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riptide_asylumTitle: The Long Bad
Rating: PG
Summary: Nick's good at fighting Cody's demons. Just not so good at fighting his own.
Nick woke in Cody's bunk and stretched, gingerly against his partner's body. He figured it was nearly eight maybe, judging from the noises on the pier outside. It was certainly hot enough for at least that late, maybe later. Thing was though, he knew without asking that Cody was still cold. Or would be, if Nick got up. So he stayed curled around and on top of Cody, watching him sleep still.
Last night had been bad. Real bad. The kind of bad Nick figured they both thought was long past, from the time where heat was the only thing they knew. The burn of rot and death and fire raining from the sky. Maybe it was all the reports of the wildfires inland, coming in on every radio and tv, unavoidable and inescapable. Maybe it was the stakeout, watching weekend warriors wearing crisp, unbloodied fatigues, playing at soldiers, playing stupid, hate-filled wargames. Maybe it was just time. Nick was never sure when they were due or overdue. He just hoped each time would be the last.
They'd been sitting at the bar at Straightaway's, nursing Coronas on special and enjoying the cool breeze off the water, coming in through the open windows, setting the hanging ferns spinning lazily. Nick watched Cody watch the water for awhile, his knee pressed against Nick's own, relaxed and content. Then gradually, Nick felt something change. Felt a tension in Cody's body, an uneasy shifting. The tv hanging over the bar cut to another special news report, showing dry gold hills charred black, columns of thick gray smoke spiraling into the sky, spreading into a thick layer of haze that spread across the valley and beyond. It was half the reason Nick had gone to Straightaways; he figured any minute now the phone would ring and Uncle Sam would summon him to go dump water on the whole mess. Nick knew he'd go too, eventually, but maybe something in him had seen Cody going, had known what was coming with the night, so he'd avoided being near a phone and stuck by Cody's side, waiting.
Night fell, and with it the tension Nick had sensed in Cody reached a boiling point. He'd gone quiet, even when the Padres came back on and beat holy hell out of the Brewers. Cody wasn't watching the tv, or the water, either. Nick settled up their tab and with a gentle shoulder bump, ushered his partner out of the bar.
They walked leisurely back to the slip, steps in time with one another, but still Nick could feel it. The fear in Cody, it was like a weather system sometimes; but storms came when the pressure rose, not the other way around. Nick wondered if it was worth suggesting a quick trip out to deep water, but one look at Cody's face and Nick's stomach dropped: if they made it back to the boat in one piece it'd be a miracle.
Tammy hailed them from the Contessa, the wind whipping her long hair across her face.
Cody froze on the path, eyes wide and frightened. Tammy's smile faltered, her hand falling in mid-wave. She hailed him again, questions in her voice.
Nick grabbed Cody, one arm around his shoulders, and hustled for the boat.
Back on board the Riptide, Cody dropped into a rattan chair in the salon, hunched in on himself, wide-eyed and glassy. Nick looked at him there, bent and broken and his heart just broke.
Belowdecks, Nick carefully stripped his partner down: deck shoes, shirt, then jeans, sliding them down the long tanned legs and off before bundling Cody carefully into his bunk. In a matter of seconds, Nick was naked too, and crawled in after Cody, settling around and on top of him, as much skin on skin as physics allowed.
Cody took a deep shuddering breath against Nick's neck, fighting the jerky sobs that rose in his chest, and upstairs the phone began to ring, and ring, and ring.
Nick held and soothed Cody, with his hands, with his voice, with everything in his heart. It wasn't fair, what the war had done. His own nightmares were one thing, but this, Cody, the one true pure thing left in the world, the light he'd fought to hard to keep burning, night after night, ambush after ambush...it wasn't fair, and Nick prayed to God he'd be enough to keep Cody going, to bring him back, one more time.
The sobs stopped as suddenly as they'd started and Nick's heart stopped with them. Cody went slack in his arms, eyes open and unseeing. "No, baby," Nick whispered. "Come on back to me, come on. You know the way. Please, baby."
Cody remained unresponsive, save for the reflexive clenching of his fists against Nick's skin.
But that was enough for Nick. He'd take that and work with it, unable to bear the alternatives.
The wind off the ocean picked up as the night progressed, rocking the Riptide in her berth and Nick rocked Cody along with it, thankful for the soothing motion of the water that Cody loved so much, hoping it too, could reach him.
