Rescue Me

"I wish you would talk to me, Alex," Isobel cooed softly, stroking his hair.

It was the fourth night in a row that Alex had woken up with screaming nightmares, voices and visions rushing at him until he felt like he was falling, felt it right in his chest. By the time his parents reached his room, he'd be sobbing into his pillow, trembling in sheets soaked from a night-sweat.

Although Alex appreciated his mother's comfort and soft words more than he could tell her, he could not talk to her about this. About why he found himself scared to go to bed after a week of night terrors. His father suggested sleeping pills, but Alex refused, not wanting to depend on medication to get his rest. He felt like that was a bad path to follow. And, he was scared that even when lulled into a deep sleep by drugs, they might not keep away the bad dreams.

/////

Three weeks.

His college work suffered, and his mother had cried seventeen times to him, to his father, to her sister about what was happening to her son.

He was a living zombie.

/////

Five weeks.

Alex barely ate. He managed to drag himself through his part-time job with a fake smile for the kids, but he always missed chords on the guitar, inwardly cursing himself. The college teachers were growing concerned for his health. He often dozed in class, but he never seemed to dream during his accidental naps, whether they be in public or at home. Only at night, when his brain tried to shut down and get some rest, did he remember all the little details.

Her cries. Her kicking limbs. Her weak, weak fight. Her call for help.

Ignored.

He was a monster.

/////

Six weeks.

He saw her on the news. That she was still missing. It ate him alive.

Alex spent the night camped out next to the bathtub on the floor, vomiting up everything his mother had coaxed him into eating for the past two days. He puked and puked until he saw blood, and that was when he started to cry, muffling his sobs with a towel pressed to his face.

Peter came in at three in the morning, gently petting his head for a moment before he went to wake Isobel. Alex could hear them murmuring out in the hall, Peter first, then his mother.

"It's not a stomach bug that's making him sick."

"I know. But I don't know what is making him sick."

"He can't keep going like this."

"Well it's not going to get better on its own."

Nothing would make it better, nothing, nothing, nothing. She was dead, Alex was convinced. She'd probably been raped and murdered, beaten, throat cut, left to die slowly somewhere on her own in the cold.

He puked again before he could make it over the edge of the bath, all over the towel, just slime and saliva and blood.

/////

After his throwing up episode, Isobel had taken action. She spent the rest of that night cleaning him up and cuddling him in bed, telling him stories from when he was small. For the first time in so long, he fell into a peaceful sleep, clutching his mother for hours.

She got up early the next morning, leaving him to lie in while she called the doctor and made an appointment.

When Alex trailed downstairs, feeling rested and a little better than he had the last few weeks, Isobel handed him some tea and some news.

"I made an appointment for you at the doctor."

Alex's eyes popped, coughing as he choked on his tea. "What?" he cleared his throat.

"The doctor, Alex. This isn't normal, and we've let it go on long enough. The college is worried about you, your friends are worried and we're worried, sweetheart. You haven't even left the house for six weeks."

After what happened, he didn't really feel like going out and getting drunk. Or just going out in general. He felt the criminal. Everyone had called and texted him at first but after he angrily told all of them to go away, they backed off and gave him his space, simply murmuring worriedly amongst themselves whenever they headed out without Alex. Jack in particular was stressing out. He came around to the Gaskarth household again and again, always turned away by Peter, telling him that Alex had refused to come out or let Jack in.

"I-- I do! I see them, I... I text them," he lied, lame as could be.

"Alex, love," Isobel sighed softly. "Do you? Jack calls me all the time, asking about you, if you'll at least talk to him. He misses you most of all. And he says everyone else is always asking him when you'll be back, or at least what's wrong. You can't just leave them in the dark."

Isobel had always been fond of Alex's friends. They were a good group of young men, that's what she always said.

Alex hung his head. "I miss Jack," he mumbled, sniffing.

"Oh, baby, I know you do," Isobel came forward, hugging him and being careful not to spill his tea. "Call him. Go on."

"I-if I call Jack and see him again, will you cancel the doctor's appointment...?" he asked, voice hitching as he tried not to cry.

Isobel looked her son in the eye, breathing out slowly through her nose. "If going about your old routine helps, then yes, I will. But if these night terrors don't stop, I'll make another one. Okay? If they go away but come back, I'll make another one. That fair? I just want you to be alright, Alex."

Alex gave her a watery smile and a grateful nod, hugging her until the tea went cold.

/////

Nine weeks.

Alex had started seeing Jack again. He let Jack take him out to see movies or for pizza. Nothing too serious. He didn't want to see his other friends yet.

"Thank-you," Alex spoke up randomly one night, at Jack's house over a pint of ice-cream and chick-flick movies they would never admit to watching.

Jack looked up, eyes a little wide. "What for?"

"For helping. I feel better. It's still... it makes me sick to think about too much, but I don't have nightmares so much any more."

Jack smiled down at his bowl of vanilla and sprinkles. It made him feel warm inside when he knew that deep down he was cold, cold, cold; a layer of ice around his heart.

"I just wish you'd let me help sooner. I care about you, Alex."

"I know you do."

And that was that.

