Author's Note:
Thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapter. It made my day! I don't want to force anyone to comment on the story, but sometimes I just need this little extra encouragement and words help me rebuild my self-esteem more than a simple alert or favorite can. Just wanted to let you guys know that.
This next chapter is very intimate in an emotional way. If Alzheimer's hits somewhat close to home for you, you will understand what I mean by that. I wrote this in a state of insomnia, but the way it turned out was so much better than what I hoped for. I decided to throw in some team action at the end of the chapter. Hope you like it!
Present
Eric returned to his apartment shortly after midnight. Exhaustion was pulling at every fiber of his body and he was ready to crash. Even sleeping on the hard parquet floor of his hallway sounded tempting. Not wanting to wake up with kinks all over he dragged himself to his bedroom with his last energy resources and was thankful for his earlier choice in attire, because he couldn't have been bothered changing in his current state anyway. He let himself fall face first onto the mattress and sleep claimed him almost immediately.
But sleep wasn't as peaceful as he would have liked. As soon as his eyes closed he found himself plagued by dreams that mixed unpleasant memories of his mother with dreadful scenarios regarding his future. Those dreams were nothing new to him. Eric had been experiencing them from time to time and they were more frequent this time of year. Usually, they were innocent enough and let him sleep through the night without disturbing him too much. He would wake up with a lingering grogginess, but that was the only reminder of the dreams happening at all.
But this night was different.
This night the dreams were much more severe. They made him relive those selected few memories that he felt most helpless about, showing his mother's illness in its capriciousness and as if that wasn't enough, his subconscious twisted and turned the scenarios into even more disturbing images. Her slightly weathered maternal features turned into his more youthful distinctive ones' and he was faced with a reflection of himself succumbing to the disease that had eaten away his mothers' mind.
He saw himself forgetting minor things like dates or appointments. He saw himself slip up at work, saw how he was suddenly unable to detect signs of danger while walking his coworkers through their missions. He saw how he put the teams' lives on the line because of that and eventually saw himself lose his job over it. He saw himself suddenly unable to get messages across, his mouth unable to put words into the right order or simply not saying the words his brain wanted him to. He saw himself wander around the streets of LA aimlessly because he couldn't remember where he was or where he was going. He saw his sister look at him with teary eyes pleading with him to remember her, saw the pure agony when she realized that she wasn't able to help him. He saw himself lose control over his motor skills, then his bodily functions, saw himself lying in a bed being tended to by complete strangers, unable to form even a coherent thought much less a word, mostly unaware of his surroundings and yet feeling terrified of what was happening to him.
He saw himself slowly waste away, losing control over everything that was his life.
He was in full throws of a nightmare, tossing and turning in his bed, when he suddenly jolted awake, panting heavily and still barely lucid enough to differentiate between what was real and what was figment of his imagination. He sat up in his bed, trembling, breathing harshly. The blank horror remained and left an acid taste in his mouth.
Eric dragged a shaky hand through his sticky hair, a notable tremor running through his entire body. It barely registered with him that his pajamas and the bedsheets were soaked with sweat, when he pushed himself towards the headboard and let the bedframe support his upper body. The blonde drew his legs close, hugging them with one arm while resting the elbow of his other on his knees. He let his head fall back and it connected with the wall with a soft thud. His wide-open eyes stared straight ahead into the dimly lit room. He didn't dare close them, afraid that if he did the nightmares would claim him once more, drawing him even deeper into the dark abyss.
He stayed like that for a long time, waiting for the trembling to slowly subside and his breathing to calm down enough for him to dare inhale through his nose again. With his nerves soothed a little and his foggy brain more coherent he shifted his position just enough to glance at the alarm clock. Reminded of the fact that it was still broken, he stretched his right arm and fumbled around the nightstand until his fingers found and closed around the black rectangular object of his desire. He turned the display of his phone on and glanced briefly at the glaring white digits. 2:17 a.m.
With a pained groan he pushed himself away from the headboard and leaned his head on his knees instead. He hadn't even slept for two hours and sleep wasn't even the right word to describe it. He threw the phone carelessly on the mattress and rubbed one hand over his face, resting it on the stubble on his chin for a moment.
A gust of wind blew through the open slit of the window and it made him shiver involuntarily. Eric pushed himself up from the bed and shuffled to the bathroom on wobbly legs. He needed a shower badly. In hopes of scaring away the residues of the nightmares he turned the water as cold as he could stand and stepped into the stall. The cool spray would help wake him up and make him feel alive and human again.