Dawn crept closer but Nick's vigilance didn't lessen. He lay with Cody in his arms and pictured the good times in his head: Cody trying to teach Nick to surf then showing off, glistening gold between the sun and the water as he showed Nick how to ride; Cody talking about nothing and everything while they sat on the warm tarmac, fixing the Mimi; Cody sitting bare-chested and bronze, grinning and ignoring the fishing pole between his legs, concentrating instead on telling Nick all about the way the sun set different over deep water.
Nick concentrated on letting the memories wash through him, picturing them washing over Cody like a soft breaker. Any minute now, he expected Cody to surface under him, spluttering and squirming, covering his anxiety with frightened indignation.
Nick stared over at his own bunk, untouched, and noted the way dawn's light gradually brought the familiar outlines of their stateroom into shadows, and then sharp relief.
The wind died down and the sun rose, painting the wood-paneled walls shades of pink and gold, and still Cody lay motionless. His breathing was shallow and slow, his eyes still half-open and unseeing and Nick was starting to get desperate. He needed Cody. Needed him like clouds needed rain, maybe more so. Without Cody Allen, there was no Nick Ryder. It was as simple as that.
Nick let his head drop against Cody's neck, exhausted. He'd kept watch over Cody all night, but all his fond memories, all his happy times had so far failed to rouse his partner. What was it, Nick wondered, that had set him off? What had Cody seen out on the water that had taken him away? Nick let his eyes close, thinking.
They'd had their usual booth by the window, two ferns hanging in front of the plate glass, with a view of the harbor and, if you were sitting on the righthand side and leaned way back, slip 7 and the Riptide. Nick had sat across from Cody, on the left. Last time he'd ever be doing that. Nick nuzzled the crook of Cody's neck, smelling the soap they both used, and under it, the smell of Cody's skin. He resisted the urge to lick. That way lay madness.
They'd both had the special, popcorn shrimp with fries. Cody had eaten all of his and started on Nick's. Nick had batted Cody's hand away even as he'd poured out more ketchup. Was it that? Was it the ketchup? Was it the fries? The frozen shrimp, hastily battered and stuffed next to that tiny thing of tartar sauce?
Was it the tartar sauce???
Nick was too exhausted to remember the moment when sleep finally won out.
The next thing he knew, Cody was nudging him awake with one shoulder. It was poky. Trust Cody to be bony in the one place Nick had picked to sleep.
"Hey, it's nearly nine. We should be up already, buddy."
"Yeah? Says who?" Nick blinked his sore eyes a couple times, then accidentally tasted his own tongue. Maybe Cody would be sane enough for toothpaste.
"Says the King Harbor Merchant's Association, that's who, Nick. The meeting's at nine-thirty."
"Meeting."
"Yeah, the monthly meeting, Nick. You know, the one that happens every month?"
Wiseass. Nick shook his head to clear it, then ordered his eyes into compliance. He stared at Cody. Gone was the catatonic stare and slack muscles. Cody writhed beneath Nick, clearly raring to get a start on the morning. Nick was raring too, but he sternly told that part of him to knock it the hell off. "You feeling better, Cody?"
"Better? What d'you mean?"
"Better. You know, good, as opposed to worse, which would be bad. Try to stay with me here."
Cody quit his squirming and looked hurt. "It wasn't a big deal, Nick."
Nick immediately felt contrite. "I know it wasn't, man. But you know us Italians, we like to worry about the slightest little thing."
Cody's expression softened.
"So...you wanna talk about it?" Nick tried.
For a moment, the mask slipped, and Nick knew that whatever had scared Cody last night, it still lived, somewhere deep in his beautiful blond's brain. Cody tensed again, then relaxed. A forced relax, one designed to support whatever lie he was about to tell.
"I'm fine, Nick, really. We should get going."
Uh huh. Shadows lingered at the corners of Cody's eyes, poised and ready, and watching them, Nick knew with a certainty that it didn't matter what had scared Cody. Sure, it had to be one of the really bad memories. They'd both been through hell with the war, and Cody's been through even more than that beforehand, been through things he still wouldn't tell Nick about. But ultimately, none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting him back from wherever his demons took him. Getting him back in one piece, optimally, but Nick would take even battered and broken Cody. Just as long as he came back.
