United [A Superhero AU] - Book Two

Chapter Seven - Night Terror

At the end of the day, Mark heads back to the base with Phil and Felix. His head pounds from exhaustion, which he tries to ignore and fails. Matthias greets them with a weak smile before declaring that he's heading to bed, running his fingers through his hair as he goes towards his bedroom. Felix says the same, rubbing his blue eyes as though it will make the weariness and grief go away.

Phil sends Mark a weak smile that almost immediately falters before heading off, leaving the American alone. The moment he's in solitude, the crushing loneliness seems to descend like smog. He sighs heavily, his heart aching as he heads off to his own bedroom. More than ever, he wishes Jack was waiting for him in bed, ready to wrap his arms around the hero and nuzzle into his chest. After a day like this one he wants comfort so badly and unfortunately, there's nobody around to give him any.

After quickly changing into pyjamas, he crawls into bed and hugs a pillow to his chest. He may be exhausted, but he knows he won't sleep. He hasn't slept at all since the last time Jack was here, except for little bits on and off. His eyelids feel heavy, but he's afraid of falling asleep. He's not as talented at staying awake as Jack is, however, and before long he's succumbing to his fatigue.

The cold radiating from the pavement soaks into his back, chilling him to the bone. His entire stomach burns and screams in agony due to the shot that penetrates it, but he never dies. He simply stares up at the sky, unable to breathe and unable to die.

The sky is red. Mark doesn't know why, because the sky is not supposed to be red, but it is. He stares at it, gasping for air and silently screaming from the pain in his gut, and that's when he hears the cackle. Anti's cackle, far too familiar, rings out in the street. Mark manages to turn his head, only to see that Jack and Anti have separated. The demon holds Jack by the throat, choking the life out of him as he taunts endlessly.

Mark tries to scream out, but the lack of air and the pain stops him from doing so. Instead, he just lies there, watching in hopeless horror and Jack slumps to the ground and Anti laughs again.

Mark bolts upright, sweating and panting. Time slows, giving Mark an opportunity to realize that yes, he can breathe. Yes, he's not dead or dying. Tenderly, he presses his fingers to the round bullet scar on his stomach and tries to stop shaking. He can confirm that he's okay, but how can he confirm that Jack is? He can't, and that sets about an entirely new bout of anxiety. At least if the Irishman is here, he can distract himself with someone else's problems as opposed to his own.

More than anything, he wants to bury his nose in Jack's hair and calm down. Alone in this room, settling his nerves is going to be nearly impossible. In a daze, he drags himself out of bed and shuffles to the kitchen, where he starts digging around in the fridge. Chica lifts her head and wags her tail when she sees him, and he scratches her ears lightly.

Upon finding nothing in the fridge, he leaves the kitchen and settles on the couch. His anxiety isn't soothed, however, so he just lies on the sofa and stares at the ceiling.

I want Jack here, his heart screams. Oh God, I want Jack here.

——

Even with Mark back in his life, the nights Jack spends in his room at the villain institute are still hard to deal with. One person doesn't erase the memories of the death he's seen, and crippling nightmares still plague him. Mark can't always be there to soothe him back to sleep and the shocks sometimes don't help, so there are often nights where Jack is reduced to a screaming, sobbing mess.

Tonight is no exception. After leaving Dan's grave and heading to his room, he accidentally falls asleep. Before long the villain bolts upright, screams ravaging his throat and lungs and his eyes blurring from tears. Continuous shocks tense his muscles and they don't stop, making his panic worse.  The nights after a beating or after a visit with Dan are always worse than others.  Someone enters, but Jack is too alarmed to lift his head.

"Jack, hush," a quiet, tired voice says. "You're okay."

The villain's screams cease and are replaced by harsh sobs as he curls into a ball, burying his face in his knees. It makes his bruises ache, but hiding is more important than comfort. The intruder settles on the bed beside him, patting his shoulder with a tentative hand. Jack can't bring himself to look up as he tries desperately to breathe but can't. He's drowning. Suffocating. The room is closing in around him and squeezing the life out of him.

Help, Jack wants to plead, but he can't speak through his sobs. Help me. I'm dying.

The person pulls him into their arms and Jack's head falls against his shoulder. He's taller and leaner than Mark, but still well-built. The Irishman can barely pull himself into focus for a second before sinking into that dark place again, which is filled with death and misery. He shakes like a leaf in the wind, unstable and fragile.

"Jack, breathe," the person, a man, says. "With me. Come on."

Jack nods, inhaling and exhaling with the rhythms of his companion's chest. It's hard at first, and his breathing is sporadic and panicky, but eventually he falls into a calming pattern. He doesn't dare open his eyes. What if it's just another monster like the ones that plague his nightmares? What if it's Dan, staring at him with a vacant, accusing glare that seems to be a frequent in his night terrors?

He pries his eyes open and to his relief it's Cry, not some monster like he thought it could be. Knowing that he's safe allows more of his panic to disappear, and with a shaky sigh he lets his head fall heavily onto Cry's shoulder once again. The masked villain says nothing as he sits there, holding Jack close and comforting him like any brother would.

The door creaks open and Matthew peeks his head in, his eyes red-rimmed from sleep deprivation and tears. Dark purple splotches show on his neck from under his shirt, stark against his pale skin. He clears his throat, but when he speaks it still comes out choked. "I, uh, can't sleep. I heard screams and figured you were here, and having others around helps..."

Cry nods and motions him over. Matthew sighs gratefully and moves to the bed, climbing in and sitting with his shoulder pressing against that of the masked villain. Jack remains in Cry's arms, soft cries escaping him every now and then. He hates this feeling of childlike vulnerability. He hates that he's now the youngest and arguably the most broken out of the group of villains that has been decimated. Dan was the baby of their weird little family. Now Jack is, and he hates it. He hates the fact that he wakes up Cry and Matthew every night with his screams and that they have to be with him until he falls asleep again.

Jack whimpers unintentionally and Cry's arms are immediately more secure around him. Matthew hushes him gently and lets his head fall back onto Cry's shoulder, his eyes sliding shut. Before long, he's fast asleep. The Irishman dozes off shortly afterwards to the sound of soft breathing.

Cry sighs and shifts into a more comfortable position. When his eyes start to droop, he reluctantly rests his head on Matthew's and allows himself to drift off.