To his relief his plan worked and helped in clearing his head tremendously. The fogginess in his brain was mostly gone and Eric felt refreshed, awakened and in control of his mind again. He turned the water off, climbed out of the shower and lazily wrapped a towel around his midsection, not bothering to dry off. Padding back into the open living room and kitchen area on bare, wet feet he turned the water kettle on and prepared himself some tea. While his mind was sober again his insides still cramped with a bad aftertaste and he hoped to quench his roiling stomach with an herbal blend – a mix of fennel, chamomile and anise.
As soon as it was boiling he poured the water into the mug and with the tea in hand strolled to the small balcony attached to the living room. He stepped out onto the wooden platform, welcoming the cool yet gentle breeze brushing against his still damp skin. He didn't care that it made him shiver, gave him goosebumps all over. No, he actually embraced the feeling, wouldn't be able to enjoy surfing if he didn't. He smiled sadly to himself. If it wasn't the middle of the night he would already be halfway out the door heading towards the beach and clearing his head with a prolonged ride of the waves. But going out now into the pitch-black ocean would be suicide and he certainly didn't have a death wish. Besides, there was a steady drizzle coming down and the storm from the previous afternoon had cooled the air considerably, giving it an almost autumn-like feeling.
Another cool breeze hit Eric and this one actually chilled him to the bone, making him reconsider and finally return to the warmth of his apartment. He plopped himself down on the couch, tea mug still in a tight grip in both his hands. He took a few sips, welcoming the taste of it and the feel of the warm liquid running down his throat, through his esophagus and settling in the pit of his stomach. The first sip was followed by a couple more and Eric was pleased to feel the soothing effect it had on his previously upset stomach.
His eyes skimmed over the room and came to rest on the coffee table, where DVD cases and discarded dishes were scattered about from earlier. Knowing that there was no way he would try or get any more sleep tonight, he decided to clean up the mess now rather than leaving it. He never knew when a case would keep him away for days on end. He preferred to come home to a tidy apartment instead of utter chaos. He pushed himself up and headed for the bedroom to put on some clothes before getting to the cleaning.
An hour later, when he finished his work with wiping the kitchen counter, his eyes fell on the flower bouquet for Nell that he had set down in a vase on his small breakfast isle. A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and his gaze lingered on the arrangement for a few long seconds. His forehead crinkled just a little. Something was amiss. A significant detail in fact. Eric threw the cleaning rag carelessly into the kitchen sink and hurried over to the small computer area situated at the far end of the living room.
It took him a little bit of searching. Opening and closing drawers, rummaging through all kinds of office supplies and other bits and bops that he kept in his desk, but after a while his fingers closed around the item he had been looking for. The small pad of yellow rectangular sticky notes made him grin in remembrance of that one day in the office, when he and Nell had swapped notes of the same kind.
He grabbed a pen from one of the pen holders and wrote a short message. Rereading it he frowned and crumpled the small paper into a small ball, aiming for the waste bin but failing. A couple more tries and more balls followed, none of them hitting their mark. It took him a dozen attempts until he was finally satisfied with how the message turned out. Short and crisp, delivered in a single sentence. He folded the small piece of paper twice and tugged it near the center of the bouquet, studying his doing with a feeling of accomplishment before returning to his computer niche that now looked more like a war zone, and collected the trash.
Eric glanced at the clock hanging on the living room wall. It was still barely four in the morning. He contemplated going surfing for a moment, but a brief look out the window told him that the rain had yet to stop and the wind was still harsh. The beach was most likely red flagged still and going out into the water would be dangerous. There was the option to try and catch another couple hours of sleep, but the mere thought made the young man cringe. Blowing out a sigh, he retreated back to the kitchen and set his coffee maker in action. If he wanted to make it through today on yet another night of little to no sleep he might as well start with the caffeine now.
Two cups of espresso strength coffee later he found himself unable to sit still any longer. He felt restless, fidgety and it wasn't solely to blame on the caffeine cursing through his blood. His mind was in overdrive and he was certain that, if he stayed in his apartment any longer with only the nightmare and Nell's impending response to his apology to think about, he might go crazy. His right knee started bouncing and it was his cue to leave now or end up a nervous wreck.
He decided that heading to the Office of Special Projects would be his best chance at distracting his overactive mind. It never hurt to get some work done with the security protocols of NCIS. He knew from experience that hackers never really slept and would always try to find new ways around the firewalls. It was part of his job to prevent that from happening in order to keep everyone and the mission itself safe from unwanted intruders. He'd rather be prepared than sorry.