/////

Sixteen weeks, and Alex felt okay. He avoided watching the news or reading the papers, just in case, but he could eat again and sleep again and his college work had picked up tremendously. He invited the guys over now and again, for a night in. He didn't want to to go out just yet, but that was okay. Jack was always there no matter what.

If Alex got freaked out, all he had to do was call Jack. The younger boy would come over and kiss him until he couldn't think straight, and they'd end up wrapped around each other in Alex's bed, the mattress creaking in protest as their boxers grew stained.

It was one of those nights, the fifth time it happened.

They were lying there just the two of them, in their own sweat and hazy post-orgasm bliss, fingers tangled tightly together, staring at the ceiling as they recovered.

"Alex?" Jack panted softly.

"Yes?"

"This has been a long time coming, and I think you know that, but, well... stuff got in the way. And before more stuff can get in the way, I wanna ask you now. Are we... are we together? Because if we aren't... I'd like us to be. I'd like you to be my boyfriend."

Alex swallowed thickly, still breathing harder than normal, and not tearing his eyes away from that little pink mark on his white ceiling. That was from the day he and his cousin Hope were jumping on his bed at aged eight, trying to get high enough with an outstretched arm and a hand clutching a pen to touch the ceiling with it. They did, right before Alex fell off and broke two fingers. The nurses at the hospital got a good laugh.

"Alex?"

"Yes."

"...Yes?"

"Yes I will be your boyfriend," Alex breathed out, turning his head to finally face him.

He met Jack's eyes and it was like he could see his whole world in them.

"Thank fuck," Jack sighed in relief, and it slowly became laughter for a few brief seconds before their lips met.

/////

"Alex! Alex! Open up! Alex!" Jack roared through the letterbox, fists never ceasing on hammering against the front door.

"I'm fucking coming, Jesus Christ!" Alex snarled, tying a robe around his otherwise naked body as he pattered to the door, wet hair dripping whilst he unlocked it.

There was Jack, panting on his doorstep, barging into his house like he hadn't just rudely interrupted Alex's morning shower.

"For fuck's sake, we're gonna need a new door, you practically punched a hole through it!" Alex shouted, closing it behind his boyfriend of two weeks. "What the fuck was that for? I've told you, like, seventeen times, there's a spare key out back under that purple-leafed potted tree my mom loves so much."

"My bad but that's not important," Jack yelled, jumping up and down as he marched into the kitchen.

Alex followed, watching the taller boy pace around like a restless dog.

"Well, what is it?! I'm fucking freezing, I'd like to get dressed," Alex said huffily, tightening his robe.

"She's alive! She's okay, Alex, she's free, she's alive, she made it!" Jack burst out, grinning at him as he came rushing over and kissing his boyfriend on the forehead. "It's okay!"

Dazed wasn't even the right word. Alex felt like a real weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. A whole car, wrenched off him. A fucking whale. He could breathe again.

"She... you mean... the girl? Jess? The missing girl?"

"Who's not missing any more!" Jack corrected, jumping up and down again.

Alex let himself smile, laughter bubbling out along with it in his relief. "Oh my God. Oh thank fucking God. How did you find out?"

"I was shredding stuff to get recycled for my mom and I found the local paper from weeks ago and they found her! They said she'd been missing about seven weeks so you were doing all that panicking for nothing! She's fine!"

"Wait, slow down, slow down. Where was she for fucking seven weeks, Jack? Who took her? What's... what's happening with her?" Alex made Jack stand still, staring him down. He had to know. He had to. It was the only way to let his mind finally be at peace.

Jack's happiness in the matter faltered, and he cleared his throat. "She was in some abandoned warehouse, they investigated it but it's empty now. It's not like... I mean, they didn't just leave her there, she apparently had plenty food and stuff, and a bed. They gave her books to read, apparently. She wasn't allowed to shower or anything though."

"Why did they... that's horrible," Alex covered his mouth, picturing her all alone in a big cold empty warehouse, night after night, not knowing how to get out or who would come for her -- what they might do to her.

Jack was quick to shake his head. "No, no, she's alright, shaken up, but alright, that was what it said at the end of the article. She was unharmed and she's still getting questioned but after the stuff about her on the news came out, they drove her to a train station, gave her money and let her walk free."

"Who's 'they', Jack?"

"Her captors, I don't know. There were a few of them."

"They haven't been caught?"

"No. But it's gonna be fine, after... after a stunt like that with it getting so much publicity, they won't try it again."

Alex sighed, scratching his head. He would have much preferred to know the scum that started all this were getting what they deserved, but he could settle for the fact that Jess was safe.

"Well, I hope those fucking dicks have it bad. I'd kill them if I got my hands on any one of those dudes," Alex grit his teeth, clenching his hands and pressing his knuckles together subconsciously until they cracked.

Jack nodded silently, watching Alex's fingers with unease.

"You wouldn't wanna get mixed up in that," he said quietly. "Let's just forget about it, okay? Everything's fine. I know you feel guilty, but you were drunk and scared. She's back home now, it's all good."

Alex nodded, padding away up to his room to get dressed but not before giving Jack's hand a squeeze.

For the first time in a long time, Alex felt truly comfortable again.