Fear Itself

“I knew you’d be in here.” That was what I stirred awake to. Chandler Jacques was standing in the doorway to Dean’s bedroom. He huffed. “You’re awake this time, and you still didn’t even come answer the door for me, Dean. That’s no way to treat a lady.”

“Man—“ Dean tried to interject, but Chandler had none of that.

“Chivalry isn’t just dead, Dean,” he continued ranting. “You stabbed it in the heart with an ice pick, you monster.” Ice pick. I shuddered, and Dean noticed. He gently rubbed my back.

“Mate, seriously,” Dean began, voice serious and stern, and Chandler quieted. “Watch your mouth, please.” My back was turned to Chandler. I just nestled my face against Dean’s chest, clinging to him. “Are you okay?” Dean whispered, running his hand over my head. I closed my eyes and nodded. “Do you want to talk?” I shook my head. Dean lifted his eyes back to Chandler. “That wasn’t very smooth of you.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Chandler asked, not rudely, but quietly, curiously. He sat down on the edge of the bed. He had a brown paper bag in one hand and a cardboard tray with three cups in the other. He reached over and set the carrier on the nightstand.

“She’s fine,” Dean told him, barely waiting a moment to respond. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I think the last thing she needs right now is company.” I reached a hand up and tapped his shoulder. “What?” he asked, turning his attention me, and I just shook my head. “He can stay?” I nodded. “Are you sure?” I nodded again and settled back against him. “Okay,” Dean said, eyes back on Chandler. “But you need to be careful, and you need to be quiet.” He paused. “And calm. Very, very calm.”

“Okay, okay,” Chandler agreed in a hushed tone, lowering his voice a little. “Hey, Blondie,” Chandler addressed me. I moved my head just a little so that I could look at him, but I didn’t say anything. “What happened to your hair?” he asked. “It’s an interesting choice—“

“Mate,” Dean scolded him, and I hid my face again to try and fight my eyes from tearing up.

“No, really!” Chandler exclaimed. “I think it looks edgy, I’m just curious!”

“Be cool,” Dean scoffed, hugging me tighter. “Seriously. Be cool.”

“I’m trying,” Chandler snapped a little. “If somebody would tell me what the hell was going on, maybe I would do a little better. You don’t even look like you’ve slept in days.”

“I haven’t,” Dean told him.

“I assumed that you were exaggerating when you texted me, but the bags under your eyes are big enough to carry groceries for a family of four,” Chandler commented. “Anyway,” he continued. “I brought you both breakfast, since I know your pantry consists of dog food and protein powder.” Chandler handed the bag over to Dean and reached for the carrier. He removed one cup and left it on the stand. “Also, to help you with this record-breaking lack of sleep, I brought you coffee, and the one on the right is for Blondie. That’s green tea.”

“Thanks, mate,” Dean said, setting the carrier on the night stand. I shifted up to sit a little more upright, as did Dean. While he took a nice, long chug of his coffee, I pulled a bagel out of the bag, pleased to know that there was already cream cheese on it. I smiled a little and removed it from it’s paper wrapper so I could take a bite.

“There’s a plain one in there for you, Dean,” Chandler explained. “God forbid you have any cream cheese, you might get fat.” He rolled his eyes and shot Dean a playful smile. Dean responded by shooting him the middle finger. He turned to me as I chewed my bagel. I blinked and looked over to him, and he gave me a surprised smile.

“Oh, you’re going to eat today? I don’t have to force you?” he joked. I shook my head, smiling a little. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders so he could pull me closer and kiss my forehead.

“Gag me,” Chandler huffed. “Does anybody else know you two are this disgusting?”

I smiled faintly, and Dean gave a breathy laugh. “Nope,” he said. “This is for your eyes only, Chandler.”

“Ugh,” Chandler groaned. “How do you even have enough energy to be cute right now? I don’t even touch Gabe until at least 2 o’clock in the afternoon.”

