"If I Fall" (Dreamtime, 1987)

[riptide_asylum]

Title: If I Fall
Rating: R
Summary: Nick and Cody have always known how to heal each other.



Banner by nickygabriel

Chapter 1

Cody awoke to darkness, an empty stateroom, and heart-stopping terror. Nick was gone. The void he left behind was dark as squid-ink in the water, unnavigable, unlivable. There was no light, no sun, no air, and somehow--somehow--Cody had to carry on, alone.

The space where Nick should be was raw and ragged, torn across his soul, clouding every breath and stealing every thought. Nick was gone. Cody felt his life, his very self, wind tight into that single shattering truth.

This black world was his future, silent and solitary. There was no light at the end of this tunnel, no way back and no way out.

Nick was gone.

---

Cody could hear Nick's voice calling him, but he knew it was a trick. He'd heard it before--so many times--in the hospital room, and reached for Nick, called for Nick; then opened his eyes on the empty room, and lost Nick all over again.

Nick was gone. Even though Cody could hear him, feel him, smell him, like he was close, like he was real. Like he'd never gone at all.

"Cody. Cody, baby, you're dreaming. Wake up, man. Wake up, please, Cody. C'mon. I gotcha."

Cody choked on tears he hadn't realized he was crying. So many dreams. So many years. Nick had always been with him, never left him to suffer through the nightmares alone. Until now.

"You're not there. I can't wake up, Nick, I can't, because you're not there."

"I am. I swear, Cody, I'm here, I got you. You're safe, baby. You're safe."

Cody leaned into Nick's shoulder, sliding his arms around Nick's chest and holding on with everything he had. He buried his head in the crook of Nick's neck and cried. "I can't do this without you, Nick. Not without you."

"You don't have to, baby. You don't have to. I'm here, I got you, I got you. C'mon, Cody. Breathe for me, okay? Breathe for me."

Cody did breathe, somehow. And sometime later he realized he was, in fact, awake, and that Nick was still talking to him. And Nick was close to him, warm and solid and real.

Cody opened his eyes and lifted his head off Nick's shoulder. He raised a trembling hand and touched Nick's jaw, staring hungrily at his partner in the dim light seeping through the blinds. "You're not dead."

Nick shook his head. Tears glistened on his cheeks. "And neither are you. We're home, baby."

Cody sobbed with relief. He remembered now the reality blotted out by the dream; the interminable helicopter ride north, the skeptical, angry questions from the cops in Arizona. The huddled, sleepless night in the Tucson motel, he and Nick holding each other and shaking, unable to cry, unable to sleep, the same way it had been after a rough patrol.

The two of them, together.

The fear slowly ebbed, leaving Cody wrung out and fragile. He was still recovering physically from the ordeal in Mexico, and the emotional scars took their toll on his weakened body. His legs felt weak as noodles, and if Nick suggested fresh air and coffee--their standard antidote to night terrors--he doubted he could stand, let alone make it up the stairs.

Embarrassed by his own weakness, he shifted a little away from Nick. "I'm... I'm okay now." He meant it to be gruff, but his voice sounded shaky in his own ears.

"Yeah? I'm not." Nick was still crying. But he didn't attempt to close the space Cody had put between them; he lay still, his hand resting on Cody's ribcage, his breath coming in soft, uneven snatches. Waiting for a sign. Waiting for Cody to tell him to stay, or go.

Cody shivered and moved back, closer to Nick again. Even the inch between them had been space enough for the fear to grow. "Don't wanna go upstairs," he whispered. "Just want... just need to know you're close."

Nick rubbed his forehead against Cody's. "Me too." His voice was steadier now. He rolled on his back, drawing Cody against his body.

Cody rested his head on Nick's shoulder and snuggled close, hesitantly sliding his leg over Nick's. Nick's arms tightened and Cody closed his eyes, breathing in the warm scent of his partner. He searched for words to tell Nick how it had been to imagine living without him.

