riptide_asylum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riptide_asylum) wrote2010-06-13 12:51 am
riptide_asylum) wrote2010-06-13 12:51 am
Entry tags:
"Heatstroke" (POW, 1975)
Title: Heatstroke
Rating: PG
Summary: Nick's gotten so used to covering up Cody's incidents that he's starting forget what real life's like.
Heatstroke.
Nick told people it was heatstroke. Every time Cody lost a little bit more of his grip and slipped from Nick's grasp, Nick was quick to assure whoever would listen that his friend was suffering from nothing worse than having spent too long in the sun.
Nick carefully didn't mention that that sun had been in Southeast Asia, and that Cody's episodes were worsening, but then again, he rarely had to. People who saw Cody yelling at phantoms or whimpering about dead POWs in the bathroom rarely stopped to listen to more than that single word.
Heatstroke.
It was plausible. After all, summer temperatures here in the Valley easily reached into the mid- to high-90s, and the weathermen crowed about all the records being broken with every scorching afternoon. And the Quartz Hills Airfield was blocked from the Pacific's breezes by the long, scorched brown ridge running parallel to the 101. Growers were having a helluva time keeping the low green fields of asparagus and alfafa irrigated, and prices had skyrocketed as more and more of San Joaquin's valuable exports were damaged by the harsh sun.
Kimmie liked to keep the radio on in the office while she worked. That, along with the two industrial fans she'd dug out of an ancient storage closet were the only two things, she said, that made working inside the oven-like building bearable.
Nick didn't have the radio on while he worked on choppers. Cody didn't say anything, but Nick knew it made him nervous not to be able to listen for incoming mortars, or the black-clad Charlie ambush Nick saw haunting his scared blue eyes. And a nervous Cody led to problems.
Like the time he'd seen Jackson lying out on the highway, right in the path of an eighteen-wheeler. Or when he'd become convinced that the Bell 204 Nick was working on was rigged to blow sky-high at any second.
Or the time he'd pulled a gun on Kimmie and sat there demanding she tell him where she'd hidden all the tiger traps. Nick still had nightmares from the sound of her sweet, 22-year-old voice over the radio, quaveringly asking if he could swing by the office a minute.
It was always easiest when it was just the two of them. Him and Cody. Neither of them minded the heat--it was hard to beat 'Nam for that--but each day after quitting time they jumped in Nick's beat-up old Vette and drove the ten miles out to the ocean. If the beach was too crowded, they headed up the coast to a tiny secluded beach only accessible at the bottom of a long and treacherous cliff. Every time they went, Nick was sure this time he'd fall, that this time the sharp sandstone handholds would crumble under his touch, or that he'd be stuck there, helpless to do anything but watch as Cody tumbled through space to the pebbled beach below.
But time after time their luck held, and they'd make it to the bottom and sit silent and motionless on the rocky sand. The sun would set and the tide ripped tiny chunks from the shore, crashing and hissing at their feet. And Nick would get his Cody back.
Tonight though, the Vette chose to blow through another damn starter, and after Kimmie closed up shop and rattled back down the road in her old Chevy, it was just him and Cody and the dust-ghosts Kimmie's truck conjured up in passing.
Beer helped. So did cards, and after a couple hours, Nick became a little more convinced that someday Cody would get the hang of blackjack. With his too-eager eyes and shy grin, poker might be beyond him, but he was getting pretty good at the small stuff. As night fell, Nick felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Sitting with Cody in their tiny Airstream, listening to the hum of the distant highway through the trailer's open door, Nick felt relaxed and hopeful for the first time in a long damn while.
The feeling lasted until he woke up in darkness, hearing the creak of old metal, the sound of someone trying to be stealthy and failing. Nick sat bolt upright. "Cody?"
He was just in time to see his partner silhouetted in the moonlight, in the doorway of the trailer. Then Cody was gone.
Nick took five full seconds to stare at the padded ceiling before his brain shot him in the ass and he rolled out of bed and got moving. He didn't stop for pants, or a shirt or shoes, but just staggered out the open doorway. The cement of the flat, open court in front of the hangar was warm against the soles of his bare feet and for a moment Nick stood motionless, eyes scanning the nighttime landscape. All around him, the baked and arid fields rustled, the grass dry and ready to burn.
