Foggy came awake with a start, gasping and grasping around him, eyes struggling to adjust in the darkness.
He patted the bed, trying to feel Marci's warmth, only to find his hands slipping and his balance nearly going, before he managed to right himself on the bed.
The single bed, in a cold room. He wriggled down into the blankets again, wishing he could just flick on a bedside lamp and reassure himself that he wasn't in his nightmare, holding onto Matt's wrist and trying to haul his body back up over the lip of the hole in the police station's wall.
He rolled onto his side, tugging his blankets around his neck tighter, briefly wishing for his longer hair to help warm his ears and nape.
Or maybe, he just wished to be that guy again. The one with long hair, and no worries beyond his student debt. Who had a best friend, and hopes that one day they'd take on the world with the law, do good and make plenty of money while they did it.
Logically, he'd never wish Marci here. But he missed her right now, the smell of her, the warmth and softness, the comfort of having someone to talk to, to remove the horrific memory of cold, dead skin under his hand. Of the dead weight of Matt's body dragging him towards the edge and being unwilling or unable to let go and let him fall, even know he was already dead.
He thought being here, knowing Matt was alive, he thought it would help the nightmares. Quiet them, even help them vanish.
It hadn't been meant to add a new dimension to them. To add Elektra, hanging onto Matt's other arm and grinning at him with bared teeth as she pulled Matt further and further away.
Foggy really didn't want to dwell on exactly what his subconscious was telling him there. About his own culpability in making Matt's life more difficult with his attitude to Elektra.
He lay on his side and watched the window and waited for dawn or sleep. Sooner or later, one would come.
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Nightmare
Date: 2019-01-10 01:57 am (UTC)He patted the bed, trying to feel Marci's warmth, only to find his hands slipping and his balance nearly going, before he managed to right himself on the bed.
The single bed, in a cold room. He wriggled down into the blankets again, wishing he could just flick on a bedside lamp and reassure himself that he wasn't in his nightmare, holding onto Matt's wrist and trying to haul his body back up over the lip of the hole in the police station's wall.
He rolled onto his side, tugging his blankets around his neck tighter, briefly wishing for his longer hair to help warm his ears and nape.
Or maybe, he just wished to be that guy again. The one with long hair, and no worries beyond his student debt. Who had a best friend, and hopes that one day they'd take on the world with the law, do good and make plenty of money while they did it.
Logically, he'd never wish Marci here. But he missed her right now, the smell of her, the warmth and softness, the comfort of having someone to talk to, to remove the horrific memory of cold, dead skin under his hand. Of the dead weight of Matt's body dragging him towards the edge and being unwilling or unable to let go and let him fall, even know he was already dead.
He thought being here, knowing Matt was alive, he thought it would help the nightmares. Quiet them, even help them vanish.
It hadn't been meant to add a new dimension to them. To add Elektra, hanging onto Matt's other arm and grinning at him with bared teeth as she pulled Matt further and further away.
Foggy really didn't want to dwell on exactly what his subconscious was telling him there. About his own culpability in making Matt's life more difficult with his attitude to Elektra.
He lay on his side and watched the window and waited for dawn or sleep. Sooner or later, one would come.