#my least favourite side effect of the meds is how real my dreams feel now

[running-in-the-dark]

just had a nightmare that included:

explosions

dead children

had to stand there and make sure the other kids wouldn't see the dead ones

kids being randomly selected for a tournament that involved torture, starvation and team sports. also the losing team of each game gets killed

I was one of the kids/players

some tried to run away and got shot

the ones that lost had to choose their coffins

my husband forgot our cats in a hospital overnight (no idea why they were there to begin with. also doesn't seem as scary in comparison but it was in the moment)

the cats were also running around outside during the scary sports stuff so I also had to worry about them getting lost

how are you supposed to start your day normally when all that has just happened.

[missjoker96]

This story was a request from my lovely and sweet friend @arthurflecksgirl ♡♡♡

I'm so glad that we are friends!

Arthur getting new medication

Disclaimer: mentall illness

Arthur's point of view.

I couldn't sleep. Maybe because of my insomnia again or my sleeping pills don't help anymore.

I saw (Y/N) sleeping beside me so peaceful that I wished I could sleep too.

Why must I suffer and live with a mental illness? Sometimes I hate myself and wish to be a better and stronger boyfriend and a healthy one. Life can be so cruel and it was hard enough to live in a city like Gotham. Things made everything more difficult and I have to deal with it for already 35 years.

I thought that I would never find a girl who love me for who I am. Not many girls accept a relationship with a mental ill man.

But (Y/N) was different. She accepts me for who I am and she doesn't care if I have a mental illness. I'm so glad that I found her.

Time passed and finally I found some sleep, but not for long. The loud noises from the city and a police siren woke me early in the morning. This was a good chance for me to go to the pharmacy and get my new meds. I have a receipt which I got from Dr Kane. My old meds were driving me insane and they didn't help anymore. At least I felt so and so I decided to ask for new meds.

I put on my clothe's, my money and my keys before I left appartment 8J to go to Helm's pharmacy.

I wasn't sure if it was a good idea to buy those new meds, but I gave it a try.

Once I entered the building, I walked to the shop assistant and gave the lady who worked there my receipt. She gave me an odd look and asked me. "Are you sure that you want to buy those meds? They are stronger than your old meds, Mr Fleck."

Of course I would buy them. I got the receipt and I wanted to end my suffer, but nobody told me about the side effects. People were so ignorant and unpolite. I spoke about my doctor too. The woman in front of my eyes gave me a worried face expression and I shook my head. "Of course I take them. How much are they?" She told me the prize and I paid with my money before I left the pharmacy again. I had to go back home before (Y/N) woke up. I didn't want that she noticed my absence, so I hurried up until I arrived appartment 8J again. It was almost impossible to wake her, because she usually slept very deep and barely heard noises like a click from the keys.

The door opened and I slowly stepped inside without making noises. I closed the door silently and put my jacket in the wardrobe. I placed my keys on the table where I usually left them and went into the kitchen to prepare coffee. Coffee was always the best to stay awake if you were still tired in the morning. I took a seat at the chair and took my new meds out. I read the information about possible side effects, but didn't care and took my first pill. Nothing happened, because it took time to feel the effect of any pills. And then I heard a yawning. It was my beloved (Y/N). She was about to wake up and I quickly hid my new meds before I walked into the bedroom.

She was still asleep and I smiled at her. I couldn't believe my luck with her. I guess I will never believe it. Not now and not tomorrow. Never. I placed a kiss on her lips and whispered something into her ears.

"I am in the kitchen and wait for you, (Y/N.)"

I walked back into the kitchen and drank my cup of coffee and light up a cigarette. The cigarette I forgot to smoke yesterday.

I wondered if (Y/N) would notice my new meds sooner or later.

After a hour I heard my name from the bedroom calling. Or was it one of my hallucinations again?

"Arthur?" (Y/N) asked and probably wondered where I was.

This was the moment where I felt the real effect of my medication. I began to hallucinate again and felt alone again in my small appartment. It felt as I have always day dreamed about having a girlfriend who truly loves me, but right now it felt like my imagnation.

Suddenly she appeared in front of me and I barely looked up.

"Arthur.. Why didn't you wake me?"

I heard her name and looked at her.

(Y/N) stood in front of me, but who could tell me that she was real?

"You slept so good and I needed a coffee and my morning cigarette. Forgive me sweetheart." I got up from my chair and wrapped my arms around her to feel her. I need to feel her close to me and smelled her hair. It had the scent of coconut like our shower gel.

Mmh. How I loved the scent of coconut on her. My baby girl.

"It's okay Arthur. Can I get a morning kiss then?" She smiled at me in a sweet way and I couldn't say no. I placed a passionate kiss on her lips and closed my eyes.

But I broke the kiss too early.

My eyes were fixed at (Y/N) while I asked her a very stupid question.

"(Y/N), do you think I'm real? Is this real?"

She pulled back slowly and looked shocked at me as if I said something wrong. It was only a question, but she would notice my strange behavior.

"Why do you say that? You are real to me, Arthur. And I am real. Did you forget to take your meds again?"

Oh no. This question!

Yes I forgot to take them, but I couldn't tell her the truth. She wouldn't be happy with me, but I had to do something against my suffering and my insomnia.

I didn't want to answer her question and sat down on my chair again. I light up another cigarette and fixed my eyes at the ash tray.

"I often question myself if I do exist, (Y/N). I mean people are ignorant and eighter don't listen or don't hear what I'm saying."

It was the sad truth. I felt invisible for my whole life until I found (Y/N), but some days feel like the past of me again. Like nobody sees me.

"There is something you don't want to tell me. I can see the look in your eyes, Arthur. You can be honest with me. We trust each other, remember?"

I can feel how she stroked my hands and then placed her hands on my cheek. She would be mad at me if I told her the truth. There is another reason. I carried a shadow within me since my childhood and he should protect me from bullies and criminal attacks. This shadow lived inside of me and waited to come out and play.

Finally I looked into her eyes again and began to speak.

