An Unkindess of Ravens

Warning and disclaimers: see chapter 1



Acknowledgements: I borrowed Dr. Foster from Smallville. I'm not clever enough to make up original characters.





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“This won’t work if you’re not completely honest with me,” Luke’s therapist stated.



Her name was Dr. Claire Foster. She was a black woman with a very stern face, worry lines that suggested she had more to work out in her own life then her patients and huge eyes that practically bore right through Lucas’s soul. Her hair was cropped short and combed in no particular style. She didn’t exactly exude the warmth and caring that Lucas had imagined a therapist would.



Lucas fidgeted in the oversized armchair. How could he be completely honest with her. The very reason she thought he was there was a lie. He wasn’t grieving for Tim or any of the others that lost their lives that day. He was glad they were gone and yet he wasn’t. Every day he felt more cheated. He wondered if he told all their friends and family what they’d done to him, if it would bring any type of closure. He doubted it seriously, but someone needed to suffer as much as he was suffering. He knew someone already was.



“I didn’t really like them,” Lucas answered in a small voice.



Dr. Foster nodded. She always nodded. Lucas knew she was waiting for more.



“They were jerks. They gave me a hard time when I joined the team.”



“Because of your brother,” she stated.



Lucas shook his head and leaned forward a little, clasping his hands together.



“He was different then.”



“And how is he now?”



Lucas didn’t want to talk about Nathan. Things were getting weirder now that his brother was out of the hospital. For one, he’d moved out of his parent’s house and filed for emancipation. They were spending more and more time together but they weren’t talking; not about the rape and not about the kiss.



“Supportive.” Lucas tried not to let the word carry more meaning than it should.



“Supportive how?” Dr. Foster asked.



He should have seen that one coming. “He understands why I don’t miss them.”



“Even though they were his friends.” Lucas wasn’t sure if she was asking a question or stating a fact.



He sighed and shifted in his chair before continuing. “He knows now that they weren’t.”



“Something’s missing here,” the woman began, proceeding carefully. “If you didn’t like them, why were you with them the night they died?”



Lucas was up, pacing the floor. “I told you,” he began, his voice filled with rage, “they came to see Nathan. I was there.”



“And you and Nathan regularly hung out together?”



“What does Nathan have to do with this?” He shouted. “Tim is dead, we’re all dead.”



“We’re all dead,” she repeated evenly.



“They...they’re all dead. I have to go.”



Lucas was surprised to have made it out of the good doctor’s office without further questioning. He decided the sessions weren’t working. He’d tell his mother he was all better and act as normal as he could. Nathan was through with his physical therapy so he headed over to his apartment. He searched his key ring for the key Nathan had given him and let himself in. Nathan was lying across the sofa watching television.



The brunette struggled to sit up as his brother entered, wincing considerably while doing so.



“Rough day?” Lucas asked.



“I think my therapist worked with the Spanish Inquisition.”



“I’m impressed,” Lucas laughed.



“That my therapist is into torture?”



“No, that you are familiar with the inquisition.”



Nathan offered his lopsided smile and made room for his brother next to him.



“It’s okay to ask,” Lucas said after awhile.



“Ask what?” Nathan pretended not to know what his brother meant.



“Ask how was my day in therapy. You never ask.”



To Nathan, Lucas sounded bitter and he couldn’t blame him. They were bonding because of the hellish attack Lucas had endured. It didn’t seem right. Nathan feared that their fragile friendship would crack any minute. He didn’t ask because he didn’t want that to happen.



“I’m sorry Lucas, how was your day.”



“I think my therapist worked with the Spanish Inquisition,” he laughed humorlessly.



Nathan didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to talk about it. He wondered if he should be going to counseling himself. So many odd feelings were cropping up when it came to his brother. He’d even dreamed of the attack, of him being there brutalizing Lucas. He’d woken up to sticky sheets and felt ashamed for it.



“Do you want to...”



“No, I don’t want to talk about it,” Lucas cut him off, leaning back against Nathan’s shoulder and letting his hand fall carelessly onto his lap.



Nathan stared at the hand the rest so close to his crotch. “Did you tell her the truth?”



Lucas shook his head no.



“Luke, she can’t help you unless...”



“I’m perfectly honest with her, I know,” he sighed.



“You need to tell somebody. It will help. How about your mom?”



“No,” Lucas shouted, gripping Nathan’s thigh. “I’m sorry,” he added, loosening his grip.



“Are you hungry?”



Lucas rolled his head to look at Nathan. “You really suck at this.”



“What?” Nathan asked confused.



“The whole comforting thing. It makes you uncomfortable doesn’t it?”



Nathan watched his brother’s face, his eyes drifting down to his lips and back.



“Jesus Nathan.” Lucas got up hastily and paced over to the breakfast bar.



“Lucas, I’m sorry.”



“Don’t be. Your friends rape me; you want to make out with me. Why should you be sorry?”



“Why do you keep coming here?” Nathan demanded.



Lucas let out a short laugh before shaking his head, “I don’t know. I guess misery really does love company.”



“So you’re punishing me for something I didn’t do.”



“No, you’re punishing yourself for something you caused.” Lucas knew there was no turning back now.



“So there it is. You finally said it. This is all my fault.”



“Not all of it.” Lucas wasn’t willing to left his brother off the hook.



“What is that supposed to mean?” Nathan said half-heartedly.



“You tell me.”



“Alright, Tim always was extreme but he never did anything like this before. I never thought he’d do anything like this.”



“Like what Nathan. You never say it. I want you to say it,” Lucas yelled.



“Like rape. Like raping you,” Nathan shouted back.



“Why did he do it? Why me?”



“I guess,” Nathan began, struggling to his feet, “because he was angry. You were more of a threat than anybody else.”



“Why,” Lucas pressed.



“Maybe he knew.”



“That I was gay?”



“No, Lucas. He knew there was no place for him if you were around.”



“Were you two...”



“No,” Nathan answered sharply. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I had decided I wanted you around and I think it made him angry.”



“I should go,” Lucas said suddenly.



Nathan felt afraid. “Don’t. Let’s...let’s talk.”



“We just did.” Lucas’s voice was cold.



“Let’s talk about us.”



“I can’t. Not right now.”



“Okay,” Nathan conceded. He knew there was nothing he could say to make Lucas stay.



“Have you eaten?” Lucas asked, facing the door.



Nathan felt hopeful. “No, I haven’t.”



“Neither have I,” Lucas attempted to smile.



“Italian or Chinese?”



“Both.”



Nathan hobbled to the counter and sifted through the menus in his drawer.



“Nate? Do you think you could come to therapy with me?”



“Yeah,” Nathan agreed readily, “I can do that.”



Although he wasn’t sure any good would come of it, Nathan decided not to chicken out at the last moment. Lucas seemed content to let the subject drop, so they ordered and ate in silence. It wasn’t weird or awkward this time; at least for Nathan it wasn’t. Lucas’s mood seemed to have changed considerably since Nathan’s promise. Both had decided to let the ugliness of the conversation that had finally bubbled to the service die for now. Both knew it was only a matter of time before it reared it’s ugly head again.