Sapphire & Jasper
By: Aubrie1234
It had been only a few nights since they had started sharing a bed, but Doyle felt something was waking him up. Glancing around sleepily, he noted that it was 1:22, the middle of the night. What was causing him to be up at this hour? Then he was harshly jabbed in the back and nearly sent off the bed, only staying on it because he managed to prevent himself from rolling over fully. This had him wide awake and angrily looking towards the source of the jab, only to soften when he saw Alex. And he didn't soften just because he saw the Brit, no, Doyle had softened because of what Alex was doing. The blond was practically curled into a ball, eyes shut tight as whimpers occasionally escaped his mouth. The guy was having a nightmare and had probably jabbed Doyle accidentally. It would be best to wake him up before things got worse, or that's what Doyle thought. The redhead sat up and gently took hold of Alex's shoulder to start waking him.
"Hey, Al-" He had barely pushed Alex's shoulder before things quickly spun out-of-control. The blond was suddenly wide-eyed and, with a strength that Doyle hadn't seen before, managed to pin the bigger man underneath him. Both of Alex's hands were clutching Doyle's neck, as if ready to snap it. Seeing the unbridled fear and anger in Alex's clouded, sleepy eyes, Doyle didn't doubt that. The redhead's eyes were equally wide with a similar fear as his breath caught in his throat, not daring to move or make a sound lest he set Alex off again. He waited as Alex panted and calmed down, the cloudy sheen of sleep leaving the blond's eyes slowly until they were clear again. And when they were, they filled with a different kind of fear as he let go of Doyle and leapt off the bed.
"Wait!" Alex was already out of the room as Doyle got up and went after him. He could take an easy guess at why the other had ran. There was a click from another door, the one that had been Doyle's old bedroom, but when the redhead tried to open it, he found it locked.
"Alex!" he called, "Let me in!" When he got no response, Doyle growled and slammed his shoulder against the door. It shook under his sudden assault, but held firm.
"Alex, it's okay." Doyle tried talking to the spy again, ignoring his sore shoulder, "You were just having a nightmare."
"I could have killed you..." came Alex's soft voice, ridden with something else, something Doyle couldn't place but made him worry.
"You could have, but you didn't. We both stilled long enough for you to come back to your senses. I'm fine, you didn't hurt me. That's all that matters."
"Just leave me alone..." It sounded more like a whimper than a command, and though he knew he should just let Alex recover on his own, Doyle also knew he had to comfort Alex. He didn't know why he felt he should, maybe it was because he felt empathy for the other man because he had once been through similar circumstances, but Doyle couldn't leave Alex alone. He may not have had guilt for nearly hurting someone after a nightmare, but he knew how terrifying they could be.
"No. If you won't let me in, I'm coming in there." Doyle tried ramming the door a few more times, but when it still didn't budge, he decided to try a different tactic that would probably make Alex yell at him later for being stupid. Grabbing his micro-adhesive gloves and boots, he put them on and headed to a window. He swallowed as he gazed outside, at the sheer drop that could easily kill him if this didn't work; Alex would most certainly kill him once the blond found out about what the redhead was doing. But he knew he had to help Alex, so Doyle pushed down his fear, opened the window, and climbed outside.
He shivered as the cold air hit his skin and thin bedtime clothes, but pressed on. He tried not to think about what lay below him as he placed his hands on the wall, getting ready to do something very stupid and probably suicidal. He then pushed off, almost as if he was jumping, but the adhesive held firm and kept him to the wall. Breathing a shaky sigh of relief, Doyle crawled along the wall like Spiderman to reach the other window, the one he knew led to his old room. He soon found himself outside the window and quickly opened it, as it had been unlocked, and crawled inside. As he closed the window, he glanced around the room and saw Alex curled up on the bed and facing away, much like the blond had been while in the grips of the nightmare. Alex looked back at Doyle, unsurprised, and the redhead could see the other's red-rimmed eyes. Alex had been crying, possibly sobbing, and it hurt Doyle to see him like that.
"So they worked, huh?" the spy said quietly, voice rough, "Now that you know your gloves and boots work, you can leave me alone."
"I told you, no." Doyle took slow, measured steps towards Alex, trying not to spook the Brit, "Why did you run? Nothing bad happened."