“Well, considering I haven’t slept, I don’t need anytime to wake up,” Dean jested, shrugging, grinning, alternating between eating his bagel and drinking his coffee all the while. I continued munching rather cheerfully on the bagel, and Dean just shook his head. “You’ll eat that garbage, but you fight me over chicken broth?”

“Why hasn’t she been eating?” Chandler asked, sipping his own cup.

Dean nearly answered, but I swallowed and explained, “Stomach ache.” Dean nodded and brushed him thumb over the side of my neck.

“You’re not talking much,” Chandler observed, furrowing his eyebrows so they disappeared behind his glasses. I shook my head. “Why not?”

“Things have been a little… er… stressful,” Dean told him, averting his gaze for a moment.

“Yeah, because that’s really new for you,” Chandler chuckled. “What’s so different about this time?”

“Chandler,” Dean said slowly. “Have you been watching the news?”

“Unfortunately,” Chandler moaned with agony. “It’s only everywhere about how they’re chasing these escaped rebels, and blah, blah, blah, one’s your brother, and the other is some no name with tragic eyebrows that nobody cares about. And then some girl, and her identifying characteristic is that she has a lot of freckles and big, blue eyes, and she doesn’t have any hair.” Chandler sighed. “I wish they’d talk about something more exciting, like shoes. Or… like what the celebrities are drinking this week.”

“Chandler,” Dean interjected, drawing out his name. Chandler looked at him with confusion for a moment, and Dean raised his eyebrows. Then, Chandler gasped.

“No!” he exclaimed in shock, looking at me. I nodded. “Oh my… mon dieu!” Chandler gasped. “Are you alright?”

“I guess,” I murmured, swallowing the last bits of my bagel.

“Mate, she doesn’t like talking about it,” Dean said.

“Fair enough,” Chandler relented. “I heard about the, um…” he stopped and cleared his through. “You know, your ‘home.’” He made air quotes with his fingers. “Are you staying here now?” he asked.

“For now,” I told him. Chandler nodded with understanding.

“What happened to your things?”

“Gone, I guess,” I explained quietly. “I didn’t really get to investigate. I couldn’t move when they…” I fell silent and sighed. “Sorry, I don’t really want to say much else.”

“That’s fine, darling,” Chandler said. “You don’t have to.”

Suddenly, I felt Dean’s body slump over and fall against me a little. I laughed. “Muscles, what are you doing?” He didn’t answer, so I looked over, and his eyes were closed. I squirmed and let him lay against the bed. I looked at Chandler with wide eyes. “Did he just fall asleep on me?”

Chandler shrugged. “I may or may not have crushed up a valium tablet or two and put them in his coffee.” I stared at Chandler incredulously. “What?” he scoffed. “I would have given him the normal dose, but he’s built like an ox.”

“You just drugged my boyfriend,” I stammered.

“I know. Hey, let’s go shopping!” Chandler exclaimed. I stared at him some more. “Come on, you need new clothes, and I can get them for free. Let’s go.” He grabbed my hand and gently tugged. I shook my head.

“No, Dean’ll want to change my bandages when he wakes up so—“

“Pssh,” Chandler cut me off. “He’ll be out for a good few hours. He’ll never even know you were gone.” A tiny smile tugged at my mouth as I considered his offer. I did need new clothes. Desperately. Not to mention, I was getting a little stir-crazy in the house. I nodded.

“Okay,” I told him with a soft smile. “We can go.” I slid away from Dean and out of the sheets. I stuck my bandaged feet on the floor. Chandler winced when he saw, and I heard him sigh.

“Goodness, honey,” he whispered. “What in the world did they do to you?” My face fell a little. “Right,” he corrected. “We don’t talk about it. I’m sorry.” As I tugged my boots on and tucked my yoga pants into the tops, Chandler fished through one of Dean’s dresser drawers. “Here,” he said and tossed me a sweatshirt. “You’ll drown in the damn thing, but that’s good because we’re going to be playing hide and seek with Kennedy’s mutts.” I pulled it on over my head, and Chandler was right. I did swim in it, but it kept my arms cozy, and it covered my head, and it smelled Dean. “Ready?” Chandler asked as he made his way for the door.