"I have told you about my horrible childhood. And there is a shadow who lives inside of me and he protects me, but he can only do that when he comes out. This shadow is part of me and he is real."

She stroked my stubborn curl out of my face and placed her hand on my cheek again. It felt good to be touched by her gentle hands and her face expression changed like she understood my words.

(Y/N) always understood me, but when I kept things hidden from her then things were different.

But I was glad that she always tried to understand me.

"I know the horrible story about your childhood, Arthur. I'm so sorry for all the pains and trauma you have to carry with you, but who is this shadow? You have never told me about him. Is he dangerous?"

She was so curious. It fascinated me and how she used her words. I can be truly lucky to have (Y/N) as my girlfriend.

I noticed my cigarette and dropped the ash on the ground accidantly.

Good that I didn't drop it on mine or (Y/N) clothe's.

"He is not only a shadow. He is part of me and he is visible. I am this shadow and I want to come out, but my old meds wouldn't have let me... Umm.."

Now I have betrayed myself and she would probably ask me about my condition. She was the only one who knew everything about me and I couldn't lie to her, because I love her so much.

"Your old meds? Do you want to say that you have changed your meds? Gosh, Arthur! Why didn't you tell me about it? I was so worried about you. This explains your strange behavior then."

I felt her arms around me and didn't say something. I just needed to feel her arms and hear her voice to know that she is real. And she is real. Dr Kane told me that I wasn't hallucinating, but she was worried about (Y/N) and this made me sad.

I would do anything for my sweetheart.

And those new meds helped me to feel better. The only problem were the bad side effects like thinking about what's real and what's not real.

It worried her, but she understood me and would help me to get through my mental illness. No matter what happen.

"My behavior. I only feel visible when you are here with me, (Y/N). And still I don't know if I'm real or not. But Joker.. He is real. He laughs when I'm crying."

I felt as if he came out. The mask wasn't there yet, but I could feel him begging for freedom.

"You are visible, darling. Your new meds are driving you insane. Didn't you read the information about the possible side effects?"

I shook my head, because I trusted my doctor.

"No, I didn't. Forgive me, (Y/N). I must be a terrible boyfriend for hiding my stuff from you and then my questions.."

Tears came out of my eyes and I felt terrible.

(Y/N) hugged me and kissed my hair. It always felt good to be kissed from her and my favourite kisses were on my cheeks and on my lips. I wished for more kisses, but she wanted to know more of myself.

She would have found it out sooner or later, because of my red suit in my wardrobe. And she knew that I don't wear a bright red suit when I go out.

"Shh.. You aren't terrible! Don't ever say that again Arthur. I love you for who you are and I would never be angry at you. I was extremely worried and afraid. You should talk with me next time if you change your meds again."

It was sweet to hear from her that she wasn't angry or mad with me. I could be truly lucky to have (Y/N) in my life.

I kissed her lips and pulled her into a gentle hug. I needed this moment to find comfort again, because I had already a hard night and then a bad experience with my new medication.

I thought that there were no more questions, but (Y/N) asked me another one.

"Who is Joker?"

Joker. My shadow.

Created by childhood trauma.

The clown inside of me who protected me from bullies and criminal attacks.

I wasn't ready to show her my dark side. And I wasn't ready to tell her that I am Joker.

But she knew it already. I mentioned it.

"(Y/N), I can't show you my other self. Not yet, because I need time to find my true self. Please forgive me."

I kissed her hands and closed my eyes for a while to think about Joker.

He couldn't live without being noticed, but I could decide if I bring him out. I wanted to show her my true self, but I feared that she might be afraid of him.

Joker was the opposite of me.

Arthur was gentle, broken and shy.

Joker was strong, fearless and protective.

Maybe it was better to show (Y/N) the clown in his bright red suit.

"That's okay darling. Take all time you need, but why didn't you mention that before with your meds? We could have find a way together." She cared so much about me and I was glad about that. It was a sign that I could trust her with my life.

I never trusted a woman before.

And I don't know how I could trust my own mother who lied to me my whole life.

"I am so sorry. I felt like it wasn't a good idea, but now I realize that I should have told you about my new receipt for new meds. Next time I take you with me and we buy the meds together. Does that sound good?"

I formed a smile on my face and could see her smile again. It made me happy to see her like this and felt her lips on mine again.

Those sweet lips. The first lips I tasted and hopefully the last.

"This sounds much better honey. And please tell me before you take your new meds again, okay? I need to know it."

I shook my head at her question and then hugged her. I needed this comforting hug and I needed (Y/N). She made me truly happy and this must have been a good reason to be real for her.

And she must be real.

Side effects can always happen, but it's important to know that you are real.

And once again I was lost in a kinda day dream.

(Y/N) stroked my cheeks and called me with my other name.

"Joker, would you like to cuddle up together or is it too early for that?"

I couldn't decline and say no, but I smirked. It was like my other smirk.

Joker's smirk, but without face paint.

The red smirk could wait.

Joker could wait.

All I wanted now was (Y/N) and we lost ourselves in a deep passionate kiss...

#ArthurFleck #Fanfiction #Joker2019 #DCUniverse #ShortStory #JokerFanfic

[artificialqueens]

nobody knows where we might end up, chapter eleven (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr: plastiquetiaras) | word count: 4828

AN: Thank you so so much for the continued lovely response to this fic, reading reviews makes me the happiest ever. I appreciate it so much <3 thank you writ for betaing and being the best.

(then)

“Ready? One, two, th-”

“No, I can’t click it, it’s too scary! It feels too real!”

“You’re acting like we’re watching a horror movie, B.” Vanessa tries not to laugh at the sight of her girlfriend peeking through squinted eyes at her computer screen. “We gotta finish the registration for the MCAT. The time has come.”

“How are we here already?” Brooke groans, resting her cheek on her hand. “It feels like we’re still babies.”

“We’re halfway done second year. Not so baby anymore.” Vanessa double checks the credit card number she’s entered onto the MCAT registration website and tries not to wince at the price displayed on the screen. Why is an exam that they’re forced to write if they want to apply to medical school so damn expensive?

