Trauma

by Gohanroxme

'She supposed that why she shivered after she'd jolted awake was out of emotional distress, out of fatigue, out of...fear and the fact that she would always refer to her nightly dreams as nightmares, when in truth, they weren't at all frightening hallucinations. They had been real and that had been her life, what had happened, and what was now haunting her.'

Trauma: Aélita/Jeremie: In which a distraught Aelita, suffering from her regular nightmares, awakens in the night and runs into Jeremie.

A/N: First Code Lyoko fic and fortieth fic in all! Hurray! Please give it a review, won't you?

And apparently, I was in an angsty mood. I watched the entire Code Lyoko series back in June sometime again on Netflix and totally fell in love the whole plot behind Aélita's past again. And I hate my summary . . . . -_-'

Disclaimer: Guess who doesn't own Code Lyoko? Me!

Her pillow was drenched in tears that she hadn't known she'd been crying as she kicked the covers from her quaking form, sitting up with her back against the wall, her body sticky and hot from curling tightly in the same position for half the night.

She was uncomfortably hot, her bangs clinging to her forehead, and her tongue arid, but despite all that . . . she couldn't keep from trembling.

Her fingers were twitching, arms were shaking, spine was quivering uncontrollably and she couldn't help it. She couldn't ever help it. There was no cure for it, not until she cried until she was exhausted.

There was no cure for it, not until she nodded into slumber again, only to jerk awake once more in the morning exactly the same . . . a nightmarish recollection still vivid in her mind and her figure shuddering involuntarily.

She supposed that why she shivered after she'd jolted awake was out of emotional distress, out of fatigue, out of . . . fear and the fact that she would always refer to her nightly dreams as nightmares, when in truth, they weren't at all frightening hallucinations. They had been real and that had been her life, what had happened, and what was now haunting her.

She couldn't call those bad dreams, couldn't describe them as such because they were her memories.

All of those things had happened to her.

Her mother had disappeared.

Her father had disappeared, but was evidently still alive.

She had only been reawakened about a year ago, when Jeremie had switched on the Supercomputer.

So in truth, she was older than all of them and had important chunks of her years missing and . . . and it was horrible, as her life had basically been a twisted science fiction movie.

That was what made her quaver when she finally woke up from one of her visions: the dawning realization of it all.

She swallowed thickly and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, trying determinedly to calm her ragged breathing.

Inhaling slowly and exhaling just the same. It was gradual, but it usually eventually worked. She'd had several months of experience.

She flipped the wet side of her pillow over to the other, but had no intention of going to sleep right away . . . .

S-She didn't . . . she didn't want to go to sleep again because . . . it only reminded her of how alone she was. Dreaming would give her her past back, a past that only repeated how everybody had left her and how XANA wanted to steal her recollections (though, she kind of didn't mind if the Scyphozoa would take her memories again.)

She unconsciously clenched the blankets in her fingers. No, of course she wasn't alone. She had her friends . . . she had Odd, Ulrich, Yumi, and Jeremie.

But they weren't there when she went to sleep because she went back before she'd even met them. When she was asleep, she was alone.

Instead of quickly scrubbing it away, she let another stray tear slide down one cheek, where it curved onto one of her lips, and she licked it tentatively.

It reminded her of how dry her mouth was and how badly she needed some water and the detail that she didn't have any more bottles left in her dorm.

She was slightly annoyed with that and thought it slightly ironic: she'd cried out all of her moisture until she was dry and thirsty, and even then, she still didn't even have any water left to drink from.

Briefly, she considered drinking from the bathroom, but what about tomorrow, where she would wake up dehydrated just the same as that night? She should, at least, stock up on some, if only for the rest of the week.

There were water bottles in Odd and Ulrich's dorm. She'd noticed them only all the time and she assumed that they were mostly for Kiwi's dish, but on more than one occasion, both of the boys had downed a couple.

