H.M. Murdock (
notthatcrazy) wrote2013-06-12 11:47 pm
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Playing House: Settling In
After the first few days of freedom, life settles down into some kind of rhythm. They've been in touch with the team (mostly variations on 'We're okay, hope you are too.') and Face has been out looking for ways to supplement their cash supply, which has left Murdock at something of a loose end.
He hasn't been sleeping well the past couple of nights, and tonight looks to be no different. It's not long after he drifts off that the nightmares start. They come in a confusing mish-mash of jumbled images, but the overarching theme is always the same.
Boss, it's Face... he's hurt bad...
Don't leave me, baby... I need you...
He wakes with a start, his arm thrown across his partner's chest, and grabs hold of him tightly, taking deep, frantic breaths.
He hasn't been sleeping well the past couple of nights, and tonight looks to be no different. It's not long after he drifts off that the nightmares start. They come in a confusing mish-mash of jumbled images, but the overarching theme is always the same.
Boss, it's Face... he's hurt bad...
Don't leave me, baby... I need you...
He wakes with a start, his arm thrown across his partner's chest, and grabs hold of him tightly, taking deep, frantic breaths.
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With another fond squeeze, Face rests his chin against Murdock's head.
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"Sorry to wake you."
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"We can sleep in."
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He sighs again, resting his head on Face's chest.
"Can I talk to you about somethin'?"
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"You bet, anything you want."
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"I'm kinda worried."
He taps his own temple. "'Bout what's goin' on in here."
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"What's going on?" He asks quietly, stroking down to his neck; "Different than normal?"
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He's been drawing again. Not the angry red slashes of last time, thankfully it hasn't gotten that bad, but pages and pages of brightly colored swirls and spirals. It's not a bad thing, definitely not as bad as fighting off the impulse to self-harm, but it's a sign that something's not quite right with his mental landscape.
"I don't think anything's gonna happen, but I'm afraid it might."
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"Is there anything I can do to help?"
He means it, that sort of admission scares him a little because he doesn't know what - if anything - he can do to fix things.
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"Maybe just keep an eye on me?"
He gives him a halfhearted smile.
"I know you do that anyway..."
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"You sure you're okay with me taking this job? It'll keep me away a few nights a week until late."
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That's definitely the case. It wasn't easy to find a job that was willing to pay under the table, and it seems to suit him well enough.
"Besides, you'd go stir-crazy with nothin' to do besides watchin' my back."
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"You're more important."
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He leans back, the soft glow of the nightlight casting long shadows over them both.
"If things get bad, you might not wanna be around."
He's had manic episodes that turned violent in the past. They're rare for him, but it could happen.
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He means it when he says he wants to protect Murdock, even from himself.
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"I don't want to hurt anyone."
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"Me neither, and I don't want you to get hurt. If that means taking a couple punches that's fine."
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This should be a happy, relaxed time in their lives. This isn't fair to either of them.
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"Life's not fair."
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"I'm just tired of worryin' about it, y'know? Even on the good days it's there in the back of my head... What if the meds stop working, what about the side effects, what if somethin' happens and you can't get me more when I need 'em..."
He shakes his head.
"It's just always there."
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"We'll deal with that stuff when we have to..." he whispers, kissing his ear. "Right now, we just gotta deal with what's already on our plate. Keeping ourselves fed and clothed and happy. Right?"
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He leans into him, accepting the loving comfort.
"It just sucks bein' afraid of yourself."
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"I'm afraid of myself too... hell, you've seen what happens when I don't have my head on straight."
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"Can you do me a favor and talk to me til I fall asleep again?"
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"Sure," he leans back toward the bed, taking Murdock with him. "What do yay wanna hear about?"
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