LilaGrace: Oh sorry for coming off like that... Thanks for the review, glad you're enjoying...
Rubydoo: Thanks... Glad you're enjoying this... Also, thanks for reviweing V-Day...
Disclaimer: I own nothing
"Douglas!" came a frantic voice, breaking through the thin barrier of the wooden door and surrounding wall. "Thomas is awake. But he is screaming – he will not stop!"
Doug had been in the small washroom, using a small bucket of water and a cloth to wipe the dirt and blood that he was covered in when the banging had started; quick, hard knocks on the wooden door, startling him into almost dropping the bucket – almost, but not quite – and then there was the urgent yells.
Tom was awake and screaming-
Doug quickly pulled his clothes back on, not caring that they were dirty and all his washing would go to waste; he needed to get to Tom. The older officer swung the door open, rushing past a frantic La Bizca and now. Now he could hear the screaming, "G-Go away!" was being repeated by Tom and he sounded scared. Scared and lost. Doug's heart beat and pace quickened as he made his way down the small hallway; he could hear La Bizca following him, but at a slower pace, but didn't really care – He had to get to Tom.
And it seemed to take forever.
It was a small house; the bed, kitchen and living area were just at the end of the hallway, but to Doug it seemed to take hours to get to his destination. Then he was there. Doug stopped beside the bed and immediately sat down beside his friend; the latter was sitting with his back pushed into the wall, knees pulled to his chest, and his eyes scrunched together in pain.
"Tom-Tommy?" Doug asked, trying to focus his friend's attention on him, rather than what it was currently focused on. Doug didn't know, but he guessed that Tom was probably reliving memories of when he was with the soldiers. And Doug didn't want Tom to do that; not now, not ever. "Tommy, please, it's Doug. I just–I need you to open your eyes, okay?"
Doug desperately wanted to pull the younger man into a hug, but Tom's earlier protests against being touched quickly diminished that thought. All Doug had was his voice, and he was going to do his best with it.
"Please Tommy," Doug continued, "You're safe now – All you gotta do is open your eyes."
Seeing that his pleads were not working, Doug took a chance; he reached out and took hold of the younger man's hand, gripping it tightly. "C'mon Tommy, you just gotta open your eyes."
Tom stopped his screaming, which had turned into silent pleads, and squeezed Doug's hand tight. Then slowly, his eyelids fluttered open, and brown eyes were soon focused on Doug's own. Blinking away unshed tears, Tom whispered, "They–they were here Doug. They were trying to–I told them to stop but, but," Tom stopped, tightening the grip. "They–they wouldn't stop; they wouldn't go away."
"It was just a dream," Doug replied, "You're safe now, they can't get you here."
"Where–where am I?" Tom suddenly asked, glancing around nervously.
"This is La Bizca's house," Doug explained, "And look, over there," Doug continued, pointing at Amaelia and Clavo; the elderly woman held her grandson close, and Doug could hear silent sobs - Tom's screaming had probably scared him. "Over there?"
Tom turned his gaze in the direction Doug was pointing to and nodded his head slowly, "Yeah..."
"That's Amalia; La Bizca's mother, and Clavo, her son. They're friends, Tommy, they aren't going to hurt you."
Tom suddenly averted his gaze, once again looking at the other man. "I-I don't remember. How did we. How did we get here?"
Tom's voice sounded so lost and childlike and it scared Doug; it scared him to know that his friend felt lost, possibly scared. But he would help him get over that. No matter how long it took, Doug would help Tom get better.
"You remember the prison, right?" Doug asked, immediately regretting it when Tom shuddered at the memories. "Well, you remember the rebels?" Doug continued.
"Y-yeah," Tom replied. "I remember that. But-but after-"
"The shooting? Remember that, when we were outside?"
Tom nodded, staring intently at his best friend, then responded slowly, "Yeah..."
"Well, I pulled us to the ground, but you went unconscious, so I carried you here."
"You-you carried me?"
"Course I did Tommy, I wasn't gonna leave you there," Doug replied, giving a slight smile.
Tom responded with an incoherent mumble and pulled his hand out of the other man's grip.
"Tommy-What-?" Doug started but Tom glared at him and moved away.
"Nothing Doug, just-just go away."
Doug looked around for La Bizca and saw that she now held a now sleeping Clavo.
"I'm not goin' anywhere Tom. What'd you say?"
"I said," Tom hissed slowly, staring hard at his friend, "That you shoulda; you shoulda just left me there."
