If You Fall

Twenty

He woke me up shouting "No!" and thrashing around. I thought someone was in the room, and almost had a heart attack. But I quickly realized it was him having a nightmare. I shook him, enough to wake him without making him feel more threatened. "Reed," I tried.

He was tangled in the sheet, and fighting it. Then he opened his eyes but he was still caught in the dream. I kept my hold on his arm. "Hey, it's me, you're dreaming." 

He focused on me finally and relief crashed over his face. He wrapped his arms around me like I was an anchor. He was panicked. All I could do was hold him.

There was a rap at the door. "Intou?" Dane asked.

"He was dreaming," I said, over his head, which was against my chest. Unfortunately, not so romantic as I would otherwise like.

Dane didn't just take my word for it, which I somewhat respected. "Can I come in?" He didn't wait but opened the door, and peeked at us before averting his eyes. "Right then, sorry."

Work wifey appeared behind him, looking around him, but he shut the door. I heard him say something to her and her response but their voices went away and I was busy.

Reed hadn't even noticed. He was trembling, and it just about killed me to see him so broken. "Shh," I said, completely at a loss. "It's okay, sweetie. You're okay."

"I cannot believe I'm here," he said shakily, still clinging to me. "I cannot believe I'm here." His eyes were desolate. "Am I here?"

"Yes, of course." I rocked him, instinctively. It calmed his tremors. "You're here. You're okay," I said again. "See? You're here with me."

He took a deep, shuddery breath but didn't release me an iota. "They were a long three nights, chérie," he said, his voice steadier now. "My only saving grace was the fact I'm too old for that sick bastard."

My stomach turned over and I swallowed bile back down. We had long ago established that I would rather he be honest with me about terrible things rather than try to protect me from knowing, but it sucked sometimes hearing about it. "Fuck," I said helplessly. "I'm sorry, so sorry that happened to you." Now I wanted to go along and kill this guy myself. 

He didn't say anything, and I had nothing else to say, so we just stayed that way until his body was still again. He was wet with sweat, his shirt sticking to him, and now so was I. I brushed his hair back, though it was too short to need it.

Finally he let go of me, rubbing his face with both hands. "He had others," he said, his face open and raw with the memory. "Boys. In cells. We have to help them." He said this last in almost a whisper but it was so urgent the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. "Quelle horreur! I can't, there wasn't . . . " He shook his head and looked at me and his eyes were terrible. "We have to go back. He's moved them for now but he'll return, he doesn't fear us. Mon Dieu, Addy, the memories I thought I had put away, they're . . . " He shook his head again. He was in a bad place. "They have crept out to try and drown me."

"Consider me your life vest then." I got up and got his cigarettes from his pants and came back to sit close to him, steadying his hand when he tried to light one. "We'll go back. We'll get them."

He inhaled deeply, coughed a little, blew out the rest. He got up and opened the window a few inches, and in my distress I could barely appreciate the boxers view. He further improved it by stripping off his damp shirt. Getting quickly back in the warm covers, he slid close to me again. "No child should ever be put into such a position," he said thickly, rubbing his face again with one hand.