A long moment passed between them, Nick holding Cody and waiting for the moment he let himself -- really let himself -- be held. It came, all Cody's nervous tension dissipating all at once, communicating to Nick with the subtle shift of hip, the bending of one knee, that whatever the morning thought it had in store for them, it had another think coming.
"You know, buddy," Cody said softly. "I'm not sure we really need to go to the meeting."
"Well that's the thing about those monthly meetings, Cody."
"Yeah? What's that, Nick?" Cody scooted a little onto his side.
"They tend to have them every month."
Cody grinned.
"Now, I don't know about you, Cody, but that storm last night kept me awake some, and I could really use an extra hour of sleep. You know?"
"Maybe not an hour, Nick."
"No? Half hour at least? C'mon man, be fair. This damn boat of yours was swinging around like a pinata."
Cody looked mulish. "It wasn't that bad."
"That bad? Cody, at one point I thought the Riptide was gonna get launched so high we'd need the pilot's prayer."
Cody snorted, but he didn't make any move to get out of the bunk. Nick took that as a good sign. He stared as the last of the shadows crept back from the corners of Cody's eyes.
"Aw, maybe you're right, Nick. We can just go to the next one."
Nick yawned and rolled up onto his hip a little, getting comfortable.
"Of course," Cody continued, "I bet we could get the minutes off that new secretary, what's her name? Andi?"
"With an 'i'" Nick yawned again, relaxing into Cody's body.
"That's right, Andi. A little enticement, I bet she'd cover for us, maybe."
"Don't push it. Let's just hope Mama Jo doesn't storm down the slip and shanghai us both into washing that damn boat of hers."
Cody's grin faded.
Nick moved up a little, so he could reach the pillow with his head. It felt soft and cool against his skin and he let a pleased satedness steal over him, as if seeping up from Cody's bones.
"Hey, Nick?"
Nick's eyes flew open. "Yeah, Cody?"
"...Thanks. For...you know..."
Nick rubbed his head sleepily against Cody's. "Don't mention it, pal. That's what friends are for."
Cody rubbed his head back against Nick's and didn't answer.
Nine-thirty came and went, but by that time, the two of them were both fast asleep.
Rating: PG
Summary: Nick's good at fighting Cody's demons. Just not so good at fighting his own.
Nick woke in Cody's bunk and stretched, gingerly against his partner's body. He figured it was nearly eight maybe, judging from the noises on the pier outside. It was certainly hot enough for at least that late, maybe later. Thing was though, he knew without asking that Cody was still cold. Or would be, if Nick got up. So he stayed curled around and on top of Cody, watching him sleep still.
Last night had been bad. Real bad. The kind of bad Nick figured they both thought was long past, from the time where heat was the only thing they knew. The burn of rot and death and fire raining from the sky. Maybe it was all the reports of the wildfires inland, coming in on every radio and tv, unavoidable and inescapable. Maybe it was the stakeout, watching weekend warriors wearing crisp, unbloodied fatigues, playing at soldiers, playing stupid, hate-filled wargames. Maybe it was just time. Nick was never sure when they were due or overdue. He just hoped each time would be the last.
They'd been sitting at the bar at Straightaway's, nursing Coronas on special and enjoying the cool breeze off the water, coming in through the open windows, setting the hanging ferns spinning lazily. Nick watched Cody watch the water for awhile, his knee pressed against Nick's own, relaxed and content. Then gradually, Nick felt something change. Felt a tension in Cody's body, an uneasy shifting. The tv hanging over the bar cut to another special news report, showing dry gold hills charred black, columns of thick gray smoke spiraling into the sky, spreading into a thick layer of haze that spread across the valley and beyond. It was half the reason Nick had gone to Straightaways; he figured any minute now the phone would ring and Uncle Sam would summon him to go dump water on the whole mess. Nick knew he'd go too, eventually, but maybe something in him had seen Cody going, had known what was coming with the night, so he'd avoided being near a phone and stuck by Cody's side, waiting.
Night fell, and with it the tension Nick had sensed in Cody reached a boiling point. He'd gone quiet, even when the Padres came back on and beat holy hell out of the Brewers. Cody wasn't watching the tv, or the water, either. Nick settled up their tab and with a gentle shoulder bump, ushered his partner out of the bar.
