Still fighting
Sommerchallenge-Prompt: Orte - Gummizelle - fürs Team
Fandom: Boston Legal
Genre: friendship/love, some humor, mild h/c
Handlung: Night terrors in the middle oft he day produce some serious side effects.
A/N: My medical knowledge is zero.
Länge: ~ 900 Wörter
Zeit: ~ 100 Minuten
***
There was only a faint memory of panic when he woke up. Or rather: Regained consciousness? Usually, when he woke up after an episode of night terrors he was in his bed or somewhere in his room and he had more specific memories of voices and trying to run awy. This time all there was was a memory of panic and quite a lot of disorientation.
This wasn’t his room.
He tried to get up but stumbled and fell against a wall. Or was it a cushion? He felt the wall and the floor around him-everything was kind of soft and squishy and for a moment he feared that he had finally lost his mind. But then the penny dropped: He was in a padded cell. Warm and dry and bright but not too bright. A kind of unobstrusive light. A place built to make you feel safe and yet he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck bristle.
This was not good, not good at all.
The last thing that he remembered was how tired he’d been. There had been several nights in a row where he’d either been awake to avoid the night terrors or had been woken by one of them. He’d gone out for lunch and then he’d taken a short walk trough the park to get rid of the restlessness that came with being exhausted from lack of sleep. There was a bench and he’d sat down and then … nothing.
„I’m not crazy.“ He used his normal voice because he was sure someone had to be watching him. „My name’s Alan Shore and I’m as sane as anyone. I guess I fell asleep during the day and acted out because of a night terror.“
No reaction.
„If you’re a doctor you must know the symptoms.“
Still no answer.
„You have no right to keep me here against my will! I’m sure you know that. I know because I'm a solicitor at Crane, Poole and Schmidt, and let me tell you that this is going to be very unpleasant for you if you don't release me immediately.“
The world around him remained silent.
Now was probably not the right time to mention his claustrophobic tendencies. Alan closed his eyes again and tried to calm his breathing. He didn’t want anyone out there questioning his sanity any more than they already were. Maybe this was just the right time to get some rest. He tried to think of something comforting, but all he could come up with was Denny. Which wasn’t the best choice, because it reminded him of their last fight and the reason for his sleeplessness. Damn the man, if he wasn’t such a stubborn bastard none of this would have happened.
„Mr Shore?“
„Yes?“
„How are you feeling?“
„I have to tell you, locking me in an empty room and speaking to me through a loudspeaker is not the way to make me feel good“, he replied sharply. „Release me at once.“
„There‘s someone here to …“ - „Denny Crane“ - „… see you.“
It was a bit silly how relieved he was to hear Denny’s voice, especially when he heard him declaring that Alan was as sane as he was. And then a door which he hadn’t seen before behind all that padding opened and Denny appeared.
„I let you out of my sight for a few days and you run amok.“
„Very funny.“ He had to stop himself from hugging the other. After all, they were still fighting. „I hope you explained everything.“
Denny gave a little wave. „I’m Denny Crane.“
Alan sighed. „So … may I go?“
Denny nodded. „They‘re releasing you into my custody.“
„Into your …“
„As next of kin.“
„Next of kin.“ If he ever felt dumbfounded, it was now.
„Come on, let’s get out of here.“ Denny took his hand and he wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. Whatever Denny had pulled of, it had worked. And he had no desire to stay here any longer.
***
„So.“ Two glasses of whiskey and one cigar later he decided to ask at last. „How did you do it?“
„Get you out of the loony bin?“ Denny took another puff on his cigar. „I told them you were my fiancé and that we'd be married if they'd only let us, and then I asked that liberal wimp if he wanted to discriminate against us just because of our orientation.“
„You …“
„It was the quickest way to get you out.“ Denny glared at him. „And you won’t tell anyone about this.“
He contemplated the half-empty glass in his hand. „I won’t.“
„So.“ Denny put his glass down. „Your place or mine?“
„Are we done fighting?“
„We‘re not.“ Denny puffed out his chest. „But fighting or not, I*m not going to let you sleep alone again. Can’t have you running amok in the middle of the day, in the middle oft he city. We gotta think about the reputation of Crane, Poole and Schmidt.“
„Ah.“ He had to blink to keep a rather embarrassing tear from falling. „The reputation of the firm. You’re right. That is very important.“
* Fin *
Fandom: Boston Legal
Genre: friendship/love, some humor, mild h/c
Handlung: Night terrors in the middle oft he day produce some serious side effects.
