riptide_asylum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riptide_asylum) wrote2010-02-05 10:07 am
riptide_asylum) wrote2010-02-05 10:07 am
Entry tags:
"Run for the Hills" (Prisoners of War, 1974)
Title: Run for the Hills
Rating: PG
Summary: After he found Cody in that field next to the gas station, gone six ways from Sunday, Nick took Cody home, unable to believe his luck.
---
I've dreamed of you so much...
Nick drove carefully back along the deserted two-lane highway leading back to the airfield, gaze alternating between the speedometer and the lank, unfocused body in the seat next to him.
Cody.
Even as he rolled the name around in his mind, even as his eyes sought out the long, lean lines of his Army buddy, too-skinny now in jeans Nick was sure he'd had before Nam--ones his mom bought, probably, or Janet--
Nick gunned Kimmie's truck around a pile of bones, blood and feathers baking on the asphalt. The needle edged up over 55 and Nick forced his foot back off the pedal, watching their speed drop back down.
Cody.
Nick glanced over at the guy slumped against the passenger door. Long, greasy blond hair hung over his closed eyes, and he breathed almost like he'd forgotten how, chest rising and falling at uneven intervals.
Still, he was magically, gloriously there. A sight Nick had told himself he'd never see again. Half the time he took his eyes off the road it was to convince himself Cody was still there. Just the sight of him ripped open places in Nick he didn't know still had the ability to bleed.
Nick shifted the big Chevy down into fourth to take the big hill before the turnoff to Godde Pass. As he did so, his fingers brushed the stiff denim of Cody's jeans.
Cody's eyes flew open, burning with a strange and fearful light.
Nick put his hand on Cody's knee and a jolt of electricity coursed up his arm at the contact.
Nick nearly drove them into the ditch.
He couldn't believe how long he'd lived without that feeling, without the rightness of Cody next to him, connected to him, right there where he could see. It was almost like he'd spent months without food or water, without air, and now he'd been given a banquet. Like he'd finally remembered what his lungs were for.
Then Cody pulled away, curling in on himself, tucking his long legs up against his chest, head down against the door. Breaking the connection.
Nick railed soundlessly at the California sunshine, raising his eyes to the cloudless blue sky blazing in through the windscreen.
Cody. Here. With him.
And yet, the haunted, grim-faced stranger fetal next to him bore little resemblance to his Cody. The soft, sweet, eternally dazed youngster Nick had carried out of the jaws of hell. Nick was taking it on faith that if the two of them weren't the same person, then at least hanging onto one would lead him to the other. Anything else was unthinkable. He'd do anything--anything--
I've dreamed of you so much...
Cody stirred, head flopping back against the doorframe.
Nick slowed, taking the turn slow enough Cody wouldn't wake.
When Nick was in high school, he'd had this idea that maybe he could get into a girl's pants with poetry, seeing as he didn't have a helluva lot else to offer. So he'd paid attention for awhile in English class, hoping he could maybe memorize a coupla lines, something impressive about eternity or true love, some shit like that. And instead what he'd wound up with was:
I’ve dreamed of you so much that my arms, used to crossing on my chest as I hug your shadow, couldn’t fold themselves around the shape of your body, maybe.
And faced with the actual appearance of what’s haunted me and ruled me for days and years, I would probably turn into a shadow.
He hadn't meant to memorize it. Hell, didn't realize at the time he had, hadn't thought of those lines in forever, until he'd raced up 87 to the sun-bleached Mobil by the side of the highway and saw his partner--his beautiful, fragile, worth-everything partner, sitting large as life and twice as lost, staring out across the parched brown hills, a hundred miles from anywhere, and half that distance from the airfield Nick called home.
I've dreamed of you so much that my arms, used to crossing on my chest as I hug your shadow--
Nick had gotten out of the truck and forced himself not to run.
He'd crossed the gravel parking lot step by bitter step, heart pounding in his ears, tears stinging his eyes. He'd watched Cody clutch his knees to his chest and rock, a violent, broken rocking that Nick suddenly needed to feel against him--he'd walked slowly and he'd walked home. Until he'd stood less than a foot away from the most important person in the world.
"Cody."
Wild recriminations, babbling, phantoms--so many phantoms--for a while Nick just sat and held the guy, a hand on his chest as if he could push the fear out of him, bring it up and out and gone. Just sat and felt Cody's breath against his neck, ragged and broken, until Cody'd managed to stop crying and sit up, eyes searching the sky.
Nick knew his cue.
And faced with the actual appearance of what's haunted me and ruled me for days and years--
Man, what a stupid fucking poem.
Nick was damned sure he wasn't gonna turn into a shadow. Not for Cody, man. No fucking way.
They passed the sign for the airstrip, three miles out, and Nick watched Cody raise his head and look up with interest, taking note of his surroundings. The manic light was gone, and Nick was sure Cody was back. That maybe he'd stay for good this time.