"I thought I lost you." It was all he had; Cody couldn't describe the filthy, fearful dark of the time without Nick. He took a breath and raised his eyes, studying Nick's face in the dark.

Nick slid a hand under Cody's t-shirt, fingers gently tracing the healing ribs. "Sore?" he asked softly.

Cody swallowed hard. The ache inside him had nothing to do with ribs. "They're okay," he muttered.

Nick nodded, settling more carefully. His hand crept higher on Cody's back, finding the tight spots between Cody's shoulder-blades. Cody sighed, then whimpered as Nick's other hand pulled the elastic waist of his sweatpants down, baring his hips.

"Yeah, I knew you were sore," Nick muttered. He kneaded Cody's right hip lightly, gentling the pain from the taut, damaged muscles.

Cody relaxed slowly into the touch. Normally, he was the masseuse, his own long fingers Nick's only relief from the tight knot in his neck caused by stress and too much flying. But the first time Cody had overdone it, leaving his crutches at home and walking--or rather limping--to Straightaway's while Nick was over at the helipad surveying his damaged chopper, he'd discovered his partner was just as talented. Right after Nick had finished yelling at him for being so damn stupid, that was.

Nick was scolding him softly now too, his voice a soothing counterpoint to his touch. "Didn't I tell you to take it easy? This here feels like you been running a marathon. C'mon, big guy, how's it gonna heal if you wont rest, huh?"

Cody closed his eyes. Nick's voice was a safe and familiar comfort, cradling his mind as securely as Nick's arms held his body. There was no place left for the fear or the pain, not here. He was home.

Chapter 2

The cleanup south of the border was a huge and complex undertaking, with political ramifications in several countries. Nick, Cody and Murray spent days in countless meetings with dark-suited agents from mysterious departments whose names they were rarely told.

Nick was filling out a stack of paperwork for the FAA and Murray was demonstrating the bug they'd planted for a gaggle of computer experts when a new pair of dark-suits came into the squadroom and asked Cody to run through his statement again.

But once in the interview room, the agents' friendly smiles disappeared. They took it in turns to bombard Cody with questions and shout accusations.

Cody had seen enough spy movies to figure it for standard procedure, but it didn't make it easier to take. Rationally, he understood they were seeking information, but emotionally, after the ordeal in Los Mochis, he was way too fragile to cope.

He held out as long as he could before he felt the walls closing in, before he saw Perez's face instead of the grim-faced agent. Before their accusations faded, and all he heard was the light, accented voice. He was pronounced dead at 3:16 p.m. this afternoon. I am very sorry for your loss.

Cody tore his eyes from his tormentors and stared fixedly at the clock on the wall above the door, watching the minute hand's infinitesimal movement. He had to hold on. Nick would want him to hold on.

At 3.15 precisely, Cody got up from the table. Someone got in his way but when Cody threw a punch they fell back. The clock wouldn't come free from the wall, so Cody grabbed the hard wooden chair he'd spent the last few hours on, raised it above his head, and smashed the glass-and-plastic clockface into shards.

He was grabbed and held fast, pinned against the wall, and the faces that stared at him were strangers. They were shouting things, but Cody didn't try to grasp their meaning. "He can't die," he shouted back, struggling in their grip. "I won't let him die. I won't let him go, do you hear me? Do you hear me?"

Cody woke up in a cell, stretched on a cot. He opened his eyes on a confused mumble of voices, and blinked against the light. Nick was holding his hand.

Cody focused with difficulty. He'd done something important. "Nick..."

"I'm here, man. I'm here." The other voices fell silent. Cody was glad. He only wanted Nick.

"Nick... not three sixteen. I stopped it." He squeezed Nick's hand, peering at him anxiously. Nick was frowning in confusion and Cody closed his eyes, gathering all his strength. He had to make Nick understand. "It's not three sixteen. You're not dead. Perez... Perez didn't come."

"Do you know what he's talking about, Nick?" Joanna sounded strained, Cody thought. Probably she was still upset about Michael.

