Face Up;

(Dustland Fairytale short-story) The Dead Zone fanfiction; Dawn Edwards x Johnny Smith.

Ice... Black ice. Burning rubber. Ice and flames. Flames licking at his fingers. Suddenly, his fingers catch fire, yet he is numb to any pain. His body is catching fire; each section of his skin pulling flames up and letting them catch.

He drew away his arms, gazing down at them with emotionless calmness. Pursing his lips quickly, he felt an odd, disturbing smirk draw upon the corners of his lips. Yes, he was... Enjoying this. He spread his fingers apart, watching the flames on his fingertips. It wasn't rotting away his skin but burning away a layer and creating new, young skin. He felt his eyes darken, much like they did that night in 1970 at the Wheel of Fortune.

"One way or the other," He heard himself mumble as he stared down, unphased, at his burning flesh. The flames had gradually begun to burn. Pain had begun to bury into him and perturb him, but he could not scream nor wriggle rather remain calm, without panic. "My girl's sick."

 

A pained scream jolted him awake from the dream, and he jerked forcefully as he shot upward, feeling the blankets that covered his body from the cold fly sloppily away from him with such suddeness. His heart was racing rapidly in his chest, making his head heavy and his vision blur whilst his mind scrambled to regain realistic consciousness.

His lungs burned with such deep breaths, and he had then realized, quite randomly, that the girl beside him had also been shaken awake by his sudden wake up.

"Johnny?" She breathed, slightly exasperated as she stared up at him with wide doe-eyes. She sat up quickly, but with much more grace than he had, and brought a hand against his shoulder -- the sudden touch made him flinch, and he whirled his gaze over to cast it upon her, terror coursing through him. "Dawn," He heard himself say softly.

His gaze had frightened her more than his initial scream. It was dark and violet, as if he were still trapped in the dream-sequence episode. The hardness in his eyes was melting away, however, with the passing moments that he gazed at her. Quickly, he looked away again and set his jaw, bringing a hand up to his head and pressing the ball of his palm hard against his temple. A headache had come to him and was pounding within the veins in his head. Each throb was agonizing, and he forced a slow, long breath out from his nose. She was speaking to him, but the sound of her voice seemed far away; almost like the voices of the nurses and doctors had when he had first been coming out of his five-year slumber.  He shook his head softly in response to whatever she was whispering to him, and held still as she wrapped her arms around his form as if he didn't particularly feel her.

But he did feel her.

She was warm, and felt exceedingly comforting because of how cold he had become. No longer burning like fire, the man had become cold like ice.

 

"Johnny, what's wrong?" Her voice became clear to him very suddenly, and his eyes snapped open again to stare wildly into the darkness of night in the room around him. He blinked, pursing his lips and glancing at her from the corner of his eyes during his long, vast pause.
She nudged him lightly, as if trying to break the icy shell that had surrounded him upon awakening.

He breathed heavily out from his nose, forcing his body to become slightly animate as he fidgeted. He looked over at her again, and the coldness in his eyes was at last gone.

"Just a.. Well, a--" he paused, looking away again and clearing his throat. Was it a dream? Or was it some sort of tragic memory? "I don't know." He answered finally, his voice struggled as if it pained him to come up with an answer that was so simple.

Her comforting hands were touching him still, rubbing her nails against the sweater that covered his shoulders and back, and slowly her touch trailed to his arms. He had begun to gradually melt into her reassurance, closing forth his eyes again.

"It's over now, Johnny..," she whispered very tenderly. "It's okay."

His heart was slowing from it's painfully rapid pace in his chest. He shifted after a pause, nodding his head but not touching her in return, rather keeping his form still and accepting her comfort. Her lips then were gently kissed against his cheek, and it brought his form once more to life. He turned his head to rest his blue eyes against her, eyebrows furrowed as if she were distracting him.

Very suddenly, in the snapshot of a flashback in his mind, he saw her. He saw her as she were before his coma -- a young, eighteen or nineteen year old student at Cleaves Mills. She was sitting in his classroom with a pencil between her fingers, and he could hear it scratching against the paper. The image brought brief disturbance to him, and momentarily he shrunk away from her. Taking a light breath, he sighed softly and again leaned into her touch, closing his eyes lightly...

Burning... Fire, fire, fire. Double zero. House numbah~

Step right up! Be burned alive!
He jumped lightly, snapping his eyes back open and feeling his muscles ripple as he tensed. His eyes had again grown slightly violet, and he shied away from her touch briefly. The headache was raging; and he grunted lightly with each throb.

"The whole wad on 19...," he mumbled, in a voice that wasn't his own. "One way or the other, my girl's sick."

 

He let himself go limp as the woman pulled his lightly trembling form to her, feeling otherwise defenseless; like a baby unaware of how to speak or walk. He whimpered lightly before he began repeating himself,

"My girl's sick... My girl's sick... One way or the other... My girl's sick,"

Suddenly, his voice became as vulnerable as he had physically become. "My girl's sick."

"Shh, Johnny.." Dawn heard herself coo, eyebrows pulled together and eyes slightly wild. She pulled Johnny further into her arms, wrapping them around him and bringing him down so that his head lied against her chest. She ran her fingers soothingly through his thick brown mane, whispering gentle "Shh" 's, and occasional "It's okay" 's.

