Just a Nightmare
It was a slow day at the office so Mr. Burns decided to take a stroll through the plant since his occasional presence amongst the workers invoked a bit of fear in the slack-offs. He had bumped into Mr. Smithers at one of the control room stations near the core of the reactor and had begrudgingly agreed to monitor the station while Waylon Sr. went off to his office to feed Waylon Jr. since he was a single dad and Burns had always had a rather soft spot in his cold heart for the man and his son. The child's mother had been institutionalized and was currently in no way fit to raise a baby so all of the parenting had fallen on Waylon.
Mr. Burns had never let anyone become as close to him as Waylon, let alone an employee, yet he found himself enjoying the man's company even more with every day that passed. Waylon was a little lonely himself now that he was single and so involved in his work. It was a new feeling, to have such a friendship with another man since normally he enjoyed the company of a lovely lady or the camaraderie of networking with fellow businessmen. His friendship with Waylon was a rare thing. The man had earned both his trust and respect, and maybe even a little more.
As Mr. Burns watched the screen on the console, the lights flashing calmly and the meters reading constantly within the safety zone, his thoughts meandered on to a night several weeks ago when both he and Waylon had had a little too much to drink after a night on the town. Everyone acts a little differently after a few drinks and the effects on the individual are usually as unique as the individual themselves. While Burns was more of the 'weepy-drunk' at the time, Waylon became a little less controlled, a little more carefree.
As the night progressed, both had become a little more friendly with one another and before he really knew what had happened, he found himself in Waylon's arms, and later, in his bed. The rest of the night was one glorious blur and he could barely remember it at all, but by the next day, he was exhausted and thoroughly confused as well as embarrassed as he left Waylon's house and drove himself home.
Nary a word had been spoken of the night since; though, the mood between them had changed considerably and not really for the worse, surprisingly enough. There were the meaningful looks, fingers brushing together whenever Waylon handed him something. All in all, it was becoming an interesting dynamic, one that he was interested in pursuing more which was surprising even to Burns himself.
Suddenly, the alert on the console in front of Burns flashed red, jolting him from his moment of recollection and he was utterly bewildered as to how to remedy the situation. He was a natural born leader, not some lowly plant employee and these new consoles were nothing like what he had been familiar with. He needed his security blanket. He needed Smithers.
He called out for Smithers and as usual, the man appeared at a moment's notice with Waylon Jr in his arms as he'd been off of his post, attending to the baby since there was no daycare at the plant.
"Will you put that baby down? There's something wrong with the reactor core!" Burns admonished irritably, a bit of panic slowly beginning to rise to the surface. As they neared the reactor core, peering in through the glass, it was obvious that the situation had reached crisis status, the likes of which hadn't been seen since the Russian nuclear disaster of '57! Something serious was about to go down and it called for swift action.
"I'd better go in and have a look," said Waylon without hesitation. Before Burns even had time to react, he found Waylon Jr. being placed into his arms as Waylon Sr. turned the big, valve-like door hatch and started his way into the reactor core room like a kamikaze on a mission.
"No Waylon Sr., it could be filled with atoms and steam and other nuclear brickabrack!" Burns pleaded, grabbing onto his arm, yet seeing the
concrete determination in Waylon's eyes.
"If this reactor blows, the whole town is doomed... including my son," said Waylon, entering the reactor core without a second thought.
Waylon Junior squirmed happily in his arms as Burns watched on. After a moment, it appeared that everything was under control, the warning lights had stopped flashing and the impending disaster had been averted. Burns' heart was racing with fear and with pride at the efforts of his heroic friend and employee.
However, it was soon apparent that all wasn't well and he watched in horror as the only real friend he'd known succumbed to the deadly radioactive isotopes in the air that wrought havoc on the frail and very mortal prone form of his friend. Nuclear radiation in the form of millions of tiny energized particles much smaller than atoms, likely destroying the body from within, causing genetic corruption throughout as these partials did their worst. Disaster averted indeed, but at what cost?
Burns knew going in there to save him was out of the question as the damage had already been done and exposing himself to it
would result in instant death, but for a fraction of a second he was tempted to... if not for the living vestige of his friend's legacy that he held in is arms, looking up at him adoringly.
Bombarded with imagery that he knew he would never be able to forget, Burns kept a strong face, his whole being suddenly numb to emotions that he wasn't ready to unleash as he realized that Waylon Jr had seen the whole ugly picture that had played out before them and he was hopeful that young Waylon would be too young to know what was happening and hopefully too young to remember any of it in the long run. At least he would be spared, unlike Burns who would have years of torment to endure ahead, haunted by the harsh, gritty imagery of his friend's life being ripped away from him in such a painfully gruesome way. It was all he could do to hope that the death was quick and as painless as possible.
