It's been a long day, and a lot of things have happened. But there's one thing that's a constant in Steph's afterlife, and that's the memories, the dreams. fire, everywhere, and the faces - burning, melting horribly, and all of them staring at her. YOU DID THIS. YOU KILLED US. At first it's not much. Just a shift, a restless toss in the big, unfamiliar bed. She winces in her sleep, her forehead creasing. and it never stops. Orpheus's throat is cut in front of her, the blood splashing across her costume, staining the floor, and Black Mask laughs. She murmurs, faintly. and then he's all she can see, Black Mask and his laugh and his power drill, twisting her skin, tearing at her flesh, and the knives marking patterns on her thighs and her chest, and the saw and the kives and the drill and the knives and the saw and over it all that awful, gleeful laugh The sheets are screwed up and tangled from her tossing and turning, and she's breaking out into a cold sweat, teeth clenched. she won't scream she won't scream she won't scream. she won't
( ... )
And with the first sound, a whimper or a scream, soemthing that wakes him;, alarmed, and worried,anmd something cut off, alarm turns to very powerful worry and he is moving, suddenly, at a speed not possible anywhere else, and then, the door to her room is open and he is by her bed, kneeling, one hand gently touching her shoulder.
"Steph? Are you okay? You-"
he falters, seeing the state of her sheets and gently touches her shoulder again.
She sits up, eyes crammed shut, taking deep, calming breaths. Her hands are shaking, even when she wraps her arms around herself tight, and it takes several deep breaths before she can look at him.
"Oh - I woke you up," she says, voice only a little ragged. "I'm sorry - it's okay. It was just a dream."
"No. No, it's okay." She breathes, and relaxes a little. "Just - memories. Stuff I did. Stupid - I should be over it - it's just - it gets to me sometimes." She pushes her tangled hair out of her face. "I didn't mean to wake you."
His voice is low and quiet, soft, as he talks to her.
"Steph... I get nightmares a lot. And ah... sometimes it helps to talk. Because, if it hurts still, then it is important, not stupid. You are important, not stupid. And you know, a little lost sleep, I dont care about. You, you I care about. If oyu want to talk, it's cool, and if not, well... I happen to know where we can get some grade-a, number one class milkshakes."
"Haven't got any pants on," Steph says, looking slightly awkward, but smiling at him. That wouldn't have mattered yesterday, but there's something different in the air tonight. "Can you chuck me my jeans?"
he blinks, and a blush goes all the way down and he turns a little quickly. Maybe it wouldnt have mattered to her yesterday, but then... he shoves it away.
He tosses her the jeans over his shoulder, a perfect shot and moves to the door, stepping out to the hallway. He definitely forces his mind away from the sounds of flesh against fabric.
It doesn't take her long to drag them on and follow him. She blinks in the light, shoving her hair back again, and rubs her arms. "Lead on, my hero," she says, with a hopeful smile.
he works, and moves, but sometimes he blurs* for a moment.
When he finishes the shakes he hands hers over.
"Here you go."
She may taste the rather striong zing of added alcoholic contentness in hers. even if she didnt see him add it.
*When he blurs, he watches her for moments. She is his friend and maybe he screwed that up. Maybe not. All he knows is she is important to him and he doesnt want to scare her off. So he blurs and gets her alcohol. From Denet 7. He adds it while still blurring, and then just finishes the shake making.
fire, everywhere, and the faces - burning, melting horribly, and all of them staring at her. YOU DID THIS. YOU KILLED US.
At first it's not much. Just a shift, a restless toss in the big, unfamiliar bed. She winces in her sleep, her forehead creasing.
and it never stops. Orpheus's throat is cut in front of her, the blood splashing across her costume, staining the floor, and Black Mask laughs.
She murmurs, faintly.
and then he's all she can see, Black Mask and his laugh and his power drill, twisting her skin, tearing at her flesh, and the knives marking patterns on her thighs and her chest, and the saw and the kives and the drill and the knives and the saw and over it all that awful, gleeful laugh
The sheets are screwed up and tangled from her tossing and turning, and she's breaking out into a cold sweat, teeth clenched.
she won't scream she won't scream she won't scream. she won't ( ... )
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"Steph? Are you okay? You-"
he falters, seeing the state of her sheets and gently touches her shoulder again.
"Steph?"
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"Oh - I woke you up," she says, voice only a little ragged. "I'm sorry - it's okay. It was just a dream."
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"It's okay. I dont need sleep. And it sounded... bad?"
he isnt certain, here, on uncertain ground.
"Are you okay?"
he sits on the ground for a minute, looking up at her.
"Do you... want to talk about it?"
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"Steph... I get nightmares a lot. And ah... sometimes it helps to talk. Because, if it hurts still, then it is important, not stupid. You are important, not stupid. And you know, a little lost sleep, I dont care about. You, you I care about. If oyu want to talk, it's cool, and if not, well... I happen to know where we can get some grade-a, number one class milkshakes."
he grins.
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"Spike them? Why, Miss Brown, whatever do you take me for? Are you implying I would have liquor in my establishment?"
His eyes are teasing as he grins and stands.
"You might be right. But you'll have to come to the Kitchen to find out."
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He tosses her the jeans over his shoulder, a perfect shot and moves to the door, stepping out to the hallway. He definitely forces his mind away from the sounds of flesh against fabric.
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There he waves her to a chair.
"Sit!"
Then he starts gathering ingredients. Chocolate, vanilla, ice cream, sugar, ice, and milk all go into a mixer and then the buttons are pushed.
"This wont take long."
he gathers a couple of cups while things blend.
"You want anything to drink or eat to go with?"
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She watches him work, silently.
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When he finishes the shakes he hands hers over.
"Here you go."
She may taste the rather striong zing of added alcoholic contentness in hers. even if she didnt see him add it.
*When he blurs, he watches her for moments. She is his friend and maybe he screwed that up. Maybe not. All he knows is she is important to him and he doesnt want to scare her off. So he blurs and gets her alcohol. From Denet 7. He adds it while still blurring, and then just finishes the shake making.
Reply
A little colour comes back to her face while she's drinking; it's the sugar. Always good. And the alcohol doesn't hurt.
When the silence threatens to become awkward, she says "What'd you put in it?"
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"Hmmm, Kahlua. And Chocolate Liquor. Hmmm. Tastes good?"
he sips his own, non-spiked, shake.
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