for best_served_hot Every night he had bad dreams...

[quitehomoerotic]

It had been months since then. Months since the Valiant and the terrible events that occurred upon it. It had been months of rebuilding a life. Torchwood, his team, his people.

But every night. Every night without fail. He dreamt.

No, not dreams. Dreaming sounded like too nice a word. He had nightmares. Terrible nightmares.

He did his best to ignore them, or at least get used to them, and sometimes he even managed it. He did his best to push aside the memories of that year that never was, and of the pain and terror. To forget the face of the man who caused it all. But it never was that easy.

Some nights would be easier. The nights forcing himself to stay awake or better the nights he spent with Ianto. It stilled his mind and sometimes he could even relax. But they'd still be there, tickling away at the back of his mind, reminding him that they were there. Reminding him of just what happened.

He'd even, on an occasion or two, gone to the point of taking pills to steady his mind. They worked, at least for a while.

But nothing could work for long, and when he slept, he knew to expect it, and to expect he'd wake in a sweat.

And he expected that now. Alone in the Hub at the end of a long day, lying in bed and waiting. He closed his eyes, and he knew they'd come.

Comments

[best-served-hot.livejournal.com]

A different approach. Yes, that's what was needed. Of course it was quite enjoyable to tromp down memory lane and dig up all kinds of horrible memories but he was getting bored. Boredom was never good, especially while he was in this state of existence and could do nothing to dispel it.

But he also had to remain patient, and that wasn't something he was exactly known for being, so what to do tonight? Keep it light, he thought as he flitted along his synapses, hiding in that dark abyss lurking in Jack's mind. Oh, how he loved that little spot. He wondered if Jack knew it was there. If he were to delve his hands into it would they come away crimson? He wanted to find out so badly but no, restraint was needed and he would see this through to fruition.

So when Jack falls asleep, he waits, letting him believe that this night might be different before he's there with him on the bed. His body doesn't jostle the bed and he simply watches from where he propped himself up on his side, head on his hand.

"I was beginning to wonder if you were ever going to come to bed, darling."