Work Text:
I've seen your face somewhere before I swear
Could it be I've met you somewhere else
It's the way you turn and look at me
Your eyes are different but they're much the same
•••••
It was too quiet inside his head. Blake knew he shouldn't have agreed to a holiday, but they needed it. Cally needed it. Travis probably knew all the tricks; it was standard knowledge for Federation officers. Torture 101.
So everything stopped.
Blake stopped.
He found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror, fingers tracing the outline of his face, his eyes, his mouth. When he tried to will his finger away from the lazy tracing, they refused to acknowledge his command. It was like yelling into an empty cavern; the words echoed for a time before fading away into nothing.
He slammed his fist against the mirror and the glass cracked. His reflection warped, lines and fissures marked his features. Then the left side of his face fell into bright shards leaving him undone. He opened his hand, surprised to see the blood. Drops slid down his arm, painting lines of red on pale skin.
Suddenly there was the chiming of the communicator. He hit the button with a bloodstained hand.
"Blake." Except that he didn't feel like Blake, didn't feel like anyone.
"Jenna. Blake are you going to come down to take your shift?"
"I'll be right there." He released the button and hit the mirror again, this time with his palm. He felt the pain this time, like a flash of light in darkness.
Then nothing.
An hour later the door to his room slid open and Gan peeked his head in. "Blake? Are you in here?"
Blake looked up at him from his spot on the floor. Thank god it wasn't Jenna or Avon. He couldn't handle them right now. Not Jenna's blatant efforts to get him into bed or Avon's awkward attempts as seduction
"There you are. Jenna's awfully mad that you didn't..." Gan's voice died away. His eyes widened and he came forward, crouching next to him. He touched Blake's arm. "What happened?"
He shrugged and said, "I hurt my hand." He knew that he should probably try to reassure him. Instead he settled for, "I'm bleeding. Was bleeding."
"We should get you to medical."
"No, it's the only thing I feel. It's...Gan, why can't I feel anything."
Gan stroked his hair. "It'll be all right."
I'm afraid, he wanted to say, but he couldn't form the words. But Gan seemed to understand anyway because he nodded, then grabbed him by the shoulders and lifted him up and onto his bed.
"Sit quietly now. I'll be right back." Gan disappeared into the other room and when he came back he was holding a wet cloth.
He swallowed and clenched his hands into fists.
"Don't." Gan sat next to him and gently pried his fingers open. Then he began to wipe the blood away. "I'm going to need something to pluck out the shards of glass. Blake...how long has this been going on?"
"I..." He swallowed. "I felt like this all the time after the mind-wipe, as if I was dreaming, not real. Then I remembered and it was all right. I didn't expect--didn't think..."
"You're shaking." Gan wrapped his arms around Blake and held him close.
He pressed his face into Gan's neck. "I don't mean to."
"Shh." Then he tilted Blake's face up and kissed his mouth, gently. "I'll protect you, Blake. I'll always protect you."
"I want to feel again."
"You will." There were more soft kisses pressed to Blake's mouth. "You need rest, after I take care of that hand. Avon's handling your watch. I don't think that man ever sleeps."
"Will you stay with me?" It was a good thing it was Gan, reliable, undemanding Gan. Maybe Gan could make him feel. Maybe...
"I spent four years like this, I can't do it anymore."
"You won't have to, promise."
Later, the distance was closed by Gan's touch, the cracks in the mirror made invisible. Sweaty and warm, he promised to hold Gan to him forever.