Fic: Lingering Effects (Numb3rs, Don / Martin)
Title: Lingering Effects
Pair: Don Eppes / Martin Fridegord
Rating: PG
Fandom: Numb3rs
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.
Feedback: Always Welcome
NUMB3RS Main List
First time Don woke up, it was because of a slight dip of the bed. He heard the faint sounds of footsteps, then the door being opened and shut again. Don went back to sleep, but it wasn’t as deep as it had been. Half an hour later he was still hovering between sleep and full awareness. Finally he dragged himself up, kicked the covers aside and got up from the bed. He grabbed a T-shirt from the open closet and sneaked out of the bedroom, trying not to make too much noise in the creaking stairs.
The house was empty, excluding the kitchen. The ceiling light was on and a familiar scent was wafting in the air. Don walked in silently and paused to look at Martin. He was sitting next to the table with a newspaper and a steaming cup of tea in front of him. His eyes were fixed to the paper, but Don was sure he wasn’t actually reading.
“Insomnia?”
Martin startled and quickly folded the paper.
“I didn’t hear you coming in.”
“I started to wonder what was keeping you.”
“Just a bad dream. I couldn’t go back to sleep.”
“What is that?” Don sniffed at the steaming mug. “Is that one of those concoctions your sister sent you?”
“Yeah. It’s supposed to be tea and it’s supposed to be calming, that’s all I know about it. Smells bad and tastes even worse.”
“Are you gonna stay down here for long?”
“I’ll just finish this.” Martin nodded and shoved the newspaper further away. “You should go back to sleep, you got an early morning.”
Don glanced at the folded paper. He remembered Martin taking off his contacts lenses before going to bed, and his glasses were nowhere to be seen, so it was safe to say he hadn’t been reading the articles. Don took the paper and unfolded it. He didn’t read the headline he still remembered, he looked down the page till he reached the large picture. It was taken behind the police line, picturing exploded vehicle in parking garage. The bomb squad and medics were doing their works around the wreck, while the forefront of the picture was filled by the debris.
“I thought we threw out all the old papers.” Don mused and folded the paper again. “Is this what you were having nightmares about?”
“No.”
“Because if you were, no one got hurt-”
“Don. It wasn’t about that. That thing just brought back some other stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Old stuff.”
Don took another look at the picture. A faint memory of another newspaper article came back uninvited. Paramedics, debris, firemen.
“You mean the plane crash.”
“Yeah. I haven’t even thought about it for a long time.”
“Well, this time no one got hurt. That’s a good thing.”
“It is, and it a big relief, but… When it comes back, I can’t get it out of my mind.” Martin took a sip from his mug and grimaced. “All kinds of small, ridiculous little things come back.”
“What kinda things?”
“Like the ride from the hospital to the airport. I wasn’t even that scared to go on a plane again, but that ride was hell.”
“You slept the whole time.”
“No, I was awake. Being strapped to the seat like that was like being in that wreck, I just kept my eyes shut and tried to block it out.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because it’s so ridiculous, I got out of there alive. And it was just the situation.”
“You mean the seatbelts?”
“Yeah. A lot of the seats got ripped apart from the floor in the crash, and my arm was stuck under it, I couldn`t get the belt off.”
“Is that what you have nightmares about?”
“All of it. I’m stuck and it’s right after the crash. For a minute it’s completely silent and then the sounds start. Someone’s moaning and somebody’s asking if somebody else it he’s alright. I’m stuck to my seat and face down on the floor and I can’t see anything.”
“When do you wake up?”
“I’m not sure. There that smell of fuel and smoke and something… something like burning flesh. I try to tell myself that’s something else, I don’t wanna know what that smells like.” Martin closed his eyes for a moment and dark lashes formed sharp shadows down his cheeks. “Always that same smell and those same screams.”
“How often?” Don frowned a bit at his own question. “It can’t be very often or I would have noticed.”
“Only when something reminds me about it. Then it mulls around in my head for few days and goes away again.”
“This is gonna sound weird coming from me, but have you thought about therapy?”
“Yeah, it does sound weird coming from you. And yeah, I talked to someone after it happened.”
“I know that, but what about later?”
“No. And I was one of the few who got out of it alive, couple nightmares are a pretty low price to pay.”
Don waited a minute, but Martin seemed lost in his thoughts.
“Are you coming back upstairs anytime soon?”
“When I’m done with… this.” Martin pointed down at the mug. “You wanna try some?”
“How bad is it?”
“Like someone boiled their socks in it.”
“Appetising…” Don took a careful sip. “Even worse than I thought.”
“And not soothing, no matter what Cath says. It’s almost funny… If someone had told me couple years ago that surviving a plane crash would give more nightmares than being shot, I would have doubted it.”
“How bout we take turns?” Don pushed the mug back to him. “When it’s empty, we’ll go back to bed.”
“Okay.” Martin took a mouthful and swallowed it with a deep grimace. “This is the stuff bad dreams are made of. If I’m lucky, it might replace the old nightmares.”
They passed the mug back and forth till it was empty. By that time the sun was already coming up.