Author's Note: This is my first Sons fic so if you think I'm getting the characters wrong let me know! I would really appreciate it!
Summary: And I tell him to take my anywhere he wants to go, because as long as I'm with him, nothing else matters.
By the time he gets back to the apartment I'm already balled up on the couch and feeling stupid for calling him. Hell, I'm feeling stupid for thinking a nightmare was real. When he takes his first steps towards me I realize he's a little bit out of breath which gives me the hint that he's just run up the three flights of stairs to get to his apartment. And I feel even worse. His expression is only wild and panicked for a few seconds before the muscles in his face relax and he gets this knowing look on his face. I know, at that moment, that he's realized I've only had a dream, another awful dream that my whacked out mind thought was real. His knowing look turns to one of understanding and I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
"Audrey," he starts, but I don't want him to finish the sentence. I'm too scared he's going to yell at me for being so stupid or tell me that he's tired of always having to run back here when I think I'm going to be murdered.
"Don't," I whisper to him. I try and make him understand with my eyes but he just shakes his head and takes a seat next to me on the couch. He rests his hand on my bent knee and gives it a light pat.
"Are you ok?"
It's the first thing he decides to ask and I'm glad. I don't want to talk about how this nightmare went or why on earth it got me so worked up.
"No," I dead-pan. He gives my knee another pat and then leans back into the cushions of the sofa. "I feel so stupid but it felt so real," I tell him the same thing for what seems like the thousandth time.
"Dr. Winslow said this would happen."
I wonder if his words are meant to sooth me, because it's not working.
"Post-traumatic stress syndrome. She said nightmares would be common for a while. You're still trying to recover from what happened. Your brain is trying to make sense of it all. That's why I didn't want to go out tonight. I thought something like this might happen."
"But I haven't had any nightmares in weeks!" I try and protest but my voice still seems so weak.
"It's not the weeks that count," he says as he turns to look at the grandfather clock by the entrance to the kitchen. He's probably counting how many hours he actually got to spend outside the apartment tonight. I try and push those thoughts away.
"Let's try and count in months from now on, ok? Maybe even years." He turns back to me and I can see how warn out he is. Suddenly, I'm struck with another kind of guilt, the guilt of being a burden to my big brother. How had he been the one to get stuck taking care of me? I could have gone to live with Aunt Caroline in California or Uncle Danny in Florida. Either place would have been great for my 'recovery' as Dr. Winslow liked to put it.
"How did you get stuck with me?" I asked quietly. I turn away from him a little and start picking at the hem of my pants. I don't want to look at his worn out expression or the way he's probably going to wipe a hand over his face and let out a sigh. And he does exactly that before I feel him shift towards me and throw an arm around my shoulders.
"I don't mind," he says and for a few seconds I wonder if he's gone crazy. "You're all I have now. And I'm all you have."
He could have done without the last part. The last thing I want to be reminded of is that I'm alone in the world with only an older brother to talk to about it. I don't want to be reminded of the fact that for the past two months I've woken up every morning having to realize over and over again that they're gone and aren't coming back. They aren't just on vacation this time. They aren't on a business trip. They're gone. I can't even bring myself to think the other word. Even after two months I just can't wrap my mind around the idea. According to Dr. Winslow, that's why I've been having nightmares. My brain is still trying to catch up with reality.
"I'm sorry," is all I can say. The phrase is so worn out by now. I've used it too much but there's really nothing else I can come up with. "You can go back out if you want. I'm just going to take another pill and try again."
I wiggle out from under his arm and start to get up from the couch but his voice stops me.
"I don't know, Audrey. I don't think it's such a good idea. I don't like the thought of you being here alone when you wake up screaming. I think it's easier for you when someone's here to calm you down."
I finish unfolding myself from the couch and turn back to look at him. I give him a little reassuring smile and shrug. "For once, just think about yourself," I tell him and I finish my walk to the guest room at the end of the hall.