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FIC: That Middle Road (24/?)
Title: That Middle Road (24/48)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance
Pairing: Misha Collins/Jeremy Sisto
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: This isn't real.
A/N: Set inpoisontaster's A Kept Boy 'verse. This story deals with mental illness, specifically bipolar disorder, and with slavery as used in the AKB 'verse. There's also mention of rape, suicide, institutionalization and self-harm. And polyamory. And kink. And a partridge in a pear tree. Thank you, beanside and poisontaster, for the invaluable notes.
Jeremy opens his eyes. His lashes feel glued together, smearing the familiar lines of Zach's ceiling. Despite that, and the safe smell of waffles being made, he tests to be sure his wrists aren't bound.
Both of his arms are free to move, but one of them is numb. Turns out that Misha is laying on top of it, looking worn but basically intact.
He crash-landed.
"Jeremy." Cate doesn't sound like anybody's dead or arrested or retaken by Escrow. As if she hears him thinking, which he wouldn't necessarily put past her, she adds, "It's all right."
Jeremy turns his head towards her. Even flat on his back, that makes him dizzy. He feels flattened emotionally, the jagged panic and run-run-run drive distant as the Atlantic.
"Misha okay?" he asks. Even his voice sounds flat.
Cate tilts her head like he said something particularly interesting. "He'll be fine. He was vexed about sleeping on the couch and insisted on sleeping here. He seems quite protective of you."
Apparently he's not as flat as he thought, because that feels like a kick in the chest. He forces his fingers to stop absently stroking Misha's hair. Misha grunts in his sleep, discontented, and butts into Jeremy's hand for more touching. The fracture in Jeremy's heart opens wider. Surrendering to the inevitable, he goes back to petting and Misha settles into him again.
"Seroquel?" he asks Cate.
"Yes. Only until you're stabilized. A month at the most." When he shrugs instead of his usual bitching about sedating drugs that keep him from thinking straight, she sighs and leans back in her chair. "Do you feel like the lithium is no longer working?"
There's no judgment written on her face, but he still feels compelled to say, "I didn't stop taking them."
"Good. I thought as much when we found them in Misha's jacket." Her eyes tick to Jeremy's hand, still absently stroking Misha for his own comfort. "I'm glad you trust him to remind you."
"Yeah. Just hope he'll trust me after this."
"Mm." Cate tilts her head, that glint in her eyes that says Jeremy's being stupid and she's trying to figure out how to tell him so. "Do you remember that he drugged your coffee?"
Jeremy's dry mouth and aching head make that hard to forget. "Yeah, I know."
"I imagine a slave would be punished quite severely for it."
Jeremy bristles. "I wouldn't do that."
"I know that," Cate says, gentler. "He knows that. But he wouldn't have risked it if he didn't think you were worth it."
Jeremy glances back at Misha, the lines of pain around his mouth and the dark circles under his eyes. It's his oldest and most frequent habit, kicking himself, leaving people first before he can be left, but Cate has a point. Misha is too much Vincent's creation to do anything without considering the risks, and yet he still chose to drug Jeremy, knowing he could hang for it. The realization unlocks some kernel of despair in Jeremy’s chest.
"The lithium," Cate says, herding him back into line. Her eyes search his face, and she adds to her previous question. "How long do you think it's been ineffective?"
After the hospital, Jeremy's first instinct has been to lie: I'm not crazy, put that in your files, I'm not crazy so let me out. But Cate is different from those asshole doctors that spent five minutes with him and thought they knew his mind better than he did. Cate has never lied to him, and so Cate doesn't deserve those lies in return.
Jeremy shrugs the shoulder Misha isn't lying on. "Hard to say. It was a slow process when it stopped."
"It usually is."
"Six months?" Jeremy thinks of Marisa's spiral down into her overdose, how he'd been watching but felt unable to stop her crash, the grayness of those days in his memory. He'd already been down in it. He follows that oilslick of depression back, back, to the last time he'd felt manic instead. "No. Probably a year since I really thought it was working."