Wrapping the flowers stems in a couple of wet paper towels to keep them fresh on the drive to work Eric grabbed his essentials, locked the door behind him and headed for the office, the first rays of light barely perceptible at the horizon.
Nell arrived at the mission at 7 a.m. sharp. She passed by the bullpen and headed straight for the lockers to secure her valuables only to notice a beautiful arrangement of daffodils, white chrysanthemums and violet hyacinths perched on the small table to the side of the bigger ones the team usually resided. The table was still technically hers even though she barely spent any time down here nowadays. But no one else but her used the space so she was pretty certain the flowers were meant for her.
Curiosity got the better of her and she dared taking a closer look. There was a small note stuck between the blossoms. With skillful fingers she carefully extracted the note. She had a vague idea already as to who had sent her the flowers. The message was unmistakably asking for forgiveness and Nell could only remember one incident from the previous day that would have someone offering her an apology. Her lips curled into a small smile when she unfolded and read the note.
'I hope I got the message right. E.'
The curl of her lips turned into a Cheshire grin and she clutched the note to her chest blissfully. The flowers were a nice gesture and she appreciated the effort that her giver had put into their choice, but the message made this a unique present and was just so characteristic for the person writing it.
She stood like that, touched by the thoughtful gesture, for a minute until a deep voice tried to get her attention. "Hey, Nell. You have a secret admirer?" Sam asked from behind her and she turned around, trying to school her features but failed to do so and her cheeks turned an ever so slight shade of pink. "Again?"
Nell just cocked her head, smiled secretively, tucked the note into the pocket of her dress and walked by him without saying anything. Sam watched after her disappointed by the lack of reaction on her part. "I would have expected a 'Good morning' at least," he called after her. Nell, half-way up the stairs, only shrugged her shoulders without turning around and climbed the rest of the steps.
Callen decided to enter at that time, his eyes following the hastily retreating petite woman while strolling over to his desk. Once the redhead had vanished upstairs, he threw Sam a questioning look. "What did you do to scare her away?" he asked with a lopsided grin.
Sam turned towards him and threw his hands up in the air. "Seriously? No good morning from you either? What's wrong with you people?" He panted with fake rage and dropped down in his chair, throwing his hands up in a gesture of exasperation.
"What has your panties in a twist, big guy?" Deeks asked as he entered the bullpen a moment later. Sam just huffed, clearly frustrated, but otherwise ignored the detective, who in turn raised his eyebrows and looked at Callen questioningly.
The older snorted. "Apparently Sam doesn't like that he hasn't been greeted properly today," the team leader explained, eyes narrowly resting on his partner, quietly observing the dark-skinned man.
Deeks glanced at Sam and his mouth opened in a teeth baring grin. "Oh, I'm so very sorry, Sam. Of course, I wish you a very beautiful morning, Sir. I hope you are well rested and are ready to cherish all those wonderful things thrown your way today," Deeks exaggerated and while Callen laughed quietly to himself, Sams face twisted in a dangerous half-grin accompanied by a deathly glare that Deeks knew all too well.
"You think this is funny, Deeks?" he gritted out with a threatening undertone.
The detective grinned. "Actually, yes, I do."
Sam glared at him incredulously, but didn't get a chance to come back at him as Kensi interrupted his response with a flourishing "Good morning, boys." Sams face actually lit up at that, eyebrows raised and he gave her a thankful smile.
"Finally someone who conforms to etiquette!" he exclaimed reproachfully in the direction of his two male colleagues, then turned back to the female agent. "Good morning, Kensi. You just restored my hopes in humanity."
The dark-haired woman looked from one man to the other in confusion of what was going on. "Glad to help," she offered. "Mind telling me what's going on with you guys?" Her response was an amused shaking of the head from Callen and a mouthed 'later' from her partner. Sam just smiled at her happily. "Okay, fine. Don't tell me," she shrugged it off. Then her eyes fell on the flowers on the small table to the side. "Someone sent Nell flowers? Does she have a secret admirer, again?" Kensi asked into the room.
Callens' and Deeks' head snapped in the direction she pointed in and looked surprised, while Sam continued to smile. "My thoughts exactly."
Next chapter might take a while. I have two days off today and tomorrow, but the day after that I will be working for thirteen days in a row. Writing time will be limited during those two weeks.
- S.