“You’re always my baby, though.” Brooke gives her a cheeky look, and Vanessa grins, tapping her leg against hers under the table.

“And you’re mine. Now c���mon, we gotta finish or all the spots for this date will be taken.”

Brooke lets out a sigh of relief and nervousness both when they get their respective confirmation emails for the MCAT. Vanessa’s mind is already spinning over summer plans, how they’re going to have to study even more than they already do in the months leading up to the exam.

But hey. It’ll be worth it if they both get into med school. Especially if they can do it a year early.

“D’you think we can do it?”

Brooke looks at her with an adorably furrowed brow. “Do what?”

“Third year entry.” Starting medical school a year early by entering after their third year of university rather than after they graduate in their fourth year, a practice permitted in medical schools across Ontario. It seems like a fever dream to Vanessa right now, a concept that feels so far away but so exciting that she doesn’t even want to think about it too much.

“Dunno, Ness. Barely anyone ever does.” Brooke bites her lip. “It sounds so difficult.”

“We’re smart, though. Both of us.” They weren’t at the top of their respective classes for nothing.

“So is every other student that’s planning on applying to med school for third year entry.”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at Brooke. “Shush. Don’t stifle our dreams. We can beat them all. I could probably take some in hand-to-hand combat, too.”

Brooke snorts. “Last time I checked, the med school application process wasn’t actually a literal Hunger Games.”

Vanessa scoffs, opening up a medical school application forum that she’s begun to frequent recently. “Sure feels like it sometimes.”

Brooke looks at her screen and tuts. “You know looking at that’s gonna freak you out even more.”

Vanessa sighs. “I know, I can’t help it. I just wanna know everything and be on top of everything, you know? And just know that we’re both gonna get in, and to the same schools, too.”

Brooke reaches out a hand, grabs Vanessa’s and strokes the top of it with her thumb. “Hey, no matter what, we’ll figure it out, okay? And become badass doctors in the process.”

Vanessa squeezes back. “Imagine if we both get into med school here, and can stay in Toronto. Keep our apartment, do all of our clinical placements here too. Kill it together.”

Brooke smiles. “That’s all I want, Ness. Though we still gotta be ready for it to not happen. Cause we never know. It’s so hard to get in.”

“I know, I know.” Vanessa sighs. “I just want it so bad.”

“Me too, baby. I want it, too. I hope we get it.” Brooke stands up, comes to stand behind Vanessa and bends down so that she can wrap her arms around her. Vanessa covers Brooke’s hands with her own. “Which is why, starting tomorrow, we’re on full MCAT studying mode. I’m gonna make a schedule tonight.”

Vanessa sputters at Brooke’s declaration. “Already? Bitch, we have midterms coming up first next week!”

“Do you want to get into med school or not?”

Vanessa huffs. “Fine. I’m already tired, though, just so you know.”

Vanessa can feel Brooke’s laugh on her back, from the way Brooke is leaning against her. “Okay, Miss ‘I’m tired,’ come and help me with the tacos for dinner. I’m hungry.”

Vanessa grates cheese at their kitchen island while Brooke tends to the taco meat on the stove, and Vanessa is struck by just how domestic they’ve become. Making dinners together, studying, catching kisses here and there as they come and go from their respective classes and volunteering positions and work in the labs on campus. Their tiny one bedroom apartment feels like a mansion to Vanessa sometimes, because it holds everything she could ever want - Brooke, their pets, a sense of security. A feeling of home.

Vanessa doesn’t want to lose it, ever.

Apollo jumps up onto the counter, suddenly very interested in the tomatoes that she’s begun to chop. Vanessa sticks her hand out to keep him away from the knife, and can’t help her giggle when Apollo nuzzles against it instead.

“Lemme finish chopping and I’ll give you all the attention you want, kitty-kitty.” Vanessa picks him up and lowers him to the ground, away from the knife and chopped vegetables spread on the counter.

Brooke pulls the pan off of the stove, and spreads out the different toppings they’ll need for their tacos. Vanessa can’t help but let out a noise of delight.

“I’m fuckin’ hungry. I’m gonna eat at least, like, five.”

Brooke snorts. “Five?”

Vanessa nods as she begins to already fill up her first taco. “At least.”

“You’re approximately the size of a Polly Pocket, babe. Five?” Brooke grins at her and Vanessa sticks her tongue out.

“Not my fault you’re some sort of tall Amazonian goddess.”

Brooke comes around to Vanessa’s side of the kitchen island and puts her arms around her waist, pulling Vanessa in closer. Vanessa looks up at her and can’t help but rise on her tiptoes to kiss her, feeling the way Brooke smiles into it. Brooke breaks the kiss, bending down slightly to scoop Vanessa up underneath her thighs and it makes her yelp, wrap her arms around Brooke’s neck tighter. Brooke sits her down at the edge of the counter, and it makes them closer in height, more eye to eye.

This Brooke is Vanessa’s favourite version of Brooke - the one with sparkling eyes and a calm heart filled with so much love that it’s threatening to spill out. Brooke presses kisses all over her face that make Vanessa giggle, and she can’t help but think about how lucky she is.

It scares Vanessa sometimes, that she feels like she’s found her person when they’re both so young, still in university. They still have so much to go, so much to weather through before they’re even established in their careers at all. Sometimes, she feels like she’s preemptively losing Brooke, thinking about the future and the possibility that they may not be able to last.

But they will. They have to.  

Brooke reaches around for Vanessa’s plate and grabs one of the tacos that she’s already made, making her protest immediately. “Hey!”

Brooke steps out of her grasp, giggles as she starts to eat Vanessa’s taco. “You snooze, you lose.”

Vanessa jumps off the counter. “Bitch, if your fine ass touches another one of these tacos after that one, I swear to-”

Brooke presses a kiss her lips, effectively making her trail off with a mmph, and snickers when Vanessa bats at her shoulder.

“Hmph. You taste like salsa.” Vanessa grabs another taco from the plate and starts munching on it herself.

“I’ll make you an extra taco once these are done, promise.” Brooke finishes the last bite of her taco with a flourish and Vanessa huffs.

