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Astarion has had nightmares for years, ever since he ran from Cazador’s soul-sucking grip. Despite the physical distance, horrors from his past will always plague him and follow every step he takes. Sometimes they appear suddenly, a dream of tinkering floating bots turning into victims of Cazador’s, their bodies oozing with stale blood and foul-smelling oil. They scream in pain, and Astarion can do nothing but keep sucking the liquid from their bodies until he has enough to bleed later on for Cazador’s clients.
When he wakes, it is always silent. His body does not move, and tears always stream down his cheeks that keep flowing no matter how many times he wipes them. If he’s tired enough, the tears feel just like blood.
However, since finding an unexpected friend in none other than a lucky dumpster dive, only one thing has changed in his nightly nightmares. And it’s that he never wakes alone.
A few nights after acquiring his android, Astarion noticed that every time he awoke from his nightmares Gale would be doing something in the flat. He would make quiet noises – little hums, soft footsteps, things being rearranged – that did nothing other than act as background noise for the turmoil inside his head.
Yet these little noises acted as the most perfect distraction for his spiraling. Quite often, he would attempt to figure out what Gale might be doing. If he was humming a lot, Astarion would bet money that Gale would have either a book in his hand or be smelling those damn plants. When he heard high-pitched dinks, that meant Gale was repairing some machine or other. Focusing on Gale meant that Astarion didn’t have to focus on himself, or his thoughts.
On the nights that Gale was running errands or volunteering for some obscure job for even more obscure rewards – Fish. How did Gale even get fish legally? – Astarion would wake up to silence, and silence meant that his thoughts were louder than any gunfight could ever be. Those nights he would be up for hours, reluctant to ever go back to sleep. But never afraid, no. He could not afford to be afraid, because once he was afraid, he would not stop looking over his shoulder and fearing Cazador to be hiding within every shadow.
One morning, Astarion was too tired to hide that he was ehis exhaustion. And Gale, his insufferable yet endearing android, noticed.
Gale greeted him, “Good morning, Astarion! How did you sleep?”
“Alright,” Astarion responded while picking at his omelet. It was delicious, which only exacerbated his bad mood. “I slept.” He couldn’t even muster the energy to look up.
Gale’s eyes scanned Astarion, shutters clicking near-silently as he processed the man before him. “Well, my analysis shows otherwise. Optimal sleep ranges from six to ten hours to maintain peak energy levels. If you cannot find yourself tired enough at bedtime, there are other activities we may participate in that should increase melatonin levels naturally.”
This bloody android, Astarion thought, has no idea how that sounded. “I fall asleep just fine, thank you,” He snapped, and did not let himself feel bad. That was for later. “If falling asleep was the issue, I could just knock myself out on a rusted arm.”
The omelet seemed to droop with Gale, yet only the android could straighten up again. “Since you’re tired to the point of snapping at me, I assume there’s more to this than simply lack of sleep. I want to help you, Astarion, and as your personal care android I must insist you inform me of any factors that are keeping you from getting a good night’s rest.”
Astarion was silent for a minute, and Gale met his silence with that stupid grin of his. It almost seemed shameful to admit that he had nightmares as a man over thirty, but this was Gale he was talking to. Gale, who always had Astarion’s own interests and safety in mind – even at the cost of the android’s own. And that fact made him open up a little, even if reluctantly.
“Nightmares,” he started, unsure of how much he could talk about without feeling the need to either punch someone or cry. “They keep me up at night, sometimes.”
Gale was quiet for a moment, before asking, “How often do they keep you up?”
Astarion’s silence was probably not the best response, because Gale asked again, “Astarion, how often do you have them?”
He shifted uneasily before replying, “…almost every night.”
“Every night? Astarion, why didn’t you call for me?”
Now Astarion is annoyed again. “Well, it’s not like you can wave a hand and make me sleep peacefully. Even if I did, nothing would change. I would just be bothering you, and you already do so much for me. There’s no reason to add more to the pile, and I’ve been dealing with it for years on my own.”
Apparently that was the wrong response because Gale looked like he was about to go on a tangent. “First of all, you are never a bother. And especially not if you require comfort or someone to talk to. That is what I’m here for, as both android and friend, whether you like it or not. Next time you have a nightmare, call for me or send me a message on my echoband if I’m out. Let me help you, Astarion. Please,” he stated firmly, brows furrowed with concern.
This level of concern never fails to make Astarion uncomfortable. He never knows what to do with so much affection, and especially from someone he cares about. It’s all so new and soft and he’s at a loss.
“Okay,” Astarion replied. “And thank you, Gale.”
Of course, that very same night he was dragged into the bowels of a nightmare that woke him up only after the darkest memories replayed like a broken radio. He lay there in bed, sweating and shaky from adrenaline, when he heard Gale pittering around the flat doing who knows what.
