The Night-time Visitor

by prodigallady

A night-time visitor brings a challenge for Tim and Gavin.

The Night-time Visitor.

Standing there in absolute silence, the tall, dark figure studied the sleeping form. No sound made, no rustle of sheets not even the faint whisper of steady breathing. Pure stillness. Unseen by the large, black cowl that shielded his face from recognition, the figure smiled, his eyes glinting as he observed the smooth, angelic face below him. His angular cheek bones and muscular arms highlighted in the moonlight which peeked in through the crack in the curtains. 'Yes, yes, he would do nicely,' he thought. Another figure lay next to the one he favoured, but it was an insignificant note to make as he now watched more intently the man he had chosen.

They were both sound asleep unaware of his presence. Always a blessing in these circumstances. In complete silence the figure gripped his scythe with long, bony fingers and swung it back, it's sharp metal glistening as it silently sliced through the air ….

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Gavin sat bolt upright and grabbed Tim hard.

'Tim! TIM!' he said, gripping Tim's chin and forcing his head to face Gavins. Tim's eyes were wide with terror, sweat covered his face and he was shaking uncontrollably. His screams of fear echoed through the still night.

'TIM! It's me, Gavin. Look at me! It's ok.' A few moments passed before the screaming subsided and only then did Tim's eyes soften into recognition of the one who was talking to him.

'Come here. It's ok, it's ok. I've got, you're ok. I've got you,' Gavin soothed as he pulled Tim down and drew him in tightly to himself.

'I've got you. You're safe. Shhhhh …. I'm here.' Tim buried himself in Gavin, sobbing loudly and shaking in both terror and relief. Gavin continued,

'Nothing's going to harm you. I won't let anything harm you. You're safe. It's ok. I've got you.'

Kissing the side of his head and keeping a very tight grip on him, Gavin spent many minutes calming him down as Tim clung desperately to him, gasping for breath and crying.

This was now a regular nightly occurrence.

After a while when Tim seemed to settle a little, Gavin spoke.

'Was it the same one as last night?' Tim nodded, refusing the move his face from Gavin's shoulder.

'Exactly the same?' Another nod then loud sobs started again.

'It's ok. It's going to be ok. I've got you. You're safe. Shhhhh …' Gavin spent more minutes cradling Tim trying to calm and reassure him. He could feel Tim's T-shirt wet with sweat and wanted to get him out of it and into a dry one but Tim refused to let go for the moment. So, stroking his hair and whispering soothing words Gavin let him stay there until he felt safe enough to relax his grip a little.

As the minutes passed, Gavin felt himself drifting back off to sleep. The exhaustion of this nightly routine was beginning to take its toll on both of them and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

'I'm going to die,' sobbed Tim. Gavin's eyes immediately snapped open. Gripping his shoulders to push him away slightly, so he could look Tim in the eye, Gavin replied very firmly,

'No, you're not. D'you hear me? No you're not!' Tim's face crumpled up once more and Gavin saw that the terror had not completely left him.

'I am. I know I am. I'm going to die.' Gavin sat up and pulled Tim up too.

'Come here,' he said and reaching to his bedside table, switched the lamp on and took a glass of whiskey, giving it to Tim to drink. Knowing this unpleasant routine by now Gavin had laid aside a few things ready: hand towel, clean T-shirt, tissues, a glass of whiskey and water (depending on the severity of the terror).

'Here,' he said as Tim took a large gulp of the whiskey, 'Take this off,' tugging at his t-shirt to indicate what he meant, 'and let's get you dry.' Tim obeyed and Gavin reached for the towel proceeding to dry Tim's torso and back before handing him the dry t-shirt and the glass of whiskey again to take another drink. Looking at him, Gavin could see how worn out Tim looked, how gaunt and vulnerable, how he was a shadow of the strong, energetic, mischievous young man that he used to be. Lying him back down, he turned off the lamp and Tim pressed himself into Gavin, almost as if to be one body. He obviously needed closeness and protection and Gavin, knowing this, held him as tight as he could. Kissing the side of his head again he said softly,

'You're not going to die love.' Tim began to weep again. 'Nothing is going to happen to you.' He paused slightly, 'But … you .. we, can't go on like this.' Stroking Tim's hair he said, 'I can't see you like this every night full of terror, it's making you ill. It's making us both ill. I can't watch you go through this anymore, something's going to have to be done.'

Gulping back tears, Tim gasped out the words.

'It's a sign, I know it is. It's the grim reaper. I saw the scythe and everything it was coming down and ….'

'No!' rebuked Gavin, 'It was just a nightmare. You've been having the same nightmare now ever since you went to that meditation class and saw that man in an anorak. It isn't the grim reaper, it's a man in an anorak, that's all.' But Tim couldn't be convinced.

