Hi there.  Not a professional writer, etc., etc., etc.  Unless
otherwise noted, all characters mentioned in this story
belong to Marvel.  No money.  Don't sue.

Jack and Zach are mine.  I'm a bit possessive.  Don't use
them without permission.  I make Mulan look like a wuss,
and _she_ stopped the Huns.

In "Muir Island", young Jack was dying for lack of energy to
feed his psivamp hunger, because as far as he knew the only
way to take that energy was to kill the donor.  Anyone who
read that story knows that Kai brought Zach, who was a far
more experienced psivamp, in to save Jack's life, and
afterwards the two "hooked up".  (And earned all sorts of
cute nicknames, too.  The "gem boys" is my personal
favorite, referring to descriptions of their eyes. ;-)  Anyways,
here's a little peek at their real first meeting inside Jack's
mind as Zach goes in to save him.

Other stories are graciously archived by Luba Kmetyk at
http://home.att.net/~lubakmetyk/  and now also at
http://www.darkspiral.com/

Comments to Kaylee1109@aol.com.  D'ya like the boys?
Tell me.

Enjoy!

Jack and Zach:  Found
by Kaylee (Kaylee1109@aol.com)

It was dark.  It was cold.  It was silent.  And he welcomed it
all to his chest, because dark meant he couldn't see all he'd
done...cold meant he was too numb to feel the ache...silent
meant he wouldn't hear the cries of the people who'd served
in the past to keep him alive; alive with their deaths.

Jack knew he was dying.  What other way could the agony
of the starving hunger be driven down away from the world
it wanted to ravish?  He was relieved, too.  So long, it
seemed, though it hadn't been more than several weeks.  So
long without feeding, with fighting himself...and he just
couldn't do it anymore.  His body had wasted away to
nothing.  His quick wit and intelligence were dulled by the
exhaustion of the constant battle.  Time had dumped him off
by the roadside and left him behind, and he was _glad_ of it.
It would soon be over.  All the pain.  All the guilt.  All the
tiredness.  Over.

He felt a distant sort of anguish for what he was doing to
them, to those people who'd cared for him towards the end.
For Moira, who'd used that blazing Scots temper and
burning compassion to bully him into treatment after
treatment.  For Logan, who'd been gruff reassurance that the
world still went on, that there really was more than the
aching hunger that dominated his mind.  For Jubilee, god
Jubilee, whose enthusiasm and warmth and stubborn spark
had given him as much reason as anything else to fight what
he was.  "You're giving up on life before you ever get to the
good stuff!" she'd told him once, on a day when he'd been
prepared to end it all.  And he'd wondered for the dozenth
time how a girl who'd seen some of the worst could be so
sure that the best was still out there in the world...and in
him.

But it was as much for them that he pulled himself away as
for himself.  He could feel it, growing and gnawing at his
brain.  Stronger and stronger as each passing day robbed his
body of the reserves needed to maintain his resistance.
There had been times in recent days when the people he'd
come to care about had been nothing more to his eyes than
swirling, beautiful colors...colors that called him to just
_taste,_ just _touch,_ just...drain them all away and pull
them into himself to feed the ravening hunger.  Logan...oh,
Logan was such a draw!  That milling, red-tinted mix...the
distraction as he mused over his own problems...the easy
irritation that led quickly to suppressed rage, to coiling
darkness, to such..._flavor._

But there was _more_ to the man than that, damn it!  He
couldn't just be seen as sustenance, not anymore.  Jack had
come to know the caring in him, too.  The affection.  The
struggle against himself that Jack understood far too well.
An honorable man, who deserved a far finer ending than
feeding an out of control psivamp.

And Moira, whose helpless frustration tainted her brilliant
green.  More than just a doctor, to all her patients.  A
scolding mother.  A threatening nursemaid.  A woman who
would do whatever she could, whatever she had to, to see
that those under her care survived.  How many times in the
midst of one of their sessions had the hunger swelled at
sensing her desperation and flagging hopes?  How near had
he come to taking her?  The bitter irony had never escaped
him.  <Sure, Moira...I can live.  Let me just kill you, and it'll
all be better.  Would you stop despairing then?  Sure you
would!  You'd stop _everything!_>

And Jubilee...he hadn't seen her recently, which was all to
the good as far as he was concerned.  Little darkness there.
Less of a draw to his need...but more of a draw to his
emotions.  A sharp and sarcastic wit that went hand in hand
with a broad grin and unquenchable certainty that things
would be "all right".  More intellect and stability than she'd
ever give herself credit for.  A heart that gave loyalty
reluctantly...but once given bestowed it with gusto.  The
thought of a day coming when he would see none of that,
nothing but _food,_ churned at him with an uncomfortable
agony not so different from that his psivamp need put him
through.

