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"Rutherford, report.
Rutherford.
RUTHERFORD!"
It was already midday. He woke up in a sweat. His sheets were drenched. He could still hear his old commander calling his name. He could still feel the cold of dead bodies. He could still smell her skin…
He slipped off his briefs and slipped into the shower. The water was the same temperature as the room and it did not make him feel clean. It never did.
I tried to find myself in you. But you disappeared.
Whatever happens. You will come back to me...
He turned the water off and sat on the edge of the tub with his head in his hands. It didn't feel like he had ever really woken up. He could swear he heard the echoes of gunshots coming closer… but it was only the subway rolling by across the street from his flat.
Languidly, he made his way to the medicine cabinet. Oxycodone, empty. Percocet, no, empty. He rifled through all the empty capsules. And a small box from the top shelf fell into the sink.
I knew you'd always be there.
"I know you'll always be there, Cullen"
Flipped it in between his thumb and finger. Opened the lid. Closed the lid. Bit his lower lip.
Opened the lid.
Closed it.
He walked into his bedroom and hastily ripped a belt from the custody of a pair of dirty jeans, simultaneously knocking the pendant that held his military medals from his nightstand onto the ground.
GET DOWN! GET DOWN!
THEY'VE INFILTRATED THE BARRACKS!
"SERGEANT RUTHERFORD, WHERE IS BLACKWALL?"
He did not pick it up.
Cullen tightened the belt with his teeth, above the ditch in his elbow. He felt the familiar pain of the metal buckle digging into his bicep. He flexed his forearm and wiggled his fingers a few times.
His head was pounding.
"Can't you feel it beating? It has a pulse of its own.
When you hold my hand… I can feel it go faster."
Deep breath.
Deep breath.
Deep breath.
"Take a deep breath, okay?"
Okay.
Take a deep breath, okay?
"Okay."
He stuck the needle into the vial and filled the syringe. It was new. It was so good to have something new.
Unused.
Cullen watched the track marks that filled his arm roll over his veins. There were less on his right arm but he was already here. He found his favourite spot. A small divot right above the crease at the bend of his arm.
He rested the tip of the needle right at the already-open hole.
"Does it hurt?"
Deep breath.
He kept his eyes open this time.
The needle felt like home. The rush felt like war. The Lyrium felt like her. The Lyrium that now turned his blood into sapphire. The Lyrium that sent goosebumps over every inch of his skin.
He was still naked.
Does it hurt?
The power coursing through his veins made him feel new.
Unused.
He got dressed and went outside.
Cullen hobbled down the four flights of stairs from his flat onto the pavement outside the front door. His knee hurt more than usual today. It was winter. He wasn't used to the cold… it had felt like months since he had left his apartment for any other reason besides getting groceries. He usually just got delivery, anyway. It was easier.
The air was cold and crisp. Everything around Cullen had a pale bluish glow. He wasn't sure if it was because of the icy air outside, or because of the Lyrium inside.
He stood there for a minute on the sidewalk, sniffling and shortening his neck to get his reddening nose on the inside of his scarf. He was wearing old chelsea boots, dark pants, a dark red button-up, black blazer, long black coat with fur on the hood. He had gloves on too, but he was keeping his fists rolled up tightly in his coat pockets. Because he could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips.
"Can't you feel it beating?"
His eyelids were heavy, but he felt like running, although he knew he could not. His knee felt stiff but he didn't feel the pain now that the Lyrium had settled. He was shuffling from one foot to the other, just as he noticed someone across the road watching him. He eyed them suspiciously, but he could not focus well enough to tell if it was a man or a woman… Or even a human. They appeared very short…. or perhaps very tall? His eyes could not help but dart to and fro along the street. Cullen knew his paranoia would ruin his high, so he turned his back to the stranger and began to limp down the street.
Cullen patted each of his pockets as he strode; coat left… nothing, coat right… cell phone? yes, cell phone, jeans left… wallet… jeans right… nothing? nothing.
And again.
Jeans left… wallet…
Coat left… nothing,
coat right… cell phone? Cell phone.
"Of course I'll call you when I land!
I know you'll always be there, Cullen.
We're about to take off now, talk to you later!
I love you!"
*click*
I love you, too.
Jeans right… Nothing?