'Get some sleep now. I'm here, you're safe. We've got work later on today.' And with that Gavin kissed the top of his head and fell into a restless sleep, listening to Tim's quiet sobbing until he too fell into exhaustion.

The day at the centre was that of heavy quietness. The sort were exhaustion sets up shop and weighs down the atmosphere so much that the will to talk is not actually worth the effort after all. Most of the staff had seen the deterioration of both Tim and Gavin since the meditation class and the death of its teacher. Gavin had spoken to the staff about Tim's nightmares and their lack of sleep. All were sympathetic seeing how ill they both looked and kindly offered to keep Brittas away from them as much as possible, who hadn't noticed anything at all except how people seemed to be getting on with their jobs and no answering back, especially from Tim. Today, fortunately, Brittas was away on a day course and Gavin was in charge. After the morning briefing, where Gavin informed them that the only class that day was the pensioner's aerobics, Patrick had turned to him and quietly said,

'Don't worry I'll keep an eye on Tim for you. I'll find him a quiet spot where he can take a nap,' Grateful, Gavin smiled and made his way to Brittas' office where a pile of paperwork waited for him. Yawning with his heads in his hands, Julie walked in with a strong coffee.

'How was last night? The same?'

Gavin nodded. 'Julie, do you remember when Brittas got that psychiatrist in for us all? Mr Matthews I think his name was.'

Julie nodded, 'Yeah.'

'Well, can you get me his number please? I've got to do something, I can't go on like this, maybe he can help us. Only …..' he paused.

'Don't tell Tim?' Julie said with a wry smile.

Gavin looked sheepish, 'Yeah,' he said. 'You know what he's like, he'll get worked up and …'

'Don't worry, I won't say anything. Why don't you have a kip on the sofa? You look as if you need it. Brittas is out all day and I can hold the fort.'

'Thanks Julie,' replied Gavin and gratefully took her up on the offer. He lay on the couch for an hour, thankful for some sleep uninterrupted by Tim's screams.

It was a few days later when they were both home that Gavin decided to broach the subject. After a light tea of scrambled eggs and toast, Tim had flopped on top of Gavin on the settee while they 'watched' TV. Both were exhausted after another terror filled night and with a bottle of red wine open, making sure that Tim had had a couple of drinks, Gavin decided it was now or never. With the weight on Timmy on him and stroking his hair, his boyfriend murmured contentedly and kissing the top of his head Gavin began,

'I love so much.' Tim cuddled more into his boyfriend and put his arm around his waist.

'I know,' he replied softly, 'I love you too.'

'I'm serious Tim, I love you very much.' Tim lifted his head, leaning a little on Gavin's chest, to look at him quizzically as Gavin carried on, 'It's breaking my heart to see you every night frightened and upset.' Tears began to fill Tim's eyes again,

'I know. I'm sorry. It's just I feel I'm going to …'

'Don't say it,' Gavin interrupted, 'Nothing is going to happen to you but, I am worried about you ….'

'Sorry,'

'…. so …. I've had an idea.' Tim looked at him expectantly.

'Now I know you're not going like it but hear me out ok?' Still Tim said nothing. 'I've made an appointment for us both to go and see Mr Matthews.' Tim looked confused, 'Mr Matthews, remember? The psychiatrist who once came to the centre?' Tim sat up and opened his mouth to protest but Gavin refused to let him get a word in.

'You've met him. You even said you quite liked him as psychiatrists go and we both can't go on like this can we? Can we Tim? You know I'm right. It's because I love you,' taking Tim's face in his hands, 'that I'm going to help you.' Gavin leaned in and kissed him deeply. Tim pushed back keeping their mouths sealed as he lay down again fully on top of Gavin. When they parted breathless, it was Tim who spoke.

'I don't need a psychiatrist, I'm not …. ill.'

'Oh my darling,' said Gavin kissing his forehead, 'Nobody is saying you are ill but I don't want you to live with these nightmares anymore. I made the appointment for both of us, not just you.'

That seemed to mollify Tim slightly and with a combination of the wine and severe exhaustion, Tim's usual defences were depleted and so he nodded,

'Ok,' he said, laying his head back on Gavin's chest, 'Ok, but I'm not happy about it.'

Gavin smiled to himself, relief that it had gone as smoothly as it did. Exhaustion had clearly worn away any fighting spirit Tim may have had and had proved a positive for once.

'Let's go to bed,' he said taking the remote and turning the tv off, 'Maybe we'll get a few hours sleep before our 'visitor' arrives.'

