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Apr. 3rd, 2017 09:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
notonemomentIt's not the first time he's had bad dreams about it. It's not going to be the last. Logically, Steve will recognize this later. He's got PTSD, he knows this. He pushes it back, plays it off, but it's always there, thrumming under his skin.
He's at Agron's, tonight, head pillowed on his chest, arm around his waist, legs tangled. It feels good, to be with him like this. It feels good that their relationship isn't just about the sex. Sleep came easy enough once they'd retired. Like most nightmares, it comes unexpectedly.
The city is dark. Smoking cars and Reaper beams are all the more apparent, stark against the black sky. Asphalt and concrete lies cracked and crumbled below them. The city is a ghost.
The systems warn him: a weapon has locked on. A Reaper's Hades cannon. He guides the blocky shuttle out of the way, but only at the last moment. Too close.
Steve frowns in his sleep, fingers curling against Agron's skin. He shifts closer, snugger against him.
Set them down, Shepard says. Her voice brooks no arguments, and his stomach turns, but he lowers the Kodiak. The too-small team disembarks, and Steve has to leave them there. He has to leave them in this warzone. Reaper forces are everywhere, swarming the ground and skies.
He makes a sound low in his chest and shudders once. The familiar dream twists, writhes into something new.
Flying is getting tougher. He can hear Shepard and her team through the comm channel. It doesn't sound good. They're overrun! He makes a pass over them. Garrus is on the ground, neck twisted at a grotesque angle. He has to draw the Reapers off of them!
The Banshee scream cuts through the night and curdles his blood. Through the Kodiak's cams, he can see her claws, too clearly, as they drive into Shepard's belly, right through her shields, right through her armor.
No! Commander!
"Nn," he mumbles. He rolls away from Agron, onto his back. Sweat beads on his skin. His heart is racing, now, breath coming faster.
His voice doesn't carry through the shuttle. He dips the Kodiak's nose towards the Banshee. If he can hit her, if he can get her off of Shepard, then maybe there's still a chance.
He hears the Harvester before he can react. He sees the ball of fire coming right at him through the windows. He can feel the heat of it, blistering his skin—
He sits up with a shout, instinctively slapping at himself to put out the flames he could swear are there.
He's at Agron's, tonight, head pillowed on his chest, arm around his waist, legs tangled. It feels good, to be with him like this. It feels good that their relationship isn't just about the sex. Sleep came easy enough once they'd retired. Like most nightmares, it comes unexpectedly.
The city is dark. Smoking cars and Reaper beams are all the more apparent, stark against the black sky. Asphalt and concrete lies cracked and crumbled below them. The city is a ghost.
The systems warn him: a weapon has locked on. A Reaper's Hades cannon. He guides the blocky shuttle out of the way, but only at the last moment. Too close.
Steve frowns in his sleep, fingers curling against Agron's skin. He shifts closer, snugger against him.
Set them down, Shepard says. Her voice brooks no arguments, and his stomach turns, but he lowers the Kodiak. The too-small team disembarks, and Steve has to leave them there. He has to leave them in this warzone. Reaper forces are everywhere, swarming the ground and skies.
He makes a sound low in his chest and shudders once. The familiar dream twists, writhes into something new.
Flying is getting tougher. He can hear Shepard and her team through the comm channel. It doesn't sound good. They're overrun! He makes a pass over them. Garrus is on the ground, neck twisted at a grotesque angle. He has to draw the Reapers off of them!
The Banshee scream cuts through the night and curdles his blood. Through the Kodiak's cams, he can see her claws, too clearly, as they drive into Shepard's belly, right through her shields, right through her armor.
No! Commander!
"Nn," he mumbles. He rolls away from Agron, onto his back. Sweat beads on his skin. His heart is racing, now, breath coming faster.
His voice doesn't carry through the shuttle. He dips the Kodiak's nose towards the Banshee. If he can hit her, if he can get her off of Shepard, then maybe there's still a chance.
He hears the Harvester before he can react. He sees the ball of fire coming right at him through the windows. He can feel the heat of it, blistering his skin—
He sits up with a shout, instinctively slapping at himself to put out the flames he could swear are there.