“You better. Out here stealing my food and shit.” Vanessa huffs, though can’t help her grin.

Brooke makes everything so much more fun. The late study nights, the early classes, the television show marathons that they have on their couch every other weekend. She hopes that it will never, ever have to end.

Vanessa’s phone rings while they’re doing the dishes, Vanessa washing while Brooke dries. Vanessa runs over to her phone, letting out a delighted squeal when she realizes that it’s her mom on the other end of the line. She puts it on speaker so that they can keep cleaning up.

“Hi, Mami!”

“Hi to you too, mija.” Vanessa’s mom has a loud voice and it projects throughout their small apartment, making Vanessa grin.

“You at work?”

“Taking a fifteen minute break. Freaking Donna took so long on hers and made me cover her patients for thirty minutes so I chewed her out and she felt guilty about it, and that’s how your mama earned an extra little break for herself.” Vanessa can hear the smugness in her mother’s voice without even having to see her face.

“I’d expect nothing less.” Vanessa snickers as she looks over at Brooke, who seems to be attempting to hold back a laugh as well.

“Enough about Donna. How’s your week going? Are you eating well? Are you sleeping?”

“Week is good. Haven’t eaten a vegetable in weeks. Not sleeping a wink.” Vanessa grins as  Brooke raises her eyebrow at her answer. Vanessa loves goading her mom for the sheer entertainment value that she provides when she’s riled up, not unlike Vanessa herself.

“You want to die of scurvy, mija? Is that what you want? Out here trying to become a doctor and not eating any vegetables?”

“Don’t worry, mami. Eating and sleeping well both.”

“You better be.” Vanessa can hear the sounds of the hospital on the other end of the line. Despite the fact that her mom is working the night shift, she still hears snippets of conversations and rhythmic beeps faintly echoing in the background. The hospital never sleeps, not even at night.

“How’s Brooke? Put her on the line.” Vanessa’s mom hasn’t met Brooke in person yet but has already taken a liking to her from their short phone conversations, something that makes Vanessa want to dance around with happiness.

“It’s on speaker. Hi, Mrs. Mateo.” Brooke’s voice is squeaky as it always is when she’s talking to Vanessa’s mom, intimidated and desperately wanting to make a good impression. Brooke’s nervous state wants to make Vanessa crack up every time, because what does Brooke even have to worry about? There isn’t anyone who doesn’t immediately love her upon talking to her.

“How are you doing, sweetie? Vanessa not bothering you too much?” Despite the crack directed at her, Vanessa softens at nickname. Her mom is loving, fiercely protective when she wants to be, and seems to have a sixth sense of when someone may need it.

Brooke’s cheeks are pink, and Vanessa can see from the smile that she’s struggling to hold back that she’s pleased. “Doing okay. Vanessa’s perfect, as usual. We registered for the MCAT today.”

“Nuts, the two of you. Writing the MCAT. I’m telling you, nursing school-”

“We ain’t gonna apply for nursing school, Mami!” Vanessa can’t help but interject, and Brooke snickers.

“You two just like the harder route, huh? At least you have each other to lean on. And Brooke?”

Brooke perks up. “Yeah?”

“Good luck on that organic chemistry midterm you said that you have coming up soon. You’ll do wonderful.”

Vanessa melts when she sees the smile that takes over Brooke’s face, the way her eyes are shining slightly. “Thank you, Mrs. Mateo. I appreciate it a lot.”

Vanessa’s mom hangs up after the two of them promise to sleep earlier and take care of themselves, and Brooke turns to Vanessa as they finish up the dishes.

“Your mom is the absolute sweetest.” It comes out as a sigh, and it makes Vanessa reach for Brooke’s hand and squeeze it.

“She loves you more than me, I swear. Once she meets you this summer in person she’s gonna lose her mind.”

Brooke looks at Vanessa with wide eyes. “Do you think she’ll still like me?”

“Of course she will, dolt.” Vanessa swats at her arm. “She’ll use the opportunity to give you a million hugs that she can’t transmit over the phone.”

“You’re so lucky. Your family is so lovely.” The longing in Brooke’s voice tugs at Vanessa’s heart.

Vanessa develops grudges too easily, but the one that she can feel building against Brooke’s family is valid, and is one that grows more and more as time goes on. Vanessa’s seen Brooke come back from visits to home with her shoulders slumped too many times, seen her try to avoid crying by biting her lip as her mom chews her out over the phone. She hates to see how much they’re capable of hurting her without even having to try. Vanessa tries, at those times, to make things better. Extra cuddles, more encouraging and soft words than usual. She’s not sure, however, if it’s a good enough substitute.

“They love you, babe.” Vanessa leans up to kiss Brooke’s cheek. “Well, my mom does. Julio’s too invested in his computer games to care about anything else.”

Brooke cracks a smile despite herself, leaning into Vanessa’s touch. “I’m excited to meet them both.”

“You say that now. Wait till she’s roasting you too. Won’t take long for it to happen.” Vanessa grins. “She’ll have plenty of opportunities to gently bully you this summer while we study for the MCAT.”

“Somehow, I’m really looking forward to it.”

It’ll be good for Brooke. Both of them, really. Vanessa knows it.

(now)

“Brooke, open the fucking door.” Vanessa’s fist raps on Brooke’s office door as she pleads. Vanessa ignores the fact that they’ve flipped positions, that she’s the one trying to get Brooke to open up. She’s going to keep knocking because they need to talk, and they can’t keep doing this anymore.

The door swings open while Vanessa’s fist is still raised in the air, ready to knock again. Brooke’s face is cold and hardened, the annoyance on her face visible and it almost makes Vanessa take a step back. Almost.

“Do you fucking mind?” Brooke hisses the words at her, nearly shutting the door in her face again but then Vanessa sticks her foot in, preventing her from closing it. Brooke’s hold on the doorway lessens for just a millisecond and Vanessa takes the opportunity to slip inside, ignoring Brooke’s protests.