That evening, Burns kept the body in his office locked away in the supply closet until he could think of how to cover up the accident. Oh how he wanted to give the man a proper burial, to give him the respect and dignity that he deserved and to tell the world of his heroic sacrifice that likely saved the lives of hundreds, if not thousands of citizens, but it was a conflict of interests that held him back from revealing the
truth to the world. It wasn't the way he did things and Burns did have his own way of doing things that didn't always involve the law and the
various repercussions that would follow.
He stayed late at the plant that night, well into the night shift, just sitting by the body in cognitive dissonance as he tried to work up the courage for the task at hand: the disposal. His corpse was unlike any Burns had come into contact with. It was clammy, cold and lifeless just as one would expect of a corpse, but this wasn't just any body. This was Waylon Smithers Sr, someone that he'd known and actually felt genuine affection for, maybe even love, for lack of a better word. Not that he was sure what love was anymore. He had to hold back the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of disposing of his corpse, a job that Waylon would have done for him without a second thought if only he weren't the one being disposed of.
This shell of a man, barren of the warmth he was accustomed to whenever they'd come into contact was almost too much to bear. Lost, was the lively gleam in his eyes as there once had been and as it was that late summer afternoon when the two of them blew work that day and went off to the town Squid-port to play the carnival games when the fair was in town like a couple of rowdy kids skipping class. It was one of those rare times when Waylon had actually loosened up and had a little fun rather than being the stoic and humble professional that Burns had come to know him as.
His eyes burned with sadness and regret, lamenting over lost time that he would never be able to experience with his friend. Time lost with the last person that he ever wanted to toss down the dark pit like he was nothing but a pile of rubbish. Once the body was out of site and in the pit far below his office, Burns walked over to the chair behind his desk and collapsed into it beneath the weight of his sorrow.
Burns sighed a hollow sound full of grief. A sound that punctuated the grim task he had just performed with a bit of finality, the utter despair and numbness of losing his better half only now beginning to sink in and he allowed himself to cry, to fall apart at the great loss he had suffered that day and to feel for the son that would never get to know his heroic father.
He rested his head down onto his desk and sobbed cries of grief like he never had before. Who would now be his voice of reason? His better
half?
- o - o - o -
"Monty? Are you alright?" came a disembodied voice that sounded vaguely familiar. A voice that pierced through the darkness of his grief and carried him from that dreadful night in the office, into his bedroom some thirty or so years later, almost like some bizarre time warp.
He blinked his eyes a couple of times in the darkness, eyes that still burned hotly with salty tears as he realized that it was just another nightmare. A ghost from his past. He took a deep breath and sat up in bed, his body still trembling slightly from the shock of being back in that moment once again.
He felt a sudden warmth surrounding him, arms enveloping him and whispering soothing words that comforted away the demons from his past as if they suddenly ceased to exist. Only one voice could ever do that for him and Burns leaned into the embrace, thankful not to be alone when normally he would awaken from his nightmares only to find himself trapped and alone in the the vast, dark void that was his own despair.
It was a little humiliating that Waylon Jr. would be the one coddling him like a child being comforted after a nightmare, tears trickling down his face, but at the moment he didn't care. His now lover after so many years of unrequited love on Waylon Jr's part was quite good at making him feel better and he always had been; nonetheless, it had come as quite a shock to the system when all was revealed that Waylon had been in love with him all those years, but Burns had inevitably accepted and even welcomed it once the shock had worn off and he began to reevaluate all he felt over the vestige of his former friend.
"Would you like to tell me about it?" asked Waylon attentively, yet in a non intrusive way. Burns took a deep, steadying breath. He had had these dreams before, for many years actually, but now that Waylon spent more nights with him than at is own apartment, Burn's nightmares had become even more of a concern for the overly attentive and protective assistant. He had hoped to spare the details of Waylon Sr.'s death from him, but maybe now was the time to share them. Maybe he had gone long enough bearing his cross alone.
The light was dim, but he could barely make out Waylon's features, the image that was oh so much like his father's brought a whole new wave of grief over him as he mustered the strength to speak and to put a voice to the unspeakable horrors that he had endured alone for decades. Afterwards, once he had spilled his guts over his anguishing story with all of it's haunting details, only then, did he manage to get the best night's sleep he had had in years, falling asleep cuddled up to Waylon with an arm draped over his chest, clutching him like a security blanket.
A.N. - A. N. - With my long winded wordiness, I always said that it would be a cold day in the nether before I ever wrote a one-shot, but here we are, in the Author's Notes of my first one-shot fic and I have no regrets as I had a lot of fun writing it. Written as an art trade for my friend gabrielcic from Deviant Art. She came up with the plot idea and drew a picture for her part of the trade. Check out her page on DA.
I almost mentioned the Chernobyl nuclear accident as one of Burn's fears as he watched the nuclear disaster about to take place, but I realized that Chernobyl was in the 80s. XD At the time of airing, the 'Blunder Years' episode would have taken place in '71 I believe, though we all know the revolving and ever changing time line of the series.