Chapter Text
Running. The darkness, swallowing, encompassing. From where? To where? Chased? Chasing? Couldn't know. Wouldn't know. Shouldn't know. Mustn't know.
Didn't want to know.
Rain; smattering, smittering, whipping, whining, hurting, hounding. Where was she? There she was! Lying down: why? Grinning… why? Broken wing, loose feathers, blue and red, "are you hurt?" "yes" "why?" crying. Weeping. Sorrow, sorrow. Reach for her-, wincing, agonized.
Blueberry eyes.
In hand: razor. Buzzing, biting, gnashing metal teeth, drooling. In his heart: hair. Hairhairhairhairhairhair-, no. Her? Warm. Pretty bluebird. Fluttering, quivering, adrift. Wings of sky, hair of cloud, wound of flesh. He would never hurt her. Why would he?
Hair dear fair
He was a naughty boy with naughty needs and naughty urges. He'd hurt his beloved, hadn't he? Breath caught in throat, hands filled with rubies, teeth grinding into a twisted smile. Wrong. He shouldn't smile. Look what he had done. Look what his lover had become. Tattered doll of stitched flesh, stuffed up with hairhairhairhair.
Wrong.
Curled up, sad, lonely. Only light, beeswax candle, dead, it's wick cut off. If he loved the light so, why would he cut off it's wick? Bad boy. You mustn't do that. Stand in the corner, daddy said, for you have been naughty.
Poor boy.
You hurt her, didn't you?
I never asked for a child like you.
What a malplaced smile.
I'd pity you if I didn't loathe you so.
Don't you see?
She's dead and there's nothing you can do about it.
Now do as your father said and stand in the corner.
You've been naughty my boy.
He awoke with a whimper, his body covered in cold sweat and goosebumps, an unearthly, mortal terror squeezing his heart with it's cold, dead fingers. His cat-green eyes darted about the room, his stress-filled system searching for a threat, yet finding nothing in the pitch-dark bedroom. He felt a warm weight atop his body. Looking down, he noticed Barbara thrown over him, slowly stirring awake.
Her blueberry eyes slowly blinked open, uncertain and drowsy, until they finally settled on the terrified form of her lover, whimpering and shivering like an abandoned puppy in the rain. Her paternal instincts kicked into high gear and all of a sudden she was fully awake, the miasma of drowsiness instantly blown away, as if it had never been there to begin with.
"Is everything alright?" she asked, worry and panic overtaking her voice and making it almost shrill. Fred didn't respond, his weary gaze instead dashing hither and fro, attempting to find some unseen threat or enemy darting through the darkness. "L-, love?..." she questioned hesitantly, suddenly becoming aware of just how pale and sweaty he was. He was obviously terrified beyond belief, despite there being no real, actual danger in sight.
"Fred?!" she exclaimed, fear finally gripping her as well. His eyes finally looked at something other than the darkness beyond the bed, but somehow, she really didn't like what she saw. His eyes were strangely diluted and unfocused, as if he was still asleep. Slowly, his dry lips parted, silently mouthing a word Barbara couldn't quite catch. Then he did it again. And again and again and again. And, finally, she could understand what he was saying.
"naughty"
Her heart skipped a beat. Oh God. Oh God no. Could she run? Did she have time to run? What would he do? What could he do? Was he about to attack her?
...No. That wasn't what this was. He didn't look like he did this afternoon. If anything, he looked as he had done this morning. Pathetic and afraid and sad and… and lonely. Leaving him here and now would only worsen whatever was wrong with him.
Steeling her heart, she crawled a bit further up his broad chest, until she was right next to him, and then... she reached out, gently oh so gently, and cupped his face in her hands. He stopped mouthing the word. His murky, evergreen eyes looked down at her. "Fred?..." she whispered, trying to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes. It was hard. His eyes started growing clear and focused, and when he looked at her, it seemed as if he was actually looking at her, not just staring in her general direction.
"M-, my love-," he mumbled, tears already welling up in his eyes. Barbara gingerly wiped away hers. "Did you have a nightmare, hubby?" she asked, smiling warmly at him. He seemed to be in deep thought for a moment, trying to recall what had just happened. A gleam of clarity shot through his eyes, and the tears that had already started falling got even more concentrated.
"Y-, yes…" he admitted, trying to wipe the tears from his cheeks, but instead coming to the realization that Barbara was still holding onto his face. "Oh-, I-," Barbara stammered, quickly recoiling her hands from his face, her cheeks lighting up in a little blush. Fred smiled slightly. Gosh, she was such a sweetheart. "It's alright, I'm-, I think I'm alright now-," Fred lied, smiling a wry little smile as the tears simply wouldn't stop. Why wouldn't they stop? He was alright, wasn't he? It was just a nightmare, he's had tons of those. Hell, his childhood was riddled with them! Then again, since he med Barbara he had never had a single one, so…
Why now?...
He could barely even remember what had happened! All he knew was that it was oh-so terrible. His blood ran cold at the mere thought of it. "...You're not," Barbara stated simply. "Huh?" Fred made a dumb sound. What was she saying? "I can tell you're not," she continued, seeming almost a little angry that he would lie to her. And why wouldn't she be? He'd never lied to her before, so why did he lie now? Why would he lie about being alright, of all things?
"What was the nightmare about?" she asked bluntly, obviously giving no room for denial or question. "I'm not sure-, it was-... it was just terrible and-, I…" Fred stammered as a response, unconsciously staring out into the darkness. "It was-, I was… I was chasing you, I think? And-, and you were… hurt, yes, you were bleeding, and I don't-, I don't know why? But-, but even though you were hurt, I didn't want to help you-, I-... I think I was the one who hurt you?..." Fred recollected, fresh tears streaming down his darkened face. He could barely stand to look at her.
She didn't speak a word, her silence instead urging him to continue. "And-, and then I-, daddy told me to st-, stand in the corner and mommy said I'd been a-, a bad boy, and… and then I woke up," Fred finished, his desperate gaze meeting hers. A strained silence enveloped the two. Neither seemed to know what to say.
But, eventually, Barbara looked down at the floor, as if wondering whether to say something or not. Finally, she made up her mind, and looking up at Fred with the most fetching eyes he'd ever seen, she asked him one little question. "...But it was a nightmare, wasn't it?..." she asked, gently, her bluebird eyes upturned and her lips as raspberry-red as they'd ever been.
He threw his arms around her. "Yes, oh God-, yes it was-, I would never-, I wouldn't even think-," he mumbled. "Shh, shh, it's alright, it's over now, I forgive you," Barbara cooed, her dainty little hands running over his back and through his hair, calming him down. He breathed a deep sigh and let them part ever so slightly.
He gave her a little peck on the nose, smiled a relieved smile, wiped his tears, and let himself drift off into a worriless, serene, and perfectly nice sleep.