So if she took a few, maybe they wouldn't mind . . . .

She tiredly swung her legs over the edge of the bed, stood wearily on her feet, and let her oversized T-shirt hang around her knees.

Her legs were wobbling slightly as she reeled toward the door, still dazed. When she reached it, she rested her forehead against the cool wood and shut her eyes for a moment, careful not to unintentionally conjure the illusion of illuminating, yellow eyes in the darkness of her mind.

She bit her lip contemplatively. There could have been a situation where what if Odd and Ulrich's dorm door was locked, or what if the elevator to the other floor was turned off for the night? She might have been able to easily switch it back on, but what of the former one?

She wouldn't want it to be locked.

Even so, she decided not to think on it too much, seeing that it was causing her head to throb even more than it was then.

Her hand grasped the knob firmly, twisting it hesitantly and listening to the noisy creak with a wince once it was open.

The hallway was dark . . . not so dark so that she couldn't see, but dark enough so that she was positive that it was late and that there'd be trouble if an adult caught her.

Nonetheless, she slinked silently from her dorm, closing the door softly behind her. The carpet felt strange beneath her bare feet, hard and rather scruffy, her eyes scanning the shadows thoroughly.

The stairs were out of the double doors at the end of the hall so she hurried along quietly, passing Sissi's room by.

The doors were soon in her reach and she thrust them open with a hefty shove, turning and bounding up the stairs. The male dorms were above her floor.

She wished she had worn her socks every time her toes met with one of the cold, aluminum stairs. The vibrations, panging noises of the metallic staircase, echoed throughout the area.

The next double doors were in sight and when she touched them, they swung open from the other way, nearly knocking her off her feet.

For a split second, she imagined that it could be XANA trying to get her again, or . . . or the wolves, and Men in Black, but when she glanced up, breath hitching in her throat, mouth ready to scream, she was face-to-face with . . . .

"Jeremie?" Her voice was small in the sudden quietness, full of disbelief.

"Aélita?" His eyes blinked from behind his glasses, blonde hair glimmering faintly in the dark. He lifted a hand to her shoulder, as if to test if she was real. "What're you doing out here?"

She could've asked him the same thing, but resignedly decided not to play twenty questions. "I was going to get some water . . . ."

"Upstairs?" She noticed one of his eyebrows raise. "You do know that the boys' dorm is up there, right?"

"Well, yes." She normally had time for Jeremie, but jeez, she was so thirsty. She just wanted to stop talking. "I was going to get some from Ulrich and Odd."

He might've saw that she was unsteady on her feet, that perspiration was still sloping along her brow, because the hand that had rested on her shoulder slid down to grasp her clammy hand, goosebumps rising along the way.

"Are you okay, Aélita?"

She was always honest with him. With the genuine concern stitched into his tone, how could she not be?

"I'm . . . I'm exhausted," she managed slowly, unsure of how to put her feelings into words. "A-And the night— memories . . . they're so vivid that it's . . . ."

She stopped, her words dying on her tongue.

Scary. Disturbing. Real.

She squeezed her eyes shut, gulping down on a sudden sob. She liked remembering, she really did, but why did the memories always have to be so haunting? Why was it that the only good thing that came of the Hermitage was the sweet photographs and things that she left behind? Why couldn't the sweet things be what she recalled? Why couldn't they come from her head?
"Are you still having those?" His hand was still enclosed over hers. It was a sensation that she treasured, one that she longed to keep as one of her few, pleasant recollections.

"Yes." She averted her eyes, stepping toward the double doors. "But I'd really like something to drink, right about now."

She had to leave him. She was parched and needed water badly, yet she didn't want to separate from Jeremie just then. Her body still yearned for his company. It was only his company had her body was trained to want. It was only his company that her body had known since the Supercomputer had been activated again.

Almost thankfully, he kept his grip on her hand, gently pulling her back from the door. "I would, too. I was up all night on my homework. Working on programs doesn't give you a lot of time for personal stuff . . . ."