"What?" Doug exclaimed, "Why the Hell would I do that?" he hissed.
"Woulda been better off if you had, " Tom replied bitterly.
"What?" Doug responded, "No-no way I'd ever leave you behind, man. You're my best friend man, and I wouldn't be better off without you."
"I was just saying-" Tom started in a whisper, turning his head away from the other man's, not wanting to look at him anymore.
"Well don't!" Doug cried, abruptly cutting Tom off. He instantly regretted this, however, when the younger man flinched and moved further away. "Oh god, Tommy. I-I never meant-"
"Just go away, Doug," Tom whispered. "Just leave me alone."
"Tommy, please; I'm sorry.," Doug replied; he had never meant to hurt Tom; to scare him.
"I don't care," Tom hissed. "I just wanna be left alone."
"Alright," Doug agreed, then continued, "But if you wanna get cleaned up and changed-"
"I-I can?" Tom interrupted. He felt dirty; he needed to wipe away the dirt and filth that covered his entire body.
"Yeah, c'mon." Doug hoped Tom would agree and go with him; he would hate it if Tom was too scared to be near him.
"Yeah, th-thanks. And-and sorry. About what I just said-"
"It's okay," Doug replied, once again gripping Tom's hand and standing, pulling the younger man to his feet as well. "Can you walk now?" he asked.
"I-I feel a little dizzy, so-so-" Tom stumbled and Doug quickly grabbed him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Okay, just take it slow, then, okay?"
Tom nodded and wrapped his arm around the older man's neck; Doug led him to the washroom, and once there, Tom leaned heavily against the wall.
"Okay, I'm just gonna go get some clean water, 'kay?"
"Y-eah," Tom replied weakly.
"Okay, I'll be right back."
"Wait," Tom called, and Doug stopped. "Is-is the water gonna be hot?"
"No, it's cold," Doug answered, "Why?"
"J-just wondering."
"Oh, well, okay; just wait here, 'kay?"
Tom managed a weak grin, wanting Doug to believe he truly was okay. Even if he wasn't. "Do I get an extra cookie?" he asked.
Doug could tell the smile on his friend's face was fake; he could see the empty look in his eyes. So he laughed, a weak chuckle, then responded with, "Oh yeah, course you can."
"Guess I'm stayin' then," Tom replied. Doug nodded in agreement, then turned to leave.
"Doug, wait," Tom called, and Doug once again turned, "What?"
"You-you forgot the bucket."
"Oh right," Doug laughed. "Guess I'll need that, huh?" He reached out for the small bucket, and once it was in his hands, he turned to face the younger man. "Hey Tommy?" he asked casually.
"Y-yeah?"
"You feelin' okay, 'cause there's a doctor and-"
"No," Tom stated firmly. "I-I'm fine. I don't need a doctor."
"He could help, figure out if anything's broken..."
"No Doug," Tom whispered. "I-I don't want. I don't-" Tom's voice broke and tears welled in his eyes. "Please don't make me," he pleaded.
"Whoa, Tommy," Doug quickly responded. "I never said I would make you, and I never would; it's just, I thought he could help, it seemed like a good idea. But you don't have to if you don't want to."
"I-I do," Tom replied shakily. "I-I know it'd be good but," he stopped, wiping at his eyes. "I'm scared," he admitted, destroying his own facade.
"I understand, man," Doug replied. "I mean, you know me and doctors?"
"Ye-ah," Tom answered. "Are you-? Are you scared of them?"
"No, I just," the older officer started. "I just, I don't trust them. So yeah, guess I am kinda afraid."
"Why though? Why do you hate them so much?"
"Saw way too many as a kid, and even more as a teenager. And it wasn't fun."
"Oh," Tom replied sheepishly. "Right."
"Look, I'm gonna go get some more water," Doug decided. "Just think about it, okay?"
"Y-yeah," Tom agreed. "Tell them I say thanks, will you?"
"Will do," Doug replied, then turned and left the washroom.
Tom breathed in, then out, sharply. He knew he wasn't okay, but he wanted so badly to make it seem like he was. He had seen how Doug had looked at him; had known his friend hadn't bought his attempt at humour; his smile. But he had faked being okay enough times after his father's death that he knew it would be just as easy now; he knew he would soon be able to make Doug believe he was okay. Because he had fooled countless doctors and therapists, his mother, and Russell Buckins; he knew fooling Doug wouldn't be any different.