kore_logs | maybe I'll sleep when I am dead

Entry tags:

maybe I'll sleep when I am dead

Who: Jesse Finch and PEOPLE
Where: Dreamland
When: Day 83-88
What: you can dream if you wanna
Warnings: Across the board warning for triggery content. References to child abuse, drugs, alcohol, death, lots of awful things. Good things too! But probably more bad, knowing me.

[ ooc: I'm going to write up a bunch of dreams for specific people under sub-threads in this post! So please don't tag the post, but tag the sub-thread for your character - I have planned things but I would ALWAYS be up for more. If you want me to write up a dream or plot up something for Jesse and your character, lemme know @tahdis on plurk, I'd be happy to come up with something with you I SERIOUSLY WANT ALL THE THINGS.

Still looking for possible dream fights with strangers, too! ]

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He's not - entirely sure what he's doing here. It seems right, though. He should be here. Because that's - Bruce. That's Bruce, and whatever this is, it's really important to him, and Jesse is going to make sure that it goes well. He's going to do whatever he can to help. But - it's still worrying, watching Bruce slide into the chair, because he's not sure what the end result is going to be.

Jesse grips at the machine, staring at Bruce. "You sure?" He asks, voice quiet, unsure himself. "You're real sure."

He's right to ask the question, and Bruce recognizes that, wishes he could get that through to the other part of him that's frustrated at the delay. He made up his mind; he'll be fine. This is what they believe in, what they've worked so hard on, and he's not going to stand by and let someone take it away from him, or let someone question how good he is, how smart he is. Ross has never been nice to him, and what has Bruce done that was so wrong? Ross will see now, won't he?

That hint of insight recedes again, and Bruce nods at Jesse.

"I'm sure. Do it."

Do it. It's an order, so Jesse nods, carefully, turning back to flip the machine on. And then his eyes are on Bruce again, knuckles white from gripping at the wall. He has to make sure that this goes right - however that may be.

At first, Bruce thinks it's working, but then the red lights start flashing. Then he can hear the muffled screaming and hands banging on the glass, whether Jesse's doing it or not, Bruce hears it, and he picks his head up and meets Jesse's eyes, holds his gaze as the fear and realization sinks in. He's going to die.

The first wave of pain hits, and it's like acid on his brain. He screams and twists in agony, though the restraints on the chair keep him in place. His molecules feel like they're tearing themselves apart, and they are; he'll disintegrate, there's too much radiation, he'll boil, he'll die --

No. No, God, it's going to be so much worse. He never dies, no matter how many times he does this, it's never death, and that's when he really starts screaming.

It happens - so fast. Immediately it's bad, red lights and terrifying noises and Jesse has no idea what's going on. He's only peripherally knows that this is an experiment, that it's risky, not what it is or why it's happening, so when Bruce starts to scream, the noise pumps about a thousand volts of full on panic into his veins. Jesse joins in the banging on the glass, even if there's nobody else there, he needs to - get in, he needs to get to Bruce, to help, but he has no idea how.

It's incoherent, his shouting, wordless, and it doesn't do much, but like hell is he going to sit here and let this happen. If he can get into the room, he's going to, radiation be damned.

All Bruce knows is pain and panic. Things like physics, walls, windows fade away; he's going to destroy this room and everyone in it, and Jesse needs to get out. He looks up from the floor, waving at him, waving him away.

"You have to get out of here!" There are tears in his eyes, and he cries out, doubling over. Somehow he's gotten out of the chair, dream physics, but nothing seems strange to him.

"It's not safe; he's coming!"

No, that's not going to happen. He's not leaving.

Somehow, it doesn't matter how, he gets in, and then he's there, by Bruce's side, in that dream-fuzzy way. What isn't dream-fuzzed is the way that Jesse grabs for Bruce, grabs his arms and holds them tight, trying to meet Bruce's gaze. He's scared, sure, but he can feel the panic in the air, the pain, and that - evens him out, makes him focus. You have to make that go away, Jesse thinks.

"S'alright - Bruce, c'mon, look at me. M'not going anywhere, it's fine, I'm right here, s'alright." His voice trembles and it's a little frantic, but he's trying. "I can deal with him, if I gotta, but you're gonna be okay, okay?"