They walked leisurely back to the slip, steps in time with one another, but still Nick could feel it. The fear in Cody, it was like a weather system sometimes; but storms came when the pressure rose, not the other way around. Nick wondered if it was worth suggesting a quick trip out to deep water, but one look at Cody's face and Nick's stomach dropped: if they made it back to the boat in one piece it'd be a miracle.
Tammy hailed them from the Contessa, the wind whipping her long hair across her face.
Cody froze on the path, eyes wide and frightened. Tammy's smile faltered, her hand falling in mid-wave. She hailed him again, questions in her voice.
Nick grabbed Cody, one arm around his shoulders, and hustled for the boat.
Back on board the Riptide, Cody dropped into a rattan chair in the salon, hunched in on himself, wide-eyed and glassy. Nick looked at him there, bent and broken and his heart just broke.
Belowdecks, Nick carefully stripped his partner down: deck shoes, shirt, then jeans, sliding them down the long tanned legs and off before bundling Cody carefully into his bunk. In a matter of seconds, Nick was naked too, and crawled in after Cody, settling around and on top of him, as much skin on skin as physics allowed.
Cody took a deep shuddering breath against Nick's neck, fighting the jerky sobs that rose in his chest, and upstairs the phone began to ring, and ring, and ring.
Nick held and soothed Cody, with his hands, with his voice, with everything in his heart. It wasn't fair, what the war had done. His own nightmares were one thing, but this, Cody, the one true pure thing left in the world, the light he'd fought to hard to keep burning, night after night, ambush after ambush...it wasn't fair, and Nick prayed to God he'd be enough to keep Cody going, to bring him back, one more time.
The sobs stopped as suddenly as they'd started and Nick's heart stopped with them. Cody went slack in his arms, eyes open and unseeing. "No, baby," Nick whispered. "Come on back to me, come on. You know the way. Please, baby."
Cody remained unresponsive, save for the reflexive clenching of his fists against Nick's skin.
But that was enough for Nick. He'd take that and work with it, unable to bear the alternatives.
The wind off the ocean picked up as the night progressed, rocking the Riptide in her berth and Nick rocked Cody along with it, thankful for the soothing motion of the water that Cody loved so much, hoping it too, could reach him.
Dawn crept closer but Nick's vigilance didn't lessen. He lay with Cody in his arms and pictured the good times in his head: Cody trying to teach Nick to surf then showing off, glistening gold between the sun and the water as he showed Nick how to ride; Cody talking about nothing and everything while they sat on the warm tarmac, fixing the Mimi; Cody sitting bare-chested and bronze, grinning and ignoring the fishing pole between his legs, concentrating instead on telling Nick all about the way the sun set different over deep water.
Nick concentrated on letting the memories wash through him, picturing them washing over Cody like a soft breaker. Any minute now, he expected Cody to surface under him, spluttering and squirming, covering his anxiety with frightened indignation.
Nick stared over at his own bunk, untouched, and noted the way dawn's light gradually brought the familiar outlines of their stateroom into shadows, and then sharp relief.
The wind died down and the sun rose, painting the wood-paneled walls shades of pink and gold, and still Cody lay motionless. His breathing was shallow and slow, his eyes still half-open and unseeing and Nick was starting to get desperate. He needed Cody. Needed him like clouds needed rain, maybe more so. Without Cody Allen, there was no Nick Ryder. It was as simple as that.
Nick let his head drop against Cody's neck, exhausted. He'd kept watch over Cody all night, but all his fond memories, all his happy times had so far failed to rouse his partner. What was it, Nick wondered, that had set him off? What had Cody seen out on the water that had taken him away? Nick let his eyes close, thinking.
They'd had their usual booth by the window, two ferns hanging in front of the plate glass, with a view of the harbor and, if you were sitting on the righthand side and leaned way back, slip 7 and the Riptide. Nick had sat across from Cody, on the left. Last time he'd ever be doing that. Nick nuzzled the crook of Cody's neck, smelling the soap they both used, and under it, the smell of Cody's skin. He resisted the urge to lick. That way lay madness.
They'd both had the special, popcorn shrimp with fries. Cody had eaten all of his and started on Nick's. Nick had batted Cody's hand away even as he'd poured out more ketchup. Was it that? Was it the ketchup? Was it the fries? The frozen shrimp, hastily battered and stuffed next to that tiny thing of tartar sauce?