"Bad things could have happened." Alex's voice turned from soft to cold and sharp, "I could have killed you, Doyle, and I wouldn't have realized it until it was too late."
"But you didn't." the redhead pressed, emphasizing the last word to get his point across.
"Leave me alone." Alex turned his head away. Doyle sat beside him on the bed, on the side where Alex's back was facing him.
"Tell me what upset you. Is it just because you nearly killed me or something else?" he asked, "Because I'm not afraid of you, Alex. It was an accident, something you didn't have control over. I'm not saying I know what it's like to nearly kill someone in your sleep, because I know I don't, but I'm saying that this must have come out of something. All the things you went through as a spy have changed you and probably created this defense mechanism, so I don't blame you for what you did. Your body, your instincts, they were just protecting themselves. You had no control over it and didn't realize what you were doing because you were still asleep. You could have killed me, but I'm not a weakling. If I had felt otherwise, I could have injured you before you had a chance to snap my neck. But I didn't, I felt that I needed to be still, and I was right. I got you awake from your nightmare, even though it was almost at the cost of my life. And you know what? I'm fine with that. I know nightmares can be horrible, I used to have them a lot when I was little." Doyle grew saddened as he remembered the faint memories of his parents and sister, "Just know that you're not alone, Alex, and that I'm not defenseless. If you want to sleep alone from now on, that's fine. But just know that I'll keep waking you up from nightmares and putting myself in danger because I can't let you continue to sleep like that. Got it?"
"..." Alex was quiet, but Doyle felt a hand slide around to hold his and smiled.
"In the morning, I want you to teach me how to fight properly." the redhead continued, "You know tons of martial arts, so if I ever get in trouble and my way of fighting doesn't work, I'll need another way to protect myself. Even if it's while I wake you."
"...Fine." Alex didn't sound so sad or cold anymore, just what Doyle had been aiming for.
It was morning now and things had switched around. Alex was tucking a sleeping Doyle into bed, as the redhead had stayed awake for the rest of the night watching over the blond and Alex now wanted to return the favor.
Doyle had been right, in a way. Though he didn't mention it or possibly even think of it, Alex couldn't keep hiding away his demons forever, he couldn't keep running. Especially not if Doyle was going to keep waking him up whenever he had a nightmare. And those nightmares usually popped up if he had been having a bad day or reliving memories before pressing down the feelings. He was human, after all, and spies had their limits, even broken ones like himself. His body needed an outlet for the emotions he kept locked away, so they came out while he was sleeping, at his most vulnerable and lethal point.
Alex found his face hovering a foot above Doyle's after tucking the sheets around the sleeping redhead, who was practically dead to the world at this point. And, while he was asleep, the bigger man looked younger, the hard lines on his face gone. Doyle had been roped into this thing, this mission, against his will, just like Alex, though Doyle had had a harder life. Alex didn't want to make it any harder on the other man, so he knew he had to train himself to trust Doyle so he wouldn't hurt the redhead, both awake and asleep. It may have been a fatal choice if Doyle was planning to kill Alex or something, but the blond found he didn't care.
Days before, when they had gone to the pool party, Alex found that he liked how Doyle looked in just shorts, a t-shirt, and a towel. But when the redhead fell into the pool, the physical attraction was washed away as he watched Doyle sputter around for a minute in terror before climbing out of the pool, shaking himself like a dog, and running away from the water like an indignant cat. Alex had fallen for Doyle's personality at that point, finding that he liked the secret goofiness of a man who had seen too much (but not as much as Alex) and that kindness and loyalty were not rarities with Doyle, once you got to know him. Alex liked that a lot, maybe more than he was like to admit to himself. Smiling at the memory, Alex leaned closer until he was only a few inches away.
"Sweet dreams, Strawberry." he whispered before pulling away and leaving the room.
When Doyle woke up that night, he felt hot and a bit sick. Not enough to confine him to bed, but enough to make him think twice about sitting up too fast. However, as he felt the bed shift slightly, he looked over to see Alex tossing and turning, a frown etched deep into his face.
Another nightmare. Doyle thought, then wondered if Alex had had nightmares before while at the Saturday house and Doyle hadn't noticed, but put the thought away as he focused on waking Alex up. And, feeling sick like he was with Alex moving around, this wasn't going to be easy. Not like it ever was, but he could tell this was one of the worse nights. Slowly getting out of bed, Doyle knew he needed to plan this just right so he wouldn't get kicked. That had happened several times, once in the crotch, and it hadn't felt good for a long time afterword. Planning was imperative if he wanted to get Alex awake without getting hurt (and in this case, throwing up).