Others, new to him.  Kitty Pryde -- too light to taunt the need
all the way, but so very _alive_...Pete Wisdom -- oh, dark
and acidic, but damn it!, a _good_ man...Kurt Wagner -- so
kind to him, so willing to cast aside dignity to make him
laugh...others, many others, who he couldn't view as
_prey,_ not anymore.  But the hunger demanded that he did,
and he fought it, and he was losing, and...and...

His weakened body had finally offered him the only chance
of escape he had.  His mind was locked safely here, the
hunger trapped with him, and here he would stay until the
end came.  And he barely let himself feel the seething regret
over losing the world he'd only started to know.

But now...what?  A presence, here in his dark hideaway?
No one should be here!  No one should be able to find him.
He was gone past their reclaiming, he _knew_ that.  So who
invaded his mind?

Whoever it was, he or she was a fool.  As soon as Jack was
aware of the other, so was the hunger.  He cried out in
frustration, in anger, as the psivamp drive surged upwards
once again.  <No!  No, I've fought it so hard...you _can't_
do this to me now!>  He'd managed to cut the hunger, and
himself, off from the outside world as death approached, but
he couldn't be rid of it until that final step, and someone _in_
his mind, _with_ him, was a target it couldn't resist.

<But how could someone be in my mind?  The telepaths
never could manage it...>

All he could see of the nearing avatar were two glowing eyes
of intense, blinding blue.  Jack barely acknowledged the
sight.  His whole being, what was left of it, was caught up in
trying to wrestle back the hunger; trying to save this fool
who didn't know well enough that he needed to die.

But though he'd managed to lock the hunger down, it hadn't
weakened.and he had.  He realized now the folly of his
actions.  In denying it, he'd only torn essence from his own
body and _fed_ it.  Only enough to whet its appetite, and
more than enough to steal his strength.  There wasn't
enough left to stop it.

<Oh god...if I take this person I'll _live,_ and then I won't
be able to stop it...ever!>

*Stop!* he screamed furiously at the approaching person;
the approaching man.  He could _feel_ the essence now, and
that made it all the more difficult to hold back.  *You have
to leave!  I can't control it!*

But he kept coming, determined purpose in his burning eyes.
A form could be seen now; a tall, strong form that seemed so
very real here, as solid as he himself was.  A man indeed,
with a handsome face and muscular body and...those
_eyes._

Jack tried to turn.  Tried to run, hoping there was
somewhere deeper he could go, somewhere he couldn't be
reached.  But there was nothing deeper.  Only death was left,
and he didn't know how to bring that on himself.  He
whirled back, finding with a start of terror that the man was
very, very close now.  Jack's form fell to his knees and he
hunched over, drawing deep inside of whatever was left of
him for the will to fight himself and keep this fool alive.

*No,* he gasped.  *Please, _leave!_  I'll kill you...and I'll
live...and I'll kill everyone.  It's not worth it!*

And then hands were touching his shoulders, and he
screamed as the hunger overpowered him, surging upwards
and outwards to take the life of this man.  Jack tried, he
_tried_ to fight!  But there was nothing left to fight with.  It
surged, and he sobbed in fury and despair and grief.

The taste...the delicious taste of another's essence.the
flavor of whatever dark secrets, whatever twisted desires
were hidden behind a normal face.  The hunger would never
reject positive emotions, but it was the negative, the most
corrupted, that drew it.  The more tainted an individual, the
more thrilling the take.  Terror.  Rage.  Jealousy.  Perverted
lust.  All the reasons why Jack had for a long time lived in
the filthiest streets, preying off the human predators who
were full of what he needed, what he..._desired._

It thrust up now, the psivamp hunger.  It thrust up with the
long-cheated fury of a starving creature whose strength had
only grown fiercer for the deprivation.  Jack tried to pull it,
but his efforts were ineffectual.  Too weak.  Too wasted.
Too far gone.

And then it was touching, licking at the man with the blazing
eyes, the man who dared to follow him and come into
contact with him, and Jack struggled against the
overwhelming tide to hold it back, even as a part of him
sought to reach for everything in the man and take it all
inside of himself...

Energy flowed into him.  His head came up.  No, it didn't
just flow...it _poured._  Pure, untainted energy...not the
sort the hunger craved, but food regardless; sustenance and
strength.  Jack fought to block it, using the very strength
he'd taken from it in the effort.  Maybe...maybe it was
enough to leave this man alive...maybe...

The man's hands were still on his shoulders, and as Jack
looked up into those _eyes,_ he saw a determination he'd
never glimpsed before; certainly never in any of his victims.