I nodded, but I leaned over to look at Dean, who I’m pretty sure was drooling on his pillow, and I grinned. I kissed his forehead. “Sleep well, Muscles,” I giggled softly before rushing out with Chandler to his car.

We didn’t drive for very long, and we got to this enormous place: a very large building with lots and lots of big, fancy signs, and lots of entrances. Lots of people were there, and they were all carrying bags. Chandler parked in the lot, but he had a special spot with a sign that had his name on it, said it was reserved for him. I wondered how one would get one of those spots, but Chandler was already ushering me out of the car and into the building, practically dragging me by the hand so I didn’t get lost in the mob of people wandering inside the building.

It was loud in here. I didn’t know if I liked it. My heart started thumping around in my chest, and I sort of wanted to go back home to Dean and forget I had come here. “Chandler,” I murmured in protest, but I don’t think he heard me, so I just shuffled along with him even though my ankles weren’t too happy that I was walking around this much. The weight on my heels had them throbbing.

We passed through the crowds and then passed a fountain; he eventually dragged me into a room full of racks and rack of clothing, very nice clothing. He was immediately greeted with warm smiles. He stuck his arm around me and pulled me close to him. He wanted people to know I was his friend. Otherwise, they probably would have questioned my strange clothing choices.

“You can get anything you like,” Chandler explained as he led me through racks, stopping every once in awhile to examine an article of clothing. “Just take it off the rack, and when it gets too much, just hand them over to me, and I’ll get it taken care of.” I smiled faintly and nodded.

We searched for a bit, and I found some things that I liked: some new jeans, some shirts, a few cardigans (because I couldn’t live without my cardigans). We started looking at dresses, and Chandler immediately found one that had him gasping, “Oh, dear, you have to try this on, you simply have to!” So he shoved me into a fitting room, and I was soon staring at myself in this dress. It was a jersey dress, very simple with t-shirt sleeves. It was black and beige striped save for a red stripe near the hemline. It was very cute, and I liked it, but while I looked at myself in the mirror, I couldn’t stop staring at my face. There were still a few minor scratches marring my forehead and cheeks from the debris of the collapsing metro tunnels. My head was shaved evenly, barely even allowing for stubble. I licked my lips a little, and my eyelids fluttered as I sighed.

My eyes watered at the sight, and I just kept imagining my long, blonde hair, how much better this dress would have looked with it. My eyes narrowed in a glare at my reflection, suddenly filling with tears as I thought about how I no longer looked like a beautiful young woman, just a lanky, twelve-year-old boy. I wanted to hit the mirror, but my fists merely clutched the front of my dress in fistfuls as my breathing got ragged and weighed down by tiny sobs. “Honey, what’s going on in there?” Chandler called. “Are you decent?”

He barely even waited before he thrust the curtain open, and my head immediately snapped over to look at him, tears spilling down my face. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “The dress looks fantastic.” I just shook my head a little and buried my face in my hands. He must have realized that it wasn’t the dress because he quickly thrust the curtain closed again and came close me. “Hey,” he said, softly grabbing my shoulders and pulling my back up straight. “Honey, listen to me. I know it’s sad. I understand,” Chandler told me. “Take your hands down and look in that mirror.” I shook my head. “Why not?” he asked me.

“It’s like walking around without skin, Chandler,” I sobbed. “I feel naked. It’s like I’m not even looking at someone else in the mirror.”

“Honey, you are still one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my life,” Chandler sighed. “And trust me, I’ve seen way more women than I’ve ever wanted to.”

“It’s just such a stupid thing to be upset about,” I agonized. “It’s so vain. It could be so much worse,” I cried. “I’m alive. I should be thankful, but I’m sitting here crying about my stupid hair.”