He panicked for a moment, suddenly remembering that his pants had back pockets as well… Just like all his other pants. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a red lighter. Four sticks left. He ungracefully jabbed one into his mouth, and slowed his pace in order to light it. No matter how hard he struck the lighter, the flame would not catch. Cullen had mixed feelings of frustration and patience. *click*
*click*
*click*
"...I love you!"
*click*
The flame finally spat out. One deep sigh and the familiar taste filled his lungs. He looked up and smiled at the familiarity of it all. The toxins inside him felt like an old friend.
"Mind sharing a butt before we go out there, Rutherford? You know,
like a cigarette. We can share a girl after. Ha ha!"
"Of course, Bull. You don't even need to ask."
But perhaps that was just the Lyrium.
Cullen soon found himself outside of a bar. This is where we met. He couldn't fully recall how he got there, but it must have taken him awhile, as it was pitch black out, despite the neon bar sign and flickering street lights. He wandered inside, taking a seat closest to the wall, and furthest from other people.
"Curly! Where've you been? It's been too long…"
"It has been….. can I get a beer, Varric?"
"Right, of course, of course!"
The stout bartender turned to fill a tall glass for his patron. There weren't many people in the bar for a Friday night. Mostly just regulars and people who must have ended on a late shift. What time is it anyway? Cullen searched the tavern for a wall clock but it was nowhere to be found. How long have I been out?
"We should spend more time together."
I would like that.
"Me too."
Varric returned with two overfilled steins. He seated himself on a stool across from Cullen.
"So, tell me Curly, what's been going on?"
Cullen sipped the foam from the top of the glass, then proceeded to tip it back, along with his head, chugging the entire contents without a single breath.
"Ah… I see," Varric pushed his beer toward Cullen, "You've left me without an ending to my war novel, Soldier. One second you can't stop talking about the pre-discharge horror and glory, and the next, you've disappeared. What's the deal?"
Cullen grunted as he finished his second stein, "I… well Varric I guess some places just bring back bad memories. Sometimes worse than war."
"You know I'm here to listen to them, Curly. If you need it."
"Thanks, Varric…"
The bartender was trying incessantly to meet Cullen's eyes, but he was just as adamantly avoiding it.
Your eyes… are something magnificent.
"You're just flattering me."
Perhaps.
Her shampoo smelled like honey. He inhaled her deeply and kissed her neck.
She sighed deeply and rested her hand lightly on his manhood.
His hands wandered up her blouse, he could feel her
nipple harden upon his touch. She was so warm.
You are so warm.
A dog was barking out the neighbours window.
"Cullen…"
"You know, I should be getting home… The dog…" Cullen turned in his chair.
"You have a dog?" Varric said coyly.
He didn't.
As Cullen began to push up out of his seat, he put his weight on his bad knee and began to collapse. In a last ditch effort to save his dignity, he grasped onto the bar counter, knocking down his empty glass.
*CRASH*
I find myself wondering what will happen
after- when this is over, I won't want to
move on, not from you... But I- I don't what
you- that is if you- um...
"Cullen, do you need to ask?"
I suppose not. I want-
*CRASH*
*CRASH*
"GRENADE! THROUGH THE REAR WINDOW!"
GET DOWN! GET DOWN!
THEY'VE INFILTRATED THE BARRACKS!
"SERGEANT RUTHERFORD, WHERE IS BLACKWALL?"
Cullen had made it back outside his apartment. He was staring up at the snowflakes falling lightly from the black sky. They seemed to appear out of nowhere. Like she always did.
He opened his pack of cigarettes. Two left. What happened to the third?
"What… what happened to you Cullen?"
The Lyrium rush had mostly worn off. He could see clearly. He was slower. The smoke only bothered his lungs. His knee hurt him again. He stomped out his half-finished cigarette.
He dragged himself up the four flights of stairs to his flat.
He sat on the foot of his bed with his head in his hands.
He wanted more Lyrium… but if he had more, he would have no chance at sleep.
So he lay down in his empty bed, and stared at his empty ceiling until the room stopped spinning.
"Rutherford, report."
"Rutherford."
"RUTHERFORD!"
No... leave me!
LEAVE ME!
It was already midday. He woke up in a sweat. His sheets were drenched. He could still hear his old commander calling his name. He could still feel the cold of dead bodies. He could still smell her skin…
"Bad dream?"
"They always are. Without Lyrium, they're worse...I didn't mean to worry you."
"Despite the dreams, is it still a good morning?"
"It's perfect. You are... I have never felt anything like this."
"I love you, you know that, right?"
"I love you too."