“We need to talk.” So what if Vanessa sounds like she’s pleading? They need to talk, actually talk - not fuck their way through things, or avoid feelings because it’s not working out for her. It isn’t for Brooke either, from the dark circles underneath her eyes, the slump of her shoulders as if she’s being weighed down by too much for her to carry.

“We really don’t.” Brooke turns away from her, walks towards her desk. Vanessa follows on her heels, undeterred, because she’s not going to give in that easily.

“Yeah we do, B! Things are fucked and I don’t know about you, but I ain’t having a good time like this. We need to.”

Brooke turns around suddenly and Vanessa realizes that she’s right there, right in front of her and Vanessa has to look up to make eye contact. The sharp rise and fall of Brooke’s chest matches the hidden fire behind her eyes, a heat that rises in steam across her skin.

“You’re not having a good time, huh?” Brooke’s laugh has no humour laced through it, veering on the side of bitter. “That sucks for you. Really does. Sorry to hear that.”

Vanessa knows Brooke’s tendencies to lash out when she’s cornered, but it’s not going to stop her from provoking her further. “Bitch, you’re the one who went home with someone else last night.”

Brooke takes the bait, like Vanessa knew that she would. “Oh, so suddenly I’m not allowed to do so?”

“That’s not what I said-”

“You made yourself pretty clear the other day. That you were done with whatever this is. I got the message with the closed door in my face.” Vanessa can hear the hurt, the anger in Brooke’s voice. They’re subtle cues that wouldn’t be noticeable to the average person but Vanessa knows (used to know) Brooke well enough that they shine through, no matter how much Brooke wants to hide them from her.

Vanessa deflates, because how can she explain it without sounding stupid? “I thought you just wanted something physical, since that’s what we were doing, hell, I still don’t know if you do and I freaked out, I know, ‘kay?” She takes a deep breath, continues because once she starts she can’t stop and Brooke needs to know that she still cares. “Because I realized that I still like you, really like you and miss you a fuck ton and couldn’t do it if that was just what you wanted.”

Brooke looks like she’s gotten the breath knocked out of her, as she takes a step backwards but hits the back of her legs on the desk. “Are you kidding me?”

“And I get it if you don’t feel the same-”

“You can’t just say that.” Brooke’s voice trembles in a way that Vanessa hasn’t heard in years and it makes Vanessa wince. Maybe her delivery hadn’t been the best, but she’s not good at talking and feelings and it’s hard. “You can’t just cut me out then waltz in here and say those things after leaving me to pick up the pieces.”

Vanessa doesn’t say anything to stop Brooke as she continues, because a part of her needs to hear where this is going, even if it’s going to leave her a mess. It’s like she’s become a sucker for punishment, needing to see it through to satisfy some sick need in her brain for catharsis.

“You always do this. You just come and go whenever you want, and I can’t do it. I can’t do it anymore. That’s not me. It wasn’t me back then, either.”

Vanessa can’t stop herself from interjecting, cutting off Brooke’s story because she’s saying it all wrong. “That wasn’t the same thing and you know it.” It wasn’t. That was different. The way they broke up was not like…this.

“Why not? You play by your rules now and you did then too. You run when you’re in trouble and things get difficult, and I get it, I really do.” Brooke’s laugh is bitter, marred by a tinge of sadness that contrasts with the set of her jaw. “I wouldn’t stay either.”

The words twist at Vanessa’s heart, turning it around and making knots and she feels heavy, weighed down, as if they’re anchors in her soul.

“Fuck off. That’s not true. I don’t run, I didn’t then either.” Vanessa can’t help her voice from raising because it’s not true, and Brooke’s being unfair because she’s the one that slept with someone else and didn’t even say anything about the voicemail and-

“I found out from Silky when you left back then, you know that?” Brooke’s voice breaks as she cuts off Vanessa’s train of thoughts, and it makes her freeze. Brooke wipes the tear threatening to leak from her eye as if it’s personally wronged her, and Vanessa wonders if it’s possible to have her heart torn without anyone actually touching it. “Why the apartment was half empty and Riley was gone and you were gone as if it all had meant nothing.”

No, no, no, Vanessa doesn’t want to talk about this, they can’t talk about this and she has to fight every cell in her body that is telling her to leave. “It wasn’t nothing-”

“I’m not doing it again. I get that you want to play by what works for you, but I can’t.” Brooke draws in a ragged breath, avoiding her eyes. She picks up her clipboard, her notes scattered around her desk. “I have to go.”

“Brooke-”

“Please let me go.” Brooke doesn’t wait for an answer, pushing past her and leaving the door swinging as she exits.

Vanessa’s frozen in Brooke’s office, the ticking of the minute hand of the clock on the wall coinciding with the way that her heart shatters just a tiny bit more with every passing second.

She’s fucked up.

“Office hours ended half an hour ago, come back tomorrow.” Silky’s voice floats through the English department office corridor as Vanessa knocks on her door. Getting through the workday felt impossible, like she was ricocheting off the walls of the hospital and no amount of work could calm her down.

“Silk, it’s me.” Vanessa can’t help the panicked edge in her voice as she peeks around Silky’s office door, her friend surrounded by stacks of papers and her glasses slightly askew.

“Vanj! You’re early!” Silky holds up the paper that she’s reading through. “Look at this. This kid spelled ‘allegory’ as ‘Gregory’. Who does that?”

Despite the nervous energy that’s lighting up her insides, Vanessa can’t help but snort. “Honestly, that was me back in uni. Dumb as hell in English.”

Silky waves her off. “You’re lucky that I was your roommate, bitch. Fixing all your stupid ass typos. You’re welcome.”

Vanessa takes the opportunity to collapse into the chair in front of Silky’s desk, grabbing the nameplate that says Dr. Ganache and turning it over and over in her hands. “Silk. Dear Silk. I have a problem. Big problem. Big, big, big, problem.”

“What, that you’re working with Brooke?”

“What? No, not that. Wait, how do you know that?”

“Bitch, you wouldn’t tell me which hospital you got hired at when you first moved back here and you always change the subject when I bring her up. Who else?”