Staying quiet, he walked to the other side of the bed and raised his hands, getting them ready. Once he was sure Alex had hit a lull in the nightmare, he pounced. He had planned to grab Alex's forearms and pin them above the blond's head, against the headboard, with his own legs safely tucked between Alex's so he wouldn't get kicked (unless Alex brought his leg back far enough, which would be painful in the position they would be in). Most of that had worked, except he hadn't managed to grab Alex's left forearm. The blond's eyes snapped open at first contact and he grabbed Doyle's free wrist (his right one), pulling it foreward with a sudden strong jerk that made an awful popping sound and white-hot pain flash through the wrist. Doyle hissed and pinned Alex's free forearm above their heads with Doyle's own forearm, the bigger man ignoring the pain that screamed through his body as he tried to help his ex-lover. Alex struggled, hitting the redhead in the back with his knees, but Doyle held firm until Alex calmed down. The Brit was panting, eyes wide as he looked around the room.
"Doyle." he gasped, "Oh god, don't tell me..." Slowly, the ex-mercenary let him go and cradled his arm.
"It's not that bad." Doyle sighed, "I'm probably going to have bruises in my back and I have a dislocated wrist, but except for that, everything's fine."
"Fuck." Alex put his hands to his face and he was shaking, "I hurt you again. I hurt you. Oh god, I'm a horrible person-"
"Knock it off." Doyle wasn't about to let Alex slip into a guilt-induced depression, not now. He had delt with that at least twice and both times he had found Alex harming himself for what he had done to Doyle. No, the redhead wasn't going to let that happen again. Briefly he wondered if had happened after they separated, but he didn't want to think about it now.
"Listen," he wrapped his able arm around Alex's form and pulled the spy into a sitting position, "it's okay now. Whatever you saw wasn't real and I'm okay. Don't fall into depression on me, not again, please. You are a wonderful person and if you think otherwise, then I will make you spend a day alone with Zak to make you happy again." Doyle coughed into his arm, the feeling of his sickness hitting him again, "Got it?"
"Y-yeah." Alex slowly took his hands away from his face and held Doyle's arm, away from the dislocated wrist, "You're sure it's dislocated?"
"You pulled it forward and there was a popping sound. I'm pretty sure it's dislocated." Doyle tried to move a finger on his hand, but stopped when he felt pain shoot through his arm, "Can't even move a finger."
"Alright. Let's go to Medical Bay, I can treat you there."
"No, you can stay here and get some sleep." Doyle got away Alex, "I've dealt with a dislocated wrist before. Besides, you need sleep, I know how much you get." Alex gazed at him sadly.
"...Stay for a while?"
"Of course." The redhead held his arm and wrist against his body as he laid beside Alex again on the other side of the bed. He watched, listened, and felt as Alex grabbed his non-injured arm and slowly went back to sleep, this time more peaceful. Extracting himself from the other's grip while trying not to wake Alex and not hurt himself, Doyle was able to do it easily and quietly before leaving the room. Much to his surprise, he found his sister just outside the door.
"I heard something and came to check on you." she spoke, "Is everything alright?"
"...Mind heading to Medical with me?" He closed the door before heading off, not waiting for an answer.
"What happened?" Drew now had a worried tone in her voice, keeping an eye on how her brother held his arm against his chest, as if he was hurt.
"Nothing unusual, just need to set my wrist and see if anything got torn."
"What?!" Even though she kept her voice low, it was obvious Drew was shocked and angry.
"Don't be mad at Alex, it's not his fault." Doyle gave her a stern look.
"He sprained your wrist!"
"Dislocated it, actually."
"That's worse!"
"I told you, he didn't mean it."
"Then how did you get hurt?" she crossed her arms as they walked, unconvinced, "Did you just fall off the bed and dislocate it or something?"
"Look, it's a long story and I'm not in the mood to tell it." He stopped when Drew moved in front of him, glaring.
"You are going to tell me right now why you're defending Alex if he dislocated your wrist. I know you two were once in love, but that gives you no right to defend him for something like this." Doyle met her glare tiredly and sighed.
