World of Night

Return to the Light


“Oh my God,” Marton muttered, rolling his eyes, “Not even halfway into the house and already…,” he shook his head, “Dom!” he yelled, hoping that the younger man would hear him over this abominable noise. His hopes were disappointed, though. Sighing he put the bags aside and closed the front door behind him. He really should go out more often; it would save him from Dominic for some time. The noise continued. Radiohead, Marton noticed grimacing. If only Dominic had some taste. What was wrong with Rachmaninov?

“Dominic!” He yelled again.
No answer.

“Dominic Bernard Patrick Luke Monaghan!” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Turn down this acoustical poison at once! Dominic!” angrily he stalked towards the living room, the source of the unrhythmical noise. It was always the same.

“Dominic.” he growled deep in his throat, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he stood in the doorway to the living room.

“Marton.” Dominic whirled around and then turned down the music, a guilty expression on his face, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were back… If I’d known, I’d…”

”Just try to be a bit more quiet, while I’m here,” Marton
growled, “What about lunch?”

“Well… I… um…”

“Never mind,” Marton snapped, stalking off towards the kitchen. As if he had not seen this coming. It was one of the few matters in which he could absolutely rely on Dominic. Somehow he never managed to get things done. David had always remembered to cook when Marton had had other things to do.
He sighed, anger evaporating as he pushed the unbidden memories of David away.

It had worked. He had been living in Karl’s house for almost three weeks now. Sometimes he did not know what amazed him more, that Dave had really kept his distance or that he had managed not to strangle Dominic. Both were miracles in their own right.
The shopping bags were still next to the door. So what? Let Dominic store the purchases for a change. It would do him good. And it served him right anyway.

Three weeks with Dominic and he had been going mad since the first evening. Not because he did not like Dominic but simply because the younger man was difficult to be with. The loud music whenever Marton did not complain every twelve hours or so was only one of the difficulties. Nutrition was another.
Growling and grumbling again, Marton stalked towards the refrigerator, knowing what he would find. The fridge would have run away if it had been able to. Everyone and everything capable of running/ flying/ swimming/ crawling away would have done that as fast as they could if they had been on the receiving end of Marton’s glare. As it was, the poor fridge had no choice but to open up.

“I knew it,” Marton muttered darkly, “Nothing but tofu, fruits and vegetables… damnit! I’m not some fucking rabbit!”

“Vegetables are good for your health.” Dominic said as he entered the kitchen, ignoring the death glare Marton was giving him, “And it’s good for your skin.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well you have to, if you want to eat something.”

”Where’s the steak I bought yesterday?”

“I got rid of it.”

“You did what?!?”

“I got rid of it,” Dominic repeated matter-of-factly, “You really shouldn’t eat so much red meat.”

“Why for fuck’s sake do I allow you to do most of the shopping and write the shopping list? You never want anything but rabbit-fodder!”

“Stop complaining,” Dominic ordered, quickly going to the table and emptying the two paper bags of groceries onto it after patting Marton’s backside.

“Hey!” Marton towered over Dominic.

“Oh, quit it.” the blond said, “No need to go all big bad Kiwi on me, I know you love it.”

“Oh yeah?” Marton’s voice had a dangerous edge, “Maybe I also like to torture insufferable people…”

“Snap out of it, Darky,” Dominic grinned, “You’re too busy hating yourself to really hurt anyone else apart from your snapping and grumbling.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marton quickly grabbed the one can of coke he had smuggled into the groceries from Dominic’s hands.

“You know.”

“Tell me.”

“You should know,” Dominic clarified.

“Just fucking tell me, Dom. I’m not in the mood for your little mind-games.”

“You’re always grumpy.” Marton would not have been surprised if Dominic had started to pout.

“Everyone’s allowed to be grumpy from time to time.” Marton grit through clenched teeth.

“Sure,” Dominic nodded, “It’s just that you’re not grumpy from time to time, you’ve been grumpy the last three weeks. Non-stop.”
Marton tried to glare Dominic into silence.

“And I’m beginning to think I know why you are like that…” Dominic continued, conveniently ignoring the fact that Marton’s gaze was promising him a very slow and painful death if he said something – anything – wrong, “I think you’re a disgusting old grump because you’re angry with yourself, because you’re still afraid of talking or even seeing David.”

“Dominic Bernard Patrick Luke Monaghan!” Marton hissed as he leaned over his co-habitant, “ If I did not know that it’s impossible to get rid of a body down here, I would kill you.”

Dominic nodded seriously. “Of course. Fortunately you do know that and admit it or not, Darky, you’ve become fond of the rabbit-fodder I prepare.”

Marton stared after Dominic.