Since Gavin had spoken to Mr Matthews personally on the phone and explained how desperate the situation was, Mr Matthews had made a special arrangement and agreed to see them the same week. Their appointment was after work on Friday and they had hoped not to be delayed with a 'staff review of the week' that Brittas liked to organise in order to help them 'bond as a team and improve their customer service.' They almost had made it through the door when they suddenly heard,

'Ahhhh Tim, Gavin, staff meeting in five minutes ok? A quick staff review of the week.' Before they could object and make their excuses Colin came rushing through reception.

'Mr Britt-as! Mr Britt-as!'

'What is it Colin?' Gordan replied in an exasperated, short tempered voice.

'It's another catastrophe Mr Britt-as! You've got to come quick!'

'What?!'

'It's the boiler Mr Britt-as! It's making this terrible hissing noise and the pressure is building up to dangerous levels. If you don't come now …. I think she might blow!'

'Alright, alright. Carole ..'

'Yes, Mr Brisssss,'

'…. tell the staff there's no 'week review' tonight, we'll do it on Monday instead. Right, Colin, lead the way.'

As Brittas left following Colin, Carole smiled and winked at Tim and Gavin and switching the intercom on she shooed them away with her hand. Gavin mouthed 'thank you,' grabbed Tim's arm and swiftly left.

The waiting room was empty when they arrived. The door to Matthew's office was open and he came out to place a file on his secretary's desk, whom he had allowed to go home.

'Ahh, Mr Featherly and Mr Whistler,' he smiled shaking their hands.

'Gavin, Tim, please,' said Mr Featherly with a nervous smile.

'Come in, come in, sit yourself down.'

Tim hesitated, suddenly unwilling to enter, he looked fearful and Gavin, realising that he had the potential to bolt, took his hand in his saying,

'It's ok. I'm not leaving you. Remember why we're here.'

With some resistance, he pulled Tim into the office where Matthews was waiting. Gavin explained the events of the last few weeks, the meditation class, the nightmares, the terror, anoraks, Tim disposition to panic and feel overwhelmed with anxiety. Matthews, interjecting with the odd question, made copious amounts of notes as Tim sat quietly. Eventually, putting his pen down, he smiled kindly and said,

'Well, it sounds like you've both been through a lot recently and by looking at the pair of you it's clear that you've come just at the right time.'

'Do you think you can help?' asked Gavin, with the tone of someone wanting the answer to be yes. The last thing he needed was Tim falling any further into despair and pointing out that he was right all along, a psychiatrist couldn't help. This had to work as far as Gavin was concerned.

Matthews smiled warmly, 'Yes, I think I can help.' Then looking down at their holding hands, which hadn't been released, he continued, 'Would you like Gavin to stay, Tim?'

Surprisingly, Tim had said no and Gavin was invited to wait in reception.

'I'll just be outside. Ok?' he said and sitting on the couch in the waiting room he closed his eyes, feeling guilty over the feeling of relief that he could get half an hours sleep.

'Ok Tim? Shall we get started?' said Matthews. Tim nodded sullenly. 'There's nothing to worry about. All we're going to do is talk. Would you like to lie down or stay sitting?'

Tired, Tim took the opportunity to lie down and Matthews began,

'I think it might be nice to start with a word association game.'

'What?'

'I say a word and you reply with the first word that comes to mind. OK?' Tim nodded.

'Just relax. Ok? Anorak.'

'Water.'

'Water?'

'Fish.'

'Fish?'

'Fishing.'

'Fishing?'

'Man.'

'Man?'

'Anorak.'

A pause then Matthews said, 'Tell me about your father Tim.'

Sitting up Tim shrugged, 'There's to tell. I never knew him. Mum said he died when I was young.'

'Do you have any photographs of him?' Tim shook his head.

'How about what he was like as a person? His hobbies, work and such. What do you know about them?'

'Nothing,' replied Tim. 'Like I said he died when I was very young.'

'Does your mum speak of him?'

'No.'

'Not at all?'

'No.'

'Have you ever asked her about your dad?'

'No not really. It's just been mum and me. Never really thought about my dad as I can't remember him.'

'I see,' said Matthews smiling kindly, 'Well, that wasn't so painful was it for your first session?'

'What?' replied Tim, 'That's it? I can go home now?' Matthews gave a small laugh and went to the door.

'Er .. Gavin?' Gavin woke suddenly, jumping up. 'You can come in now.'

Entering the room, Gavin saw Tim and was relieved to see no tears or anger on his face. He sat down beside him and looked expectantly.

'Everything ok?' Tim nodded.

'Yes, yes, it went well. I think I've got all I need for now.' They both looked at each other, then at Matthews.

