A little Lightning Lad drabble I came up with randomly, just to get something off my chest and decided to throw in some Superman/Lightning Lad preslash, but could be taken as friendship, whatever, reviews are welcome cause im not completely sure what to think of this drabble. Bug me and I may add chapters (but then I would defiantly have Lightning Lad/Superman slash in it) Anywho, reviews welcome!
Disclaimer: I cannot tell a lie...of course i own! own what you say? well...unfortunatly legion of superheroes is NOT on the list, however my mind still appears to be mine, along with my friends, so its all good.
He wakes in the middle of the night, panting, and eyes wide staring up at the tiled ceiling. His hear beats wildly in his chest, as his fingers clench at the thick blankets covering him. Cold sweat rolls down his bare chest as he sits up, feeling the fear cling to him.
The same dream, every night. Always the same, barely a single detail changing. You'd think he would have been used to it by now. He glances over at the clock, reading the glowing red numbers. 2:08 am, still another five hours until he has to get up, but he doesn't think he can get back to sleep.
Every time his eyes slip close, from an exhaustion threatening to over take him, he sees their faces, their screaming, dying faces.
The large room is suffocating him as he pulls the blanket up around his neck, in an attempt to ward off the demons hiding under his bed, just waiting to get him, to grab him and pull him under, into their world.
The dream lingers in the corners of the room, waiting to sneak up on him, as his eyes slip closed, but he wont let them, he'll stay awake all night if he has too! And then- and then when the sun comes- then he'll be safe.
Safe from the monsters in his head? Not much of a chance of that. They're always there. He's tried everything, but the fear…the doubt, remain.
There's a slight noise from outside his open window, and he's up, blanket strewn on the floor as he opens the door, heading quickly down the silent hallway. The floor is cold on his feet as he vaguely realises that he's only wearing a pair of sweat pants, but what does it matter? Its not like he's going to run into anyone this late at night.
And that's what he's doing- running. Running from the confines of his room, where his thoughts scream at him, shouting that he's a failure, not strong enough to protect his teammates.
His heart beat hasn't slowed, the terror of the dream still clinging to him as his feet lead him to a place that comforts him, that fights back the fear clouding his mind until he can finally breathe again.
Someone forgot to turn off the lights in the gym, he discovers, entering the large room and heading straight for the leg press machine. He's not sure why, but he has always felt more at peace here, than in his own room.
His legs start moving and then all he has to focus on is the movement. A steady, stream of concise movements and normally something like that would have driven him crazy but he needs it now to pull him out of the turmoil that has become his mind.
A sweat builds up as he continues, without pausing, losing track of time- the ever-present dream pushed firmly to the back of his mind. Part of him wonders if the other legionaires have dreams like these as well; the kind where everyone dies and it's their entire fault. They haunt him, a constant reminder of his screw-ups.
"Lightning Lad?" He nearly jumps at the quiet voice, his rhythm faltering and leaving space for the fear from before. Superman moves, crouching down next to him, studying him intently.
"What are you doing awake?" He asks, uncomfortable under the gaze.
"Couldn't sleep, you?" Couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't sleep- all because of some stupid dream that refused to leave him alone, that made him doubt his abilities, that scared him more than almost anything else. Just the thought of going back to sleep and greeting the images of his friends in agony makes his skin crawl, makes him want to shout and scream and he will not let it win! Because it's a dream, and it will not own him!
"Couldn't sleep." He replies instead, glancing up as Clark stands suddenly offering him a hand up, a slight head nod to show that his friend understands.
Its exhilarating and lifts a heavy weight off his chest as he realises that someone else knows what he means, knows how those dreams, those fears feel.
He grasps the hand, standing, enjoying the contact a little longer before dropping his hand. Superman just grins at him, something flickering across his expressive eyes that he can't identify, before it's hidden again.
"Come on, I'm sure there's got to be at least one interesting movie downstairs." He follows his friend across the room and out the door, his mind finally relaxing. And a couple hours later, when he has finally succumbed to sleep again, slumped on the couch, head resting on Clarks shoulder, the dreams are no where to be found, at least for now.