“I have not!” he yelled finally, but the only answer he got was the next radiohead song. Only that it was at a moderate noise level this time. Shaking his head Marton went through the heap of groceries on the table till he found what he had been looking for.
“Rabbit-fodder,” he grumbled as he left the kitchen, biting into a carrot, with the can of coke safely in the pockets of his jeans, “Good for your health, ha! Rabbit-fodder.”


~***~


“Marton!” the Kiwi groaned, scowling at the TV for some minutes before he answered. “Yes?

“Good news.”

“Dom…”

“No, please listen to me!” Dominic sat down on the sofa, fidgeting as he faced Marton. “You can’t hole yourself up in here with your videos forever.”

Marton sighed. “Maybe I like to hole myself up. And maybe I have a very good reason to.”

”Bullshit!” Dominic’s eyes sparkled.

“So what news?”

“I’ve got my self lined up for a job!” Dominic announced, almost bursting with excitement, “And…” he grinned mischievously.

“And what?”

“Orl and Eric invited us over.”

“Orl?”

“Orlando,” Dominic said as though that explained everything, “The guy we met last week. The one with the hunter friend?”

“Eric?”

“Exactly!” Dominic almost bounced up and down, “I’ve been spending quite some time with them lately and they wanted to meet you again.”

“I would not want to impose on them,” Marton said slowly, fearing that the invitation was rather of Dominic’s doing than of Eric’s and Orlando’s.

“Just for once, Marton, please.” Dominic tried his best hurt—and-abandoned-puppy look. “They’re curious who I’m living with and they really liked you.”

”I don’t know, I…”

“For fuck’s sake, Marton!” slender fingers ran through blond hair, “It’s no big deal to go out once in a while! I know you liked them, so what’s the problem? Dave isn’t lurking in front of the house to jump you as soon as you go outside! Stop being a sissy!”

“I’m not!” Marton jumped up, pacing restlessly through the room, “And I’m not afraid of David, I’m just not good at getting to know people, it’s awkward.”

“You were alright with getting to know me,” Dominic observed, “And you didn’t have any problems when I dragged you to that pub last week.”

“That was different!”

“Why?”

“Jeez, Dom, can’t you just let me be?”

“No.”

“No?” Marton repeated incredulously, staring at Dominic with wide brown eyes.

“No.” Dominic said again. “And do you want to know why, Darky?”

Marton scowled at the nickname Dominic had given him.

“Because for some odd reason I like you old geezer, don’t glare, you’re six years my senior.”

“But..”

“No buts,” Dominic decreed, “For some even odder reason I care about you and I promised them you would come.”

Shaking his head, Marton stare at Dominic, trying to make out some sense in what the younger man was saying. For a while Dominic tolerated the scrutiny.

“So?” he finally asked.

“So what?” Marton was thoroughly confused now.

“So will you come?”

For a few long minutes Marton continued to stare at the younger man.

“Please Marton? It’s just a quiet evening at home with two guys you actually seemed to like. You got on well enough with Eric, it won’t hurt you, you know?”


”Ok.”
“And anyway, it’s not good if… what?”

“I said okay,” Marton repeated.

“You’re coming, you’re really coming?”

“Yes.” Marton said again, already fearing that he might live to rue this decision.

“Great!”

Startled Marton stared at the man hugging him, slowly shaking his head. He could not believe it.


~***~


Marton shifted from one foot to the other as they stood in front of a small, semi-detached house in the middle of the town.

“Relax.” Dominic grinned, squeezing Marton’s hand encouragingly, “You already know they won’t bite.”

Marton scowled. “Nice area,” he said.

“Yeah.” Quietly they waited for the door to open.

“Ah, finally,” was the first thing Eric said as he let them in, hugging Dominic and shaking Marton’s hand, “Your timing’s perfect, dinner’s just ready.”

Marton nodded, stepping inside and waiting for Eric while Dominic already disappeared into the house. “Nice to see you again,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” Eric replied, “It’s good to have a brother-in –suffering.”

“Marton’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. Eric laughed softly.
“Orlando seems to be turning Dom into a vegetarian,” he explained, “How do you like it?”

“Rabbit-fodder,” Marton grumbled.

“Yeah, but it’s good for your health and your skin,” Eric said, imitating both Dominic and Orlando perfectly.

“What’s so funny?” Dominic reappeared, glaring at Marton, who was laughing almost maniacally.

“Nothing,” the Kiwi gasped, throwing a quick glance at Eric, “he just mentioned something I know only too well.”

“Care to share the joke?” Dom glared at them through narrowed eyes.

“No!” Marton and Eric chorused. Dominic looked speculatively at them.

