Lost
He was always lost in the dream. He had no idea where or who he was. But then he would remember the diner he sat in and he would remember his name. And he would be vaguely aware that he had forgotten something important. He was always lost in the dream. But he was always brought home by the girl with the American accent.
He reached his arm across the bed as he always did if he wasn't holding her. He sighed sadly when his arm met nothing and he opened his eyes to an empty room, the rain outside pattering the window. He looked at her side, missing her. He needed her now. It had been months since he had dreamt of the underworld and she had always been there for him to hug and to kiss when he awoke just as he was there for her when she dreamt of it. Just his luck that he would dream of it and need her when she was visiting family in Louisiana. She had been gone a week and was due back at some point today. He had considered the idea of going with her but had decided against it. He might be needed here. But he waved her off at the airport and said he'd see her in week and that she wasn't to even think about worrying about the squad. She more than deserved a week at home. And he had been fine. He had missed her, naturally, but he was fine. Until the dream reminded him what it was like to be truly alone.
Now he was here, alone in their bed, feeling lost and helpless, the diner still flooding his thoughts, and the one person he needed was in Louisiana. He permitted himself a few tears before forcing himself up and into the shower, letting the hot water calm him and ground him in reality. He was alive. He wasn't lost or alone. He needed Rory but he had to cope because she wasn't here. He couldn't be weak now. But the day wore on and his heart continued to pound. Was this a panic attack? he thought to himself. He knew that he was fine, that it was just a dream and that everything was ok now and had been for a while, but all rational thought seemed to have left him. He shut himself in his room, lying on the bed facing Rory's half and stared blankly at the wall. This didn't feel real to him. This felt like the dream. He felt lost and alone and Rory wasn't there to bring him home. He thought that after all this time he was fixed but he wasn't. He was still broken.
They came and went, trying to give him control back. Boo had brought tea and told him to think of something that made him feel strong when he was weak. But his answer to that was Rory and it seemed to cement the fact that she wasn't there. Callum told him to think of something that made him happy and he was determined to pick something other than Rory. Driving. Driving made him happy. It relaxed him. He was good at it. He had only ever had one crash. The one that killed him. The one that sent him to the diner. And then he thought of that diner and resumed his staring competition with the wall. Later, he heard Callum in the living room talking to someone on the phone telling them that "Stephen seems to have switched off or something, we can't pull him out of it, will you be very long?" The rest of his words were cut off by the loud crack of thunder outside and he found that he didn't really care about hearing what was said. He hated himself for allowing a dream to weaken him like this but he couldn't help it. No one here understood and the only person that did, the only one who could give him strength when he was weak, was a world away.
It was night when his door opened again. He was still staring at the wall and didn't look up. Perhaps it was Boo or Callum with another cup of tea. He hadn't even drank the last one. Footsteps walked towards the bed slowly and a gentle voice said his name.
"Stephen?"
It was the accent that caught his attention. The most beautiful accent in the world. Perfectly Southern. He blinked hard as she lay on the bed next to him, forcing him to look in her eyes. She smiled at him gently as she said his name again.
"Stephen?"
"Rory?"
Her hair was wet and windswept. She had arrived home in the storm. "Yeah. I'm here."
She placed her hand on his cheek and he sobbed at the contact before taking hold of the her hand. She was here. She was back. She would bring him home. He tried to speak but his voice had left him. He scrunched his eyes shut and squeezed her hand as he gently wept. Her voice was calm and soothing as she comforted him. He sniffled and opened his eyes to look at her, tears escaping them as he did. "I missed you."
"I missed you too. Callum phoned me earlier. Told me something about you switching off or something along those lines. What happened?"
"The dream."
She sighed sympathetically at him. She knew how hard it was to remember that but she had yet to wake from that alone. She wasn't sure that she could. She whispered, keeping the room quiet and calm. "Do you know what I do when I panic?"
He softly shook his head.
"I close my eyes and I think of something, anything, that makes me happy. Close your eyes."
He did so and listened to her. "Now think of something, a moment, a thing, a person, anything that makes you happy. And keep thinking of it. Don't let anything distract you."
He sighed deeply, his breath quivering as he concentrated. A small, content smile crept into his face as he immersed himself in the thought that made him happy, that made him calm. She saw his smile. "What are you thinking of?"
He sniffed and spoke slowly, his voice so small that she nearly didn't hear it. "You and me. We're lying together, tired and happy. We've just made love and we're holding each other." He threaded his fingers through hers as he spoke and their hands lay on the space between them. "We're falling asleep against each other, the entire world completely forgotten because we're too busy thinking about each other." A small tear slipped down his cheek as he felt her nuzzle closer to him.
"That's my happy thought too."
His slept a dreamless sleep and awoke to birds chirping at the window. The sun slipped into the room as if yesterday's storm never happened. His hand was still linked with Rory's who slept soundly next to him. She was in her pyjamas and her hair was dry. She must've changed in the night and taken his hand once more after he had fallen asleep. He watched her sleep next to him knowing that she wouldn't be awake anytime soon. Jet lag would've gotten her by now. He gently kissed her forehead and whispered "I love you" though he knew she wouldn't hear before slowly rising from the bed and walking to the window. He looked out onto the street below, the sun illuminating the day.
The storm had passed and he was home.