'I think the solution to the problem is finding out about your dad Tim. I think you should speak to your mum and have an open discussion with her about him.'

'What's that got to do with the grim reaper, anoraks and death?' said Tim.

'Yes, I'm not quite sure myself,' conceded Gavin taking Tim's hand.

'You'd be surprised,' replied Matthews. 'Childhood memories suppressed deeply in the subconscious can manifest themselves in many ways and forms. Nightmares, anxiety, panic attacks, an over attachment to something or someone can all be signs of unresolved issues in our past. I think your father holds the key to all you're experiencing at the moment and the meditation class with that man in the anorak was a trigger for your dad's memory.'

They both looked stunned.

'It's more common that people think. Trust me,' then smiling said, 'I'm a psychiatrist.'

They left Mr Matthews office and called for a takeaway. Tim was quiet on the way home and Gavin didn't have the energy presently to pursue how Tim was feeling. He figured he'd wait until they got home where they could relax. Shutting the door behind them, Gavin put the food and wine down and placing his hand on Tim's shoulder turned him towards him.

'Come here,' he said and embraced him, leaning back on the door. Kissing his neck gently he continued, 'Thank you for going. I know you did it for me more than for yourself.' Tim smiled and tilted his head allowing Gavin more flesh. Gavin's hands reached down and squeezed Tim's buttocks, his breath becoming more erratic as his moved his kisses from his neck, up to his face, all around his face and finally settling on his soft lips. Intensity grew between them, hands gripping harder, moaning quietly and they grasped at each other struggling to control themselves and their love.

'Gavin,' moaned Tim softly.

'I know, I know,' gasped his boyfriend in between deep kisses. 'Come on let's eat,' he said reluctantly pulling himself away. After partly consuming the takeaway and relieving two bottles of wine of their contents, Gavin took Tim to bed. It was pointless trying to sleep so they used their time more fruitfully. Hours later, with Tim asleep, Gavin got up and left, quietly shutting the door behind him. Hoping that Tim would be settled for half an hour or so, he phoned Tim's mum. They had always got on well, Tim's mum having no delusions about her son's preferences, unlike his own family. Gavin explained what had been going on, the nightmares and how they had just seen a psychiatrist who suggested that Tim's father was the key to it all. There was silence on the phone and Gavin feared that he had upset her or made her angry.

'Are you there?' he asked tentatively.

'Mmm .. I think I better talk to him in person. I'll be down tomorrow on the first train I can catch. Is that ok? Can I stay the night?'

Relieved Gavin answered, 'Sure, sure. I won't tell Tim, it can be a surprise for him.'

So, that was settled, Tim's mum would arrive tomorrow and hopefully all this would be sorted out. He locked up the flat, turned everything off and gathering the things needed for another night (towel, T-shirt and such), Gavin crept back into the bedroom. Tim looked restless, it was likely going to be another long night.

It was indeed. The screams of terror and fears of dying made it impossible for either of them to get much sleep. Tim, at one stage, was almost hysterical and Gavin had to shake him really hard to get him to snap out of it. So convinced of his dying was Tim, that he even began to speak on the subject to Gavin telling him to find someone else when he was gone, not that Gavin listened to such nonsense. So, it was no surprise that what little sleep they did manage was disturbed with some rather loud knocking. It was Gavin who heard it first and carefully moving Tim off him, he forced his way out of bed and to the door. The knocking continued, somewhat in earnest. Blurry eyes and yawning Gavin opened the door only to see Tim's mum standing there, bag in hand.

'What time is it?' he asked, yawning and rubbing his face.

'You look awful!' she said kissing him on the cheek.

'Well if you think I'm bad you need to prepare yourself for how Tim looks,' Gavin replied sadly. 'I'm so glad you came.'

After a brief conversation, Gavin made himself some toast while Tim's mum popped her head into their bedroom to see her son. She left him to sleep knowing how desperately he needed it and began cleaning up the kitchen. Gavin sat at the table, half asleep himself.

'Thank you for looking after him,' she said placing a hand in his shoulder, 'I'm so glad you're here for him and love him.' Gavin smiled and taking her hand, kissed it.

'Thank you for accepting me … us,' he answered.

It was about an hour later when Tim began to stir. Gavin jumped in the shower while Tim's mum said hello and made her son breakfast. By the time he was ready, Gavin could see all well. Tim was pleased to see his mum, sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast, he was telling her about the vision of the tall, dark man with a scyth albeit with tears and panic in his voice. She listened without a word, one hand on his arm all the time, then at the end told Tim to get showered and freshened up.