Nick took a few cautious steps, staring into the night. He was surrounded by open space and darkness. The shuttered hangar sat blind and mute against the night, with the 204 squatting uneasily out front. The wind picked up, blowing still-warm air across the fields, lazily turning the chopper's main rotor. Nick scrubbed the sleep and the beer from his eyes and stared harder, finally spotting his partner bent double and hurrying in the strange patrol-crouch that had become second nature in-country. But they were home now. Things like that weren't needed anymore. Nick cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled. "Cody! Hey what you doing, man?"
There was no response. Cody didn't even turn around, just kept sliding through the fields, headed toward the raised highway that ran parallel to the airstrip.
Nick yelled a second time. "Cody!"
Cody straightened up and burst into a run, and the strangled, terrified whimper he made carried straight back to Nick through the night. Nick took off after him. The long grass whipped at his bare legs as he sprinted through the fields. "Cody! Stop!"
Another wail reached Nick's ears and he redoubled his speed despite the burning in his lungs. He pounded across the parched, packed dirt, rocks digging at the soles of his feet. Ten feet away. Then six. Three.
Nick threw himself forward and tackled Cody with everything he had. He landed heavily on his partner with an oomph, then Cody was struggling, still whimpering and crying but fighting now, in Nick's arms. The two men wrestled for a few seconds before Nick got the upper hand and pinned Cody in the dirt, wrapping his limbs tight around him. Cody's whimpers ceased, and the silence was much, much worse.
"Cody. Buddy," Nick whispered, even though there was no one around for miles. "Come on, man. It's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay. There's nobody here but you and me. We're back home."
Cody shook his head frantically, eyes glittering with tears. Nick could feel the trembling that still ran through his partner's body as he drew a ragged breath. "They're here, Nick. I heard 'em! They were right outside!"
Nick rolled gently to one side, his weight off Cody's chest. "There's no one out here, man. Just you and me. It's safe, Cody. I promise."
Cody took another shuddering breath. "I heard 'em. Nick, they were right outside, and I heard 'em talking and--"
"No, baby. No. You heard the wind and some birds, maybe a car going by. There's no one here. It's safe. Safe, baby. We're back home."
Cody closed his eyes for a couple seconds and Nick watched him, waiting. When Cody opened his eyes, he said, "You promise?"
Nick laid his palm along Cody's jaw. "I promise."
Over on the highway, a semi truck thundered by, loosing a long horn blast at the darkness and shaking the earth they lay on. Cody gasped and clung to Nick, shaking and burying his head against Nick's chest. Nick rolled on top of Cody and held him as hard as he could, rocking them both gently, letting the tears fall freely, wetting both their skins.
They lay together in the dry grass long after the truck had been swallowed by the night. A stray stalk was tickling Nick's back, but he made no move to brush it aside. Finally Cody asked from underneath him, "Nick?"
"I'm here, buddy." Nick slowly rolled to one side but stayed close, a hand on Cody's chest still. Cody nodded, staring up at the night sky. Nick felt the rise and fall of Cody's breathing against his palm. As they lay there, his breaths grew easier, and Nick felt the shaking die away from his partner's limbs, until Cody lay still and tangled against Nick's skin.
"Nick?" he asked in a whisper.
"Yeah?"
"I think I wanna go home now."
The manic note of terror was gone from Cody's voice, the stark raving chasm that he'd dropped in while Nick slept, had vanished, just like that. Leaving the two of them lying in the middle of a parched and broken field in the middle of the California night, half a world away from the war that still dogged their every footstep. Nick felt his heart start beating again. "That sounds like a great idea, Cody. Sounds real good to me."
Cody smiled gently. "Yeah, Nick?"
"Yeah, man. It really does." Nick untangled himself from Cody with reluctance, then pulled him to his feet. Cody brushed himself down, releasing puffs of dust. Nick didn't bother. He just stood and watched Cody.
They walked back to the Airstream in silence, occasionally bumping shoulders as they cut through the long, dry grass.
