Fearing it All (Amelia Blake)

[Matthew Reid]

Matthew was panicking. He hadn't told Amelia what had been happening. He hadn't been able to find the words to explain 'I think I'm losing my mind and those headaches that've been lasting a while now? There's no reason for them physically' without sounding like he was confused and panicking even though that was exactly what was happening.

He sat on the sofa and took several deep breaths while trying to calm himself. Whispers bled through the room, mostly whispers he couldn't understand though there were a few one worded insults. He tried to pay little attention to them, but each one wormed through his mind and dug deeper. He could feel the paranoia rising with each piece of bait even though he was mentally telling himself that this was impossible and nothing was happening.

Gulping down air now, determined not to fall apart in his living room, Matthew tilted his head back and closed his eyes. He just needed to stay calm. He just needed to get through the day again. His mum had managed it, all those years ago... His mum. His mum that he'd sent to a mental hospital.

She hated you.
Shut up.
You trapped her.

"Shut up." He hissed to himself, shaking his head before standing and moving through the home he lived in. He reached his bedroom, with the intent of just finding his jacket and then going to work and going through a normal day, when he noticed clouds of colour rising from the floor with each step. Small puffs of colour that rose and then fell every time his foot touched the floor. He paused, staring down at the floor with wide eyes, fear bursting through his mind before he shook his head. "One more day." He promised himself, taking his glasses off and rubbing his eyes with one hand before reaching out blindly and grabbing his jacket from the wardrobe door.

He moved back out of his room while putting his glasses back on before he began pulling his jacket on. Clouds of colour continued to seemingly rise from his footsteps, though he was still trying hard to ignore them all. He reached his bag as another whisper broke through the air, this one different from the others with a very familiar voice that he hadn't heard in years.

She knows.

He didn't realise he was crying at first, though shook his head and wiped away any silent tears with one hand while picking up his bag. It didn't matter. The voices didn't matter. The clouds of colour didn't matter. They were't real. They sounded real. They looked real. Reason told him they couldn't be real, despite the very real fear that pulsated through his veins with terrifying glee.

She knows.


((Notes: Sorry this sucks... Thought maybe 6ish years in future?))

[Amelia Raven Blake]

Nightmares; they came; they controlled.

Sleep never came; it stayed on the edges of her mind, terror taking over.

She thought it would end; thought she was finally safe.

She was wrong.

---

She took a deep breath, pushing back her hair from her face and drawing the GCPD jacket up onto her slim shoulders, closing her eyes and shouldering through yet another morning. The coffee in the pot drifted through the house, filling her nostrils with the bitter black scent and she closed her eyes, remembering a time when those endless cups weren't be needed; a time before the bang went off; a time before blood splattered across her hands, drenching her ledger in the sickly sweet stench of loss and ruin.

There was no wiping out all the red there now.

Not after this time.

She was still on leave; still told she was unfit for duty; still told that she needed to rest, needed to step back and take a deep breath.

But she couldn't rest; oh no, not when the death on her hands weighted heavily on her shoulders. She lost herself in the field, her finger trembling on the trigger, the trigger-happy morons that called themselves rookies asking for "scorpio" when the situation escalated.

She could feel his eyes on her when he refused to call it. She could their eyes on her when he refused to call it. She could feel the blame in their gaze when he refused to end the criminal's life.

She was grateful for his refusal.

She didn't know if she could stand seeing another lifeless body drop before her. She didn't know if she could take blood spilling across the street. She didn't know if she could take the feelings that death brought.

He told her to see a therapist. She won't. She didn't talk to Matthew much about the subject either.

He didn't ask.

She was ever thankful for that; for his endless supply of silent comfort. So silent she dared to think that he didn't even know his silence comforted her.

A faint smile flirted with her lips at the thought.

She poured the remaining liquid into a travel mug and slipped out the door. She and Matthew practically lived at each other's houses. Each place was home. Each place was perfect in it's own way. Each place held a thousand memories; both the good and the bad.

She drove slowly, her mind wandering as she followed all the laws she enforced as she made her way towards her boyfriend of six years' house.

She didn't expect to find him in tears.

"Matthew?"she called softly as she entered, returning her keys to her pocket. She peeked into the house, a tapestry of shock slipping down her face at the sight of him. "Matthew!?" she hurried to his side, gently touching his shoulders, her blue eyes looking worriedly into his.

"What's going on?" she asked softly, attempting to brush away his tears, "You know you can tell me anything." She tried to force a smile onto her tired lips.

(NOTES: I HOPE THIS IS OKAY AND I DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING THAT YOU DIDN'T WANT ME TO REGARDING THE HOUSE THING AND STUFF LIKE THAT.)

[Matthew Reid]

He didn't hear the door open. He had been busy trying to not cry and trying to ignore the whispers that bled into being around him. When he heard her voice, at first he wasn't sure whether she was real and ignored her. She spoke again, though, and touched him and he felt himself jump with surprise at her touch. A confused frown spread across his features as though completely unaffected by what had caused the tears. At her question, his frown deepened until she moved to get rid of the tears, at which point he almost shooed her hands away with his in a flapping motion and did it himself.

"Nothing." He answered, pushing his glasses up his nose now while blinking as though testing his sight, though was actually trying to stop any more of the salty water droplets from escaping. She spoke again and Matthew looked at her before smiling softly - though it was quite half-hearted - and nodding. "I... I know." He replied, looking to the floor. "What... What're you, um... What're you doing here?" He asked, his frown deepening as he glanced at her and ignored the insulting whispers to the best of his abilities.

She knows...

That was the only one that he definitely couldn't ignore. No matter how much he tried, those two words pierced any form of ignoring barrier with the ease of a needle into melting butter. He took a deep breath, trying to push away any minor reaction he'd had to the words he was sure only he could hear - as he recognised them as paranoia and not what the other whispers were - before looking at the floor again, seemingly finding the thick carpet rather interesting. His hand moved to mess with his fringe, more used to having long hair at that moment in time than he was short hair, before he realised what he was doing and shoved it into his pocket.

His gaze turned back to her, though quickly fell once more, more comfortable with looking down than with looking at her. The paranoia driven words were beginning to have a more obvious effect, though he couldn't stop it.

"Sorry... For, um... Yeah..." He didn't really know what he was trying to apologise for. No. No. He knew what he was trying to apologise for, but he had no idea how to word it. "It was nothing." He ended up saying while screwing his nose up in one of many attempts over the years to push his glasses up his nose without using his hands. Every attempt, including this one, ended the same way: Matthew pushing the glasses up his nose with one hand before slipping it into his pocket while standing somewhat awkwardly with her.


((Notes: S'ALL GOOD. Hope this is okay.))