Sleepless
part seventeenJohn awoke feeling dizzy, blinded by a white light above him as he stared up at the ceiling, lying flat on his back on a padded shelf. Amidst the immediate confusion there was an almost ingrained sense of memory in the sight and feel of the surface beneath him. He'd laid here before. For a very long time. He blinked and turned his head from the overhead lights and smiled at an eyeful of denim clad ass he'd know anywhere.
"Mary, where's yer coat?" he asked, his tongue a little sloppy on his words as he tried to sit up and found the effort a bit too great a challenge for now. Had it been another test day? He didn't remember that. He didn't remember much of anything, really. Walking down the hall, something about soldiers. He tended to dream a lot about soldiers, though, either in the desert or in someone's back garden. These tests seemed to trigger the worst in his subconscious. It'd been a terrible dream.
Mary pushed his bangs from his forehead, more to gently peel away the probes from his skin than in a placating manner. At least one hair from each eyebrow seemed to have gotten caught in the tape and he grimaced against her slow peel with a grinding of his teeth.
"It was the best place to hide a body," someone was saying, a male voice he remembered somewhat but not in detail. He was hidden behind Mary's curves though his shadow fell in parallel with another person's as he spoke. "When they first proposed the whole poison collar thing, Mary asked if I'd do her a favor and protect John. Wasn't hard. All I had to do was replace the poison cartridge with a heavy anesthetic. Looks the same if you're expecting the victim to fall over unconscious. All bodies come down here for processing, especially those of test subjects, so it was a piece of cake to get a hold of him before anyone could be the wiser. And, of course, the best place to hide a body in a room full of body lockers, is inside the Ark. By the time anyone made rounds, he'd have been awake and we'd have already gotten him out, dressed him in medical gear, and had him out in one of the jeeps heading to Sandhurst to see about aid in the survivor camps."
It was driving John a little crazy not to remember the fellow's name. He knew Mary had introduced him to him. This was going to be slightly awkward if Mary ever finished pulling off probes and pulling out his hair. If he was lucky, the other man would be wearing a name badge. It seemed easier to obsess about the forgotten name than on the missing time. Time would hopefully come to him, the way the man's story seemed to bring itchings of hints to the surface. It really only made him aware he was no longer wearing his collar as he spoke. That was nice. That was very nice indeed. He already felt like he owed the man at least a handshake but seeing as he might also be why his neck was free, perhaps a little peck was in order as well.
"You are a different story. Your collar is real. You weren't scheduled to be woken up so there was no fore-planning involved in yours. It's really not that hard to take off, though. Like those little tabs on clothing at the posh stores. Just don't move for a second and if you feel anything sharp, let me know immediately."
"John, you look a bit drunk," Mary said, peering into his eyes like something colossal suddenly rising over the horizon. He didn't feel drunk. If anything, he felt high. There was a haze over everything that said things were supposed to matter but didn't since they made very little sense anyway. What was that guys name?
John flopped his hand over at her, his knuckles beating against her hip. "Mary. Mary, Mary. Where's yer coat? I mean, Mary. Mary, that one. The, uh--" he raised his other hand, making a beak of his fingers and thumb to mime speech.
Mary smiled at him with a barely concealed chuckle. "You mean Jeremy?"
"Jeremy! Yes! That's it!" Oh, that was a relief. One mystery down. Sherlock would be proud. "Mary. Mary."
"What?"
"Did he take the thingy off?"
"He took your collar off, yep."
"Mary. Mary. Mary, don't tell Sherlock. Mary, I'ma kiss that man."
Mary's chuckle grew into a full laugh as she wrenched one last probe from his temple. "John, it is such a shame you're not going to remember any of this in another hour," she managed through a giggle, looping an arm under his shoulders as she helped him to rise.
Well, if he hadn't felt like throwing up before, he certainly did now. John grabbed the side of the stretcher with both hands, eyes trying to focus as Mary gave continued support to his back. Was it really necessary to move? This was not fun. This was the exact opposite of fun. This was worse than having to talk to that Chapman fellow. Chapman? Oh, yeah, Chapman. Hadn't he been... something? Oh, that was annoying. And it made his mouth taste like bile and his brain turn cold. No, this was not fun. Worst yet. When the testing was over, he was going to have to tell those stupid scientists that they were going to have to rework this one. Uhg, his mouth just tasted terrible.