The next morning dawned hotter than the last one, and by eight a.m. the air inside the trailer was so close that stepping out into the blinding sunshine felt cool by comparison. Nick had slept like shit, keeping himself in the near-waking state that let him monitor every one of Cody's breaths. Curled up next to Nick in the double berth, Cody had slept like the dead. He didn't even turn over once, which was likely for the best. If he had, Nick told himself, the Airstream would probably have a skylight about now. He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee Cody handed him.
"Listen, Nick," Cody began haltingly. "About last night..."
Nick froze with the cup halfway to his lips. He looked at his partner. "Nothing wrong with last night. You decided to do a little stargazing, is all. Out here it's easy to see a bunch of 'em, so far from all the lights. Just, Cody, next time you do it, wake me up and take me with you, okay pal?"
Cody broke into a wide grin. "You got it, Nick."
The two of them leaned against the back side of the trailer and drank their coffee in the shade. The temperature had to be at least seventy-five, maybe more already. Still, with Cody by his side, and seemingly back to his old self, Nick could've weathered easily double that.
"Hey, Nick. We got company."
Nick looked in the direction Cody was watching. Someone was coming down the long road from 227 and coming fast, by the looks of it. Fast enough to raise a helluva lot of dustclouds, at least. Nick laid a calming hand on Cody's arm and held his breath until their visitor was close enough to be revealed as Kimmie in her old green truck. Nick shook his head as she crunched across the gravel separating the dirt from the concrete forecourt.
"Hey!" Kimmie yelled out the open window. "Gotta surprise for you!"
"Is it a ventilator?" Nick muttered, waving his hand in front of his face. "'Cause we sure could use one right about now." Cody snickered.
"Come on, gimme a hand! I wanna get it inside before the heat gets to it!" Grinning, Kimmie held up a round, silver metal object with a handle.
Nick felt Cody tense up and he tightened his grip on his arm. "Uh, Kimmie?"
"Come on! I've only got so many hands!" There was a groan of metal as she kicked the old Chevy's door open with one small, sandalled foot. "Help me with the cake!"
With a smile, Cody handed Nick his coffee cup and jogged over to help Kimmie as she alighted from the truck. She handed Cody the silver metal object and shooed him toward the building. "Hurry up! The frosting's probably melted already!" She held up the office key, her big purse swinging from one skinny arm. "I'm right behind you, we've gotta get this thing in the icebox, fast, okay?"
Cody nodded and still smiling, began walking quickly to the hangar. Kimmie slammed the truck door shut, making Nick wince. "Nick Ryder, don't tell me you forgot your own birthday! Geez! You been out in the sun too long!"
"My birthday," Nick said woodenly. "A cake."
Kimmie squealed with laughter. "What d'you think I had in that thing? A bomb? Come on, Nick! I can't believe you forgot your own birthday! There's more to life than grease and engine bits, silly!"
Cody had reached the safety of the hangar door with his precious cargo and yelled back to Kimmie. "Come on, Nick! Cake for breakfast! Don't be late to your own birthday!" She hurried across the forecourt, key in hand, and as he watched her go, Nick barely felt the coffee cups drop from his hands and shatter on the concrete.
Birthday.
Cake. Bomb. No, he hadn't remembered it was his birthday. It hadn't even registered. Not after the night he'd had. Not after so many of them.
Nick dropped heavily to the hot concrete and sat with his head in his hands. What d'you think I had in that thing?
A bomb?
Nick bit back a sob. There was only so much heatstroke a guy could take. He loved Cody, would die for him in a heartbeat. Now he just had to figure out how to make him feel safe, how to get them both towards some semblance of normalcy. He knew they could do it, knew it like he knew his own name--
like you know your own birthday, right?
--he just had to figure out how.
Kimmie popped her head out the door of the hangar. "Hey Ryder!"
Nick took his head out of his hands and with an embarrassed cough, got to his feet, dusting off his ass as he rose. "Hey Kimmie."
She stuck out her tongue. "What d'you say the three of us head out to the ocean after work today, see if we can cool off, huh? That'd be a great way to spend a birthday, huh?"
Nick thought of Cody and their lonely beach at the bottom of the cliff, and how it always brought a smile to his partner's face. "Yeah, Kimmie. That sounds like a great idea," he called out.