"No. And I'm not about to ask him right now. What the fuck were you people thinking, doing this to him?"

"I assure you, Mr Ryder, it was not our intention--" A light, apologetic voice that reminded Cody of Perez without the accent. He shivered, and felt Nick's hand tighten on his. The relief was indescribable, and he breathed deep as the tight clench of panic released his chest.

"Shut up." Murray sounded both weary and tense. "No-one here cares about your intentions. Nick, Joanna--I know what Cody's talking about. No wonder he smashed the clock." Murray's voice wobbled.

"What do you mean, Boz?"

"When Perez came--" Murray stopped, then started again. "Nick, when they told us, when they lied to us, I mean. They said you died at 3.16pm."

There was a long silence. Cody thought it might be safe to open to open his eyes again. Joanna and one of the dark-suits were standing by the door. Murray was perched on a chair beside Cody's cot. Nick was sitting on the cot, one hand covering his eyes. Cody blinked, and looked around him again. The jail didn't look Mexican.

"Did Guerrera catch us, guys?"

---

Cody awoke to the comforting murmur of voices. He wasn't in his bunk, but he felt both safe and content. Without opening his eyes, he traced the feeling to its source.

Nick. Cody's head was resting on Nick's chest. Nick's arm was around him, holding him on a narrow bed--the bench in the salon, Cody realized. The voices resolved themselves into the television, quiet in the background, and Murray talking about probability. Nick's chest rumbled under Cody's ear as Nick answered.

Cody drew a deep breath and sat up, blinking. The Riptide's salon glowed warm with electric light. It was night already. The thought was unsettling, especially as Cody realized he had no idea what time he'd fallen asleep. Or checked out, a little voice suggested.

"Hey big guy," Nick said softly. His arm still rested loosely across Cody's body, but he didn't move, either to gather Cody closer or to give him space.

Cody blinked at him. His mind was still folded in a fog of unreality, as though at any moment the Riptide could disappear with the tide and become instead the sterile hospital room, a world where Nick could never find him.

Tentatively he put out a hand and gripped the varnished wood of the table. It was real and solid and Cody allowed himself a deep breath. If it was real, chances were the rest of the scene was too. He shifted a little closer to Nick, wincing as his hips protested the position he'd been sleeping in.

"Are your legs hurting, Cody? D'you need your pills?"

Cody recoiled instinctively, not from Murray's concern but from the questions. He had no idea what hurt. He shot Murray a frightened glance, then another at Nick.

"Give him some time, Murray. He's not really awake yet." Nick's voice was low and soothing, and Cody relaxed. For Nick, he didn't have to be anyone, didn't have to find anything to give.

As though Nick understood, his arm tightened around Cody, drawing him closer. Cody leaned into him, breathing deeply, and slowly the fog started to clear.

"Hey, big guy," Nick said again, and this time Cody managed a nod in response.

"Hey."

"It's nearly suppertime. You hungry?" Nick squeezed his shoulders. Cody couldn't think how to respond, but before the fear could take hold, Nick went on smoothly. "I sure am. And Murray was just about to make some toasted cheese, weren't you, man?"

"I was? Oh! Oh, sure, Nick. I was, of course I was. Toasted cheese it is."

Murray disappeared to the galley. Cody listened to him moving around, the clang of the pan on the oven, the soft clicking of the knife on the cutting board. Simple, everyday sounds, like the television voices fading in and out of focus. Like the tick of a clock.

He put his head in his hands.

Slowly memory came back. The close stale air of the interview room, the false smiles on the faces of the agents. The overwhelming panic. Tears started, torn loose from somewhere deep inside him. He'd let them down. He'd lost it in front of the brass.

Now there'd be hell to pay.

"Easy. Easy, Cody. It's over now, babe."

Cody shuddered. "I--I fucked up. What're they gonna do to us, Nick? I can't--" he gulped, and somehow got his head up, his eyes open. "I can't be without you."

