Roy tossed in the sheets, his brow furrowed and palms damp with his sweat, his dreaming fevered and terrifying. A small glass sat on his bedside table, it was empty of all liquid but a few drops of the amber whisky that slowly dripped down the inside of the glass into the bottom, the bottle still sat in the kitchen, weighing considerably less than it had when Roy had first removed it from the cupboard earlier that night. A picture of a younger Roy sat on the bedside table, contrary to the fevered dreaming and frown that covered his face now, the picture had a smiling Roy and another man, a man with glasses and stubble who seemed to be lighting up the room with his smile.
The sleeping Roy tossed some more, getting further lost in his nightmare.
Roy stood facing a bright red phone box, watching silently as a wounded Hughes made his way towards it, looking over his shoulder every few steps. Hughes dripped blood and looked to be in pain, stumbling past Roy and into the phone box and punching in a number. In his hand he held a picture, one which Roy recognised, a smiling woman and her beaming child stared out of it, their faces turning red as Hughes's blood dripped slowly onto the paper.
"Dammit Roy!" Hughes shouted, after mumbling into the receiver, he slammed it down and put his head in his hands for a few seconds. "Where the hell are you?"
"Hughes" Roy managed to say and the bleeding man spun round to face him.
"No, Roy, you can't be part of this, you can't" Hughes insisted, his face contorting from betrayal.
"What are you talking about, Hughes? What's wrong?" Roy asked desperately, reaching out to his friend. Hughes back out of his reach and turned his hazel eyes to meet Roy's. His glasses flashed and he backed up another step.
"You were supposed to save me" Hughes's voice was small, childlike. "You told me you'd protect me, protect my family but you're going to kill me"
"Hughes, I wouldn't, you know that" Roy said, trying to keep Hughes sane. Suddenly Hughes stiffened and when he looked back at Roy his eyes were hard.
"It's all your fault Roy, all your fault" He told Roy, taking a step forwards. "If you hadn't made me help you I'd still be alive with my daughter and wife, you don't have a wife Roy, you don't have a daughter, you should be dead, not me"
Hughes's face turned into a snarl as he tore up the picture that was now soaked red, obscuring the smiling faces of Hughes's family. "You heard them cry Roy, at my funeral, you heard my baby girl scream for me. WHY COULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN YOU?!"
Roy took a step back, his throat dry. "Hughes, I-"
Hughes smirked. "I bet you couldn't wait to get me out of the way Roy, after all I know you were sick of me, that's how you always acted, ignoring the new pictures of my daughter or staring into space as I told you about my wife, you're glad I'm dead"
Roy felt the need to cry. "No, Hughes, you're my best friend, I would never have wanted this to happen to you, never."
"WELL IT DID" Hughes shouted "What did you tell my wife Roy? That you were terribly sorry for her loss? That you wished it had been you? What about my daughter, did she cry when she found out? Did you?"
Roy backed away from Hughes, feeling the need to run from his best friend. Hughes saw his plan and lunged at Roy, looking to kill him and suddenly a single shot rang out, loud and sharp in the quiet of the park. Hughes stumbled back, slipping into the phone box.
"Roy..." He whispered, trying to put pressure on the wound. He gave Roy a look of utmost betrayal, his face sad and young and Roy looked down at his hands where the gun still smoked slightly.
"No, No"
"Hughes!" Roy sat up suddenly, the nightmare refusing to leave his head; he saw the gun in his hand, the feeling of the cool metal against his warm fingers. He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, trying to rid himself of the images his own subconscious had plagued him with. Sighing heavily with the guilt that sat on his shoulders he stood up, swaying slightly as he left the room. He made his way downstairs, pretending not to notice the dark lines under his eyes as he passed his hallway mirror. He grabbed his gloves, lighting the fire with a click of his fingers before moving into the kitchen to grab the still half-full bottle of whiskey. He padded softly back into the sitting room, placing himself in front of the fire then pouring a generous amount of whiskey into his glass. He took a sip, favouring the taste as he stared into the roaring fire, fascinated. His nightmares began plaguing his head again as Hughes's face seemed to materialise inside the fire place and with a desperate flick of his wrist the fire went out, leaving Roy alone in the dark.
"The power of one man doesn't amount to much, But however little strength I'm capable of... I'll do everything humanly possible to protect the people I love, And in turn they'll protect the ones they love. It seems like the least we tiny humans can do for each other." Roy said to Hughes as they stood in line, thankful for the end of the war.
"Sounds like a pyramid scheme, There's just one thing. If you hope to eventually protect everyone... then you'll have to figure out a way to stand at the top of the pyramid." Hughes told him, smiling as his glasses flashed.
"I can only imagine how good it must feel up there, Hughes... Although... I'll never be able to find out without all the support I can get."
"There's no doubt about that. You're not very subtle, y'know. You've got my support... But you could've just asked me... It ought to be fun to watch though... And maybe your naive idealism might actually do some good."