She stuck her tongue out again, then disappeared back through the doorway. With a booted foot, Nick toed one of the shards of porcelain on the ground around him. Then he shook his head and headed for the relative coolness of the office.
Rating: PG
Summary: Nick's gotten so used to covering up Cody's incidents that he's starting forget what real life's like.
Heatstroke.
Nick told people it was heatstroke. Every time Cody lost a little bit more of his grip and slipped from Nick's grasp, Nick was quick to assure whoever would listen that his friend was suffering from nothing worse than having spent too long in the sun.
Nick carefully didn't mention that that sun had been in Southeast Asia, and that Cody's episodes were worsening, but then again, he rarely had to. People who saw Cody yelling at phantoms or whimpering about dead POWs in the bathroom rarely stopped to listen to more than that single word.
Heatstroke.
It was plausible. After all, summer temperatures here in the Valley easily reached into the mid- to high-90s, and the weathermen crowed about all the records being broken with every scorching afternoon. And the Quartz Hills Airfield was blocked from the Pacific's breezes by the long, scorched brown ridge running parallel to the 101. Growers were having a helluva time keeping the low green fields of asparagus and alfafa irrigated, and prices had skyrocketed as more and more of San Joaquin's valuable exports were damaged by the harsh sun.
Kimmie liked to keep the radio on in the office while she worked. That, along with the two industrial fans she'd dug out of an ancient storage closet were the only two things, she said, that made working inside the oven-like building bearable.
Nick didn't have the radio on while he worked on choppers. Cody didn't say anything, but Nick knew it made him nervous not to be able to listen for incoming mortars, or the black-clad Charlie ambush Nick saw haunting his scared blue eyes. And a nervous Cody led to problems.
Like the time he'd seen Jackson lying out on the highway, right in the path of an eighteen-wheeler. Or when he'd become convinced that the Bell 204 Nick was working on was rigged to blow sky-high at any second.
Or the time he'd pulled a gun on Kimmie and sat there demanding she tell him where she'd hidden all the tiger traps. Nick still had nightmares from the sound of her sweet, 22-year-old voice over the radio, quaveringly asking if he could swing by the office a minute.
It was always easiest when it was just the two of them. Him and Cody. Neither of them minded the heat--it was hard to beat 'Nam for that--but each day after quitting time they jumped in Nick's beat-up old Vette and drove the ten miles out to the ocean. If the beach was too crowded, they headed up the coast to a tiny secluded beach only accessible at the bottom of a long and treacherous cliff. Every time they went, Nick was sure this time he'd fall, that this time the sharp sandstone handholds would crumble under his touch, or that he'd be stuck there, helpless to do anything but watch as Cody tumbled through space to the pebbled beach below.
But time after time their luck held, and they'd make it to the bottom and sit silent and motionless on the rocky sand. The sun would set and the tide ripped tiny chunks from the shore, crashing and hissing at their feet. And Nick would get his Cody back.
Tonight though, the Vette chose to blow through another damn starter, and after Kimmie closed up shop and rattled back down the road in her old Chevy, it was just him and Cody and the dust-ghosts Kimmie's truck conjured up in passing.
Beer helped. So did cards, and after a couple hours, Nick became a little more convinced that someday Cody would get the hang of blackjack. With his too-eager eyes and shy grin, poker might be beyond him, but he was getting pretty good at the small stuff. As night fell, Nick felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Sitting with Cody in their tiny Airstream, listening to the hum of the distant highway through the trailer's open door, Nick felt relaxed and hopeful for the first time in a long damn while.
The feeling lasted until he woke up in darkness, hearing the creak of old metal, the sound of someone trying to be stealthy and failing. Nick sat bolt upright. "Cody?"
He was just in time to see his partner silhouetted in the moonlight, in the doorway of the trailer. Then Cody was gone.
Nick took five full seconds to stare at the padded ceiling before his brain shot him in the ass and he rolled out of bed and got moving. He didn't stop for pants, or a shirt or shoes, but just staggered out the open doorway. The cement of the flat, open court in front of the hangar was warm against the soles of his bare feet and for a moment Nick stood motionless, eyes scanning the nighttime landscape. All around him, the baked and arid fields rustled, the grass dry and ready to burn.
