I need some sleep/It can't go on like this
Characters: Vimes (stonyfaced) and Genius (man-genius
Date/Time: BACKDATED to April 26th, early morning
Location: The Bazaar
Rating: PG-13 for presumed mention of both Genius' and Vimes' grisly dreams
Summary: Vimes gives up on sleep after having two nightmares and decides to walk around, whereas Genius goes out for some comforting starches. Cue an early morning ( Read more... )
Date/Time: BACKDATED to April 26th, early morning
Location: The Bazaar
Rating: PG-13 for presumed mention of both Genius' and Vimes' grisly dreams
Summary: Vimes gives up on sleep after having two nightmares and decides to walk around, whereas Genius goes out for some comforting starches. Cue an early morning ( Read more... )
To anyone else, Genius' dream would have come off as disturbing, even horrifying. To him? It was one of his milder dreams. For one thing, it had the grace to be one of his lucid dreams, where he could subtly alter the landscape to some extent. It wasn't a night terror, a dream where he's utterly lost within the dreamscape, one where there is more than undead friends talking to him or dissected pets. It could have been a lot worse.
But being familiar with nightmares didn't mean he wasn't afraid. Because every time was still just real enough and every time he woke up it meant another day of sleep deprivation and depression. Sure he'd tried to go back to sleep. He'd even gone so far as to drink some of the herbal tea that Calkins had recommended for his troubled sleep--it was too close to morning for him to take one of his pills. But the tea had only knocked him back into another nightmare--this time one that wasn't his own. He'd figured that one out pretty quickly. When he dreamed about werewolves, zombies, and vampires, they didn't tend to talk to him with any deference. In fact they didn't talk to him at all while they ate him alive.
He'd had Stoneface--Sam Vimes--dream and in some ways it was more disturbing than his own dream. He was well acquainted with his own demons. But watching another person's messed up psyche unfold in front of him? That was just wrong, even more because Genius respected Vimes tremendously and watching his fears unfold felt like a violation. Dirty. Wrong.
The first part of the dream had been decent enough, confusing but interesting. It was made of so many fantasy elements that Genius wasn't sure if it didn't reflect a creative side to Vimes. Was he a secret nerd or was his world really that strange and full of nonsense? It was hard to say. Of course everything became twisted the moment Vimes descended into the Sphere. No. Not the Sphere; the underworld, the forgotten world. God what a horrible thought, that the missing were trapped in some sort of purgatory. It was enough to wish for them to be dead if this was the other option. It wasn't something Genius had let himself dwell on. He didn't dare. He was already teetering on the edge as is.
The man in Vimes' dream, Ghost. Genius recognized him of course. They had met when they had been trapped on the fourth floor, along with the kid, Apple. He'd forgotten that the other man had disappeared. He had a vague recollection that the man had a little sister--was she the kid that Vimes had taken care of briefly? He didn't remember. Why did everyone who disappear just fade from people's memories? They were obviously important people to Vimes. Would that happen to him if he disappeared? So easily forgotten by everyone, except maybe his closest friends?
Of course it would, and therein lay the most terrifying thing of Vimes dream. That the ones they'd lost were truly lost, all the while they sat around bemoaning the fact that they were still alive. How utterly depressing. Genius couldn't sleep again after that dream.
So now he was wandering in the Bazaar, alone with his nihilistic thoughts. He hadn't bothered to shave, he'd barely managed to put on a new shirt and one of his shoes were untied and dragging on the floor, like a metaphor for his life. All he wanted was a cup of coffee and to be left alone.
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He put some coins down on the table and nodded at the man who manned the booth. "The usual for me, except make it stronger," he said, then jerked his thumb in Genius' direction. "Get a coffee for him too, but I figure he'll like it less strong than I do."
Upon his second glance, Genius really did look like hell, but then again, so did he. There was a reason he kept a washbasin and a cut-throat razor in his office other than the fact that people tended to think twice before threatening his position when they noticed it lying on his desk.
He carefully fashioned his expression to one of ease, then called out, "If you're looking for coffee, Genius, this is the only place you'll find serving it at this hour." He patted the counter. "And I got one for you, 'cos all anyone ever wants at this hour is coffee."
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"Gah! Oh." It took a moment for his brain to kick in. "...Thanks." He shuffled over to the counter, one hand scrubbing furiously as his eyes to wake himself up. Coffee. He wasn't really much of a coffee man, but he drank it out of sheer necessity. Not even a can of Jolt could wake him up the way coffee did, even if he did have to drown it in sugar and cream first.
