[For Dick]

[vat_69]

Alcoholic though he may be, it's unusual for Lew to find himself genuinely drunk these days; in fact, alcoholism generally precludes it, as it takes quite a lot more of the stuff to get him properly sloshed than your average man. It had been his birthday, though, and Harry had insisted, jumping around like a little boozy imp, and hell, like Lew

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[not_a_quaker]

I've enjoyed the evening, even more so because I could tell Harry and Nix were having quite a good time, at least from what I could see. Nix heads off to bed a little earlier than I expect, though I'm not completely surprised, given how much he's had to drink. I sack out not long after, once most everything's squared away with just a small amount of cleaning left for the morning. It doesn't take me long to fall asleep.

NIX!It's that same old nightmare, the retreat from a failed Market-Garden, the one where I relive the moment of Nix getting shot. Except this time, as it sometimes happens in my nightmare, the bullet leaves much more than a mark on his forehead and two holes in his helmet. It finds its target, and I'm left watching in horror as my best friend is thrown backwards to the ground. His name tears from my throat, and I hurtle myself toward him only to find vacant eyes as I fall to the ground next to him and look down at his face

[vat_69]

The noise from the door is slow to filter through the mantle of sleep, Lew's reaction a delayed half-groan and scrunching up of his face in protest. He scratches sloppily at his stomach, flutters eyes open just enough to make out the figure lurking in the dark.

"'Sokay. C'mere," he drowsily slurs, awake but still hazy with dreaming and not quite aware of himself.

[not_a_quaker]

Nix is clearly not fully awake, and I'm not even sure he knows it's me. I rake a hand through my hair as I go to stand beside his bed, my speech uncharacteristically hesitant and choppy.

"It...it was a dream," I say, my throat slightly scratchy, and I wonder if I did indeed yell out in my sleep. "Market Garden - when you - but you were dead, it wasn't just the helmet - and it was so goddamn real."

[vat_69]

Heavy, searching fingers waver briefly in the air and then catch hold of Dick's closest hand, curl around it surprisingly strongly under the circumstances. "I'm right here, Dick," Lew drawls on a yawn, and gives the hand a squeeze. "Come back to bed."