Nick wrapped both arms around Cody and pulled Cody's head down to his shoulder. "Take it easy, man. Look around you, huh? Where are we?" His fingers slid gently through Cody's hair.

"Where are we?" Confused, Cody blinked at the surroundings. "We're home. We're on the Riptide."

"That's right, baby. We're civilians now, you know? None of that matters anymore. They can't touch us. They can't take you away from me. No-one can, Cody. No-one can."

Cody breathed deep, the truth of Nick's words sinking in. "But what if they press charges?"

Nick stroked Cody's temple. "How much d'you remember?"

Cody shrugged, nestling closer into Nick's shoulder. He wasn't ready to look him in the eye yet. "Not much. I knew I was losing it. I tried to hang on... tried to watch the clock like they taught us, count the minutes." He stopped. "At the end... did they put us in jail?"

"Kind of." Nick kissed the top of Cody's head. "The only person they wanted to press charges against was me. I roughed up a couple of guys tryin' to get in that room where they had you."

Cody managed a grin. "Thanks. How'd I do?"

"You decked one. And you smashed up their clock."

"So they put us in jail?"

"They wanted to call an ambulance." Nick hesitated, his arms tightening around Cody. "I didn't want that to happen. But Joanna believed me when I told her you just needed a little time."

"I'm sorry, Nick." Cody looked up at last. "I shoulda held it together. I should--"

"No. No, man." Nick's hand dropped down to grip Cody's arm. "What they did to you, getting you on your own, getting in your head--that was dirty. What I shoulda done was stick to you like glue, an' that's what I'm gonna do from now on. They're not getting either of us alone from now on."

"How are we gonna swing that?"

"Murray did a lot of fast talking when they called the doc in to take a look at you. Doc wanted to put you in some kind of PTSD programme, but by the time Murray'd finished with him, he was calling it delayed concussion. You have to avoid stress for a month, sleep around eighteen hours a day and eat wholesome homecooked food. Shit like that."

"Like toasted cheese?" Cody smiled for a moment. "They really wanted to put me in a PTSD programme?"

"He talked about it." Nick leaned close. "If it'd gone that way, I'd have kidnapped you, pal."

This time, Cody's grin was stronger and it stayed in place. "Yeah? What then?"

Nick grinned back. "Provision the Mimi and set her down back in the hills someplace lonely."

Cody closed his eyes. A long time ago he and Nick had done just that, for much the same reason; only that time it had been Nick on the edge, and Cody holding them together. All the therapy they'd ever needed was each other.

When Cody opened his eyes again Murray was back, laying out a plate of toasted cheese and napkins. He grinned at Cody and sank down into the rattan chair. "Feeling better?"

Cody felt a wave of uneasiness. He should get up, move away from Nick, show Murray he was strong enough--man enough--to stand alone. But he didn't know if he could.

Nick didn't give him the chance to try. He leaned back into the corner of the booth, pulling Cody more firmly against him. "Toasted cheese looks good."

For a moment, Cody resisted. But Murray took a piece of toast, an unconcerned grin on his face, and Nick's arms were strong and unyielding. Secure. Safe.

He relaxed against Nick with a sigh. "Yeah, Boz. I'm feeling great now."

---

Cody awoke to darkness and the warmth of his partner's body pressed close against his own. The bunk was small for two men, but Nick's presence in the night was the only thing that allowed Cody to sleep at all. And in Cody's bunk, with Cody in his arms, Nick's own nightmares disappeared.

They'd tried to tough it out in separate bunks when they'd first returned from Los Mochis, but after the incident at the police station they'd given up on pretence. They needed each other.

They needed each other close, completely, on every level. It was something they both knew and held close inside; never spoken about even between the two of them. Cody would have called it dormant, finished, if he'd been pressed for an answer, but now, so close to Nick, both of them peeled so raw, he knew it was neither of those things.

Nick moved against him and the sweet slide of skin on skin filled Cody with terror and exhilaration. Just like the first time; like every time after. He whispered something in the dark, something too low for words, and Nick's arms tightened around him.