All the hair on his body seems to be standing on end, and there's pain, so much pain; is he boiling from the inside out? Is that part of the process? He sobs and breaks, his restraint gone, as he sags forward into Jesse's grip even when he should push him away. The danger is there and intense, but Jesse's here too, and his comfort is too much to resist.

"No, I'll hurt you. You can't stay here." He cries out sharply, the pain making him double over, and he breathes heavily. In real life, he would've changed by now, but this isn't real life. The pain persists.

"Oh God," he moans, and his bones crack and reform, slowly, so slowly.

"You're not gonna hurt me," Jesse says sharply, insistently. The sound of his bones cracking makes Jesse shudder in sympathy, but he doesn't let go, he just leans in as much as he can, wraps his arms around Bruce and holds on tight. "Breathe for me, s'gonna be okay, gotta calm down. S'not gonna last forever, hey - c'mon. Deep breath - Bruce, c'mon, shhh..."

But it is. It is going to last forever; he's going to be this forever, and the truth of that hits him as hard as any of the pain, and he breaks out into a sob again, leaning heavily on Jesse. He's right; he needs to calm down, and as Jesse's comfort reaches through to him, the change slows and stops.

"I hurt people. I hurt you." Thanks to the dream world, present day information bleeds in now, and he grips tighter to Jesse's shoulder.

"I was a monster before this, and I'm a monster now." Tony's right that Bruce shouldn't use that word about himself, but here, this is what that dream is all about.

Every time Bruce grips harder, Jesse clings a little tighter. He adjusts his grip, brings them down to sit on the ground, intent on holding Bruce together the best he can. But the change seems to be slowing down, and Jesse hums in encouragement, sort of rocking the two of them carefully.

"Y'didn't hurt me," Jesse says quietly, resting his head against Bruce's. "Even if y'think y'did, even if you did? It's okay. I'd forgive you for it, yeah? You ain't a monster. Furthest thing from it."

He rubs Bruce's back gently. "Don't call yourself a monster. You - done a lot for all the people here. You don't know how much you done for me. Only way you'd be a monster is if you were remorseless, B, and you ain't, you got the biggest heart I ever seen."

Jesse is so comforting, a kind that reaches down through the years of abuse in his childhood and stills something. Even then, he's shaking, coming down off the fear and stress, and he rocks with Jesse, letting the words sink in. It's weird though because he never says that stuff to himself in his dreams. Even dreaming about Tony -- Has he ever had a dream that went like this?

Wait, he's dreaming?

Well, he isn't anymore. Bruce blinks into the darkness of his room, his shirt stuck to him with sweat, the blankets twisted around his legs, and his breathing heavy and hard.

The bed is empty. He tries not to think about that.

He gets up, moving slow, and pulls a shirt over his head before he goes out to the kitchen to get a glass of water. He knows now that he was sharing a dream with Jesse, and he's trying to backtrack through it to remember what happened. The details are slippery, but it's close enough to real life that he remembers.

Once he finishes his glass of water, he taps his fingers on the counter, and then turns on his communicator to call Jesse.

"Hi. I hope I'm not waking you up."

When he wakes up this time, he just lays there. For a long time. He's on the couch again, because it's too stifling in his room, and this way, if he wakes up from nightmares he doesn't wake anybody up. Right now, he wakes up slowly, so it's not a huge deal. He's just exhausted, head on the arm of the couch, knees pulled to his chest - definition of haggard.

He remembers Bruce in his dream, this time. Remembers being able to save him, to stop him from turning, and that, at the very least, makes him smile.

The communicator rings, and Jesse jumps slightly, but answers it, curled into the couch. He gives Bruce a small smile, wrung out but worried. The dream hadn't been the worst he's been in but he can remember Bruce's emotions in the dream.

"Nah. Nah, I was awake. You okay?"

He exhales slowly, wishes Tony were here, and then tries to smile.

"Better than I normally am after that dream." Just suddenly, painfully lonely. Jesse had been so there in his dream, so supportive, able to block everything terrible from happening again. To wake up here, alone, is that much more painful in contrast.

"You were there, right? I'm not just rambling at you nonsensically at early o'clock."

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maybe I'll sleep when I am dead

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