He really didn't know what else to say, knowing that there was a very strong chance this man knew the reason why he was up so early. This was exactly the opposite of what he wanted to do this morning, damnit. But he was beyond railing against the unfairness of fate and simply accepted the inevitable with a quiet sip.
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People here tended to like good food, he noted. It was practically an art of his to find the foulest eateries in existence in order for him to get his customary breakfast of blackened bacon and rubbery eggs. Then again, Genius didn't seem like the sort of man to appreciate those yogurt-parfait things Brianna had pointed out to him once.
He took a seat on one of the flimsy plastic chairs that were set out for early morning customers each night and regarded Genius solemnly, trying to gauge the situation. First of all, to see whether this nightmare was a regular occasion that Genius managed to ride out in the privacy of his own home, or if he was unsettled enough to strike out into the Bazaar to clear his head. He wasn't quite sure how Genius worked, but he had a feeling that he was more comfortable in his own home than on the streets. He had a certain soft quality to him that rather suggested it.
"Got an early shift today?" He questioned, then took a gulp of the scalding coffee.
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Genius did NOT appreciate Yogurt Parfait things. He preferred his breakfasts sugary and/or dripping with fat, depending on his mood. Chocolate Chip Pancakes if he was happy. Eggs, bacon and tater tots for his off days. He didn't do 'good for you' food which made him being a doctor all the more hilarious.
On the whole, Genius was unaware of the scrutiny, because was too busy putting coffee in his sugar. He was also trying to deny the hell out of the conversation he was pretty sure they were going to have. So when Vimes finally asked him a question, he debated lying and making excuses to wander off. But that, required having the energy to lie. He wasn't a natural liar. It took effort. Effort he did not have.
"Couldn't sleep," he finally admitted with a sigh. "'Nd didn't want to wake Rick up pacing the halls or something."
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He lit a cigar and blew his customary first smoke ring of the day. That was the stuff. Years ago, after a night like that, he probably would have reached for the hair of the dog instead. only it wouldn't be called hair of the dog on account of the fact that he wouldn't have stopped drinking long enough to get a hangover.
This was a situation that needed delicate handling. Right. Delicate. He could do delicate.
"He might have already been awake if he had the same dream you did."
All right, all right, so maybe he wasn't entirely capable of being delicate at this hour, in this mindset.
"I'm not about to get on your back for it," he amended. "Everyone's got nightmares. But someone else might."
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He was always vaguely surprised when someone started smoking around him. Smoking a cigar seemed like such an old man, antiquated thing to Genius. Maybe he just wasn't used to smokers. Still, he wasn't in the mood to joke or comment on it. Everyone needed their vices in the morning.
Unfortunately for Genius, he was in mid sip of his own vice when Vimes dropped the Dream Bomb on him. He had to spit his coffee back into his cup to keep from inhaling it. "S--smooth," he rasped. "Real smooth." And people said he was socially inept.
He put his cup back on the cheep plastic table and gave his face another vigorous scrub, more out of frustration than anything else. "Of course you saw that. Of course it got broadcasted. I don't even--I saw your dream too." Might as well throw that back at the old man. "At least your dream made sense. As messed up as it was."
There was visible tension coming from the young man, but no obvious panic. Or anger. He was at a point of emotional and mental exhaustion and it wasn't like it hadn't happened before. Nothing was sacred.
"Sorry about your friend," Genius said as an afterthought. Shouldn't he feel something right now? Beyond an early morning headache?
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More coffee. Right. He really didn't want to have a conversation like this half-asleep, though neither did Genius. There was something about the brink between the night and the day that made people honest, Vimes found. Those unused to these hours tended to regard it as a special sort of time, where nothing felt quite real. Even as one used to these hours, Vimes could understand. There was something about these misty hours that felt somehow detached from the regularities of the day and the nighttime.
He wasn't quite able to keep the grimace off his face when Genius admitted to having his dream. "Damn," he muttered, and carefully looked off to the side to tap some of the burnt cigar off the end. "I hoped that no one saw that one, but you were probably hoping the same thing."
He waved off Genius' apologies. "It's fine," he said, though it wasn't fine, someone disappearing could never be fine, should never be fine. "It happens to everyone here, especially if they've been here as long as I have."
He wanted to ask if Genius had went to talk to someone, he really did, but he had already slipped up once. He'd wait for a proper segue, he decided.