"A year," Cate echoes. There's no rebuke in her voice, just that Dr. Blanchett steadiness of nerve. "Okay. How would you feel about trying something else?"
Like shit, like he's headed to the medication merry-go-round that he'd seen other people ride. It doesn't look pretty; his short-lived dedication to support groups had shown that he'd been lucky to get a good drug on his first try and he'd clung to that longer than he should've. He doesn't want to be the jaw-twitchers, the pacers, the zombies.
But. How long until the next manic rise or depressive crash where his hand hovers a little too long over his shaving razors? Where he decides that he can fly?
No.
No, he wants to live.
Jeremy rolls that over in his head. It feels raw and new, making the decision in words, not this half-hearted flailing in the dark. He wants to live, and he will do whatever it takes to make that happen.
Even the hospital?
He can feel Misha breathing beside him.
Yes. Even the hospital.
"Jeremy," Cate prompts.
"I need help," Jeremy says. His voice is so dry and so quiet that he can barely hear himself over the blood pounding in his ears. "I can-- if I need to go back in the hospital to be stabilized, I really really don't want to but I'll go. If you think. For the new meds. I know you wouldn't..."
The words die out in his throat and he blinks at her, willing her to understand.
Cate covers Jeremy's hand with her own and squeezes. "Well," she says. "I think we can avoid that."
All the terrified tension wrings out of Jeremy. He turns his hand over in hers, stupidly and desperately grateful, and he lets her help him down off the ledge.
Author:
nilchancePairing: Misha Collins/Jeremy Sisto
Rating: Adult
Disclaimer: This isn't real.
A/N: Set in
poisontaster's A Kept Boy 'verse. This story deals with mental illness, specifically bipolar disorder, and with slavery as used in the AKB 'verse. There's also mention of rape, suicide, institutionalization and self-harm. And polyamory. And kink. And a partridge in a pear tree. Thank you, beanside and poisontaster, for the invaluable notes.Jeremy opens his eyes. His lashes feel glued together, smearing the familiar lines of Zach's ceiling. Despite that, and the safe smell of waffles being made, he tests to be sure his wrists aren't bound.
Both of his arms are free to move, but one of them is numb. Turns out that Misha is laying on top of it, looking worn but basically intact.
He crash-landed.
"Jeremy." Cate doesn't sound like anybody's dead or arrested or retaken by Escrow. As if she hears him thinking, which he wouldn't necessarily put past her, she adds, "It's all right."
Jeremy turns his head towards her. Even flat on his back, that makes him dizzy. He feels flattened emotionally, the jagged panic and run-run-run drive distant as the Atlantic.
"Misha okay?" he asks. Even his voice sounds flat.
Cate tilts her head like he said something particularly interesting. "He'll be fine. He was vexed about sleeping on the couch and insisted on sleeping here. He seems quite protective of you."
Apparently he's not as flat as he thought, because that feels like a kick in the chest. He forces his fingers to stop absently stroking Misha's hair. Misha grunts in his sleep, discontented, and butts into Jeremy's hand for more touching. The fracture in Jeremy's heart opens wider. Surrendering to the inevitable, he goes back to petting and Misha settles into him again.
"Seroquel?" he asks Cate.
"Yes. Only until you're stabilized. A month at the most." When he shrugs instead of his usual bitching about sedating drugs that keep him from thinking straight, she sighs and leans back in her chair. "Do you feel like the lithium is no longer working?"
There's no judgment written on her face, but he still feels compelled to say, "I didn't stop taking them."
"Good. I thought as much when we found them in Misha's jacket." Her eyes tick to Jeremy's hand, still absently stroking Misha for his own comfort. "I'm glad you trust him to remind you."
"Yeah. Just hope he'll trust me after this."
