Here's yet another flash fic I wrote.
This one is not 24-related, it is however Kiefer Sutherland-related.
I hope you'll enjoy the read.
Nightmare on 3rd street.
Out of all days, it just had to happen
today!
It couldn’t have happened otherwise.
Murphy’s Law, you know.
Everything that could go wrong, would go
wrong.
It started this morning when he spilled
coffee all over him and lost half an hour taking another shower and changing
into clean clothes. Then his car wouldn’t start and he had to call a cab, which
made him even later.
Shooting had been a total disaster and he
had called it a day in the early afternoon.
It really was no use insisting.
He wanted to go out to his favorite
restaurant, but they had a wedding party that evening and didn’t take any
reservations. Four other restaurants were full as well and he had given up
trying, grabbed his wallet and jacket and had gone to the nearby diner.
It wasn’t all that, but their food was good
and the atmosphere relaxed.
After dinner he decided to go have a drink,
it might help ease the tension.
He had been sitting there for a while when
a woman had started flirting with him and it had changed his mood altogether.
For the first time today, a smile played on
his face.
He had sent a drink over and she had taken
it as an invitation to join him.
She was already a little drunk and once she
was at his table, she became very flirtatious, coming onto him big time.
It was funny how she practically dared him
into kissing her.
He took up the dare, leaned closer and
kissed her briefly, his lips barely brushing against hers.
The heavy hand on his shoulder made him
jump in surprise and he turned around.
A big man loomed over him and he heard the
girl say something that sounded an awful lot like “Hi sweetheart”, which made
his breath catch in his throat.
The guy grabbed his shirt, pulled him to
his feet and shoved him hard against the chest, nearly knocking him down on the
table.
“What the hell are you doing kissing my
wife?” the guy yelled in his face.
For once he hadn’t checked the woman’s
hands. He always did, to make sure there was no wedding ring.
He tried to get the man to calm down,
telling him he wasn’t trying anything and it had just been a friendly peck, but
he couldn't stop the rising fist.
The other stood a full 10’ taller than him
and that fist looked pretty damn big, so he put his hands up in surrender,
hoping to stop him from actually hitting him. He really didn’t feel like
ending the night in the emergency room.
Instead of hitting him, the guy pulled hard
on his shirt, throwing him forward, and he could barely catch himself, knocking
his bad knee on the hard wooden floor. It sent a jolt of pain through his leg
and he didn’t move as fast as he could’ve.
The guy’s foot came down on his left hip,
pushing him sideways and forward, sending him flying between the legs of a
nearby table.
He rolled and the other grabbed his shirt
again, pulling him back to his feet, yelling some more.
It was weird how nobody even tried to help
him. It was obvious he didn’t stand much of a chance against Gigantor and if he
started pounding on him, he’d slap his butt into hospital in no time. Maybe
someone had called the police. Maybe.
The guy pulled on his shirt again, flinging
him forward once more. His knee buckled on him and he had to steady himself on
the edge of the table to keep from falling. He turned to face the man, a
painful grimace on his face. The woman was still in her chair. She hadn’t
moved, she hadn’t said anything, she was simply watching her husband throw him
around. He would’ve appreciated it if she had at least tried to stop her
husband, but she didn’t look like she was about to.
“Stop looking at her, you fuck!”
He snapped his head around to look at the
husband instead.
Still nobody was moving to help him.
Nobody was trying to reason with the guy or
stop his attack and it scared him.
It scared him to know he was alone.
The man came back at him, grabbed his shirt
and pulled him forward again, pulling him into his punch as he landed it.
The power of it dazed him and he staggered
on his feet.
Surely someone would come to help him now,
but he didn’t hear anything; nobody was trying to stop this.
The fist landed in his gut this time,
knocking the wind out of him.
The guy held him up and hit him again,
letting go of his shirt at the same time and he dropped to his knees, gasping
for air.
He looked up at the man who stood waiting,
a huge grin on his face.
He was ready to take him apart, one piece
at a time.
The fist rose again and he brought his arms
up to protect himself.
The touch was soft.
Gentle.
So was the voice that called out to him.
“Kiefer … wake up.”
He lowered his arms and opened his eyes.
He looked into her eyes, a beautiful
grayish blue.
She was smiling at him, reassuringly …
comforting.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
The tension left him and he nodded,
managing a faint smile.
Yeah, he was okay.
Now, he was.
“Were you having that nightmare again,
baby?”
He nodded.
“Oh, come here, let me make you all
better.”
She leaned over and kissed him gently.
“Better?”
He nodded again.
It always made him better when she kissed
him.
“Try to get some more sleep, you’ve got a
busy day tomorrow.”
She settled in his arm, her head on his
chest like always.
He kissed her on the top of her head,
closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
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