A/N: My medical knowledge is zero.
Länge: ~ 900 Wörter
Zeit: ~ 100 Minuten
***
There was only a faint memory of panic when he woke up. Or rather: Regained consciousness? Usually, when he woke up after an episode of night terrors he was in his bed or somewhere in his room and he had more specific memories of voices and trying to run awy. This time all there was was a memory of panic and quite a lot of disorientation.
This wasn’t his room.
He tried to get up but stumbled and fell against a wall. Or was it a cushion? He felt the wall and the floor around him-everything was kind of soft and squishy and for a moment he feared that he had finally lost his mind. But then the penny dropped: He was in a padded cell. Warm and dry and bright but not too bright. A kind of unobstrusive light. A place built to make you feel safe and yet he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck bristle.
This was not good, not good at all.
The last thing that he remembered was how tired he’d been. There had been several nights in a row where he’d either been awake to avoid the night terrors or had been woken by one of them. He’d gone out for lunch and then he’d taken a short walk trough the park to get rid of the restlessness that came with being exhausted from lack of sleep. There was a bench and he’d sat down and then … nothing.
„I’m not crazy.“ He used his normal voice because he was sure someone had to be watching him. „My name’s Alan Shore and I’m as sane as anyone. I guess I fell asleep during the day and acted out because of a night terror.“
No reaction.
„If you’re a doctor you must know the symptoms.“
Still no answer.
„You have no right to keep me here against my will! I’m sure you know that. I know because I'm a solicitor at Crane, Poole and Schmidt, and let me tell you that this is going to be very unpleasant for you if you don't release me immediately.“
The world around him remained silent.
Now was probably not the right time to mention his claustrophobic tendencies. Alan closed his eyes again and tried to calm his breathing. He didn’t want anyone out there questioning his sanity any more than they already were. Maybe this was just the right time to get some rest. He tried to think of something comforting, but all he could come up with was Denny. Which wasn’t the best choice, because it reminded him of their last fight and the reason for his sleeplessness. Damn the man, if he wasn’t such a stubborn bastard none of this would have happened.
„Mr Shore?“
„Yes?“
„How are you feeling?“
„I have to tell you, locking me in an empty room and speaking to me through a loudspeaker is not the way to make me feel good“, he replied sharply. „Release me at once.“
„There‘s someone here to …“ - „Denny Crane“ - „… see you.“
It was a bit silly how relieved he was to hear Denny’s voice, especially when he heard him declaring that Alan was as sane as he was. And then a door which he hadn’t seen before behind all that padding opened and Denny appeared.
„I let you out of my sight for a few days and you run amok.“
„Very funny.“ He had to stop himself from hugging the other. After all, they were still fighting. „I hope you explained everything.“
Denny gave a little wave. „I’m Denny Crane.“
Alan sighed. „So … may I go?“
Denny nodded. „They‘re releasing you into my custody.“
„Into your …“
„As next of kin.“
„Next of kin.“ If he ever felt dumbfounded, it was now.
„Come on, let’s get out of here.“ Denny took his hand and he wisely decided to keep his mouth shut. Whatever Denny had pulled of, it had worked. And he had no desire to stay here any longer.
***
„So.“ Two glasses of whiskey and one cigar later he decided to ask at last. „How did you do it?“
„Get you out of the loony bin?“ Denny took another puff on his cigar. „I told them you were my fiancé and that we'd be married if they'd only let us, and then I asked that liberal wimp if he wanted to discriminate against us just because of our orientation.“
„You …“
„It was the quickest way to get you out.“ Denny glared at him. „And you won’t tell anyone about this.“
He contemplated the half-empty glass in his hand. „I won’t.“
„So.“ Denny put his glass down. „Your place or mine?“
„Are we done fighting?“
„We‘re not.“ Denny puffed out his chest. „But fighting or not, I*m not going to let you sleep alone again. Can’t have you running amok in the middle of the day, in the middle oft he city. We gotta think about the reputation of Crane, Poole and Schmidt.“
„Ah.“ He had to blink to keep a rather embarrassing tear from falling. „The reputation of the firm. You’re right. That is very important.“
* Fin *