Vanessa sputters. “Okay, well. Maybe true.”

“Also because Miss Brooke and I are still pals and have a longstanding monthly coffee date and you bet she was bitching about you.” Silky looks smug, too smug, by the turn of conversation.

Vanessa sits up in her chair. “She was? Rude.”

Silky points a finger at her. “Aha! So it is about her.”

Vanessa shifts. “Maybe. I have a problem. A big problem.”

“More than working with your ex?”

“Kinda?” Vanessa bites her lip, because if it’s anyone’s advice she needs it’s Silky’s, but she also wishes she could just push it away and not talk about it.

Silky sighs, taking off her glasses and laying them gently on her desk. “Okay, talk. Dr. Ganache is here to listen.”

“You ain’t that kind of doctor, Silk.”

Silky is unperturbed. “You want advice or not?”

Silky’s eyebrows get closer and closer to her hairline the more Vanessa goes on, recapping the past few months working at the hospital with Brooke. Vanessa’s certain that she sees her rubbing her temples at one point, but is too distracted by the memory of Brooke’s face when she had walked away to comment on it.

“Vanj. You a dumbass bitch.”

“I know, Silk.”

“Real fucking stupid.”

“I’m aware.”

“Whole ass idiot.”

“Are you just gonna sit there and insult me?” Vanessa grumbles and folds her arms because Silky is not helping her at all.

Silky leans forward in her seat. “Let me get this straight. Y’all started fucking.”

“Mhm.”

“Then you went all runaway on her.”

Vanessa winces. “Mhm.”

“Then you drunk dialled her ass.”

“Maybe?” Now that Silky recaps it, everything really is a mess. She’s a mess.

“No wonder she’s pissed at your idiot ass. Did I not raise you well?” Silky rubs her temples, looking exasperated.

“You’re not my mom, Silky.”

Silky scoffs. “Evidently not, with these stupid ass decisions.”

“Ugh.” Vanessa groans, dropping her head down onto Silky’s desk. “What do I do?”

“She’s gonna run like a startled deer or some shit if you bother her too much now. You gotta be careful.”

“How?” She doesn’t know how to, she’s as subtle as a bull in a china shop and doesn’t know how to watch her actions. Usually she’s unapologetic about it, not bothering to care but now she’s knocked too many things over and doesn’t know how to pick up the pieces.

“Give her time. She’s probably hurting. If you still feel all lovesick after a few days, then try again. But let her be for now.”

“I’m not lovesick.” Vanessa huffs, because she’s not. But how can she let Brooke be? How can she hold back from trying to talk to her, fix things?

“Potato, pot-ah-to.” Silky waves her hands, turning back to the papers on her desk. “Let me finish this last one, then we can eat and you can tell me all about how hung up you are over her.”

Vanessa lets the days pass one by one, biting her lip and wringing her hands and fiddling with the hem of her scrub shirt because she doesn’t know what else to do.

Nina calls a meeting for all of the surgical departments first thing on a Wednesday morning, and the only reason that Vanessa gets there early is because she may have possibly woken up at five a.m., unable to stay in bed. Maybe she hasn’t been sleeping well at all in the last few days. She tries not to think about it.

The conference room is empty when she opens the door, as are the chairs that surround the large table in the center of the room. Vanessa claims a spot towards the back, saving seats beside her for the other cardiothoracic surgeons. It’s the first time that she’s beaten anyone to a meeting, and she can’t help the smug sip that she takes of her coffee as she waits for the rest of the staff to arrive.

Vanessa’s ready to let out a wisecrack as soon as the door opens next, expecting Asia and Kameron because they’re disgustingly early for nearly everything. Vanessa still hasn’t forgotten the time that Kameron showed up to her apartment at seven thirty p.m. instead of the specified eight for a jaunt to Ralph’s, interrupting Vanessa’s getting ready routine and nearly causing her to flash the poor woman while just in her towel. The two had agreed to never speak of it again.

Except this time, it’s not Kameron or Asia who walk in the door next. The blonde hair, the lab coat, the navy blue scrubs, the large coffee in hand? Vanessa can’t help the way that her breath hitches at the sight of Brooke, and how has to hold herself back from saying anything. The circles underneath Brooke’s eyes are beginning to deepen and her movements looking more weary, more worn down. Vanessa ignores the gnawing feeling in her stomach that repeats to her over and over again that it’s her fault.

Vanessa hadn’t even thought about the fact that what’s happening now mirrors what had happened to the two of them back then. The way things ended. Not that she even stuck around long enough back then to see Brooke’s reactions. Now, years and years later in the hospital, she sees it. Sees how the armour that Brooke’s built up over time is starting to gain chips in it, cracking underneath the pressure that she’s using to hold herself up.

It’s what Vanessa’s good at doing, apparently. Breaking the two of them down over and over again, leaving nothing but misunderstandings and broken hearts that don’t seem like they’re ever going to mend.

Vanessa catches the pause in Brooke’s step once she spots her, the way that Brooke’s eyes flit towards all other corners of the room and away from her, how she bites her lip as she sits down. Brooke opens her notebook and buries her face in it as if she’s reading the most riveting of text to ever exist.

Vanessa leans forward in her seat, elbows resting against the table because the position makes her closer to Brooke, even if it’s just by mere inches. She wants to say something, anything but she doesn’t know what will make it better. What can even fix them?

Are they even worth fixing?

She opens her mouth to make a crack about the weather because the silence feels suffocating, imposing on her from all sides and all she needs is for Brooke to look up at her right now. But the door opens once more, Kameron and Asia spilling in followed by the ortho team, and some members of Brooke’s neuro team.

Vanessa can’t say anything. Not with everyone else there, not knowing about anything between them or the boulders worth of baggage that they’ve placed on each other’s backs.

It doesn’t stop her from hoping, wanting, waiting. Wishing for more chances to fix things. Vanessa doesn’t know what she’s going to do, or how she’s going to do it either. She just hopes that Brooke will be open to it, willing to crack again once she does.

