Author's note: I recently read Vrazdova's fantastic "Till Death and Ever After", in which Shadow suffers from sleep paralysis. Then I remembered a weird fan theory about Interceptor being half esper and therefore being able to somehow influence Shadow's dreams. Those two plot bunnies loved each other very much, and so the following story was born ;)
Ever Besieged
"And so one sees shadow ever retreat to hidden places, only to return in the wake of the war between dark and light."
"House of Chains" by Steven Erikson
xxx
A sound in the darkness.
Interceptor raises his head, pricking his ears. The room is dark and empty, as it should be, except for their pack of two. But the sound comes again, so he slips out from under the bed to investigate.
The Man on the bed is trembling all over, his muscles tense and his breath coming much too ragged and rapid. The sour stench of fear pervades the air.
Ah. The Bad Sleep. Every once in a while, it will creep in, silent and subtle like smoke slithering through the crack under a closed door. Interceptor can see it as it worms its way towards the bed and wraps itself around the Man's body like a dark serpent, chaining him to the mattress.
Driving this enemy from the field requires more than simply digging teeth and claws into it as quickly as possible, but Interceptor has fought this battle before. He hops onto the bed.
The Man's eyes are open, so Interceptor makes sure to put himself into his line of sight. His nose finds the Man's hand, clenched tightly into the sheets, and he begins to lick it, gently and patiently, like he would do to encourage his newborn offspring to take their first steps.
A strained whimper escapes the Man's throat. Interceptor yips softly in answer and keeps licking. The fingers beneath his tongue twitch and tremble, and it feels like an eternity, but they begin to unclench ever so slightly. Interceptor burrows his nose deeper into the sheets, nudging the Man's palm until the trembling hand comes to rest on his snout.
The Man's breath hitches. The strange smoke is swirling around them like storm clouds, and as Interceptor looks up, it coalesces into something that vaguely resembles a human face. Empty eye sockets stare down at him, and he senses the threat and challenge behind that stare, a scavenger laying claim to a prey it has no right to.
Interceptor growls. It would be a futile gesture, if not for the tiny spark of light those dead eyes ignite in him.
It's the strangest thing, this light, for it only ever comes to him when he has to fight the Bad Sleep. But then it is fierce, and hot, and he lets that brightness spill over into his bark as he makes his stand.
...not yours...go away!...
The smoke twists and writhes, contorting the dark face into an expression of hate and fear, its mouth opening in a silent scream. Interceptor barks again, louder.
For one piercing moment, time itself seems to stand still. Then an invisible gust of light and wind rises from somewhere inside him, flowing out in a hot, blinding rush and sweeping the shadow creature away like the thin smoke that it is.
There's not a single sound. The noise Interceptor hears comes from the Man as he jolts up into a sitting position, frantically gasping for breath. Shaking hands slide into Interceptor's fur and grip on so tight it hurts, but Interceptor knows this, too: the Man's desperate need to cling during these moments of disorientation. He wriggles closer as much as he can, offering his warmth. The Man is trembling so hard it shakes the bed, making tiny, wheezing sounds as he struggles for breath.
"Good boy, Interceptor," he whispers roughly. "It's alright now, it's alright. Good boy."
Interceptor whines softly. He feels exhausted, ready to fall asleep on his paws, but there are still things to take care of. He pushes his nose against the Man's chest, gently coaxing him back into a supine position. The Bad Sleep makes his muscles sluggish, and there have been occasions when he's tumbled right out of bed because Interceptor let him move around too much too soon.
He's honestly grateful that the Man won't let go of him, because it means that Interceptor can lay down next to him. He cranes his neck to lick as much of the Man's face as he can reach, and the Man lets him, stroking Interceptor's ears.
"Well done, boy," he rasps. "Good work."
Interceptor lets his head sink down onto the Man's chest. The Man's heart is still beating furiously, but the stench of fear is gradually becoming less distinct, replaced instead by the smell of sorrow and cold sweat. It's far from ideal, but Interceptor knows that this is as close to 'alright' and 'good work' as he's going to get on a night of the Bad Sleep.
He waits patiently until the Man's breathing begins to even out. He's still trembling, but that, too, gradually subsides as he runs his fingers through Interceptor's fur, again and again. Only then does Interceptor close his eyes and lets the rhythmic touch soothe them both.
They are safe, for now.
*Fin*