[identity profile] pdglyph.livejournal.com posting in [community profile] wl_fanfiction
Shine on You Crazy Diamond
By: PD
Pairing: for this chapter – Greg/M, Greg/Wayne flashback
Rating: R for language, gore, and unsettling freaky-ness
Disclaimer: Don’t own, so don’t sue. OC’s are mine, however
Summary: … I wonder…what would he do if he saw you?



Chapter 7: Who Has the Last Laugh Now?

Greg glanced at his watch. Where was that asshole? He was supposed to be back fifteen minutes ago to carpool to Drew’s. He tapped his finger on the steering wheel, becoming increasingly agitated. The cop that stood next to his car waiting for them to take off glanced at him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go get him?” he asked.

Greg growled and got out of his car. “Yeah I’m sure. I’ll be right back okay?” he muttered. The cop fell into step with him.

“I’m sorry but I can’t allow that, Mr. Proops,” the cop said gruffly, if a little nervously. Greg regarded him, eyes unnaturally bright.

“Fine, but cut out this ‘Mister’ shit, it’s killing my last nerve,” he said as they passed through the barrier of leftover cops. “Did Wayne show up?” he asked one of the cops. They nodded.

“Yeah, he came back in complaining about his cell being left in the green room,” the cop said mildly, then eyed him. “You want a bigger escort?” the officer at his side puffed up angrily. Greg thought fast, hoping to avoid a conflict,

“Nah, this one’s just my size,” he said playfully. The other cops chuckled and turned back to their work. The cop at Greg’s side as they walked up the stairs stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks Mr.… I mean, Greg, but now they think I’m gay or something,” he said with a shy smile.

Greg snorted. “That’s okay, they know I’m a tease,” he said lightly, continuing up the stairs.

“So does that mean a cup of coffee is out of the question?” the young cop asked as they rounded the hallway. Greg stopped and looked at him.

He studied the younger man. He was handsome, with a round, boyish face, black hair and chocolate colored skin. He looked terribly innocent for a cop. “What’s your name?” he asked.

The kid offered up his hand. “Dominik.”

“Nice to meet you, when do you get off?” Greg asked. The kid stumbled.

“Uh, after I escort you guys home,” he said, voice breathy.

“How about after all this blows over and you don’t have to protect us anymore you take me out for that coffee?” Greg asked, his best grin on. The kid smiled brilliantly and Greg remarked briefly how much alike he and Wayne were, both with dark skin and bright smiles, both so terribly innocent. He felt a small twinge. Well, it wasn’t like Greg and Wayne were a couple anymore. He still couldn’t help feel a little bit guilty, like he was cheating on Wayne. He pushed the thought away.

Wouldn’t do to dwell on the past.



“You know Wayne, if anybody found out about this, we might lose everything.” Greg’s voice drifted across the sweaty, rumpled bed to the chocolate silhouette standing nude by the dresser. Wayne turned and smiled at him, teeth flashing brightly in the moonlight. Greg felt his heart stop, just for a second, marveling at this man’s power over him and how right that felt. Perfect.

Wayne ran and jumped onto the bed, forcing Greg to hold his smoldering cigarette at arm’s length lest he burn something. Wayne snuggled down, pressing as tightly to Greg’s body over the tragically thin sheets as he could. He could feel every line, every crease and every…thing on his body in sharp detail. “I told you last night, and the night before, that I don’t really give a damn about that,” Wayne purred, rubbing his slowly hardening length along Greg’s thigh.

Greg’s eyes glazed a bit before he brought them back into sharp focus. “What about the little woman?”

Wayne stopped, eyes thoughtful. “I love her, and I don’t want to leave her. But I also…I … don’t want to lose you Greg… I…” He didn’t continue. That was one of the rules they’d laid down all those years ago when they’d begun this affair.

No ‘L’ words allowed.

Despite his unfinished sentence, Greg felt his eyes grow misty and his throat tighten. No ‘L’ words be damned. He jammed his cigarette into the ashtray and dragged the delicious man up for a kiss that tasted of cinnamon, cigarettes and, strangely, jasmine. It left them both breathless, lips a little numb and buzzing pleasantly as their mouths wandered all over each others bodies with renewed vigor and lust.

