all. It’s really nothing.”

Ryan stood up and began to pace. He remembered the way his mother used to walk the length of the kitchen when he’d done something wrong and was taking his time about confessing exactly what. He remembered the angle of her frown. Ryan.

“Sara.”

It was his mother’s face he pointed in Sara’s direction.

She sighed again.

“It’s just...how much of Shane’s medical care did insurance even cover?”

Ryan frowned.

“What? What are you talking about?”
“His medical bills. What’s his plan to-”
“Buzzfeed covered what insurance didn’t. He’s not in debt if that’s what you’re asking.”

It was his father’s voice that spat from his throat.

Steven looked up. Ryan avoided his gaze.

“I’m glad to hear that. But Ryan, he can’t keep living on his savings forever. And neither can you. Let me help you find some work. An easy project, something to get back into the swing of things. You don’t even have to come into the main office if you don’t want to, Steven and I have been talking and-”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. When he turned to face Steven, he could feel his cheeks getting hot.

“What, you guys have just been talking about me behind my back now?”

“Woah, Ryan, no, it’s not like that,” Steven spoke slowly, hands raised slightly in an attempt to calm the situation.

“Well that’s what it sounds like. You think I can’t take care of myself?” You think I can’t take care of him?
“We’re your friends, Ryan. We’re just trying to help.”

“Well you’re not! You want to help, go get Shane the use of his hands back! Go scrub that goddamn video from the minds of every person who ever saw it! Go find that lying rapist bitch and snap her neck! Go....go...go fuck yourselves!”

Ryan’s panting was loud in the ensuing silence. His whole body was on fire, a terrible burning in his veins. 

He turned his back.

He swallowed.

“Just-” he tried to speak but he didn’t have the breath.

He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing the moisture that rolled down his cheek.

A hand rested gently onto his shoulder. He flinched.

“It’s okay, Ryan.” 

Steven.

It was Steven.

“You’re okay.”

---

Shane had been asleep. He’d been asleep at the bottom of a vast and empty ocean for what felt like eternity. From the moment Natalie had climbed into his lap until the moment that word had left Tom’s lips, Shane had slumbered. Half there, half not. A reluctant participant in a partial reality.

He was asleep no longer.

“Are you sure,” Tom was saying, “Are you absolutely sure? This isn’t an agreement you can go back on. You should take some time to think about it.”

“I don’t need time,” Shane said, reaching for a pen from the bronze cylinder on Tom’s desk. “Where do I sign?”

“Nothing will be finalized until Mr. Bergara agrees. If you change your mind before then, we can always respond with terms of our own. I’ve prepared a number of drafts for you to peruse should you decide to-”

“Where do I sign?” Shane repeated.

Tom met his gaze. For a moment he merely looked into his eyes. Then he pushed the paperwork forward.
“Here, here, and here.”

Shane’s hands were steady as he signed his name.