“Dinner!” Orlando called from the kitchen, saving Marton and Eric from more uncomfortable questions.

“So what’s for dinner?” Marton asked, keeping his tone light.
Eric shrugged. “I don’t know, I haven’t been allowed inside the kitchen the whole afternoon.”

”And with good reason,” Orlando countered, stepping into the corridor and nodding at Marton in greeting, hands on his hips as he turned to glare at Eric.

“You know love,” Eric teased, “That apron totally spoils the effect.”

“Wanker,” Orlando muttered affectionately, “You won’t be getting any tonight.”

“I hope you mean dinner.” Eric grinned.

“Fucking wanker.” Orlando grumbled, “And don’t you grin that way!” he snapped playfully at Dominic.

“Me?” Dominic’s voice was pure indignant outrage, “I never grin! Marton over there, he’s grinning, but I? Never!”

“Um.. shouldn’t we eat before the food gets cold?” Marton offered, “I’m sure it’ll be delicious.”

Eric could only wonder how Orlando’s grin managed to brighten the whole room.


~***~


Three hours later they sat in the living room in front of a nice and cozy fire. Dominic and Marton were sitting on a rather mousish looking green-brown sofa and Eric and Orlando were sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, facing their two visitors.
Marton’s heart contracted painfully for just a second as he watched the two. Eric and Orlando were so entangled that it would have been impossible to tell them apart if they had not worn jeans of different colours – Eric’s were black, Orlando’s a light blue. With every other couple Marton would have thought it a bit too much that Eric was wearing a light blue shirt and Orlando a black T-shirt but somehow this choice of clothing seemed to suit the two lovers without looking funny or sappy.

“We’ve got some organic beer,” Orlando offered, wanting to fill the lull in conversation, “Eric got it yesterday.”

Marton could not help but stare. “Organic beer? There really is such a thing as organic beer?”

“Of course,” Orlando huffed, “We get all our stuff from the organic store. And it tastes better, too. Once you’ve tried it, you’ll never want to drink any other beer again."

Somehow Marton did nor look very convinced, but Dominic was nodding enthusiastically.
“He’s right,” the blond announced, “I’ll get it. I need to make a quick stop at the little boy’s anyway.”

“Take care not to fall in,” Eric teased, earning a glare from both Orlando and Dominic, “We might miss you.”

As soon as Dominic was gone Orlando playfully whacked Eric on the head. “So you dare to miss other people while I’m still around?” he pouted.

“But love,” Eric protested, “You know I’d never miss anyone the way I miss you.”

Marton grinned, grabbing a can of coke as he watched the two bicker. Orlando may have turned Dominic into a veggie but at least the bouncy Brit tolerated coke in his house. And his tofu with rice and a peach sauce had been truly delicious.

“What?” he asked as he noticed that Orlando and Eric had stopped their bickering and were both looking at him.

“Nothing,” Orlando grinned sheepishly, “You just looked so lost in thought that we wondered what you were thinking of.”

“Nothing special,” Marton’s smile was a little sad.

“We wondered,” Orlando said suddenly, “How you and Dom came to live with each other. He never said anything about the two of you being lovers and you don’t act that way either.”

“We aren’t.” Marton said firmly, “It’s a bit complicated.”

Eric nodded. “So how did you two meet? I’ve never seen you around before last week.”

“We’ve only been here three weeks. Originally we’re both from the surface.”

“You’re both from up there?” Orlando virtually bristled with excitement, “How did you end up down here?”

“Well, I found out that my lover was one of your… agents… when an elite police unit lifted our house one morning. Somehow he had built a portal in his study without me noticing it and we had to take the only route of escape that was left.”

Silence.
“So where’s your lover now?” Orlando asked finally.

“We split up.”

“Oh.” More silence.

“I’ve got the beer!” Dominic announced proudly as he returned, two bottles of beer in each hand, “What were you talking about while I was gone?” he kicked his shoes of and sat cross-legged on the sofa, gazing expectantly at the others.

“Marton just told us how he came to end up in our little Nightworld,” Orlando grinned settling down between Eric’s thighs with his back resting at the other man’s chest. Instantly Eric folded his arms around Orlando, drawing the other man closer. “So what’s your story?”

“I don’t really remember much of what happened,” Dominic admitted, “I was waiting for the subway and then some soldiers or so came in and started shooting at the men who were waiting with me, only that they turned out to be ghouls and…” Dominic paused, frowning, “And then everything went kind of black and the next thing I remember is waking up down here with Karl hovering over me.”

“Karl?”

“Karl Urban, it’s his house we’re living in. He’s the one who brought me down here. I wasn’t supposed to witness the fight.” Orlando just nodded solemnly.

