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Bad Company

Aftershocks 21.1: To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

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Aftershocks 21.1: To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

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TITLE: Aftershocks: A Story in Shattered Pieces
SUMMARY: When the bough breaks ...
CHARACTERS: Wilson
RATING: R for language and themes (gen fic).
WARNINGS: Details the aftermath of events in Bad Company, a rough, violent story. Aftermath isn't always pretty; may distress some readers. Adult themes and adult language.
SPOILERS: No.
DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em. Never will.
NOTES: The pieces of this shattered story are numbered. The first number signifies the number of days that have elapsed since the original event in Bad Company; the second number signifies when the fic occurs during that day.


To Sleep, Perchance to Dream


In the past two weeks, Wilson has slept more than he's ever slept in his life. He thinks he hasn't slept this much since he was a baby. It's the kind of sleep he yearned for when he was a student, an intern, a resident. The kind of sleep he would have killed for, if he could've figured out who to kill—sometimes it was a complete toss-up between his fellow students, the professors, the doctors who had driven him unmercifully to perform. He'd even wished he could've killed some of the more difficult patients sometimes. Instead all he'd been able to catch was fifteen minutes here, a half-hour there—never enough to feel completely rested and alert.

Now he sleeps a steady eight hours through the night, and often another six into the diurnal rhythm of the day. He hates to think what his circadian cycle will look like after this—he'll be like one of those blind cave crickets, living a static life in twenty-five-hour intervals.

You'd think he'd be rested with all this sleep, but Wilson knows better. Almost every night he dreams, and sometimes now (finally) they're good dreams, and sometimes (less often, thank God) they're bad dreams, but he's always dreaming, and he can't seem to stop.

It's probably one of the drugs he's on that's causing it, but he's always too tired to check and so he forgets until that night, and then he's dreaming again, and there's no relief in any of it.

He dreams of all kinds of shit now; it's like his mind is trying to disgorge everything he's ever done in a brain dump that takes place every night.

He dreams of being a kid and playing with his brothers, except they're always in California or on the moon, and he doesn't know which is weirder. He dreams of winning his first Little League trophy, only he's playing with a hockey stick instead of a bat and the trophy is a sand castle. He dreams of the first girl he ever kissed, and the only boy (almost as long ago), and then they merge into one and their mouths lengthen and transform, and he's kissing a wolf.

He dreams of being alone in House's apartment, and no one ever comes. He dreams of the long black limousine, and being pulled into it. They drive and drive and never stop.

Sometimes it's his brother being pulled into the car instead of him.

"Jamie," his brother says. "Help me."

But he never can.



 
  • As a lucid dreamer, I immediately identify with this chapter.

    The sequence of dreams that Wilson goes through is so accurate, it is almost creepy.

    He dreams of all kinds of shit now; it's like his mind is trying to disgorge everything he's ever done in a brain dump that takes place every night.

    Yes, this is a typical night........

    Thanks.
  • Greetings!

    It's called... if you don't deal w/it during the day, it will bite you in the ass at night. And from the looks of things, this has been waiting quite the while to happen. So, no... it's not the drugs, it's the denial. The secrets can kill, so they are going away. Very simple. Except of course, for the fact that it isn't.

    "He dreams of being a kid and playing with his brothers, except they're always in California or on the moon, and he doesn't know which is weirder." *hehehehehehe!!!*

    That last bit was just spooky. Past and recent past coming together in unholy alliance to illustrate fears of the future. *shiver*

    -Katrina
  • This chapter is absolutely beautiful the tempo made it feel more like a poem. Oh I can see everything so clearly in Wilson's dream.

    Oh and I know what it feels like to live without enough sleep for years. Truly an amzing chapter.

    By the way, I will be returning to my previous level of pestering :) I was out of town on business and just couldn't fit it in.
  • another beautifully evocative chapter.
    poor Wilson, he really needs to be able to relax and rest for real.
  • The drugs (and the healing) may be making him sleep so much, and they may be making him sleep shallowly so the dreams come fast and thick, but like others have said, it's the trauma breaking out at night that's responsible for the content of those dreams, and his unrest when he's awake. I don't think it's a coincidence that he dreams of being young so often, since he's been knocked back so badly by what happened to him.

    Can I offer some crit? Because I know you're already on to the next part(s). It's just that in the first line, you say that Wilson has never slept so much in his life, and then in the second line you say he slept this much when he was a baby. IMO one or the other could go, and I like the second more, sticking with all the childhood imagery of this chapter and the story as a whole.
    • Can I offer some crit? Because I know you're already on to the next part(s). It's just that in the first line, you say that Wilson has never slept so much in his life, and then in the second line you say he slept this much when he was a baby.

      I think both are needed. The first is the narrator's voice and the second is Wilson's subconscious speaking. I think it's a necessary transition between the narrator and Wilson's voice. For me it works beautifully, epsecially since both lines are two of my chapter favorites :)
      • Hm. I'd read both of those lines as coming from the same POV, but either way, my concern was more that the lines contradict each other.
  • Oh god -- those last three lines are killers; so many memories and emotions bleeding into each other like a watercolour painting. Love the uncertainty that Wilson feels at what the night will bring contrasting with the inexorability of the dreaming.

    Of course, this angst that we readers enjoy is probably not welcomed in the same way by Wilson himself.

    *shivers, because once again reading way too late at night*
  • Oh damn... You capture the weird nature of dreams so well here, and how they can really shake you, especially after one's been through what Wilson has...
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