DOGS fanfic - Night Terrors
Title: Night Terrors
Author: kami_krazy
Ratings/Warnings: T for teen.
Summary: I need a fix that nicotine just can't give me.
Author's Note: I just finished having a rather horrible panic attack, and if I don't do this I don't think I'll be able to get to sleep. Please forgive my wangst, I'll accept any and all bricks to the face/vital organs I may incur as a result of it.
It's terrifying. Everything's terrifying. And it's not because of some crazy-ass shootout, not because there's yet another gang of gun-toting loonies steps away from pounding my scrawny, redheaded ass into the unforgiving pavement. It's because I've suddenly walked out onto my one remaining thread of sanity off of the middle of Main Street, and the string's starting to sag, leaving me surrounded by people who, on any other day, I never would have had a reason to suspect of wanting me dead.
I try to work through it, to keep from screaming and running my fucking ass off to the nearest 'safe' place, but there's too much going on, and it's hit me too fast. I have to force myself to stop moving, to find a quiet looking storefront - not quiet enough somebody might be waiting inside with a gun oh shit my front's completely exposed is this building made of concrete what if there's a bomb why is it so hard to breathe - and after pausing for long enough to realize that I'm shaking so hard I don't even need to tap the ash off of my cigarette, I dig around in my pocket to find my fucking cellphone.
If Heine doesn't pick up, I think my heart'll explode.
I doubt myself more and more with every ring. I shouldn't have called, I'll just be bothering him. I shouldn't be on a phone, the cell towers in this city are anything but secure. I'm a sitting duck, standing where I am, even though I'm shoved so tight into the corner of the alcove that I can feel the crumbly stucco digging into my back through my clothes. All the same, I can't hang up. Letting go of this potential connection is just as horrifying as the idea that I'll just be shut out, shut down, and left here...
"This better be good, I was sleeping."
Relief wars with more gnawing fear at the sound of his voice. I don't have a good enough reason to be calling. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do with myself, but I can't keep quiet because God only knows what might happen if I do.
"S-sorry. I...I...I'll h-hang up..."
"Hey..." He sounds more awake now and I kick myself for it. Now I've gone and done it. Now I've been a weakling, a jackass, and now I've left myself vulnerable. I don't know what to, but I don't need to. The unknown is creeping into the corners of my mind like it never does when shit's normal. I can forget about it for the most part except for when I'm like this... "...Badou, I know you're still there, I can hear your teeth chattering. What's. Wrong."
I must have zoned out there for a second...I hadn't even heard him keep talking.
"J-Just...n-needed to hear a...a fr-friendly v-voice..." Mine sounds so fucking small...too fucking pathetic...I'm starting to feel dizzy and there's still nothing I can do to take the edge off even as I fumble with a new cigarette and my lighter, the last ashes of the old one smoldering by my foot where I just let it drop out of my mouth - fuck I have to put it out it can't be lit on the ground what if there's gas around here I have to get my hair out of the way the lighter will set it on fire I don't want to burn to death -
"Where are you." His voice cuts through this time, even over the noise of my foot as I stomp a little too hard on an already pulverized cigarette butt, holding onto my lighter so tight that my knuckles ache.
"M-Main."
"Stay there. I'm coming to get you."
He knows better than to hang up the phone, though God only knows how. He doesn't try to talk to me and I'm glad because I don't know if I can string together enough sense to say anything anymore. I just keep the reciever jammed up against my ear, listening to shifting fabric, doors shutting and opening, the sound of people and cars that are slightly out of synch with the ones around me, the jingle of all of those fucking chains, all as my eye darts around the crowd, desperately looking for the stark contrast of black and white.
I don't move when I finally see him, when he finally sees me. He just comes straight over to where I am, stuffing his phone into his pocket with his eyes locked with mine, and thank fuck he knows what to do because there's no way in Hell I can tell him at this point. I only notice that I'm still shaking when he grabs me in a bear hug tight enough that I can barely breathe, when the strength of his arms forces me still, my whole body frozen because if I so much as moved a muscle I'd start running.
I have no idea how long he stands there with me, no idea how long I'm trapped there by the spin of my own thoughts, but eventually, everything starts to slow down again. The sounds of the world around me aren't as tinny as they were mere moments before, the dial tone on the phone still jammed up against my ear becomes annoying, rather than something to fixate on. He lets up on his grip on me just enough to hit the 'call end' button without looking, but he doesn't try to get me to let go of the damned thing just yet.
When my hand and my phone finally hit his shoulder, I'm exhausted. Every muscle in my body aches and my head feels like it's been stuffed full of cotton, but I'm alright. My heart's not beating like it wants out of my chest right now anymore.
He doesn't ask me if I'm okay, but he somehow knows to pull away before I get overwhelmed by how close we are - one of the stupidest, most random side-effects of these fucking attacks - and stays within reach as I light the cigarette I've almost chewed through, still a little shaky but at least able to think 'waste not, want not' in that bitchy little old lady voice that usually only pipes up when I'm mending clothing as I suck soothing smoke through the mangled filter.
I manage to lead the way back to my apartment. He follows along in silence, his expression a strange, unreadable mix of all sorts of emotions I don't feel capable of thinking about calmly right at the moment. He lets me drag him down onto the bed, both of us still in all our clothes, including shoes for once because I don't want him out of my sight for as long as it'll take him to get out of those shit-kicking monstrosities he calls boots. I just need him close. I need him here. I need my fix of invincibility like it's the only thing that'll keep me breathing.