“Okay,” Chandler said. “Darling, you look in that mirror right now.” He was stern. I let my hands slip back to my sides, and I looked at my own face. “I want you to look long and hard at that pretty girl right there. Do you see her?” I nodded. “Good. Second thing: I’m considering this our official agreement to banish the word ‘vain’ from our vocabularies because you aren’t being… that word,” he said. I sputtered out a breathy laugh. “Someone with your face deserves to marvel at themself,” he joked. “Besides, the most important thing is that you feel comfortable and confident, okay?” I nodded, and he pulled me into a small hug. “Great. What do you say we go look at hats, then?”

I smiled at him and nodded, wiping away my tears. “Put your old clothes in here,” Chandler said, motioning to the bag. I threw my old t-shirt in there, but I kept Dean’s sweatshirt snug in my arms. I didn’t know why, but it made me feel better about being there.

We strode back into the store, and Chandler led me over to a wall of just hats, headbands, and jewelry. My eyes briefly glanced at a bunch of bows and clips, things I would have worn when I still had my hair, but I chose to simply not see those anymore. It was easier. Instead, I focused on the hats, and I grabbed whichever ones I liked and tossed them in our very large shopping bag. I picked hats of all different colors and sizes. Some had bows, and some were slouchier than others. More importantly, they distracted me from the fact that I didn’t have hair, and that was the point of all this, anyway.

When we decided it was time to go, I pulled Dean’s sweatshirt back on over my dress, and it almost enveloped the entire skirt, but it was warm, and still it smelled like him, so I felt better. As we were leaving, I heard a speaker crackle, and I stopped dead in my tracks. My heart skipped a beat, then seemed to beat too much. I heard microphone feedback, and I immediately went into panic mode. A voice rang out. It was a woman’s, didn’t matter. It was still there, still scary. I couldn’t get caught, not again, so I ran. I ran right past Chandler and out into the main area with all the people.

But then the people were too much, and the people scared me. I thought they’d notice me, thought they would turn me in, and I’d have to go back to the horrible place, and that horrible chair, and I could feel the sting of cold metal on my forearms, and suddenly, I dropped myself on the floor, sitting by the edge of the fountain. I buried my face in my knees, desperate to hide, not let anybody see me. I’d die if they did, I was sure of it.

Chandler burst through the crowd and pulled me to the feet. “Honey,” he gasped breathlessly. “Honey, what are you doing? What’s wrong?”

I looked at him with teary eyes and took a deep breath. “Chandler, my feet hurt,” I whined.

He dropped his head a little nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, let’s get you home.” He wrapped an arm around my center and helped me limp back to his car, where I sat quietly for most of the ride, at least until Chandler offered me food, which I didn’t even want until we pulled up to a tiny box with a voice in it, and the big board behind it was full of delicious looking food, like burgers and french fries and these crispy brown things that Chandler told me were called chicken nuggets. He told me that I could get whatever wanted, so I did: chicken nuggets, french fries, a burger, and a milkshake. Chandler got two salads and said that one of them was for Dean, even though he should’ve still been passed out when we got back.

And he was. It didn’t even look like he had budged an inch since we left him there who knows how long ago. So, Chandler did a little reorganizing while I sat on the floor and ate my deliciously greasy “fast” food. By reorganizing, I mean that Chandler found that Dean had been the bottom drawer of his dresser to keep some of my things in, decided that wasn’t enough space, and cleared out another drawer by “folding conservatively.” I didn’t know what that meant, and I didn’t really bother to ask him. It was easier not to ask Chandler about his methods and just let him work.

It wasn’t until after Chandler had finished that Dean began to stir, and I was still sitting on the floor, partly because I was still eating and partly because it hurt to stand up. He sat up and looked at Chandler and I with confusion for about a moment or two before he just got up and walked into the bathroom. Chandler looked at me and nodded a little. “Don’t worry. He probably won’t even notice,” Chandler said assuringly.

I blinked and looked at him. “You mean he’s going to be cross?” I asked.

Chandler started to answer, but Dean came back out of the bathroom rubbing his eyes and looked at me. “What’s with the clothes, Blondie?”