She nodded in understanding.

"But anyway, Odd and Ulrich are all out of bottles. I've just checked. They only have one, and it's half empty."

She would've downed anything that instant.

"Then what are you down here for, Jeremie?"

He shrugged, "The vending machine ought to have something. I was heading downstairs."

The vending machine . . . . Of course. She briefly looked down at herself, from her large, pink t-shirt with the letter A, to her bare feet. "But I don't have any money on me right now."

He smiled softly, motioning toward the stairs. "I could buy you something . . . I mean, if you let me and want to come . . . ."

She couldn't help but crack a wavering grin herself. Timid Jeremie . . . it was rare to see him that way now; he'd become so domineering, overprotective, and rather bossy. She couldn't not smile when she got to witness the real him once in a while.

"That's really nice of you, Jeremie. Thank you."

She thought that she saw his cheeks blush and the idea that she could affect him that way made hers heat up as well.

She turned back down the stairs, her fingers sliding against the rails, and Jeremie strolling at the same pace as she.

At last, after the third staircase, she shoved the doors open that exited the dorm building, the cool, night air untangling the stressed tension that was knotting in her stomach.

Fresh air to breathe was a real relief.

But it really was dark outside, and she still had a headache that was thudding mercilessly at her head, so it was hard to distinguish her surroundings without squinting, an act that did no good for her problem.

She nearly ran into a pillar.

Luckily, Jeremie caught her clumsily by her elbow, giving her a careful once-over while she blinked dazedly.

"Ah, Jeremie, I'm sorry, I'm just so—"

"Tired?" His lips were pursed. "After I get you something to drink, you should really head back to bed."

Back to bed . . . . She bit her lip, her heart rate accelerating as her belly plummeted with reluctance.

"Uh, yeah." She drew her arm back to her side. She figured that she'd better follow Jeremie from now on, and did just that as he led her toward the vending machine.

He bent down to examine the options and she stood behind him, watching the selections from behind.

A few moments later, he murmured, "What was it that you'd like, Aélita?"

"Water." She swallowed, and then added, "Please."

He reached into his pocket and fished around for something before shoving several coins into the slot.

Seconds later, a thump was heard as a bottle of water came clunking out, and she scrambled desperately for it before Jeremie could even make a move.

She screwed the top off without haste and raised the edge to her eagerly waiting lips, the ice-cold liquid streaming down her dry throat with noisy, swift gulps.

Half the bottle was emptied in one breath, and in another, the rest.

She stared at the empty bottle, frowning and wondering why it just had to be done, right when her head was starting to lift, right when her body was beginning to cool down, right when she had finally forgotten why she was even up, only to be reminded with a rude start.

She sighed and twisted the cap of the finished bottle back on. It was one of those nights where she wished it were morning already, where she could get up and take a shower, and then head to Jeremie's room to wake him up, only to find that he was still up on the computer and . . . and she didn't want to go back to sleep, she didn't want to close her eyes because—

"Aélita."

His nearly panicked voice startled her out of her paralyzed reverie, as well as the fact that she'd dropped the bottle and that her cheeks were wet.

She didn't even bother wipe her tears that time because new ones would always form even more unexpectedly than the first time.

"Aélita, are you alright?"

She chewed the inside of one cheek, mumbling, "It's nothing, Jeremie . . . it happens all the time. I don't even notice it when does, because I'm so—"

Hypnotized. Out of it. Terrified of all of my memories. Desirous for any enjoyable ones that I might have.

Either way, it caused shed tears.

"Is it because of your memories?" He looked her straight in her watery eyes and she gasped; why was he always so spot on? "Do you want to talk about it?"

He was stern. She could tell that it hadn't been a question; it was an order. He was worried about her. She didn't like to worry him . . . .