"He has nightmares, Drew, horrible ones that I can't even begin to imagine that come from what he's gone through. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night to find him in a nightmare and I wake him up." Doyle held up his wrist, ignoring the pain, "You see this? This is nothing compared to what Alex has done to me before in a fear- and sleep-induced haze. He's nearly killed me several times and the worst was he managed to break my arm once, but I always kept trying to help him because it was both the right thing to do and I loved him." The younger narrowed his eyes, "Alex said that you didn't like him and he got the feeling that you hated him. I know this may hurt your feelings, but through all of this, I'll be on Alex's side until you convince me that you don't. I'm mentioning this now because I'm getting the feeling you don't like him. Either that or you're being overprotective."
"..." Drew wasn't sure what to say, but gently grabbed his unhurt arm, "...Let's get you treated, Doyle." He calmed and nodded, allowing her to lead the way, as he now felt worse after his outburst. What was wrong with him? He had felt fine earlier, when he and Alex had been bantering about his 'improvising tactics' (which had nothing to do with being a Leeroy Jenkins, mind you, no matter what Alex said) and Zak had to be chased down for his bath (he had continued to shout "NEVER!" as Doyle and Alex chased him through the house). He had felt fine at dinner (Zon hadn't come by to eat, but that wasn't unusual because she sometimes went out and hunted for herself) and when they had gone to bed, so maybe it had been food poisoning? But he didn't think that was it, his instincts told him otherwise. And throughout his life, he had learned to trust his instincts, so he wasn't about to turn away from them this time.
"While you're at it," he groaned and held his head, feeling a headache coming on, "check to see if I'm sick, because I certainly feel like it."
"Nothing. There's no virus at all, but you've definitely got a temperature and you're sweating like a pig."
"Thanks for the compliments." Doyle muttered as he sat on the medical bed. His right wrist was wrapped in a splint, as not much had been torn (surprising, as most dislocations of the wrist offered a lot more pain and torn things) and Drew had been able to set it. It was good enough to heal in a few days at the least, given the right treatment, but the dislocation was not on their minds right now.
"Don't forget the pounding headache." he added, rubbing his temples one-handed and trying to calm the raging pain in his head.
"Noted." Drew muttered, but besides her brother being sick suddenly, her mind was on their conversation. She hadn't meant to come off as being mean or hating Alex, she had only wanted to protect her little brother. She knew that she was a bit overprotective of Doyle and her boys, but did that make her look like she hated Alex when she actually didn't? If so, she now felt incredibly saddened and wished to make it up to the blond man.
"Do you think this could be the work of the Mondays?" Doyle suddenly asked, "Because that's just the feeling I get, and I don't like it."
"Well, do you feel really bad on the inside at all? You've got a few symptoms of food poisoning."
"No, just like I'll throw up. And I'm pretty sure it isn't that, because I would know." Doyle grimaced, "I've had food poisoning before."
"When?"
"I'd rather not talk about it." The redhead slowly laid back on the bed, trying not to upset his stomach, "But I just get this feeling that the Mondays have something to do with it."
"It's a bit late to go after them right now, though." Drew sighed, "Stay here and get some rest, okay? I'll see what I can do in the morning. For now, take some tylenol for the fever. You feel like you can take it, right?"
"Yeah." Doyle muttered, "It'd be better if you handed me some water to take with it."
"Already on it." Drew walked around the room, grabbing the bottle of medicine and a glass, which she filled with water at the sink in the room. She also grabbed a blanket as she went to her brother, who looked dead tired.
"Here." she handed him the glass and two pills, "Get well soon, little brother."
"I'll try." he muttered quietly, struggling to sit up enough to take the medicine. Drew took the glass and put it on the table once he was finished and after he had laid down again, she tucked the blanket around him. She gave a small kiss to the side of his head in hopes that he would feel better in the morning before she left, turning out the lights, but another thing was bothering her. Doyle had said that he thought the Mondays were behind him being sick, but that was impossible. At least, by normal terms. And if this was what she thought it was, then they were in big trouble, especially Doyle. They needed to get the mirror and to the Dark Matter World ASAP, otherwise worse things than being sick were going to happen.
Sorry it's been a while, but here's another chapter! I hope you like it, and if I've made any mistakes, please tell me and I'll fix them. As it is, please read & review!