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He felt a little guilty when the older man's face twisted up at hearing about his dream. "Pretty much." He looked into his coffee. "It's clearly not fine so don't bother trying. I met that guy in your dream. But I never met his sister. I...it's good to see that you remember them."
Remember Me. Even months later, Evil Ben's dying command to Genius still echoed in his mind. Remember the forgotten. Sear them into your mind and only there, for no where else is safe. He probably understood Vimes' dream better than anyone would think.
He really didn't know what to do now. Did they talk about their dreams? It was sad how blase he was becoming to his psyche being shared with total strangers. Hell it had just happened to him with Ben a week ago, it almost wasn't traumatic anymore. Almost.
"Argh." He took a giant swig of coffee and ignored the burning in his mouth. "I'm not awake enough for this. Why do I even try to have the illusion of normalcy in the face of the obvious? The first step is always acceptance. I give up man."
Stupid Calkins. Her psych babble was beginning to get under his skin.
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He remembered everyone who left. So did the others, he figured. Bastet, Justice, Sky... they were the old ones. He wondered how many they knew he didn't. Or how many he knew that they didn't. Too many, he knew, from the books upon books in the musty old library. He hadn't visited it lately. There was always an excuse, he knew--he had to tend to the books, there were new recruits. There was always an excuse. In truth, he fell out of the habit when he adopted Blood, not wanting to go down the path of death like Ghost did, and didn't pick it back up again. It was hard being there when he knew that each book represented a person gone forgotten. It was like being in a room full of empty lifetimers.
"Look at the time, Genius," Vimes said with a sardonic twitch of his mouth. "It's too damn early to be awake enough for anything, let alone this. I think another cup of coffee is in order at least." He downed the rest of it in an impressive show of truly ravaged tastebuds, and flagged the coffee shop owner down to come and refill it.
"And too damn early for tact, I'm afraid, so I'm going cut straight to the chase. Frankly, your dream was pretty disturbing, but I have no room to talk 'cos mine was too. What I'm curious about is... well, did you try talking to someone at Wellspring like I suggested last time we saw each other?"
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Genius followed Vimes' actions and downed the rest of his coffee so he too could get a refill. He was going to need it for this conversation.
"Geez, don't hold back or anything," he grumbled under his breath. Then louder, "Wait. Was it really that disturbing?" Cause it was one of his milder dreams honestly--ok no, not admitting that out loud. "I mean, you're so bad ass medieval, like King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table style, swinging around swords and--vampires. You dreamed about vampires and werewolves so your concept of 'disturbed' should be different from mine and if it disturbed you then I am really really disturbed."
He took a breath. "I ah..I am. I have been for a while. Twice a week with Calkins. It's...helping."
Sort of. It was nice to talk to Calkins and he loved being constantly fed by the woman, but there was something...draining. About being around her so often. It was probably just his own baggage that made the sessions so tough, since she was such a kind woman.
"It would help if this place would stop doing something traumatizing every five seconds."
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Genius was quite right to take some sort of offense to how direct he was being, but Vimes couldn't be arsed to act otherwise. He had to try to be tactful every day to every damn fool to step foot into his office to complain about one thing or another, but right here, right now, there was no point. He had seen Genius at his weakest, curled upon the muddy ground like a child and Genius had seen him at... no, not his weakest. But he had seen him after the zombies attacked, and that certainly counted for something. The Sphere had an odd way of throwing him into meeting those he usually wouldn't bat an eye at.
"Medieval--Knights of the Round Table?" He shook his head, bewildered. "You're speaking a different language than me there. Besides, I don't hold up with kings. And vampires don't count as disturbing on their own, even if I hate the bloody things. It's only disturbing when they're looking to stick their teeth in your neck. Werewolves and vampires are normal. But when I say disturbing, I don't mean the images, just the way everything was laid out."
He may be blunt, but not blunt enough to say, Well, you had animal bits in jars and your dream-friends said that you hurt them, which is pretty damn out there, and the whole just a dream thing was pretty creepy and all in all it made you look like a right loony.
He slid the scaldingly hot coffee cup between his hands as he considered the dream once more. The fact that the dream was even more troubling in retrospect - but not quite so troubling as his own, latent fears coming to haunt him while his guard is down, while he cannot take the responsibility of watching himself - was distressing, but he was cheered that the counseling helped. "Good. This place... I can't see it changing that whole traumatizing bit, so it's us who has to change."
