Title: Unsung
By: Caroline Crane
Pairing: Speed/Tyler
Rating: PG

Somewhere in the building someone was listening to American Beauty. He could hear it from the hallway, and for a second he froze, fingers curled into tight fists at his sides. It took a full minute before he forced himself forward, one foot in front of the other until he was in the trace lab, glass door closing behind him to shut out the sound.

He told himself it was better than the constant stream of Christmas music he'd been hearing lately. It was a good album, and it had been long enough now that it shouldn't make his chest ache and his throat close up just to hear the opening strains of "Sugar Magnolia". But there was that weight, right at the center of his chest, real and heavy and pressing down no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, and suddenly he wasn't in Miami anymore.

He shivered against imaginary cold, and he knew if he closed his eyes he'd see snow out of brightly lit windows and a huge, roaring fire in one of those picturesque scenes from a brochure for every ski lodge in New Hampshire. He'd see his best friend, laughing and happy and still alive, just a few hours before both their worlds came crashing down. So he didn't shut his eyes, because he didn't want to see that, didn't want to remember that morning and spend the rest of the day wondering what he could have done to make things different.

It wasn't worth thinking about, because chances were that even if the accident had never happened, they wouldn't be together anymore. People had a bad habit of changing, after all, and college and life would have taken its toll on them the way it did to everyone else. But that didn't make it any easier, because even if they weren't together anymore at least they'd still be alive -- one of them walking and talking and breathing, and the other doing something besides going through the motions.

He knew exactly why this was happening. He felt guilty, guilty for having a good time with someone he never should have gone out with in the first place. Because he'd known he'd have a good time with Tyler, known exactly how well they'd get along and known that Tyler could make him laugh. And he knew he shouldn't feel guilty, that nobody would want him to put his whole life on hold just because he had the bad luck to walk away from a freak snowmobile accident unscathed. He knew that, but there was a part of him that would always feel guilty all the same.

And it was stupid, because they'd only been out a couple times. It wasn't serious -- it was just two guys getting to know each other, two consenting adults having a good time. It didn't mean anything that he was shaving regularly for the first time in a long time. That was common courtesy, and after their first-morning-after brush with Calleigh it was just a matter of self-preservation. But Speed couldn't help feeling guilty about even the smallest changes in his routine, about the fact that he smiled more easily when Tyler was around, or the fact that he looked forward to any excuse to go to the A/V lab in the middle of the day.

He couldn't even hear the music anymore, but it was still playing in his head as though he could, "Operator" shifting flawlessly into "Candyman", and it just figured that he'd still have the whole thing memorized even all these years later. He couldn't count the number of times he'd laughed at an unexplainable obsession with an album that came out before either of them were born, or the irony of getting high while they listened to the Grateful Dead.

If he breathed hard enough he knew he'd smell the traces of pot he hadn't touched in years, and he'd be able to hear that laugh, to recall one of a million corny jokes that weren't funny, but always made him laugh anyway.

The weight on his chest pressed down even harder and he let go of the fiber samples he was supposed to be analyzing, gripping the side of the lab station hard and closing his eyes to try to shut out the soundtrack playing in his head. And he was going to find out who the Dead fan was and break their CD if he had to, just so he'd never have to hear that damn album again.

He didn't hear the door opening behind him, but when he heard shoes squeaking on the polished floors of the lab he forced his eyes open and swallowed hard against the flood of memories that stubbornly refused to dissipate. When he looked up he found Tyler watching him, his features frozen in a crooked half smile, as though he'd been about to make a joke and forgotten it.

"Hey," Speed said, telling himself the gruffness in his voice was just his imagination.

"Everything okay?" Tyler asked, and Speed knew he wasn't fooling anybody.

"Yeah, fine," he lied. "What brings you all the way over here?"

He could tell Tyler didn't believe him, but it was hard to focus on a convincing lie when he was trying not to hum along to "Ripple". The last thing he wanted to do was explain to his new...boyfriend? Friend? He wasn't even sure what they were to each other, but whatever they were, he didn't want to explain to Tyler why hearing the Grateful Dead made him want to throw up.

"I'm about to go on break, thought I'd see if you wanted to grab something to eat."

Speed swallowed a sigh and looked down at the work spread out on his lab station. It wasn't anything that couldn't wait, but he knew he'd be lousy company, and he didn't want to run the risk of Tyler badgering him about whatever he thought was bothering Speed.

"I should probably get caught up on this stuff," he finally answered, forcing himself to meet Tyler's steady gaze long enough to flash an apologetic look in his direction.

"Half an hour," Tyler countered, and when he smiled hopefully Speed knew he wasn't going to give up. He had a feeling Tyler was just trying to get him out of the lab so he could distract Speed from brooding, but he'd seen that look before and he knew it was no use trying to resist. "Come on, don't make me eat alone."

And he knew when he was being played, but for some reason he always let Tyler get away with it. He let out a resigned sigh and slid his lab coat off, dropping it on the stool next to his lab station before he turned to the other man. "Okay. Half an hour."

"That's all I ask." Tyler grinned and gestured dramatically toward the door, and Speed rolled his eyes as he led the other man out of the lab. When he paused to pull the door open he felt a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly before it disappeared again. The weight on his chest was still there, but when he glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of that smile it didn't seem so heavy anymore.