"Yes." Nick's lips brushed his forehead, light and sure, then found Cody's mouth. Sweet, soft, asking and leading, gentle yet assured.

Cody melted into the kiss, giving more than Nick asked. Giving everything he had. With Nick, he flew higher than he'd ever dreamed, fell harder knowing it was safe to let go. With Nick, he was whole.

Chapter 3

A score of helicopter holds; hot sand and a tired beach shack; the pied shade of a scrubby Mexican hillside. Hideaways in which he'd known Nick, learned the secrets of his body. Found the way into his soul.

But this time, Nick lay sweaty and sprawled across his own bunk, pale dawn lighting his eyes, his skin. Cody leaned over him, breathless with fear and exertion, and lightly took another kiss.

This was no temporary bolthole; this time it could not be put aside and forgotten. This was their home, their cabin. What passed between them here was no quick fix; no accident of alcohol and proximity. They had called it many things in the past and resolutely looked away, but Cody understood the time for lies was over.

"This always happens when things are at their worst." Cody's heart pounded as he waited for Nick's response.

Nick moved carefully beneath him, eyes dark and unreadable in the cool light. "No, baby." His voice was quiet and sure, and Cody felt himself relaxing at the sound of it. "When something snaps... when I can't do it alone; when you can't. Then it happens."

Cody looked from Nick to the familiar stateroom, and swallowed hard. "Nick. I can't ever do it alone. I can't do a goddamn thing without you, buddy."

"Me either." Nick gently tugged Cody to the bed beside him and slid an arm around his shoulders. "Tell me, man. You wanna walk away from this, like every other time? Close your eyes, pretend it never happened?"

Dry-mouthed, Cody stared at Nick and shook his head. "We're home. This is home. We got nowhere left to go."

Nick nodded and kissed Cody's lips, then raised himself up. Cody tensed for a moment, then relaxed as Nick lightly touched his ribs.

"Nearly healed now."

"Mmm." Cody let his eyes close as Nick turned his attention to Cody's hips. As Nick massaged the stiffness from the damaged muscles, Cody drifted on Nick's touch.

The first time, it had been born of anger and frustration, emotion coming to a head in a fistfight. Cody had begun by trying to contain Nick's rage, and ended by trading punch for punch until at last he'd tackled Nick and held him down.

Nick's lips on his, hard, bruising, furious. Burning him up. Even at that moment, with his brain freewheeling with the terror, the wrongness of what was happening, his body had sung with the rightness of it. His heart had beat stronger.

He'd laid himself open for Nick, let Nick take everything he needed. And Nick would do the same for him--had done it many times.

Cody kept his eyes closed. "What were we running from, Nick?"

Nick's hand stilled, and the bunk shifted as he moved. His hand caressed Cody's cheek, and Cody pressed into the touch.

"My mom and dad split up when I was nine. An' even before that, all they did was fight. I never dated a girl longer than a couple months. Cody..." Nick breathed deep.

Cody opened his eyes. Nick was staring at him hungrily.

"Cody, I don't always do too hot at being your friend. But when I fuck that up, you forgive me, or at least you have so far. If I fuck this up--"

"You can't fuck this up. Don't you get it?" Cody sat up, putting his arms around Nick, pressing their chests together. "This is what I've been running away from. I need you so bad. I want you so bad. I love you so damn much. Nick... if I let go, I'm gonna fall so hard there wont be anything left."

"I won't let you fall." Nick leaned into Cody, holding him close. "I love you, I've always loved you. I never wanted anyone but you."

Their lips met, hot and hard, passion a living thing between them. And when at last they were spent, they stayed close, nestled in each other's warmth, protecting and protected.

Cody had no words left but he stroked Nick's skin, trying to put the depth of his feelings into the touch. They had always been able to communicate without words, but what was between them now was something they had never talked about before. For a moment he doubted whether Nick would understand.

"I love you too," Nick whispered, his own fingers speaking on Cody's skin, banishing doubt.

They were home at last.