"So what happens now?" the man asked.
The voice that replied set butterflies in John's stomach. "We have a vehicle waiting." It was Sherlock--no voice could ever be mistaken for his lover's rumbling baritone. "Both John and I are officially dead and therefore have no place in the Ark. We're being released into the wild, so to speak. No conditions. No strings attached. If we survive, we survive. It's quite the appealing option for two dead men."
Turning his head just slightly, John could see his Sherlock sitting on a different slab, white dressings against his shoulder with his arm trapped in a sling and the ends of the metal collar sliding down his clavicle as a man standing behind him dragged it off and away. He looked like hell but he smiled as he caught John's eye. Well, shit, he probably heard him talk about kissing collar man--Jeremy, shit. Well that wasn't good. Actually, that didn't really matter. Who hurt Sherlock? Why was his arm in a sling? John scowled and tried to get his legs swung over the side but Mary put out her hands to stop him, holding down firm against his thigh.
"John, you're still under the effects of the anesthesia. You're going to hurt yourself."
John shook his head, ignoring the burst of colors behind his eyes at the way it made his brain rumble in his skull. "Nuh uh. Sherlock." It made sense to him. That was a complete sentence, really.
"Sherlock's fine," Mary said, rubbing her hand against his back to sooth away his worries. She turned her head with a frown at the detective. "You going to say anything to him or just sit there watching?"
Sherlock shrugged with one shoulder. "He's not going to remember any of this."
"So?"
As far as counter arguments went, John couldn't remember too many which were much better than that. Sherlock's brows knitted over tired eyes as he let his posture sag. "Would either of you mind leaving us alone for a second, then?" he asked, sliding down off his stretcher to cross the short ways that put him beside John's own. It was a little annoying that even sitting up on a gurney didn't put his head any higher in relation to Sherlock's.
Mary gave a kiss to John's cheek then stepped aside, her shadow passing along with another's as a door somewhere behind him clicked closed. He didn't pay it much mind, honestly. Sherlock was there. No greater a sign of their privacy was there than the way Sherlock's hand came to rest against his cheek, the gentle wash of his thumb over his face as he bent and kissed his forehead. It was lovely and then it was annoying. He couldn't just kiss him and make him forget that he was hurt. He couldn't just stand there with his eyes out of sight and think he'd ignore the way they clouded in pain. Did the scientists hurt him? He was going to kill them if they did. But still he liked the way Sherlock's hand wrapped around his neck, the feel of skin without the bite of cold metal, as he pressed their foreheads together.
"It's probably unfair to you that I would rather you not remember this, but I think if you knew how much I love you, it would feel more like a burden than it could ever bring you joy." His voice was soft and deep, meant for just the two of them. John liked this. He didn't feel so much like throwing up anymore with his warmth, his sound, his sight--every sense piking up traces of Sherlock like steel bars grounding him to a sturdy foundation. It was lovely. Sherlock was lovely. His voice was like milk and honey. "I love you so much, that when they took you from me in that dream world, I created a version of you that would never leave me. I created a whole new person based on you, something between an imaginary friend and a split personality. I broke apart because you weren't in my life anymore. And when I woke up, I left that fragment behind. That's why there's only one--not a copy of the dreamers' memories but a fragment of my own. I should have known; it was much smarter than you after all." He paused for a shy laugh, petting John's face again in those warm swashes of fingertips. "My love for you became a physical force that saved us. Arguably, your friends saved you. Sorry about that. I would have liked to have played a greater part. But my fragmented memory found you in the Ark and turned your memories into the perfect ammunition. If I didn't love you, I'd be dead. If I didn't have you, there would be no reason for me to exist. I need you in every corner of my life. You are air. And as frightening to me as it is to know so much of me is contingent on you, I cannot bear the thought of you knowing. Because the fear that someday you might not be there is the strength that keeps me from becoming complacent. I will not guilt my way into deserving your love. I will fight for it. Every day. Until I know that I have won."
John smiled, snaking a hand against his hip as he let his head fall to nuzzle beneath his jaw. "Isn't not having those damn collars great?" he asked, loving that there was no interruption between forehead, nose and cheek as he nestled in with a sigh.
Sherlock hesitated for a moment, then gently stroked his head. "Yes, it is," he said, tilting in against his hair as he let him rest quietly with the haze still settling in over everything past, present and future.