“Oh,” I giggled a little, tugging at the hood of his sweatshirt with a smile on my face. “My head was cold.”

“No, I meant the dress,” Dean added groggily.

“It was just something I picked up for her,” Chandler interjected, nodding, placing his hand over my mouth.

“You,” Dean huffed, narrowing his tired eyes at Chandler. “I don’t even want to hear anything from you. You drugged my coffee again, didn’t you?”

Chandler gasped and took his hand off my mouth to throw over his heart. “Dean!” he exclaimed. “Why would you say that? I am shocked, and offended, and hurt.”

“Hurt, my ass,” Dean snapped. “Did you take her out?”

Suddenly, I realized that this was going to become an argument. I shrank back a little, and my eyes drifted between the two.

“Well, not really—“ Chandler tried to explained.

“What do you mean not really? New clothes and food both scream yes. You did,” Dean commented with irritation. He pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and sighed. “Mate, can I talk to you outside?”

“Yeah, okay, sure,” Chandler muttered unhappily as he pushed himself to his feet and followed Dean out of the room, closing the door behind them.

They weren’t out there for a very long time, but it was long enough. I sat there for a bit, trying to listen, but they had gone too far for me to hear more than some muffled voices. Eventually, I forced myself to my feet and hobbled to throw the discarded food wrappers and bag in the bathroom trash can. Just as I was on my way out, Dean was entering, and he almost instantly grabbed me and picked me up. “You know, you’re not supposed to be walking, Blondie,” he told me and sighed quietly.

“Yeah, I know,” I murmured, looking down instead of at his face, even when he set me down on the bed.

“How long were you out for?” he asked as he sat on the edge of the bed and started untying my boots.

“Where did Chandler go?”

“Home,” Dean replied, gently trying to wriggle my shoe off without hurting me.

“We were out for a few hours,” I said, and Dean groaned under his breath.

“Do you ever do what you’re told?” he asked, laughing faintly.

I shook my head and told him, “Nope. Never.”

He began unwrapping the stretchy, tan bandage from my foot and winced when my exposed ankle came into view. “Yeah, that’s swollen,” he muttered. “Hold on,” he told me. I nodded as I saw him leave, and I sat up to untie my other my other boot. I tugged that off too, even though it hurt. Dean came back with two cold compresses, the same things we had been putting on my ankles for the last couple of days. He totally unwrapped my feet, and he wrapped a cold compress around each. They were black and soft, and they stuck with velcro. They were better than just ice, which we had tried, but then he let me use these, and I liked them better because I could nap with them on. My ankles didn’t hurt so badly once the cold hit them, and I sat forward a little.

“Muscles,” I sighed. “Why don’t you sleep?”

He just shrugged. “Have to keep watch,” he explained, but I just shook my head, and he laughed. “What do you mean, ‘no?’ Yes, I do.”

“Muscles,” I whined a little, giving him the pouty lips I knew he couldn’t fight off, and I could him trying to fight the smile from creeping onto his face. “Muscles, come lay down, please,” I requested.

He gave me a breathy laugh and nodded. “Fine,” he relented. “But only because you asked so nicely.” A smile spread across my face as he joined me on the bed, and I crawled over to him.

“I think you need to sleep,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Blondie, I’m fine,” Dean assured me, but I didn’t believe that for a second.

“C’mere,” I murmured, tugging him closer to me. I rest my arm over his chest, and my fingers traced his jaw line. I sunk into the mattress, nestling closer to him. I rested my forehead against the side of his head and stayed there, quiet, until a tiny hum rose from my throat. Then, there were words and melody, but they were barely above a whisper, close and quiet, so only he could hear. It was a song I used to listen to as a child, a song I had learned on my piano a few years ago. Comforting, I hoped, so I continued when I felt his heartbeat slow and his breathing mellow.

After a few minutes, I found him asleep, and a tiny smile crossed my face before I rested my head on his shoulder and drifted off to sleep, the first time either of us would have a few hours of interrupted rest in a while.