[johnny-and-dora]

every storm that comes, also comes to an end

"Where can a guy get a fifty piece orchestra when he needs one?"

or, spring hill medical clinic, coral palms, florida. september 2016, 4:05am. peralta, j, admitted at 10:28pm for gunshot wound to the left leg.

(or, the one where jake and amy finally, finally, get a real moment alone) (post 4x03) read on ao3

---

Jake, inevitably, dreams of her.

It’s familiar now, achingly so. He dreams, often exclusively, of Amy Santiago, as he has nearly every night since this hellish swampy nightmare started – the way her shiny ponytail swings as she flicks through a case file, the way her pantsuits always remain pristine even when they tend to end up spending most of the night crumpled on his bedroom floor, the way she uses him as her own personal space heater, curled up against his body like a physical part of him he didn’t even know he was missing – and now he misses it more than ever.

It’s fragments, mostly, that cloud his subconscious - the little things that he’s made himself sick replaying over and over again in a desperate attempt to make sure he doesn’t forget even the tiniest detail.

He thinks he might miss the way she laughs, smiles, glares, looks at him more than he’s ever missed anything before.

And yeah, okay, he often dreams of them, too. Even more often in daylight hours when the blistering sunshine and the flip flops and the feeling of having your heart ripped out of your chest all gets a little hard to handle. He dreams of their perfect Hollywood reunion more than he’d ever casually admit - gleefully running at full speed towards each other, in the precinct or at the airport or in slow motion through an extremely romantic sunlit field of luscious golden wheat all while a fifty piece orchestra’s symphony swells to an undeniably epic climax in the background.

(Being Larry, also somewhat inevitably, comes with having a lot of time on your hands. After a few months, and a lot of daytime straight to TV movies, it just seemed like the precinct wasn’t going to be enough.)

He’s come to expect the equally as familiar heavy drop in his chest when he wakes – they don’t tell you this in your first WITSEC briefing, but Jake is lucky enough to have some exclusive insider information; standard witness protection procedure seems to be waking up every morning feeling ever-so slightly like there’s a black hole where your heart should be. So that’s great. Really, five-star. He can’t wait to leave a glowing review of his relocation programme when he finally gets out of here.

If he ever gets out of here.

Not that Jake remembers much of what they told him in his first briefing – he was too preoccupied with the ringing in his ears and the overwhelming feeling of the entire world ending. Now waking up with an almost unbearable weight in his limbs is normality, as is crying in the hot tub and eating in the hot tub and dreaming of his heroic, hella romantic emotional reunions with his girlfriend in the hot tub.

Except - this time when he wakes, the weight doesn’t drop. In fact, there’s very little weight in his body at all - it’s all seemingly replaced by a dull, painful throbbing in his leg and the feeling like he was recently punched in the throat.  He frowns, confused, trying to piece together any recollection of the previous day he can summon with little luck.

He cautiously opens his eyes, blinking in the unfamiliar darkness  - and he can just about make out the outline of a hospital room, twinge of panic in his chest, surge of fear, ice in his veins. That is, until he sees her, and it’s almost like the world stops spinning.

Amy Santiago, real and tangible and an actual, physical, corporeal, human being. Amy Santiago, in the flesh, out cold, curled up in an uncomfortable looking hospital chair about a foot away from him using his favourite hoodie as a makeshift blanket.

About fifty different fireworks in his brain explode at once.

He blinks once, then twice, then squeezes his eyes shut for as long as he can bare before seeing if she’s still there – and the way she softly snores, head tilted slightly back, mouth slightly open, might be his favourite sound in the entire world as he slowly opens his eyes again with a quiet ecstasy at the sight of her still very much occupying a physical form.

Amy.

“Amy?” It comes out all dry, gravelly and raw, barely audible – but her eyes immediately snap open anyway, glinting with a hundred different emotions at once as she practically jumps upright. He instantly feels himself relax, dedicating even fibre of his currently barely conscious state to falling in love with her all over again - the dark purple bags under her worried eyes, her usually impossibly neat ponytail now loose, dishevelled wiry strands of dark raven hair, still shining, framing her weary face.

She’s never looked more beautiful.

“You’re here.” He manages to croak out, woozy and lightheaded as the lack of sleep and the morphine and the pain meds finally really hits him, dizzily grinning from the effect of being within arms reach of Amy Santiago again. She practically beams at him, an ethereal softness glowing from her entire body that that one shitty, grainy photo he’s had to go off for the past six months couldn’t even begin to capture.

“I’m here.” She says gently, getting up from the chair she’s been crumpled into for...however long they’ve been here. Wherever they actually are. Jake’s detective skillz (with a z, also inevitably) are understandably a little rusty - the morphine induced haze he’s in at the moment which makes the corners of his vision a little fuzzy isn’t exactly helping him deduce anything of note, except that she’s here and that seems to be the only thing in the universe that matters.

The room is still dark, only a fracture of harsh clinical light seeping in from the hallway - but if he squints and cranes his neck in a certain way, he can just about make out the first signs of dawn framed by the window, black charcoal sky streaked carelessly with deep blues and purples. She cautiously reaches for his hand and squeezes it gently, bringing him back crashing down to her.

“Where...”

“Still in Florida, babe. We have to head back in the morning else CJ is going to be even more mad at us, but the nurses promised they’d discharge you and Holt as soon as possible so that you can finally come home.” She’s saying a lot of things that he’s too exhausted to even really process, preoccupied with drinking in every last detail of her face - but he hangs on to her last word like a lifeline, eyes shining with hope. He's getting out of here.

“Home. We got Figgis. We’re going home?”

“Mm-hmm.” She nods, bright with the warmth he’s been so desperately craving, and they gently share a slightly delirious smile. He tries to shift  himself up in bed so he can see her better but pain flares in his leg and he can’t stop himself from wincing, instantly somehow more pained from the flash of distress on her face.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” She asks, wide-eyed and nervous, and he shakes his head.

“Nope. Just you.”