When he had closed the bathroom door, she turned to Gavin and said,

'I see what you mean now. Thank you for phoning me. You did the right thing.' Gavin reiterated all that had gone again, making sure he left nothing out about the night terrors, what had happened last night, Mr Matthews. All the while Tim's mum washed the few breakfast dishes listening carefully. When Tim returned she indicated for them all to sit in the living room.

'Come and sit down you two, I need to tell you something.' They sat on the couch.

'This is my fault,' she said, 'I should have spoken about this before now, I'm sorry.'

She raised her hand up to halt the questions that Tim had begun to ask. Gavin took his hand, in a gesture of support.

She then proceeded to speak at length about meeting Tim's father when they were young, the places they would go, things they liked to do. Tim's father was a keen fisherman and she would spent long afternoons watching him fish by a stream near where they lived. They had, she continued, decided to get married and start a family and all was as she had dreamed. They were very happy, made even more so by the birth of Tim. He was the apple of his dad's eye, followed him everywhere and would often sit on his shoulders as they took long walks as a family. Then one day, a damp Autumn day, Tim's father had taken him fishing by the stream he knew so well. She had stayed at home doing chores. Tim was about three years old she said and was excited to go. Later that morning there had been a frantic knock on the door and standing there with a crying Tim in his arms was one of his father's friends, another regular fisherman. It transpired that Tim's father had somehow slipped into the swollen river and had been taken down stream by the strong current. The men, who had been fishing close by, had tried in vain to rescue his father but to no avail and a three year old boy had been left standing on the river bank watching his father disappear. One of the men had brought Tim home and returned to search for his father with the other villagers. He was found, days later. Dead. Drowned.

Tim, never recovered fully from the shock and the loss of losing his father and never spoke of the incident that occurred that day. His mum had tried to talk to him about it but he just blanked it out of his mind. In her own struggle, losing her beloved husband, his mum had tried the best she could to forge a new life for them, but now realised that she should have sought some help for young Tim.

Here, she paused, tears streaming down her face.

'I'm so sorry,' she whispered, 'I've failed you.' Gavin turned to Tim to see him also weeping. He let go of his hand and Tim went to hold his mother. Both feeling the pain of the past.

After a while, it was Tim who spoke.

'You haven't failed me. You have been a wonderful mother. But I don't understand how all this relates to my nightmares of the grim reaper?'

'Well, for one,' she replied, 'it's not the grim reaper.'

'See I told you that,' reaffirmed Gavin then turning to Tim's mum said, 'Thank you.'

'I think the person you see is your father. When he took you fishing he was wearing a dark anorak, the weather was drizzly and so he would have most likely had his hood up. You wore the same. You were matching. The scythe to me is the fishing rod, don't you see? You swing back the fishing rod and line before throwing it forward, rather like a scythe, don't you think? I think when you saw that man in the meditation class it triggered a lost memory of your father and the pain you buried when he died.'

They sat in thoughtful silence for a while. Then Tim said,

'I'm not going to die then?' His mum laughed softly and joked,

'Only if you keep Gavin awake one more night! Who knows what he might do with sleep deprivation!'

That afternoon was spent looking over photographs of his dad that his mum had brought and reading love letters he had sent her. A weight had visibly been lifted off Tim and his smile had returned. As Tim leaned over to look at the photographs of his childhood on the table, Gavin caught the eye of Tim's mum behind his back and as she looked at him, he mouthed, 'thank you.' She smiled and blew him a kiss.

That night both of them slept soundly. Tim never murmured all night

They awoke to fresh pancakes and coffee and a clean flat. Both refreshed and feeling able to function properly again they spent the day with Tim's mum, enjoying some quality family time. When it was time to go, she gave Gavin and long, heartfelt embrace, then turning to Tim she did the same. Kissing her son on the cheek she thrust into his hand a framed photograph of his father. They both stared at it for a moment for it was exactly as Tim had described his 'night-time visitor.' There, in the frame stood his father in a dark anorak, fishing rod leaning against his shoulder as a young Tim stood next to him holding up a large fish, pretty much as big as he was. His father's other hand was on Tim's head, both were smiling.

That evening, Tim, looking at the framed photograph, placed it on the mantelpiece. Gavin came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him. Tim reached up and held Gavin's arms, comforted in the loving embrace.

'Thank you,' he said softly.

Gavin kissed his neck gently and tightened his hold. 'What a lovely memory to have of your dad. He would be so proud of you, you know.'

Tim turned smiling and leaning into Gavin, arms around his neck, kissed him passionately.

'You know what we need to do now?' he said.

'What?' smiled Gavin, brushing some hair from Tim's face. His mind full of all the delights Tim and he could do.

'We now need to tackle your father.'