HH_mirror

A trembles at that. "But. Hasn't. Hasn't happened to him."

He can't, can't let that happen to L, can't let Light kill him, and he doesn't care what that means for Mello, Matt or Near. But it's Matt that L loves, and Near and Mello are friends, and L, L's saying don't, and it hurts, and A squeezes his eyes shut, fingering his throat, and when he opens his eyes...

Blood. A sees blood again, dripping from his hands, clotting in Mello's hair, seeping damply into the cats' fur, and most of all L, L's drenched in it, his eyes look like dark holes in a blood-painted face and A screams, a high, shrill, breathless scream.

From:

"A!"

L grabs him by the chin, and in a rare display of volume, yells over the scream, urgent and authoritative. The cats panic and bolt under the bed, and who can blame them?

"Look at me. Look at me. I'm alright. You're alright. You're having a panic attack and you're going to stop screaming, listen to me, and take slow, deep breaths."

From:

"Shut up. That won't help." I tell L, grabbing A's hands and pulling them away from his throat. "Keep yourself calm and he'll calm down. If you're screaming, he's going to panic more." I know. I've been there.

"Just breathe, A. Breathe. Breathe in, two, three, four, five. Out, two three four, five." I keep my voice soft, almost sing song as I repeat over and over the mantra that got me through my own panic attacks.

From:

A's mouth works silently, and he takes several gasping, gulping breaths, ragged and ugly-sounding. He keeps his eyes fixed on L (blood blood it's all over him I'll never escape the blood, never be clean, never never) but lets his hands rest in Mello's, hearing his words as if from a long ways off, and he tries to breathe in as he's told, but the breath stalls and stutters in his throat.

From:

"We've been doing this," he tells Mello, as much as A, "you can do this. It's breathing, like we always do."

He matches his breaths to Mello's rhythm, and meets A's eyes, trying for reassuring, calm, and even. He drops the hand from A's chin to his shoulder, drawing small circles with his fingers in time to the count.

"You can do this."

From:

I keep up the litany of in and out and counting. I know it works. It's a good sign he's not fighting me, too. He's trying, I can see it. I can feel sympathetic panic in myself, but I know what it is and I can control it. I glance down when I feel something against my boots. The kittens, cats, are looking out at me, eyes wide. I don't stop my count, nor let go of A. They can be reassured when their master is calm again.

From:

A has to close his eyes then, squeeze them shut against the blood, oh, so very much blood, and tries to follow L's voice, Mello's voice.

His breaths are hitching and hesitant, but a little smoother.

From:

When A closes his eyes, L does too, momentarily, shaking his head lightly and visibly composing himself. That scream just about gave him a heart attack. (Oops, that's the wrong expression to use in the situation, isn't it?)

"That's it, dearest, you're getting there. Focus on us, we're here for you."

From:

"You're doing good," I add, breaking into the litany of counting long enough to add. "Just keep breathing. We're here. We'll do everything we can." I take up the counting again, gently lowering his hands to the bed. I don't let go of him, not yet, just let his hands rest against the bed. I can feel the cats starting to crawl over my boots, their concern and curiosity too strong to keep them under for long.

From:

A's breathing deepens gradually; he's still shaking violently, eyes still screwed shut. As his hands touch the bed, he grabs fistfuls of blanket.

From:

"And Matt helped, and there's Kusuriyuri. You have people who love and care for you."

His hand drifts to A's arm, and starts smoothing up and down it.

"This will be gotten through."

From:

"You're doing good," I say softly again. "Just keep breathing until the shaking's past and you're through. You can do it." I slow down my count slightly. "And, when you're ready, you have two cats to hold while you rest." I release the hand that L is stroking. Now is most definitely not the time to try and bring up any problems that need 'solving.' After he recovers, maybe with L not around, he can be told the full history of what happened, will happen, is happening. The timelines are so confusing here.

From:

Slowly, A opens his eyes, as some of the trembling begins to subside. He's still shaking, but nowhere near as hard.

The vision of blood, thankfully, has faded away.

"Ohhhhh," he moans, and looks at L, and bursts into fresh tears.

From:

The tears seem so, so much cleaner, somehow, than the screaming and the shaking. L murmurs fondly, comfortingly, and runs his fingers through A's hair.

"Very brave, dearest." He reaches out with his free arm and snags a box of kleenex off his bedside table, setting it down on his knees.

From:

With the backs of my fingers, I start rubbing his arm. "You're almost there," I whisper, still counting only because I know the rhythm is soothing and helps until the very end. And, it's helping me.

Schrodinger, unable to keep hidden with her master in distress, climbs up onto the bed.

From:

A combs the fingers of one hand through Schrodinger's fur, the vibrations of her purr thrumming against his palm. With his other hand he grips L's arm.

"I don't want," he chokes out between sobs, "Don't want..."

From:

L sets his hand on top of A's, encouraging him to hold on, reminding him that they're there for him.

"We know, we know, A."

From:

I reach down and pull Einstein on to the bed from where he has his paws against my leg. "Just keep breathing, A."

I keep my voice very soft. He needs to hear this, though I wonder if it may be a little early. "Even if we can't do everything we want, we'll figure out how to do the most that we can. There's a lot of us here: You and L and Matt and Near and me, even Kusu will help us, I'm sure. But, even with all of us working together, there's only so much we can do, regardless of what we want." I pet Einstein as he noses his way over to A.

I reach over and touch A's arm. "We will do everything we can do, I promise."

From:

Finally, A spares some attention for Mello, and turns to look at him.

"But it's not right," he wails. "You know that. You know it."

From:

L takes a few deep breaths himself, and pulls out a tissue to dab at the tears on A's cheeks.

From:

I nod. "I know. But, sometimes, making everything right is beyond what we can do." I swallow. This may come back to bite me, but I'll offer anyways. "When you're ready to hear it, I'll tell you what happened with the Kira case. I'll tell you what went right and what went wrong. But, not now. Now, you need to rest and just be with your cats and with us. Rest for now."

From:

"I can't," A says to L, still crying but no longer sobbing, "Can't do nothing."

From:

"Then we'll try to come up with something. There's no rush on when I go back, we have time to at least discuss things."

He takes out another kleenex.

"I promise not to write off your concerns, and I will discuss solutions with you, but you have to promise not to do anything rash before all of us discuss it. This effects everyone, A, and we'll respect your needs, but you need to trust us, too."

From:

I pet Einstein as he continues approaching A slowly. "The only reason we didn't tell you was that we didn't want you to worry too much. We're doing everything we can." I look away, at the bed. "As much as we want to, A, we don't understand everything going into this, not now. I...I should be dead, so should Matt. But, we're here, we're alive. It could be, that here, we are safe from what happened there." I look over at him. "When you're calmer, when you've heard the whole story, then we can think of what else can be done. But, to do that, you need to rest. So, you're not doing nothing, A. You're preparing." Sleep would do him well. I'd suggest some marijuana, but I don't think L would approve and it's better to experiment with drugs when you're in a saner place than A is right now.

From: