Screaming Sirens & Howling Fires

[mekachu04]

He wakes up to nightmares still sometimes, heart trapped in his throat, tangled in the blankets, frantically reaching out - clawing out - trying to tear flaming wreckage away.

title inspired by Bat Out of Hell by Meat Loaf - a song about a horrific, fatal motorcycle crash: The sirens are screaming and the fires are howling, Way down in the valley tonight

He wakes up to nightmares still sometimes, heart trapped in his throat, tangled in the blankets, frantically reaching out - clawing out - trying to tear flaming wreckage away.

The heat doesn't bother him but he can't get the twisted metal frames to move, tearing at the remains of machine as it melts in his mind, tearing until his arm gives way and he's left one handed, unable to do anything about the fire and flames, the smell of burning fuel and burning flesh, burning rubber and burning hair.

The red hot flames and the black burned corpse of the bikes and the blue white blue helmet of his best friend still as death under it all. Waiting for Kidd to save him but no matter what Kidd does he can't get to him!

Screams as his friends drag him away and don't they see Killer is still under there?! Don't they care? Isn't Killer their friend too?

He sits up with a jolt, the stub of his arm screaming in white hot pain, right hand still grasping thin air.

The air is clean, if not a little sweat stale, no fire or smoke anywhere. Dim lights from the street faintly illuminate the corners of his room, a far cry from the bright fire of his dreams. He closed his eyes, focusing on settling his racing heart, taking deep breaths and flexing his hand as he dropped it into his lap. Next to him, Killer stirred. Very much still alive, and Kidd focused on that, threading his fingers through the rough blond hair that took up almost as much of the bed as Killer did. 

It was growing back pretty well, even if it was likely years away from how long it had been before the crash. 

Killer mumbled something into the pillow, his own hand haphazardly crawling up Kidd's scared chest to try and pull him back into laying down. Kidd knew he was going to be to restless for it though, pulling the hand close to leave a kiss at the edges of the burns before tucking it in under his partner's chin before getting up. He left a kiss to the patch of temple peaking though his bangs before he left, sliding the door quietly closed before turning on the lights to their kitchen.

It had been almost two years since Killer's accident; a street race gone personal, when a rival gang had decided their differences couldn't be settled in a fair race. Unable to beat Killer in skill, they'd decided to beat him sabotage. It ended with the asshat and Killer's bikes getting tangled, taking out a third rider, and an explosion that still burned behind Kidd's eyelids nearly every night.

Killer claimed he didn't remember much after he hit the pavement; he'd ended up pinned under all three bikes, along with the rider for the Charlotte - the poor bastard. They both survived the initial crash, and lay trapped and burning. Charlotte's rider would linger in the hospital bed for a few days before slipping away. Orachi's man - the one who caused the wreck - bled out on sight, head caved in when it hit the black top at full speed. Killer would spend nearly a week just fighting to wake back up, trapped in a cycle of seeming endless surgeries as they worked to save his arm.

A good thing too when Kidd lost his own last year. They couldn't both be soley-righties.

Kidd holds the cold water glass to his forehead for a moment before taking a sip. His own accident seems so... benign in comparison. Fair race, nothing illegal. No explosions, no fiery wrecks. Maybe some foul play - but the judges cleared Apoo of malicious intent. He was a bad rider, and a poor sportsman, but he wasn't trying to get anyone killed. He just wanted the win to the point he stopped paying attention to anything else around him. He walked away from the crash; Kidd was nearly torn in half. Had his arm severed at the elbow; he still vaguely remembers shoving his bike off of himself, staggering to his feet, only to see his arm still laying pinned under the machine.

Before Killer's accident, he'd always fought wearing a helmet. Didn't like how it blinded him; stifled him. Between Orachi's rider's brains all over the road, and despite the burns all over Killer, when the EMT's had pulled his scorched and smashed helmet off in the ambulance, and Kidd saw his beautiful intact and untouched face, Kidd had stopped fighting Killer about helmet safety. He might not have a face anymore otherwise - the protective gear still tearing down the middle when Kidd went down - but at least Kidd's skull remained in one piece even if his face had been ripped up pretty bad.

It still ached from time to time though, but it was no match for the cold glass now.

His shoulders were still stiff; he'd ask Killer to massage them in the morning if he had too, but the cold water was helping, and he almost felt like a person again. One more glass drunk, and he turned the lights back off, wandering back to bed.

His partner was right were Kidd left him, tucked up to the edges of the warm spot Kidd had left behind. "You good?" he mumbled from his cocoon of blankets.

"Yeah, no. I'm good." Kidd assured him, slipping back into his place at Killer's side. He was given a moment to settle and adjust before Killer oozed back against him, slotted against him like it was where he was always meant to be. Killer's own left arm was stiff and his grip was never going to be what it used to, but he still had no problems wrapping it around Kidd's torso and pulling them close. He'd huff a little sigh into Kidd's chest as he drifted back asleep, Kidd's stub a comforting warm against the back of his head, and soon he was back off to dreamland as if Kidd had never gotten up in the first place.

In the quiet of their bedroom, Kidd stared up at the popcorn ceiling for a moment longer, letting his thoughts drift and unwind. Sleep came calling for him in time, and he turned and buried his nose in the wild blond locks at his side. Just breathed in, letting his body relax and drift. Killer made one last questioning grumble, more instinctual than anything else.

"yeah," Kidd repeated, reaching up to entwine their fingers together, "yeah, I'm good."