Thanks for making a gal feel welcome, you guys! Here come the next two times...
The second time
Sleep was far away. Steve was bone tired, but knew he couldn't close his eyes for more than a few minutes lest the images would come, and with them sound and smell. He'd unintentionally drifted off a few hours ago and was violently awoken by those dreams. Dreams of war. Of death.
His mind was struggling to handle the chaos that was last week by dreaming of it by night, he knew all about that. How it was natural and normal and even healthy (his shrink's words - not his). How that screwed up head of his didn't know yesterday from three years ago, Hawaii from Afghanistan, bank robbers from the Taliban. Grace from Freddie.
In his nightmares he had seen Grace been shot, blown up, mutilated… For several nights he hadn't been able to catch forty winks without waking up to the feeling of his heart beating its way through his ribcage; a mixture of sweat and tears rolling off his face and the very air in the room reverberating from his cry. For a moment he'd not recognize his room or bed or the smells that drifted in from the window. Always frightened. Always alone.
So the night had found him bleary eyed and sluggish, watching a rerun of Florida State crushing Northwestern, after he'd spent a couple of hours in the water trying to rid the memories by way of total exhaustion. It had worked before and he had no doubt it would work this time.
Still – life just sucked until it then.
When the soft knock on the door startled him, he realized he had been about to drift off again, only quick reflexes saving his sweatpants from being drenched in coffee. He pulled his gun from the drawer although he doubted an armed assassin would knock once, let alone twice, before offing him. Trying for stealth and achieving half stumble, he reached the door and opened it slowly, gun barrel making up the welcome party.
"Steve… Hey, it's me."
"Catherine? What are you doing here?" He was stunned. "You're…I mean you're… I thought you were -"
His nonsense was cut off abruptly by her fierce hug and soft cooing in his ear. "Shush now. I came home as soon as I heard."
H50
She guided him to the couch, urged him to lie down and put his head in her lap and he did so without protest. She threw the old quilt over him and stroked his hair until long after his falling asleep. He lay unmoving on the couch for nine hours and when he woke she kissed his sleep tousled hair, gave him a cup of coffee and welcomed him to a brand new day.
Steve smiled for the first time in weeks.
The third time
Steve's adrenaline level was off the charts. His heart beat in a staccato rhythm and his pupils were blown wide. Sweat was building between his shoulder blades, starting to slowly trickle down his spine. He was on high alert, his senses taking in everything; the terrible sounds of torture, the gut turning smells and the bright lights; perfect for interrogation. The only way out was blocked by his alert guard. He paced the tiny space and tried to calm down, tried to think!
Then it was too late. They came for him; dragged him away and he had no choice but to follow…
H50
Catherine looked up from her magazine as her boyfriend returned looking pale and shaky, but otherwise in good health.
"You okay there, sailor?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah," he said tersely. "Let's just get out of here before they change their minds." He barely had the patience to hold the door for her, vibrating with pent-up frustration.
"How'd it go?" she asked once they were outside in the open air.
He gave her a face Danny would no doubt already have a name for. "No cavities, but she was talking about 'pulling those partially erupted wisdom teeth'…" That last part was spoken with a shudder and a glare over his shoulder at the dentist's clinic. "Now let's get out of here so I can relax – until next year."
Cath was not surprised by the non cavities diagnosis: she knew his anally rigorous routine with toothbrush and floss and fluoride. "At least you didn't have to get braces," she teased and could hardly keep her laugh from bubbling out of her mouth as the picture of Steve with railroad tracks in his mouth came unbidden to her.
"Very funny," he deadpanned.
"Well…" Catherine drawled, "I for one love a man with a few crooked teeth…"
"Let's go home!"
One angsty and one notsomuch. Do you have any great ideas for the last two? I have something in mind, but it's not easy! That man has no fear. Or..?
/Belker