Nick took a few cautious steps, staring into the night. He was surrounded by open space and darkness. The shuttered hangar sat blind and mute against the night, with the 204 squatting uneasily out front. The wind picked up, blowing still-warm air across the fields, lazily turning the chopper's main rotor. Nick scrubbed the sleep and the beer from his eyes and stared harder, finally spotting his partner bent double and hurrying in the strange patrol-crouch that had become second nature in-country. But they were home now. Things like that weren't needed anymore. Nick cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled. "Cody! Hey what you doing, man?"
There was no response. Cody didn't even turn around, just kept sliding through the fields, headed toward the raised highway that ran parallel to the airstrip.
Nick yelled a second time. "Cody!"
Cody straightened up and burst into a run, and the strangled, terrified whimper he made carried straight back to Nick through the night. Nick took off after him. The long grass whipped at his bare legs as he sprinted through the fields. "Cody! Stop!"
Another wail reached Nick's ears and he redoubled his speed despite the burning in his lungs. He pounded across the parched, packed dirt, rocks digging at the soles of his feet. Ten feet away. Then six. Three.
Nick threw himself forward and tackled Cody with everything he had. He landed heavily on his partner with an oomph, then Cody was struggling, still whimpering and crying but fighting now, in Nick's arms. The two men wrestled for a few seconds before Nick got the upper hand and pinned Cody in the dirt, wrapping his limbs tight around him. Cody's whimpers ceased, and the silence was much, much worse.
"Cody. Buddy," Nick whispered, even though there was no one around for miles. "Come on, man. It's okay. Whatever it is, it's okay. There's nobody here but you and me. We're back home."
Cody shook his head frantically, eyes glittering with tears. Nick could feel the trembling that still ran through his partner's body as he drew a ragged breath. "They're here, Nick. I heard 'em! They were right outside!"
Nick rolled gently to one side, his weight off Cody's chest. "There's no one out here, man. Just you and me. It's safe, Cody. I promise."
Cody took another shuddering breath. "I heard 'em. Nick, they were right outside, and I heard 'em talking and--"
"No, baby. No. You heard the wind and some birds, maybe a car going by. There's no one here. It's safe. Safe, baby. We're back home."
Cody closed his eyes for a couple seconds and Nick watched him, waiting. When Cody opened his eyes, he said, "You promise?"
Nick laid his palm along Cody's jaw. "I promise."
Over on the highway, a semi truck thundered by, loosing a long horn blast at the darkness and shaking the earth they lay on. Cody gasped and clung to Nick, shaking and burying his head against Nick's chest. Nick rolled on top of Cody and held him as hard as he could, rocking them both gently, letting the tears fall freely, wetting both their skins.
They lay together in the dry grass long after the truck had been swallowed by the night. A stray stalk was tickling Nick's back, but he made no move to brush it aside. Finally Cody asked from underneath him, "Nick?"
"I'm here, buddy." Nick slowly rolled to one side but stayed close, a hand on Cody's chest still. Cody nodded, staring up at the night sky. Nick felt the rise and fall of Cody's breathing against his palm. As they lay there, his breaths grew easier, and Nick felt the shaking die away from his partner's limbs, until Cody lay still and tangled against Nick's skin.
"Nick?" he asked in a whisper.
"Yeah?"
"I think I wanna go home now."
The manic note of terror was gone from Cody's voice, the stark raving chasm that he'd dropped in while Nick slept, had vanished, just like that. Leaving the two of them lying in the middle of a parched and broken field in the middle of the California night, half a world away from the war that still dogged their every footstep. Nick felt his heart start beating again. "That sounds like a great idea, Cody. Sounds real good to me."
Cody smiled gently. "Yeah, Nick?"
"Yeah, man. It really does." Nick untangled himself from Cody with reluctance, then pulled him to his feet. Cody brushed himself down, releasing puffs of dust. Nick didn't bother. He just stood and watched Cody.
They walked back to the Airstream in silence, occasionally bumping shoulders as they cut through the long, dry grass.
The next morning dawned hotter than the last one, and by eight a.m. the air inside the trailer was so close that stepping out into the blinding sunshine felt cool by comparison. Nick had slept like shit, keeping himself in the near-waking state that let him monitor every one of Cody's breaths. Curled up next to Nick in the double berth, Cody had slept like the dead. He didn't even turn over once, which was likely for the best. If he had, Nick told himself, the Airstream would probably have a skylight about now. He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee Cody handed him.