She flushes pink, just the smallest, tiniest little bit, and her shoulders loosen. He internally high-fives himself over how smooth he is and quickly realises this is the first time they’ve really had the chance to be alone, at least without the risk of Charles somehow finding a way to get involved. Where can a guy get a fifty piece orchestra when he needs one?

He shifts over as to one side of the tiny hospital bed as far as he possibly can, wincing as little as possible, and motions for her to lie down next to him – half-conscious, a half-desperate bid to make up for the seemingly endless nights (he had to stopped counting after sixty, heart sunk dangerously low, that stabbing pain in the heart, that impossible weight in his chest) they’ve been forced to spend apart. She furrows her brow, empathetic but serious, and he sharply realises he’s missed the way she does that, too.

“Jake, I can’t. I’m not even supposed to be here, they only let me stay because Charles wouldn’t stop crying and Rosa threatened them with this knife she somehow has and I had to show them my badge and-“

“Please.” He pleads, voice cracked and heavy with the weight of all the other things he’s not strong or coherent enough to say, and she immediately softens.

He knows she’s always hated how he can do that to her so easily, change her mind, to break the rules, convince her to stay another night, to lie in bed for another five minutes - but tonight he relishes in it. He’s earned this - he needs to hold her – if only as proof that this isn’t all just another dream. He feels stupidly small, stupidly vulnerable, and defenceless – and the weird part is, he doesn’t even want anyone’s sympathy. He just wants her.

“Please, Ames. I just...I need this.”

“Okay.” She relents, far easier than usual, and climbs into the bed next to him, laying her head on his chest – and it’s awkward and cramped and a little uncomfortable, but the smell of her shampoo and the rise and fall of her chest and the buzz he gets at her hum of content is worth it a million times over.

They’re both exhausted, reasonably burnt out from the chaos of the last 24 hours - most of which blurred by so quickly he can barely remember it (though that might just be the lack of sleep and the strength of the pain meds.) Even as one or two things come flooding back, they’re only fragments - the fabric of Gina’s wizard cloak and the cold hard feeling of Figgis’s gun forcefully pressed to his temple and, so ridiculously, obviously, inevitably, Amy.

Amy punching him in the throat and Amy shooting him in the leg and Amy kissing him, finally, kissing him, holding him, telling him that she loves him, not being physically repulsed by his frosted tips like he was so afraid of.  Amy, bright and shiny and new but not really new at all.

God, he’s missed her so much. He already feels lighter and happier than he’s been ever since he arrived in this swampy, unbearably warm hellscape - and it’s all down to her, to the way her dark irises blossom with affectionate exasperation and uninhibited joy as she tilts her head upwards to look at him, to the way she fits so neatly in his arms like they were made to hold her, to the way that he thinks that this is it. This is all he needs, maybe just for now and maybe forever, if he’s brave enough to think about that for too long without the safety of the distance of it being an a completely hypothetical thing that happens years in the future.

(Yeah, okay, maybe he’d lingered at the sight of the tiny sparkling diamond in the front window of the town’s pawn shop for a second too long, but that was just a particular bout of delirious loneliness. Nobody, especially not Amy, god forbid Charles, needs to know that he almost bought it.)

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Her voice, barely a whisper, still rings out loud and clear to his ears, and he smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m so much better now.”

And, because she’s here, and she’s real, and he just can’t quite resist-

“Well, as fine as I can be for someone who just got shot.” He shoots her his best dramatic, pointed and accusing look at her, but it quickly dissolves into a grin before he can stop himself, mainly at the way she reacts, definitely half playing off him and half genuinely offended.

“You told me to shoot you! It was literally to save your life, dumb-ass.”

“Mmmph. Still gotta find a way to make it up to me.” He raises suggestive eyebrows and she rolls her eyes and he grins and it feels like home, it feels like coming home, in a way he could never have predicted when they started, light and breezy, and bright and shiny and new (but not really new at all), what seems like another lifetime ago now.

“Jake...” “M’just saying, I’m gonna be cleared f’some pretty epic light non-strenuous sex real soon.”

He expects a dark yet warm glare, or at least another eye roll or slight shake of the head – but she just smiles up at him, eyes wide and teary and so full, so overwhelmingly full, overflowing with love and an intimate slight-insomnia induced tenderness that he’s sure is mirrored in the way he looks at her.

There’s a calm, a quiet lull in their storm - something delicate, fragile in the air, like they’re afraid to hold each other too tightly in case the other one breaks. He'll ignore it for this bright, shining moment that feels like finally being able to breathe again.

(He will break, eventually - later, once she has to leave for New York and he’s all alone again in the hospital room despite knowing it’ll be a matter of hours until he sees her, see them all again. He’ll break once she finally gets to takes him by the hand and lead him into whoever’s apartment they’re calling home now, break that night that he gets to sleep in their own bed for the first time in six months, and he’ll break just a little once she can finally place his badge around his neck again and use it to pull him closer so she can press her lips to his.)

(He’ll break and he’ll break and he’ll break, and fragment and fracture and shatter, and she’ll be there every time to pick up the pieces and put him back together - just as he’ll do for her.)    

“I missed you, so much.” She whispers it so quietly, so infinitely soft that he barely hears it. He melts a little anyway.

“I missed you so much too.” He presses a kiss to the top of her head. One night, soon, he’ll whisper in a low voice cracked and splintered with vulnerability just exactly how much so much is - but he can already see her gently drifting off, eyes closed, breathing heavy, and it’s all he needs to lull him back to a gentle, restful sleep, knowing it’s inevitable that any reunion between them was going to be perfect as long as she was in it, fifty piece orchestra be damned.

For the first time in a very long time, he doesn’t seem to dream.

(The nurse walks in on the two detectives a few hours later, initial shock and growing concern for hospital rules and regulation softened by the way peace, warmth and a weird kind of rightness practically radiates from the slow and synchronised rise and fall of their chests. Whispers among her colleagues of a tall tale of mafia bosses and witness protection and the tragic separation of two young lovers somehow suddenly seem more plausible than before – and she sighs deeply, shaking her head as she quietly closes the door, chiding herself at how easily she gives in to giving them just half an hour longer. )