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He merely sighed at Vimes' confusion. "I always do." Nobody ever understood him. "We come from different worlds. Vampires, werewolves--even kings--aren't normal. Just humans were I come from. Plain old non magical homo sapiens." He had a chip on his shoulder about being so mundane in comparison to the rest of the sphere.
The thing was Genius was lacking in perspective. He had worst dreams, horribly twisted, nightmare scenarios, about being covered in blood, about Qi crying in his arms as they stood over the dead body of an unknown man, about taking memories, selling people and Ben touching him in ways that were just too traumatic to think about. So it wasn't the worst dream right? He was lucky that the sphere had chosen that one to show. All the same...
"Maybe I'll go back on the sleeping pills and teas." They made him dopey but maybe it was better to walk around like a zombie than be thought of as a fucked up freak. "Or maybe I'll just go find some more of that stupid rainbow sand, cause I think I preferred being in comas than this."
He felt so messed up and yet too exhausted to really feel panicked about it. Numbness. That's what it was, too much, too soon. Thanks to the support of his friends, Genius was actually stronger than he gave himself credit for. What would have broken him a year ago just bent him down, cracks along the surface but still together. Just barely. Numb.
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It was true. Sometimes he went down to the library and checked who had disappeared. Sometimes, he had no idea who that person was. And neither did anyone else he checked with. It was a horrifying thought, that among this little community of theirs, there were those who knew no one, said nothing, then disappeared. No one knew who they were, or what they could have been, but once they were gone it no longer mattered. Or the newborns that disappeared, and hell, there were a lot of them too. They wrote in the journals once, same as everyone else, introducing themselves and expressing their confusion and just... vanished.
"No kings," Vimes mused. "Now that, I wouldn't mind. It's a bloody awful idea to start." When Genius spoke of wishing for more sleeping dust, he tilted his head in thought, then said gruffly, "I'd be careful what you wish for, lad, at least out loud. Knowing this place, it'll listen right when you don't actually want it to. Besides, this place has a way of getting around your defenses; even if you take sleeping pills, I figure you'll have others' dreams whether you like it or not."
His mouth twisted in a wry half-smile. "It's not as if many people are open about whose dreams they got. At best, everyone'll just ignore it."
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A year ago he wouldn't have cared or thought about it. Now though his thoughts lingered on Promise and Lotus, living somewhere without their fathers. It seemed like such a worse fate than being the parents left behind, except that Genius saw what it was doing to Rick. Slowly eating away at him. Didn't Vimes have a kid too?
Genius snorted at Vime's comment about kings. "I don't know. Then you're left with democracy and that never works. Government by the people for the people turns into whoever has the most money to rig an election and push their agendas above everyone else. You can make a king, how is that any better than a bloodline?" Maybe ES had the best government of all, which was to say none.
Oh. He hadn't thought about that. "It would only freak out Rick too." He remembered how Rick stayed up waiting for him to rehatch. He didn't want to put him through it again.
"Maybe I could blame it on bad pizza." He sipped at his coffee. "I dunno what's more worrying, the fact that everyone's had my dream or the fact that I can't bring myself to care much." He should be freaking out right? Maybe he was out of freakouts to give.
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He puffed thoughtfully on his cigar. It wasn't that Genius could give him any ideas - gods knew he had his hands full enough with the Watch and he wasn't charitable enough to make a godsdamned orphanage - but he had to admit that as ideas went, it wasn't a bad one.
"Haven't got a democracy," Vimes said, as cheerfully as he could at this hour. "That's best left to the Ephebians. We've got-- that is to say, I'm used to having a Patrician. You can arrest a Patrician, but you can't arrest a King without hauling him off to get his head chopped off."
There was a lot more to say. In fact, he always had more to say on the subject of politics, even if he detested them. In the real world, in a world with government, it was a whole lot more complicated. It came down to making a city run, he figured. A King just waved his hand and got whatever the hell he wanted regardless of how he acted. A Patrician... yeah, all right, it was more or less the same thing at times, but the principle was sound. It was easier to kick a single elected man out of office than it was to kick out a bloodline of weak-chinned, heavy-bottomed nuisances who ate off the plates of the people and acted surprised when there were riots in the street.
Not something Genius was interested in, he figured. Though from the sounds of it, Genius wasn't interested in much at the moment. "Suppose there are worse things, and you've seen enough of them," he reasoned. "Compared to a lot of things here, maybe this dream wasn't so bad. But I figure it's something you ought to care about eventually, 'cos I'd warrant some of your friends will be interested. And gods know you've got enough of 'em."
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