Nick gave Cody's knee another squeeze and left his hand there as he turned onto the road for the airstrip and started down the long, dusty road leading home.
Rating: PG
Summary: After he found Cody in that field next to the gas station, gone six ways from Sunday, Nick took Cody home, unable to believe his luck.
---
I've dreamed of you so much...
Nick drove carefully back along the deserted two-lane highway leading back to the airfield, gaze alternating between the speedometer and the lank, unfocused body in the seat next to him.
Cody.
Even as he rolled the name around in his mind, even as his eyes sought out the long, lean lines of his Army buddy, too-skinny now in jeans Nick was sure he'd had before Nam--ones his mom bought, probably, or Janet--
Nick gunned Kimmie's truck around a pile of bones, blood and feathers baking on the asphalt. The needle edged up over 55 and Nick forced his foot back off the pedal, watching their speed drop back down.
Cody.
Nick glanced over at the guy slumped against the passenger door. Long, greasy blond hair hung over his closed eyes, and he breathed almost like he'd forgotten how, chest rising and falling at uneven intervals.
Still, he was magically, gloriously there. A sight Nick had told himself he'd never see again. Half the time he took his eyes off the road it was to convince himself Cody was still there. Just the sight of him ripped open places in Nick he didn't know still had the ability to bleed.
Nick shifted the big Chevy down into fourth to take the big hill before the turnoff to Godde Pass. As he did so, his fingers brushed the stiff denim of Cody's jeans.
Cody's eyes flew open, burning with a strange and fearful light.
Nick put his hand on Cody's knee and a jolt of electricity coursed up his arm at the contact.
Nick nearly drove them into the ditch.
He couldn't believe how long he'd lived without that feeling, without the rightness of Cody next to him, connected to him, right there where he could see. It was almost like he'd spent months without food or water, without air, and now he'd been given a banquet. Like he'd finally remembered what his lungs were for.
Then Cody pulled away, curling in on himself, tucking his long legs up against his chest, head down against the door. Breaking the connection.
Nick railed soundlessly at the California sunshine, raising his eyes to the cloudless blue sky blazing in through the windscreen.
Cody. Here. With him.
And yet, the haunted, grim-faced stranger fetal next to him bore little resemblance to his Cody. The soft, sweet, eternally dazed youngster Nick had carried out of the jaws of hell. Nick was taking it on faith that if the two of them weren't the same person, then at least hanging onto one would lead him to the other. Anything else was unthinkable. He'd do anything--anything--
I've dreamed of you so much...
Cody stirred, head flopping back against the doorframe.
Nick slowed, taking the turn slow enough Cody wouldn't wake.
When Nick was in high school, he'd had this idea that maybe he could get into a girl's pants with poetry, seeing as he didn't have a helluva lot else to offer. So he'd paid attention for awhile in English class, hoping he could maybe memorize a coupla lines, something impressive about eternity or true love, some shit like that. And instead what he'd wound up with was:
I’ve dreamed of you so much that my arms, used to crossing on my chest as I hug your shadow, couldn’t fold themselves around the shape of your body, maybe.
And faced with the actual appearance of what’s haunted me and ruled me for days and years, I would probably turn into a shadow.
He hadn't meant to memorize it. Hell, didn't realize at the time he had, hadn't thought of those lines in forever, until he'd raced up 87 to the sun-bleached Mobil by the side of the highway and saw his partner--his beautiful, fragile, worth-everything partner, sitting large as life and twice as lost, staring out across the parched brown hills, a hundred miles from anywhere, and half that distance from the airfield Nick called home.
I've dreamed of you so much that my arms, used to crossing on my chest as I hug your shadow--
Nick had gotten out of the truck and forced himself not to run.
He'd crossed the gravel parking lot step by bitter step, heart pounding in his ears, tears stinging his eyes. He'd watched Cody clutch his knees to his chest and rock, a violent, broken rocking that Nick suddenly needed to feel against him--he'd walked slowly and he'd walked home. Until he'd stood less than a foot away from the most important person in the world.
"Cody."
Wild recriminations, babbling, phantoms--so many phantoms--for a while Nick just sat and held the guy, a hand on his chest as if he could push the fear out of him, bring it up and out and gone. Just sat and felt Cody's breath against his neck, ragged and broken, until Cody'd managed to stop crying and sit up, eyes searching the sky.
Nick knew his cue.
And faced with the actual appearance of what's haunted me and ruled me for days and years--
Man, what a stupid fucking poem.
Nick was damned sure he wasn't gonna turn into a shadow. Not for Cody, man. No fucking way.
They passed the sign for the airstrip, three miles out, and Nick watched Cody raise his head and look up with interest, taking note of his surroundings. The manic light was gone, and Nick was sure Cody was back. That maybe he'd stay for good this time.
Nick gave Cody's knee another squeeze and left his hand there as he turned onto the road for the airstrip and started down the long, dusty road leading home.