"I . . . used to love going to sleep." She broke it to him that way. Maybe then, he could hear the despondence of which she was feeling. She used to love going to sleep. It had been close to the best sensation on Earth when she was first materialized, so maybe now he would get that she'd said used and that it wasn't anymore and that she was traumatized and that she often wished that she wouldn't feel the need to sleep any longer, like on Lyoko.

Maybe he would get that he couldn't just leave her and tell her to go to sleep b-because . . . she couldn't. She stared at the ground. N -Not unless she wanted to suffer.

She wasn't surprised when he came to her, his warm fingers intertwining with her own (he was always so understanding), but it gave her heart a jolt nonetheless.

"And you still have to, Aélita." His breath was hot against her ears, and though she had been uncomfortably hot all night, she leaned into him because his warmth . . . was a secure kind.

She clutched his hand tighter, exhaling shakily. "I-I . . . Jeremie, I know, but I . . . ." Subsequently, she didn't know what to say to him. There were too much words on the tip of her tongue, too much that she had on her mind and . . . she lowered her eyes. "It scares me . . . ."

She wasn't ashamed to admit that to him.

His jaw clenched. "It scares me when you're distraught like this. I can understand your hurt, but, as much as I want to . . . I don't ever know how to help you."

Don't let me go to bed, then. Let me stay with you.

She shook her was she so selfish?

"I don't want to scare you, Jeremie." It was the last thing that she'd ever want. She bravely closed her eyes and looked within the darkness. "T-There's just so much that I don't know about myself. I-I'd like to learn, but . . . I'm sure it won't be good."

"I'm nervous about that too," he said, readjusting his glasses. "But honestly, t-there isn't a-anything that I wouldn't like to learn about you, Aélita."

Green eyes met with dark.

Dark eyes turned away. "When you were first materialized, you were so . . . different. Exquisite. Curious and willing to learn. Regardless of your past, you should still want to gain knowledge about yourself. Because if it's you, I doubt it wouldn't be worth your while."

Despite just drinking, her mouth was dry again. His fingers were sweaty in hers. He was right, she knew. It would be worth her while. If her mother was alive on Lyoko as well, she would've been glad to find that out. If she discovered that XANA had actually killed her father, that would be something important to know too, at least.

"I . . . I know that you'd really like to find out," His thumb brushed gently over her knuckles and she nearly gasped with his forwardness, "and I'm here to find out with you."

He stared at her and she nodded mutely. Maybe . . . maybe the terribleness of her memories weren't all that she was to be shown. Maybe there was something else to be seen, something that always went unnoticed because of how she would awaken: so abruptly. If . . . if it took dreaming to uncover the horror that was her past, to unravel the mystery . . . then she would sleep. Jeremie was right.

She hugged him. It was something sudden and rather uncoordinated, her arms around his neck and his arms looped about her waist. But she had to do it because . . . because he was just so sweet, so smart, and knew just what to say. She was so thankful to have him there for her.

"Are you still tired?" Jeremie asked her when they pulled away. His own voice was fatigued. "Or . . . or do you want to hang around a little while longer?"

"Yes." She found it funny that her eyelids could hardly stay open, when for the whole night, she had struggled to keep them closed.

"Are you willing to go to sleep?" His words were wary and concerned and she could tell that he was worried that, despite their talk, she would stay up the whole night like she had admittedly done before.

"Will . . . you walk me to my room?" Because she'd want her last memory, her last thought of this night to be of him. It was a way to make sure that . . . that she'd be safe in her dreams.

His eyebrows rose. "Of course."

"Then of course."

And instead, minutes later, when her head rested against her pillow and she closed her eyes . . . she dreamt about ice cream and pianos, an inviting Hermitage, Christmas, her mother and father, and . . . Jeremie.

She internally thanked him for the most beautiful dream that she'd had in weeks.

A/N:I'm really proud of this, other than the ending. Because people, I really suck at endings. But hopefully, you'll give me a review anyway?