*I'm not a victim,* the man told him.  The first words he'd
conveyed, and the mental voice was strong and sure.  *I'm
here to help you.  Stop fighting me.*

*You're not here to help me.  You're here to keep me
alive.*  Jack tried to break away from that intense gaze.
Couldn't manage it.  *If I live, I'll kill.  It's not worth it.  I'm
not worth it.*

*You're worth it.*  Calm.  Steady.  As if the man had no
doubts whatsoever in his mind.

The hunger was thrumming against his restraint, and Jack
gasped again and dropped his head.  *Please...go.  I can't
control it.  I'll take you.*

From the man...amusement??  *Believe me...that's not the
danger here.*

Frustration burned anew as the drive inside him roiled.  He
met the eyes again and shouted, *Look!  Look at what I've
done!  Look at my life, and tell me _then_ that I should
live!*  With that, he focused everything in him, every bit of
stolen energy, into shoving memories forward.  Faces
slammed from his mind into the other's.  The eyes...he
_always_ remembered the eyes...  Terror and
uncomprehending pleading as essence fled the victims'
bodies to feed him.  Last thoughts turning to whatever small
rays of light had lingered in corrupted minds.  Moments of
caring; the fit of bodies together; the brief unsullied joy of
the first dash of morning sunlight, before the day was full
enough to become bitter.  The tiny corners even in the
darkest of minds that had been...special.  He rushed it all
into the other's awareness, willing him to _see_ how filthy,
how evil Jack was...would _always_ be, because if he lived
he _fed._  He watched the man's face and barely realized
that his lips were drawn back in a grimace of effort as he
struggled against the hunger even as he fought to show the
other man everything.

But...the bright eyes didn't flicker.  The handsome face
didn't flinch.  He saw it all, and he showed no revulsion, no
shock.  Only a steadiness and calm comprehension that gave
no condemnation or hate.

And that voice again, as level and casually firm as the rest of
him.  *You _can_ live.  Let me show you.*

Jack blinked dumbly at him.  *Show...me?*

A hint of a smile.  Then the eyes grew even more intense,
until they dominated Jack's vision and nothing else existed.
And the hunger rose in a rush, reaching with greedy fingers
for this powerful well of life essence right before him,
and...and...

*Oh god,* Jack managed weakly as the power started
pouring into him again.  *Oh god yes.*  His eyes started to
close, but the blue ones wouldn't let them.  Jack knew his
own eyes were burning now, burning with a blazing emerald
green.  *More...please more...*  Starving for so
long...aching and hurting and _needing,_ but denying.  He
stared blindly into those eyes, feeling the desperately needed
energy course through him.

*Easy.  I'll give you all you can take right now.  Too much,
and it'll overpower you.*

As energy returned, so did realization creep past dulled wits.
Those eyes.  The knowledge.  The lack of disgust at his
memories.  *You're...you're a psivamp, too.*

A slight nod, though the power never ceased being fed into
him.  *I am.  Fortunately one who's a bit more experienced
than you.*

Jack trembled faintly at the life licking through his body with
an intimate touch.  *How do you do it?  How do you live
with it?*

A note of softness crept into the strong mental voice.
*Don't worry, Jack.  I'll teach you how.*

The hunger was no longer growling in his ear, no longer
tearing at his innards.  *I can really...live?  Without hurting
people?*  He was afraid to ask the questions, because he had
already asked and answered them for himself and, having
answered them, he'd forbidden himself from asking again
and risking that dangerous surge of hope...the temptation
to live no matter what the cost.

*You can.*  Confidence and reassurance as the glow in the
intense blue eyes (sapphires, Jack noted distantly...like
sapphires) dimmed and the outpouring of power eased.  The
light didn't abate all the way, but lingered in the depths of
that gaze.  Jack felt as caught in those eyes now as he had
when they were linked so tightly during the sharing of
essence.

*Thank you,* he whispered.  The hands still rested lightly on
his shoulders, their astral weight feeling solid and tangible
and real.  Warmth against the coldness he'd surrounded
himself in.  Light against the darkness.  A voice in the
silence.  He'd fled here to await death, and instead had found...

*Zach,* the man supplied, smiling a little more broadly.
*I'm Zach.  And you're welcome.*

*Zach,* he said, trying the name.  He decided that he liked it
very, very much.

Zach slid a hand from his shoulder and held it out for him to
grip so he could be drawn to his feet.  *Let's get you back
'home' shall we?  There are a lot of people waiting by a
comatose body right now and wondering if you're going to
make it.*

*All right,* Jack said softly, letting himself be guided
towards a world he'd thought he'd given up forever.  For the
first time that he could ever remember, he felt...real,
unsullied hope.

And he decided that he liked that very, very much as well.

--end-