Just a short thingy I wrote last night. At around 1am... Its Tate. Sorta. If you're not a shipper it could be considered friendship. Just be warned that the first bit is a little...graphic. In the words of one of my friends; Sick mind Julia, sick mind. smiles sweetly Please R&R!
Kate Todd walks down a dark corridor. She has been here before, though she doesn't fully remember. It is very hot and the air is damp. Her clothes stick to her skin. Somewhere she can hear water dripping. She senses she is deep underground.
But most vivid is the smell. Kate can smell death. Death and decay. Though she can barely see, she knows that the cement walls are coated with layers of blood, some recent, some years old. People have died down here.
Kate turns a corner. The light is slightly brighter here, and she sees a man lying face down in a puddle of his own blood.
Kate can hear the dull thump of her heart in her ears.
Maggots feed on an open wound on the back of the man's head.
Kate fights the urge to retch. She kneels beside the man, she doesn't want to but she has to. She has to know.
Kate turns the man over, with difficulty. She can see that he is in his early thirties, and attractive, when he was alive at least. But now, now he is dead. Now the soft skin of his lips have been eaten away, his eye sockets are empty and blood is crusted black on his face.
It doesn't matter though. Kate still recognises him. Her breath still stops in her chest. She still wakes screaming his name.
'TONY!'
As his name leaves her lips, Kate's stomach heaves, and she has to bolt to the bathroom. Once she has finished throwing up she sinks down to the cold bathroom tiles.
Just a dream. Not real not real not real… Kate pulls her knees close to her chest, lays her head on them and cries.
When Tony had asked her, on that fateful day with Ari almost a year ago, about nightmares, she had lied. Kate had learned early in life that a lie is usually more believable than a half truth. The truth was Kate did have nightmares. Vivid nightmares. Nightmares that had put her in therapy as a child. She has had this particular dream, the "Dead Tony" dream, three times this month. But never this bad. Never this real. Already she is starting to hyperventilate, a delayed reaction to her Bête Noir.
Kate takes a deep breath, and another, and another until she is breathing normally again. Then, slowly, she pulls herself up with the aid of the sink, and walks shakily back to her empty bed. She curls up hugging a pillow, rocking gently. Kate throws a glance at her clock radio. The glowing red digits read: 2:03.
Kate knows that she should go back to sleep. That she should try to forget. But she knows that she can't.
Kate reaches for the handset and dials Tony's number. He answers on the fifth ring, his voice flannel-coated with sleep.
'Hello?'
'Tony?' Her voice sounds brittle to her, not her own.
'Kate? It's…2am.'
Kate sighs. 'I'm sorry. I just needed to talk to someone.'
Tony is silent for a second. 'Kate…is everything ok?'
Kate lets out a shaky breath that is more like a sob. 'Yeah.' She nods, then remembering that Tony can't see her, says; 'I'm fine.'
'Uhuh,' Tony replies dubiously. 'Ever watch The Italian Job Kate?' Trust Tony to make a movie reference.
Kate laughs a little. The kind of laughter that could dissolve into tears at any moment.
'Freaked-out Insecure Neurotic and Emotional. I'm ok Tony. I just… I've been having the same nightmare all month.'
When Tony speaks again, his voice is soft.
'I thought you didn't get nightmares.'
'I lied.' Kate replies.
Tony hears the way her voice cracks, like mirror. 'It's ok Kate, it was just a dream.'
Kate lets out a shuddering breath. 'I know Tony, I know. It was just…so real.'
Tony listens as Kate works on the task of breathing normally. 'You wanna talk about it?'
Kate pinches the bridge of her nose. 'You were there.'
Tony chuckles. 'Usually when someone dreams about me it isn't a nightmare.'
But Kate is silent.
'Kate?'
'You were dead.' Kate whispers. She hears Tony's sharp intake of breath. Kate is close to tears but she continues. 'There was this corridor, and I could hear pipes and and… and I couldn't have saved you.' Kate wipes errant tears from her cheeks. 'I'm sorry Tony. You don't want to hear this.'
'No, he says. Tell me. I'll listen.'
And Kate tells him. Kate tells him about the dream, about the other nightmares that come frequently, about how she was in therapy as a child, then as a teenager. And Tony listens. Who'd a thunk it. Someone like Tony being a good listener. But he is. He adds a soft word now and again, consoling. Tony listens until Kate falls asleep, and for a while he just listens to Kate's even breathing. Its almost soporific.
Please r&r