“Urban?” Eric asked, a strange tone in his voice, “Karl Urban as in u, r, b, a, n?”

“Yes,” Dominic nodded, confusion clouding his storm-grey eyes, “Do you know him?”

“I thought he was dead,” Eric mumbled, gazing off into the distance, “I knew him, way back when we were children, Before.. things… happened. I didn’t know he was alive…”

“So you’re from NZ, too?” Marton asked, “I never noticed you.”

Eric shook his head. “No, I’m from Australia, but the Nightworld cities in NZ and Australia were connected. Before we had to close the tunnel.”

“But why?” Marton frowned, “I don’t understand. Wouldn’t it have been better to keep the connecting tunnel opened?”

“The NZ settlement was attacked, the elders were afraid that the attackers might use the tunnel to kill us also.”

“Who?” Dominic’s voice was breathless.

“The Tatzels.”

“The what?” Three sets of eyes stared at Eric.

“The Tatzels. We call them that because they’re some new mutation or hybrid form of the original Tatzelworms.”

“Worms?” Dominic asked, his stomach almost turning, “Big, grey-white things, big as an omnibus, big black eyes and three rows of big, sharp, rotten teeth?”

“I’ve never seen one,” Eric nodded, “But that’s what they’re said to look like. How do you know?”

Dominic shifted uncomfortably, taking a long gulp from his beer bottle, “I almost had a run-in with one…”

“You saw one?” Eric almost yelped, “Where? Here in the city?”

“No, down on the lost stairs, the tunnels behind them…”

Orlando gaped. “What were you doing on the lost stairs? It’s forbidden!”

“Trying to escape,” Dominic admitted.

“You were damned lucky to survive!”

“I know,” he nodded earnestly, “Karl, Harry and Craig saved me.”

“You were more than lucky,” Eric said after a while, absentmindedly running his fingers through Orlando’s hair, “These worms killed almost everyone from the NZ Nightworld.”

“So there are cities like this in every country?” Marton asked curiously, tearing his gaze away from Orlando’s and Eric’s obvious happiness.

“No.” this time Orlando answered, “Not any more. As Eric said, certain… things… happened… that’s why people from so many different nationalities live here. They’re all refugees.”
They fell silent, none of them knowing what to day to this.


~***~


It was almost three a.m. as they finally arrived home, Marton leaning rather heavily on the smothered Dominic’s arm in spite of their difference in height.”

“See?” Dominic said smugly as he deposited the somewhat sleepy Marton on the sofa in the living room, “I told you they were nice and admit it, you liked them too.”

“Yeah…” mumbled Marton with a yawn, “The beer was great. Eric too.”

Dominic snorted.

“TV?” Marton yawned again, “Don’t wanna sleep yet and news’d be nice…”

“If you promise to go to bed afterwards.”

“Whatever you say mum. Am tired anyway.”

Dominic shook his head. He could not stop grinning. He had never seen Marton drunk before but he had decided hours ago that the Kiwi was a cute drunk. A very cute.

Dominic switched on the TV, surprised to actually find a channel with news. One could always rely on the BBC. The Nightworld people did not have their own TV stations and so it was somewhat difficult to receive any channels at all. It was the only connection to the surface they had left.

Dominic settled next to Marton on the sofa, surprised as the older ma drifted towards him, wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his head in Dominic’s lap.

“Dom?” he asked, “I know I’m drunk and I’m talking shit and you’ve turned fucking veggie on me, but I like you. I mean, I really do.”

“Um… I like you, too.” Dominic said after a moment of shock, unsuccessfully trying to free himself from the older man’s arms. “Marton?” he asked.

Soft snoring was his only answer.

“Great,” he muttered. The Kiwi had fallen asleep on him. Sighing he tried to get as comfortable as possible without waking the older man, which was not exactly very comfortable. Only seconds later al thoughts of freeing himself vanished as something on TV caught his attention.

Aghast he stared at the reporter on the screen and then at the smoking ruins behind the reporter that had once been a house.


~***~


Marton did not know what had woken him first, the subdued yelling or the sound of someone rummaging through cupboards and wardrobes. Frowning he got up, deciding that he had not slept nearly long enough and that no matter what time it was, it was way to early for such a disturbance.

“Dominic?” he called, relieved to find that his head was not pounding but with his frown deepening as he noticed that there were other voices beside Dominic’s, who seemed to be arguing. Whether with each other or Dominic he could not say.
Shock stopped him for a few seconds. He knew one of these voices. Very well in fact. David.
Slowly he walked towards the commotion, his face ghastly pale. The sight that greeted him was perfect chaos.

“Get your things, Marton,” Dominic said slowly, “We’re going back to the surface.”