"Mm." Cate tilts her head, that glint in her eyes that says Jeremy's being stupid and she's trying to figure out how to tell him so. "Do you remember that he drugged your coffee?"
Jeremy's dry mouth and aching head make that hard to forget. "Yeah, I know."
"I imagine a slave would be punished quite severely for it."
Jeremy bristles. "I wouldn't do that."
"I know that," Cate says, gentler. "He knows that. But he wouldn't have risked it if he didn't think you were worth it."
Jeremy glances back at Misha, the lines of pain around his mouth and the dark circles under his eyes. It's his oldest and most frequent habit, kicking himself, leaving people first before he can be left, but Cate has a point. Misha is too much Vincent's creation to do anything without considering the risks, and yet he still chose to drug Jeremy, knowing he could hang for it. The realization unlocks some kernel of despair in Jeremy’s chest.
"The lithium," Cate says, herding him back into line. Her eyes search his face, and she adds to her previous question. "How long do you think it's been ineffective?"
After the hospital, Jeremy's first instinct has been to lie: I'm not crazy, put that in your files, I'm not crazy so let me out. But Cate is different from those asshole doctors that spent five minutes with him and thought they knew his mind better than he did. Cate has never lied to him, and so Cate doesn't deserve those lies in return.
Jeremy shrugs the shoulder Misha isn't lying on. "Hard to say. It was a slow process when it stopped."
"It usually is."
"Six months?" Jeremy thinks of Marisa's spiral down into her overdose, how he'd been watching but felt unable to stop her crash, the grayness of those days in his memory. He'd already been down in it. He follows that oilslick of depression back, back, to the last time he'd felt manic instead. "No. Probably a year since I really thought it was working."
"A year," Cate echoes. There's no rebuke in her voice, just that Dr. Blanchett steadiness of nerve. "Okay. How would you feel about trying something else?"
Like shit, like he's headed to the medication merry-go-round that he'd seen other people ride. It doesn't look pretty; his short-lived dedication to support groups had shown that he'd been lucky to get a good drug on his first try and he'd clung to that longer than he should've. He doesn't want to be the jaw-twitchers, the pacers, the zombies.
But. How long until the next manic rise or depressive crash where his hand hovers a little too long over his shaving razors? Where he decides that he can fly?
No.
No, he wants to live.
Jeremy rolls that over in his head. It feels raw and new, making the decision in words, not this half-hearted flailing in the dark. He wants to live, and he will do whatever it takes to make that happen.
Even the hospital?
He can feel Misha breathing beside him.
Yes. Even the hospital.
"Jeremy," Cate prompts.
"I need help," Jeremy says. His voice is so dry and so quiet that he can barely hear himself over the blood pounding in his ears. "I can-- if I need to go back in the hospital to be stabilized, I really really don't want to but I'll go. If you think. For the new meds. I know you wouldn't..."
The words die out in his throat and he blinks at her, willing her to understand.
Cate covers Jeremy's hand with her own and squeezes. "Well," she says. "I think we can avoid that."
All the terrified tension wrings out of Jeremy. He turns his hand over in hers, stupidly and desperately grateful, and he lets her help him down off the ledge.
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But know I love this fic, and this chapter was lovely and yay Jeremy! And now I get to settle in and wait for more :D
Thank you!
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Thank you!
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Yay, Jeremy. ♥
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I feel like this dedication to himself had to come first before Jeremy could even think about dedicating himself to someone else, even someone he hearts as much as Misha. So yeah, this, exactly.
Thank you.
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*stares lovingly at your icon*
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I love this fic, it's beautiful, heartfelt, painful and so REAL!! Can't wait for the next installment!
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*clutches heart*
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Thank you!
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*hugs*
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You're so welcome. Thank you for being you.
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I actually smiled when Jeremy admitted he wanted to live, enough to accept the hospital, if that's what he needed. Good.
You make me care about these people. You make these characters people.
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