Who: Julia Wicker & Quentin Coldwater What: Julia's dreams break through When: July 23rd, very early hours of the morning Where: Their apartment Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / mentions of dream!injury Status: Complete
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.
Though she was trying to be quiet, the hammering of her pulse in her ears as she stumbled into the bathroom and knocked all the bottles off the sink in her haste to get the medicine cabinet to open somewhat messed up that plan. She'd knocked the light on and her fingers were covered in blood, slipping along her arm from the giant gash that had appeared along the inside of her forearm.
She'd dreamed about this half a dozen times and she had never woken up like this before, to searing pain and a creeping sense of desperation, isolation and loneliness that had her stifling a sob even as she smeared bloody fingerprints over the mirror, pulling the cabinet open to get to the first aid kit.
These dreams were the fucking worst.
Quentin wasn’t asleep. In fact, he’d been awake all night reading his newly discovered books so when Julia made a break for the bathroom he was definitely aware that something was amiss.
Frowning he placed his book aside and clambered off his bed to head in the direction of the bathroom where it looked like a scene out of a horror movie.
“Jesus,” Quentin said with wide eyes as he took in the bathroom but more importantly the blood pouring from Julia’s forearm. He didn’t even blink, he was straight in there, grabbing a towel and pressing it firmly against the source of the bleeding.
“What happened?”
"Fucking dreams," Julia managed through her teeth, running the sink and trying to wash the blood off her fingers so she didn't infect the entire first aid kit. "I- I did this to myself." She glanced up at Quentin, knowing that the emptiness from her dream self was filtering into her expression even if she wanted to hide it. "So I didn't forget when they wiped my memory."
Quentin’s frown only deepened if that was even possible at that admission from Julia. He was at first so focused on trying to stop the bleeding that he hadn't noticed the look on Julia’s face but more importantly in her eyes.
“Hey, hey,” he murmured softly as he reached up to cup her face in his hand, thumb brushing over her cheek. “It’s okay, Julia. We’ll get you patched up.”
“Y-yeah,” Julia murmured, “it- I’m fine, Q, honestly. It just-“ her breath caught and she pressed her lips together, visibly pulling her shit into lockdown. She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his palm. “I’m fine.”
Quentin watched her for a long moment as he visibly saw her pull herself together. “You know if you’re not it’s okay, right?” He gave her a small smile and busied himself with cleaning up her arm.
“Yeah, I know,” she reassured, and she wasn’t, not really, but there wasn’t anything either of them could do about it. She couldn’t stop thinking about the desperation that had been clawing at her, that aching emptiness that echoed in her chest even though she was awake.
Quentin was careful and highly meticulous in his attention to the cut on Julia’s arm. “I think this might need stitches.”
He’d clean up the bathroom later but Julia was his focus at this moment in time.
“This is an easy thing to explain,” Julia drawled, nose wrinkled. “I woke up with a gash in my- oh, we might be able to call Kyle?”
“Oh! Yeah, we could do that,” Quentin agreed readily. “He’s a surgeon after all and knows a thing or two about dreaming weird shit.”
Julia nodded, relieved that Quentin seemed to be behind the idea, and that having something practical to do seemed to ease the line of tension in his shoulders a little. "If there's any reason he can't help," she added, "he can at least point us in the right direction of someone who can."
Quentin nodded his head. “Yeah that’s true. I’ll go grab your phone and you can message him but before I do put pressure on this, yeah?” To obviously replace his hands as he went looking for her phone.
“Yeah,” Julia muttered, pushing down on the gauze Quentin had put on her arm. Sitting down on the closed toilet, she leaned her head against the wall. She was so tired.
Quentin dropped a kiss on Julia’s temple before he hurried out to find her phone. Thankfully it wasn’t difficult to find given that it was on charge beside her bed. He quickly unplugged it and returned to Julia, passing the phone over to her before he returned to exerting pressure on her wound.
“Pretty sure he’ll answer.”
“I’m still gonna apologise for texting him in the middle of the night,” she said with a grimace as she typed out a quick text to Kyle.
She closed her eyes again, “You- I’ve got this Q, you need to get some sleep.”
Quentin shook his head. “I’m not leaving your side until I know you’re okay.” He leaned down and dropped a kiss to her fingers. “No arguing.”
Julia’s cell buzzed with a reply from Kyle, so she tapped out a response and then nodded. “Can we at least not be in the bathroom anymore, then? It looks like a crime scene.”
Quentin in spite of the situation let out a small laugh. “Yeah, okay.” He shifted the makeshift gauze as he moved to help Julia to her feet. “The couch or your bedroom?”
“Couch, no way am I letting Kyle see my room,” Julia responded instantly. “Never in a million years.”
Quentin snorted quietly. “Yeah, you are kind of a pig.” His lips tugged into a warm affectionate smile as he helped Julia over to the couch.
Julia rolled her eyes and let Quentin help her into the lounge and slumped onto the couch, checking her cell again and replying once more to the text from Kyle. "He'll be here in half an hour," she said, leaning into the cushions and pressing her hand over her arm. "You- I'm okay, Q, please stop looking so worried."
“Sorry, I can’t help my face.” Quentin rubbed at the back of his neck as he settled on the couch beside her. “And if you waking up bleeding from a wound inflicted in a dream isn’t something for me to worry about? I don’t know what is.”
Julia smiled a little, "At least, I'm hoping this is the worst my dreams get."
She slumped to the side, tucking her feet underneath herself and resting her head on Quentin's shoulder. "I'm sure they'll realise they made a mistake and I'll be with you in no time."
Quentin turned his head and pressed a kiss to Julia’s hair. “They’ll have to right? I mean you’re awesome and the sooner they realise that the better.”
Even if dream!him was being a dick about it.
"Hopefully so," Julia muttered, closing her eyes and relaxing against Quentin. Her arm was stinging, sharp and sore, and each time it jarred pain up her arm she thought about the desperation from the dream, the gnawing emptiness and darkness that had consumed her, knowing there was something going on that she wasn't a part of.
Quentin went quiet as Julia relaxed against him and he lifted his hand to thread his fingers into her hair where he just lightly combed it.
Hopefully Kyle wouldn’t take too long, he’d feel so much better when Julia’s arm was stitched up.
For some reason he got the feeling that right now words weren’t needed and he just needed to stay close so he did just that.