"Listen, Nick," Cody began haltingly. "About last night..."
Nick froze with the cup halfway to his lips. He looked at his partner. "Nothing wrong with last night. You decided to do a little stargazing, is all. Out here it's easy to see a bunch of 'em, so far from all the lights. Just, Cody, next time you do it, wake me up and take me with you, okay pal?"
Cody broke into a wide grin. "You got it, Nick."
The two of them leaned against the back side of the trailer and drank their coffee in the shade. The temperature had to be at least seventy-five, maybe more already. Still, with Cody by his side, and seemingly back to his old self, Nick could've weathered easily double that.
"Hey, Nick. We got company."
Nick looked in the direction Cody was watching. Someone was coming down the long road from 227 and coming fast, by the looks of it. Fast enough to raise a helluva lot of dustclouds, at least. Nick laid a calming hand on Cody's arm and held his breath until their visitor was close enough to be revealed as Kimmie in her old green truck. Nick shook his head as she crunched across the gravel separating the dirt from the concrete forecourt.
"Hey!" Kimmie yelled out the open window. "Gotta surprise for you!"
"Is it a ventilator?" Nick muttered, waving his hand in front of his face. "'Cause we sure could use one right about now." Cody snickered.
"Come on, gimme a hand! I wanna get it inside before the heat gets to it!" Grinning, Kimmie held up a round, silver metal object with a handle.
Nick felt Cody tense up and he tightened his grip on his arm. "Uh, Kimmie?"
"Come on! I've only got so many hands!" There was a groan of metal as she kicked the old Chevy's door open with one small, sandalled foot. "Help me with the cake!"
With a smile, Cody handed Nick his coffee cup and jogged over to help Kimmie as she alighted from the truck. She handed Cody the silver metal object and shooed him toward the building. "Hurry up! The frosting's probably melted already!" She held up the office key, her big purse swinging from one skinny arm. "I'm right behind you, we've gotta get this thing in the icebox, fast, okay?"
Cody nodded and still smiling, began walking quickly to the hangar. Kimmie slammed the truck door shut, making Nick wince. "Nick Ryder, don't tell me you forgot your own birthday! Geez! You been out in the sun too long!"
"My birthday," Nick said woodenly. "A cake."
Kimmie squealed with laughter. "What d'you think I had in that thing? A bomb? Come on, Nick! I can't believe you forgot your own birthday! There's more to life than grease and engine bits, silly!"
Cody had reached the safety of the hangar door with his precious cargo and yelled back to Kimmie. "Come on, Nick! Cake for breakfast! Don't be late to your own birthday!" She hurried across the forecourt, key in hand, and as he watched her go, Nick barely felt the coffee cups drop from his hands and shatter on the concrete.
Birthday.
Cake. Bomb. No, he hadn't remembered it was his birthday. It hadn't even registered. Not after the night he'd had. Not after so many of them.
Nick dropped heavily to the hot concrete and sat with his head in his hands. What d'you think I had in that thing?
A bomb?
Nick bit back a sob. There was only so much heatstroke a guy could take. He loved Cody, would die for him in a heartbeat. Now he just had to figure out how to make him feel safe, how to get them both towards some semblance of normalcy. He knew they could do it, knew it like he knew his own name--
like you know your own birthday, right?
--he just had to figure out how.
Kimmie popped her head out the door of the hangar. "Hey Ryder!"
Nick took his head out of his hands and with an embarrassed cough, got to his feet, dusting off his ass as he rose. "Hey Kimmie."
She stuck out her tongue. "What d'you say the three of us head out to the ocean after work today, see if we can cool off, huh? That'd be a great way to spend a birthday, huh?"
Nick thought of Cody and their lonely beach at the bottom of the cliff, and how it always brought a smile to his partner's face. "Yeah, Kimmie. That sounds like a great idea," he called out.
She stuck her tongue out again, then disappeared back through the doorway. With a booted foot, Nick toed one of the shards of porcelain on the ground around him. Then he shook his head and headed for the relative coolness of the office.