A/N: So I guess this is massively inspired by an episode of Buffy, but although I've wanted to write something like it for ages I could never find the right way to write it. CantHoldOn's pretty awesome story 'Sometimes It's Like' gave me the idea to use first person like this. Still not all that convinced it works though, I might revise it later.
It's kind of weird, and I don't know if it makes sense. But yeah, read, review - I never realised until I started putting things up here how much reviews make a difference to how hard I work. And how addictive they are, once you get one, you just need more.
Disclaimer: Yep, you've heard it all before: none of these characters are mine and the general idea came from Buffy season 6 ep.17: 'Normal Again'.
When I wake up in the back of the uncomfortable vehicle the first thing I feel is that she's there curled around me, keeping me safe while I sleep. She's already awake though, I can tell from the way she's holding me.
'Hey,' she says when she sees I'm awake, a worried smile on her lips.
'Hey you.' I say, tracing her lips with my finger. 'Why so worried?'
'You don't remember? You were in pretty bad shape last night.' She's more worried now and I struggle to remember the last things that happened here. It all comes back with a crushing headache - the infected, the fight, the slamming pain as something had hit me hard on the back of the head.
'Wow,' I say, closing my eyes against the pain. 'Yep, there it is.' She holds me again and I feel her lips brush my forehead.
'I'm fine, it's just a headache.' I lie very well, in this world and the one with all the white walls. She nods, pretending to accept my lie, though I don't know if she's agreeing for my sake or hers. I'm good at lying, but she's good at seeing through my lies.
'Perhaps you should rest longer. Carlos and I can get us moving.' I want to say yes but I don't want to leave again and I know I will if I sleep. So I shrug off the pain and we get up, we have to find more fuel today and there's only a few gas stations left around. We need to head to a new area, and it's making everyone a bit nervous I think. But I'm too tired to think straight. I work on autopilot and I see her glancing at me, worried; and I know the others are talking and wondering why I've been so off the past few weeks.
I stay awake by listening to K-Mart chattering about something - I can't remember what she says but my smiles and nods are enough to keep her going. We stop early, and I think it's because of me, and honestly I'm glad, because my head hurts and I just want to have her close, stroking my hair and keeping me safe.
I can't face sitting with the others tonight, everything's becoming such a mess in my head so I just head for the vehicle as soon as I can. She follows me, with a can of food. It tastes like sawdust to me but I eat it anyway because she wants me to. She sighs, but there's no sadness or impatience in her expression, like the other one. Just genuine concern and love, and I start to cry. She doesn't freak out over it. Perhaps we're all so used to people being broken in this world that it just doesn't cause the same reaction as in the other place.
We don't talk about it, she doesn't ask me what's wrong, she just holds me until I fall asleep.
It's beginning to get to where I can't tell which is real and which isn't. But today I wake up with a dull headache, even here. If I'm feeling bruises and pain from the other world while I'm here, then that must be the real one, and this one's the dream, right? I wish I could sleep in either world, but I don't get any rest. I'm exhausted wherever I am.
They say that if I concentrate on getting well again, if I just accept that the infection never happened, and the people I see there don't exist, then I can go home. But what if they're wrong? I don't really know what home is waiting for me here, though she promises that she's there. That she'll always be there for me. But she promises that in the infected world as well. The difference is that I believe her in that world.
'You're awake.' She's sitting in the chair by my bed, and for a moment all thoughts of my worries, and of the infected world, are gone at the sight of her smile.
'You weren't here yesterday.' I say, hoping that I remembered that right, hoping that my voice didn't betray the tears I had shed wondering where she was, if she was real.
'I told you I wouldn't be.' She sounds impatient, keeps glancing at the door as if she wants to escape. And who wouldn't? When I'm really awake and not hovering betweenthe two places I'm almost normal, I think, but I look like a mess and I'm tired and snap at her sometimes. And then I have moments of panic, though less often now that I've understood that these are two different places. Here, there are no infected creatures trying to kill me. But somehow that isn't as comforting as it should be. What is there here, really?
We talk for a while, but she's looking at the door, at the clock on the wall, out through the small window and not really listening to me. My mind drifts to the other her, the one who still wants me and eventually I'm relieved when she says she has to go, and I have to go and speak with the doctor now anyway.
The day feels long, but finally I can escape to my room without being told I need to be social or go to a meeting or eat something. I lie on the bed in the dark though the white walls and the glow from the corridor don't let the darkness in, not really.
Something feels wrong when I wake up today - I'm in the back of the vehicle, but we're already moving. She's not driving today, she's sitting next to me and K-mart's up front with LJ driving. I slept late?
She's grinning at me when I wake up, a look of mischief on her face.
I smile back, bemused at her expression.
'We managed to get going without waking you.' And she's so pleased with herself, and K-Mart's grinning in the front and even LJ's chuckling so I can't be annoyed. And I do feel better, I didn't think it was possible to sleep in either world without being awake in the other.