Lightly, John Smith began to cry. Twas as if everything that had happened to him came to crash down upon him in a wild, heavy, fit of emotions.

My girl's not sick.. She's gone. She's down the road married to big bad Lawyer boy with a son and a daughter and a different lats name. My legs are useless, I walk like a damn cripple... My job is gone. My reputation is gone, because I am burdened with a curse.

He  heaved once with a pathetic sob, and found himself clutching to the soft cotton-cashmere fabric of her sweater like a child to his mother.

Dawn sighed softly, pressing her lips to the top of his hair and closing her own eyes rocking him very lightly back and forth in attempts to consol him. She pet at his hair and rubbed his arm or his shoulder, yet the feelings were numb. His grief had begun to weigh down upon her, and though fhr forced herself to be strong when he had become so broken, she had begun to feel tears sting at her own eyes. As she became animate to him, he listened to the silence in the room -- then heard her voice break it.

"I'm sorry, Johnny... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," She whispered quietly to him, feeling her throat clench and her strength begin to die away.

She held him loosely but kept him close to her, her eyes open now and staring into the distant darkness of the room. She was sorry. She was sorry for all that had happened to him; though his accident lead them together -- Fullfilled her high school fantasy -- she would have never wished such grief nor depression upon him.

Feeling him shift, she leaned forward a little as she felt him bury his face within the crook of her shoulder, and she held the back of his head lightly -- and though in a slightly uncomfortable postion, she didn't dare move.

"Shh, Johnny... I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry."

It was then she recalled how, when she had first began to again visit him in the hospital upon his awakening, he had told her that he was alone.. This had made her heart extremely heavy, and the memory brought back a similiar feeling of dreadful pity that made her quite sick to think about. Pity was such a pathetic word.. It was small and disturbingly grim.

No. Compassion, perhaps, was a better word. Yes. She was compassionate.

But he was not alone. She would never leave him to be such, and this determined knowledge brought her ease, even in times so involved in Johnny's emotional chaos as this.

"I'm here, Johnny." She whispered softly into his ear, though quite taken back as to watch him draw away from where he had hidden his face shamefully into her. He looked into her gaze with a teary gaze, sniffling lightly and letting out a breath before allowing his gaze to drop. She was right.. She was here. Even throughout his difficulties, it was times like this when he was at least grateful he was not solitary.

 

There was a long pause before he spoke, and when it did, she felt herself grow tense -- preparing for whatever he would utter.

"How long can you put up with this, Dawn?" He mumbled softly, taking her hand very gently, without much firmness. A forced smile was curving upon his lips, and he ascended his eyes to again take hold of her gaze.

This inquiry brought confusion to her expression, but this soon eased into almost panicked urgency.

"I'm not.. I won't leave you, John. You know that, don't you?" She asked lightly, blinking. He smiled at this, and though his seemingly amused expression confused her quite extremely, she laced her fingers in with his and squeezed. "Hey," She said, catching his attention once more and watching as his face grew gradually more serious.

"I'm not going anywhere," She exclaimed quite sternly, as if scolding him for his notion. His face slowly grew grim, and he pursed his lips lightly before smacking them and sighing, looking down again, as if he doubted her.

"Do you doubt it?" She asked him.

"What?"

"Do you doubt what I'm saying?"

He looked to the side, shrugging lightly and pausing for a long thoughtful moment.

"Well, I...," He began. "I think, for me, it's almost become natural to.. Expect the worst, I guess." He said softly, turning to her with his eyebrows pulled together. "No matter what you believe in. What I believe in. I just.. Expect the bad things and accept the good things, if they come or happen, you know?"

His words had held a terrible honesty that weighed down upon her shoulders. She held his gaze there for a long moment, pondering in depth before she gave a nod of understanding. Blinking, clearing her throat quickly, she felt the strangling silence that had come over the room grab hold of her mind and shake it. Suddenly, she became weary. "Johnny, I'm really not... I'm not going anywhere. I won't leave you." She said pathetically, her voice hinting plea.

He looked to her again, smiling and snorting before giving a shrug and looking away. "Well,"

"I mean it. I do."
"Okay, Dawn. Alright,"

"I do!" She had begun to raise her voice. She took and cupped his cheek with her free hand, whilst squeezing upon the one of his she held simultaneously. She forced him to look at her, and he nodded -- at last making his hand firm within her's. "Okay, Dawn... Okay. I believe you." He said lightly, taken back. He smiled slightly through his mask of pain, nodding his head and bringing his hand up to hold it against the back of her's, pressing it to his cheek as he turned his head and kissed quickly and lightly against her palm, before dropping his other hand again and bringing her's with it, off of his cheek.

"Alright." He said.

She watched him, her face softening for it had grown hard. "Alright." She said in reply.

He sighed softly, pulling his large hand from her's to take her own face into it. Her cheek fit perfectly into his palm. Johnny closed his eyes, nodding lightly. "Alright," he whispered softly, giving a quick and faint smile on the corners of his lips before he leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly against her own in a gentle kiss.

 

He then, very briefly, got the notion that he smelled a hint of smoke.

Author's Note

[[Pretend (Reprise) - LIGHTS.]]
Warning; You'll have to have read at least a little bit of/skimmed through "A Dustland Fairytale" to understand the last line.