The next week, Wayne’s wife announced her pregnancy.


Greg shook his head, clearing the memory, smelling a faint trace of jasmine.

A baseball bat flew out of nowhere and clocked him on the forehead, dropping him like a stone. Dominik the cop yelled, only to have it cut off as his throat opened like a second mouth, yawning wide and spraying the figure with blood. He fell to the ground, gurgling like a small fountain until he fell quiet. The figure, nude save for the blood, shut the door and barred it. She reached over and dragged the cop away before he could bleed out under the doorway. With him tossed into a corner she grabbed Greg’s wrists and pulled him into the furthest reaches of the rooms, one of the ones that hadn’t been touched even by the police. Greg moaned gently, head rocking on the floor. She caressed his face tenderly, smearing some of the cop’s blood on his cheek. She picked up a needle, small and almost amusing in its size, and jabbed him in the neck, silencing his groans. She watched idly as blood trickled down his temple and she touched it, licking some of the blood off her fingers as she quickly set to work on Wayne, who was lying curled up on his side. No time to waste.


Wayne woke to pain, sharp around his wrists and his neck. Something was tight around his throat making it hard to breathe. He shook his head and felt the tightness around his wrists get a little tighter. He coughed and rolled his head to look up. That’s why my hands are so cold, he thought mildly. The tightness on his throat got worse and he struggled to bring his head back upright. “Wayne, my handsome darling,” a bright female voice said from below and to the front of him. He looked down. “Welcome to the land of the soon-to-be-dead.” He blinked at her. “Sorry, I just couldn’t think of a good title for it, it’s not one of my jobs,” she said apologetically.

“What’s going on?” Wayne asked, his voice wheezy.

“Well, if you have to ask that, then I must not be doing something right!” she said, tapping her foot on a hydraulic peddle. Wayne realized in a panic that the hydraulic was connected to the only support keeping him from hanging.

“Wait! Wait!” he gurgled, and she brought the stool back up. He wheezed and spluttered, trying to loosen the wrist restraints that were slowly cutting into his skin. “I get it,” he coughed.

“Good, now let me explain what’s going to happen. You are trussed up in a special design of mine. First, your left wrist is looped, then your neck, then your other wrist,” she said. “A game of endurance,” her smile splitting her face, “so surely someone of your… physique should last a long time.” Wayne realized he was nude and suddenly felt very, very oily as her eyes traced over him. “The longer your hands stay level with your head, the easier it will be to breathe, simple as that,” she said, turning to sit in a chair.

Wayne felt panic trickle up into his chest when he saw Greg’s previously hidden, unconscious form. “Greg?” Wayne said quietly.

The woman turned to look down at the fallen man. “No fear, he’s still alive. Out like a light, that one. Shouldn’t have made the trip up to get you,” she said idly.

To get me? He still cared? Wayne wondered, then his face hardened as he turned to her. “If you harm a hair on his head-”

“Have a care young man. You’ll be long gone before you see what I have planned for him,” she spat, finally angry. She tapped the foot peddle and immediately Wayne felt his throat closing off. Spots swam before his eyes and he felt something warm trickling onto his chest. With all of his strength, he pulled on his wrists, putting all of his weight onto the thin line holding his wrists. He would have screamed as they cut into his wrists, save for the fact that the line hadn’t lessened enough to get a decent breath.

The woman watched in fascination, eyes wide as Wayne’s body strained to keep at least one foot on the stool she’d put on the hydraulic lift. Her fingers tapped out a small impatient tattoo on the arm of the chair.

Wayne’s vision was turning slowly black as white stars burst in his vision, lungs burning and muscles screaming. He didn’t know how much longer he’d last. She made his decision for him.

“You take too long Mr. Brady and I am on a tight schedule. Now say goodbye to Mr. Proops,” she said, rising from her chair. She kicked the stool out from under him, his wrists snapping up above him and strangling him with a slight gurgle. She looked at him curiously, his eyes bulging and weeping red tears. She looked down at Greg. “I wonder,” she said, looking back up at Wayne, “what would he do if he saw you?” she asked. Wayne couldn’t answer that question.