I'm more myself today, we joke together, and I even drive for a bit. When we stop everyone seems happy that I'm more myself and that makes me feel even better. In the other place I'm always being told I must get better, for everyone else's sake, but when I do feel better they just say it's not enough. Here no-one pressures me, but their relief is so clear to me.
I don't want to fall asleep, I don't want to leave her behind for another night. And she's looking at me over the flames of the fire with that look - that shy, curious look laced with desire that she won me over with in the first place - and tonight I need that. She does as well; it's been too long.
K-mart has fallen asleep leaning against Carlos' shoulder. It's so sweet, he doesn't really know what to do about it and just sits there so still so he won't wake her.
'I'll get her to bed.' I say, and she seems surprised. I have really been distant recently I guess. But Carlos shakes his head- he's worried about me too - and instead wakes K-Mart enough so he can take her to one of the vehicles.
She says something to him as he passes, and he glances at me then back at her with an odd expression but he never questions her. I think she told him she needed our vehicle empty tonight, because she smiles that shy smile in my direction. I stand up, I don't feel so shaky now - like the world has become more solid - and walk to her, help her get up, lead her to the back of the vehicle. Her lips are on mine, our bodies pressed together before I can get the door open. But somehow we get inside, our clothes roughly pulled from our bodies.
We don't fumble awkwardly anymore, we know each other so well now, but it's been weeks and we don't stretch it out like usual. I hold her when she falls, but then I'm there with her and so we cling to each other. She's been my anchor for so long. But tonight I feel like I'm back, like I'm the one stopping her drifting away again; how it used to be.
This is the most real anything has felt in weeks. After, we're lying next to each other recovering, our breath ragged, hearts pounding. But then she's there again, pressed against me, and I welcome her because I need her, and I need to stay here with her.
It's getting too hard to keep switching. I feel like this world of white walls and people in white coats is slipping away. And I think she can see it too. Her eyes are sad but she's not really here with me when she visits. It's like her thoughts are with someone else and she's only here because she feels she has to be. Or maybe I'm pushing her away, I don't really know anymore. I do know she's been crying before she comes in today and I want so much to comfort her like I used to.
She sits down on the bed next to me and looks at me. Really looks closely: as if she doesn't think she'll see me again and wants to memorize everything about me. I put my arms around her and she clings to me.
'Come home. Just tell them you know the infection's not real.' She pleads and she kisses my neck, the spot I like so much. But it's too much today, from someone who's not real, and I push her away, and she's really crying now. I'm sorry, and I tell her so.
I look in her eyes and I think she's giving up on me. This was her last try, she wants to get out. So then I go to her, hold her, and she curls up in my arms, just like she used to when I was the one who looked after her. I can feel the other world edging in on the corners of my mind, and it's easy this time, to just give in and let myself slide away.
'I loved you.' I manage to say, before the white walls fade, and she gets so small until I can't see her anymore, can barely hear her telling me how she needs me in words which sound empty. But I've made my choice and this way, we're both free.
Waking up is less disorientating this time. I've got my arms wrapped around her warm, naked body, and I can remember what we did last night before I fell asleep. The thought of it makes me want to wake her, but I don't. I watch her sleep for a while longer, before we have to wake and get dressed so no-one finds us like this.
Another vehicle door slams outside and I reluctantly shake her awake. She yawns and smiles at me. I realise that my head feels clearer today, and I smile back. I'm still exhausted though.
'Good morning.' She says, her voice low and husky. I want her so much in this moment, but we have to get up, get the convoy moving.
'The others are waking up.' I say, and she nods.
'You still look so tired, I should have let you sleep last night.' The concern is back in her voice and for the first time it irritates me. I don't want her to keep thinking I'm so fragile. I shrug it off.
'I'll be fine.' I dress quickly and leave the vehicle, she doesn't say anything else.
The day is dull, straightforward. We move on to the next safe place to camp, check the food and fuel stores, make sure everyone's doing okay, then sit with Carlos, K-Mart and the others around the little campfire for a while. She seems to have understood why I was mad earlier, she leans against me, lets me support her. Carlos seems intruiged, maybe confused, by our closeness, but K-Mart is smiling with a knowing look. By the time we head to the vehicle, I think everyone has figured it out. And that's good; we've been sneaking around in the dark paranoid for too long.
And later, I shut my eyes, expecting to feel the pull back to the white rooms, but it doesn't come. I sleep, really sleep, safe in her arms, her breath on my neck. A long dreamless sleep; and when I wake she looks at me with a smile.
'You look better today.' She has a tone of relief in her voice. I must look confused because she puts her hand on my cheek, so gently. 'We were all worried, you've been so tired and distant.'
I lean on her hand, kiss her palm, tell her I'm here now, it'll be okay. She pulls me forwards into a needy, relieved kiss and I respond the same, smiling against her lips. I reckon this must be the real one. I'm sure I couldn't feel this happy in a dream.
So I wonder who you all think is the one who's stuck in the broken realities? Alice or Claire?
And OH MY GOD I need to write something properly happy.