until the war is won (i will be lost)
By,
Aestivate
Rating: K+
Characters: Jaime, Bart
Summary: Jaime often finds it difficult to wake up from the nightmares he has of losing him.
Word Count: 892
Jaime often finds it difficult to wake up from the nightmares he has of losing him.
He can feel the Scarab infused in his spine stirring as he tosses and turns, trapped in a cocoon of bed covers and primordial fears. The Scarab yells his name to wake and he can feel the armor hardening over his body as the wretched inner-demon wrestles for control to fight his other demons that assail restful sleep and no, he can't let that happen, he won't let it, no – He reaches out and runs or maybe he's flying but his outstretched fingers have been replaced by unfeeling metal and the cannon on his arm begins to charge, and he's taking aim, about to fire …
The sky is black, permanently covered by thick clouds of ash that rain on the cold, cold earth. There are bodies around him as far as the eye can see and the scent of charred flesh makes his stomach churn and his eyes sting. But it's his guns that are smoking, firing over and over, fueled by inexorable panic. He's searching for the green eyes of the one he needs (just stay whelmed it's alright it's alright) and suddenly he's pushing through bodies, tossing bodies. Creating more bodies. Each piece of meat lands with a sickening crunch on the hard ground. The corpses are so badly charred the features are unrecognizable but on occasion he'll come across one with a costume or an emblem relatively intact (mi dios is that the Super shield and the Wonder logo) and he just wants to escape the feeling of dread in his stomach by flying up, up, up (must get away from this place).
And the scene grows darker still, the bodies lifting into the air towards as if animated by puppet strings. Decimated hands reach and grab at him. Faces contort into expressions that should resemble rage but the eyes are so hollow that Jaime just screams, face completely ashen. "Please, stop, I didn't mean to…" Didn't mean to what? "Please just let me go." And the ghoulish beings are all over him now and maybe he really is thankful for the armor that encases his body so that he's shielded from their desperate clawing. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" and the cannon charges of its own accord, blasting through the wall of bodies of friends and strangers he's killed –
But still, they writhe and twitch and itch toward him, mouthing chants soundlessly. "You killed us all, Blue, you made us all feel the mode!" and Jaime just squeezes his eyes shut, an anguished wail erupting from the weight in his chest. "No, no, no, no, no I didn't mean to! THAT'S NOT ME!"
When he opens his eyes again Jaime sees flashes of red and yellow and white and gold and green and the colors race around him in a technicolor blur. He suddenly has the impulse to be wrapped in the warmth, embraced in the safety. He holds his arms out to be held but there's something wrong; his arms are not usually this heavy nor are they typically encased in armor. Jaime is not nearly quick enough; he only catches air as the scene reforms shades of swirling grey and black once more.
The Scarab has grown quiet and now Jaime can just hear his own voice pleading again and his thoughts coalesce into Bart I'm sorry, I'm sorry I didn't mean to, I'll come for you, I'll save you and everyone I promise this is me I could never I will never
Except Jaime can't find him, can't see him, can't reach him; he can only reach the future that he's doomed to carry out and I Killed Bart and everyone and now I'm alone, alone. Moded.
Jaime spirals out of control along with the sonic spirals he shoots from his arms and he's kissed by darkness, the cold cobalt of the Scarab bringing him to his knees. Unbearable agony erupts from the base of his spine and he just wants to be rid of it, for it all to end. Truth merely laughs, and the Scarab pulls him through the ground, through the earth, lower, lower, lower until Jaime swears he sees the Devil himself, a larger-than-life lunatic encased in a shell of blue and black armor –
Jaime awakes with a screech, the Scarab finally able to rouse him. His back is burning where he's tried to rip the Scarab out of his spine; somehow he wound up on the floor, still tangled in sweat and tear-soaked sheets. The air in his room is stale but cool, and blood thunders back into his brain. His throat feels positively raw from screaming. The Scarab berates him for his weakness and recommends some more unspeakable horrors to the people that plague his nightmares. Jaime simply scowls, shrugs, ignoring the Scarab, too preoccupied by other voices that can't seem to leave his head. He returns to bed where his bedmate is still sound asleep and peaceful. Bart really can sleep through anything; then again, Jaime knows Bart does not stir because he has been sleeping through apocalypse all of his life. Jaime settles himself down next to Bart again and he runs his fingers through the younger boy's warm scalp, the gentle strokes lulling him back to sleep, softly, softly.
Fin.