Greg’s eyes snapped open, and he instantly regretting it. His head threatened to explode as he leaned over and retched his guts out onto the carpet. He touched his head gingerly and felt blood drying in tacky patches. He moaned again, watching as the world tilted maliciously, forcing him to collapse again to the carpet. He really didn’t want to move, but he remembered…something…what was it? Someone had hit him. He remembered the cop, Dominik. Where was he? He looked about, where were his glasses? He squinted; finding them a little to his left and put them on. He blinked, his surroundings coming into a hazy focus as the pounding in his head became slightly less insistent and settled to an aching throb. He heard something and moved quietly to lay a little on his right. He saw Wayne and his mind slipped quietly into the abyss.

Wayne was nude, suspended by his wrists. Greg forgot that the probably killer was still here, he forgot everything except going to Wayne. Wayne, his beautiful, innocent, sweet angel. “Wayne? Baby? Please answer me…” he whispered, caressing the cool cheek. It felt unnaturally smooth against his hand. Wayne’s skin was a strange shade, a cold looking brown, not the warm, beautiful shade that had made his own skin stand out so vividly when the two were pressed together in the night. Wayne’s head was hanging at an odd angle, and Greg searched, finding the wire wrapped around his throat. It had cut into his skin, shortly supporting his weight before his neck had snapped and the wrists had been brought up to support the weight. Greg fell to his knees before him, eyes partially blinded by his tears, and wept, clinging to Wayne’s feet. He felt movement behind him, seizing a small knife that lay by a roll of wire and he turned, snarling. A woman, so small and delicate that it was absurd, stood silhouetted by the light behind her.

Greg’s hands begin to shake. “You did this?” he asked, voice surprisingly calm.

She nodded, tilting her head to one side and studying him with flat, cold eyes. They weren’t angry, they weren’t hateful, they just…were. “Yes, I killed him, I killed all of them.” Even her voice was flat, leaving him with a small river of fear sweat, greasy and cold, trailing down his back.

“Why?” he asked, touching Wayne’s swinging body with one hand, cradling it against him.

“So you could shine, so all of you could shine, instead of falling into darkness and disappearing, alone and without love,” she said.

Greg looked at her and felt ill… she had just said what he feared, what they all feared would happen eventually. It always did. You get a hit, complete with millions of fans, and in a few years you’re back on the casting couch begging for a job as an old has-been. He looked at Wayne, then at her, completely unarmed. He knew he could overpower her, maybe kill her or give her to the cops. But none of that seemed to matter anymore.

He gathered Wayne into his arms and cut the wires holding him. He staggered, sitting down and holding as much of Wayne as he could. He looked defiantly at the murderess, with her beautiful, flat eyes, blinking at her through his tears, and gripped the knife. Her eyes widened, turning silver as she realized what he was going to do a second before he plunged it into his heart. He gave a choked cough, then smiled, spitting a wad of blood at her before the light in his eyes faded.

She stared at them both before kneeling down next to them, studying Greg’s face. “Now this I did not foresee,” she said heavily. Then she smiled sadly, “You finally got what you wished for Greg,” she placed a kiss on Wayne’s brow, tenderly wrapping Greg’s arms more tightly around Wayne. She hummed a couple bars of a song, just some old tune that she’d heard a long time ago as she rose, cleaning off most of the blood and putting on her clothes.

She studied the rooms around her, about to be rendered useless by the storming police. She would need new accommodations to rest up for her big finale. She slipped out with a duffel bag just as the cops’ hit the first barricade, leaving through the dumbwaiter to her next customer, all the way humming the tune.

He blew his mind out in a car
He didn’t notice that the lights had changed…

Date: 2007-07-19 03:37 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] the-empressar.livejournal.com
That's what I figured...but it seemed too good to be true;) I was thinking complicated steps, 3-volume manuals....stick part a into slot b etc etc...Thanks my friend:)

Date: 2007-07-20 02:42 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] jujubee419.livejournal.com
You're welcome. Also, mind if I add you to my flist?

Date: 2007-07-20 02:44 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] the-empressar.livejournal.com
It would be an honor:)!! *bows happily*

Date: 2007-07-20 02:57 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] the-empressar.livejournal.com
YAY!!! THANKIES!!!:)

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