Was it the tartar sauce???
Nick was too exhausted to remember the moment when sleep finally won out.
The next thing he knew, Cody was nudging him awake with one shoulder. It was poky. Trust Cody to be bony in the one place Nick had picked to sleep.
"Hey, it's nearly nine. We should be up already, buddy."
"Yeah? Says who?" Nick blinked his sore eyes a couple times, then accidentally tasted his own tongue. Maybe Cody would be sane enough for toothpaste.
"Says the King Harbor Merchant's Association, that's who, Nick. The meeting's at nine-thirty."
"Meeting."
"Yeah, the monthly meeting, Nick. You know, the one that happens every month?"
Wiseass. Nick shook his head to clear it, then ordered his eyes into compliance. He stared at Cody. Gone was the catatonic stare and slack muscles. Cody writhed beneath Nick, clearly raring to get a start on the morning. Nick was raring too, but he sternly told that part of him to knock it the hell off. "You feeling better, Cody?"
"Better? What d'you mean?"
"Better. You know, good, as opposed to worse, which would be bad. Try to stay with me here."
Cody quit his squirming and looked hurt. "It wasn't a big deal, Nick."
Nick immediately felt contrite. "I know it wasn't, man. But you know us Italians, we like to worry about the slightest little thing."
Cody's expression softened.
"So...you wanna talk about it?" Nick tried.
For a moment, the mask slipped, and Nick knew that whatever had scared Cody last night, it still lived, somewhere deep in his beautiful blond's brain. Cody tensed again, then relaxed. A forced relax, one designed to support whatever lie he was about to tell.
"I'm fine, Nick, really. We should get going."
Uh huh. Shadows lingered at the corners of Cody's eyes, poised and ready, and watching them, Nick knew with a certainty that it didn't matter what had scared Cody. Sure, it had to be one of the really bad memories. They'd both been through hell with the war, and Cody's been through even more than that beforehand, been through things he still wouldn't tell Nick about. But ultimately, none of that mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting him back from wherever his demons took him. Getting him back in one piece, optimally, but Nick would take even battered and broken Cody. Just as long as he came back.
A long moment passed between them, Nick holding Cody and waiting for the moment he let himself -- really let himself -- be held. It came, all Cody's nervous tension dissipating all at once, communicating to Nick with the subtle shift of hip, the bending of one knee, that whatever the morning thought it had in store for them, it had another think coming.
"You know, buddy," Cody said softly. "I'm not sure we really need to go to the meeting."
"Well that's the thing about those monthly meetings, Cody."
"Yeah? What's that, Nick?" Cody scooted a little onto his side.
"They tend to have them every month."
Cody grinned.
"Now, I don't know about you, Cody, but that storm last night kept me awake some, and I could really use an extra hour of sleep. You know?"
"Maybe not an hour, Nick."
"No? Half hour at least? C'mon man, be fair. This damn boat of yours was swinging around like a pinata."
Cody looked mulish. "It wasn't that bad."
"That bad? Cody, at one point I thought the Riptide was gonna get launched so high we'd need the pilot's prayer."
Cody snorted, but he didn't make any move to get out of the bunk. Nick took that as a good sign. He stared as the last of the shadows crept back from the corners of Cody's eyes.
"Aw, maybe you're right, Nick. We can just go to the next one."
Nick yawned and rolled up onto his hip a little, getting comfortable.
"Of course," Cody continued, "I bet we could get the minutes off that new secretary, what's her name? Andi?"
"With an 'i'" Nick yawned again, relaxing into Cody's body.
"That's right, Andi. A little enticement, I bet she'd cover for us, maybe."
"Don't push it. Let's just hope Mama Jo doesn't storm down the slip and shanghai us both into washing that damn boat of hers."
Cody's grin faded.
Nick moved up a little, so he could reach the pillow with his head. It felt soft and cool against his skin and he let a pleased satedness steal over him, as if seeping up from Cody's bones.
"Hey, Nick?"
Nick's eyes flew open. "Yeah, Cody?"
"...Thanks. For...you know..."
Nick rubbed his head sleepily against Cody's. "Don't mention it, pal. That's what friends are for."
Cody rubbed his head back against Nick's and didn't answer.
Nine-thirty came and went, but by that time, the two of them were both fast asleep.