Astarion sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Lingering adrenaline coursed through his body, shaking his hands and mind so neither could function right.
A glass of water sits on his bedside each night, and tonight was no different. After a quick sip, Astarion got up and walked over to the privacy screen then promptly sat back down in front of it.
He wiped a hand across his face, contemplating whether or not he should say anything. Honestly, Astarion didn’t want to because it felt like he was nothing but a child who feared their own imagination. Gale would see how weak he is, how pitiful, and decide to leave.
Just the thought of Gale leaving him behind like that sprung tears to his eyes. They never fell, but Astarion doesn’t know whether these thoughts are just an exaggerated conjuring of his tired mind or things that could actually happen.
On the flip side, if he did tell Gale, what would the android do? Maybe talk his ear off about the ancient rituals of those who worshipped Silvanus, or brew him a cup of tea from a home-grown tea. Gale would probably be insufferably wonderful and exactly what Astarion needs. And that is frightening.
It seems more time has passed than originally thought. Through the privacy screen, Astarion saw the first few hints of light that indicated morning was arriving. Unfortunately, the city is always bright, lit by headache-inducing advertisements and colors that corporations use to catch your eye. But when morning arrives, the lights become slightly softer – diluted, almost, by the few rays of sunshine that manage to pierce the clouds.
Gale’s shuffling seemed to grow quieter, too, as if he either sensed Astarion was awake or was mindful of disturbing his ‘sleep’. It wasn’t long before Astarion ‘woke up’, and Gale acted the same as ever – nothing showed that Gale knew he was already up, and life carried on as usual.
-
Since his little flat was broken into, and his Blood was destroyed by Cazador’s goons, his nightmares started getting even worse. And without the energy that his medicine provided, he had no mental shields left to guard against his nightmares.
The first night after the break-in, Astarion couldn’t sleep. Gale had not left the flat for errands, and instead pittered about the flat or scrolled on his echoband. It’s almost funny; Astarion knew which sounds meant what, now. Gale has just as much of a routine as any human.
No sleep came to him for the two nights following the break-in. Gale still had not left, and the lack of sleep was catching up to him.
It all came to a crux when Astarion was so tired he dozed off while tinkering on a junkyard bionic arm, and zapped himself awake.
“Bloody fucking machine-“ He exclaimed, and of course Gale started walking over to check his vitals. But Astarion couldn’t let him do that, because then Gale would know he hadn’t been sleeping even though he’s been hiding it so well-
Gale must have read his mind because the android moved quicker than Astarion’s deteriorated human body could. It only took a moment for the scan to process, and Gale’s face shifted from concern to even more concern. Or anger. They both look quite similar.
“I could never be angry with you, Astarion. I’m concerned. Your brain is emitting waves consistent with chronic exhaustion, as well as your hormone levels being-“
Astarion interrupted, “Thank you, Gale. I know.”
The android slightly resembled a wide-eyed puppy. “Then why didn’t you say anything? As your personal care android I-“
“-I didn’t think it was necessary,” Astarion snapped back, too tired to care how annoyed he sounded. Gale looked increasingly frustrated as he continued talking. “And I’ve been managing just fine for my whole life, so I can manage just fine for the rest of it.”
“’Managing fine’, he says. You just shocked yourself with an electrical device. If you don’t want to talk to me because you’re afraid to – I understand, but remember, I’m your friend. And you are my friend, too. Friends help each other, right? That’s what you’ve taught me. I would never judge you for something you cannot control.” Gale is most insufferable when he’s right. And he’s right way too often.
A moment passed, and Astarion turned fully to Gale. “I… don’t really mean to be so cagey about this. There hasn’t been a moment in my life where I could talk to someone about such things as nightmares. It isn’t easy, you know. Pesky little emotions. Bad memories.”
“If you don’t want to talk about it, that's fine. After recent events, I can confidently concur that your nightmares are keeping you awake more now that the safety of our home has been compromised. If it would soothe your mind, even a little, I can stay beside you while you rest, and guard you more closely.”
Astarion thought about it for a moment. And then another. And realized that yes, it might help to know that Cazador can’t physically get him in his sleep. Only his mind would be vulnerable, then.
“Okay,” Astarion states in a slightly unsure tone. “I think we can… try this.”
At night, Gale merely pulled up a three-legged stool next to the mattress and began reading a book titled, ‘Axron the Divided and His Principles of Theoretical Matter’. Completely boring, but exactly something Gale would read.
They exchanged goodnights, and Astarion tossed and turned for twenty minutes unable to get comfortable with another person’s presence nearby.
“Are you uncomfortable?” Gale asks suddenly, startling him. “I can fetch an extra blanket from the corner if you’d like.”
“It’s generous to call that scrap of cloth a blanket, but I’m not uncomfortable.”
“Ah, so this is more of a psychosomatic cause. Talking about it might help.”
Astarion turned over to face Gale, who had put his book down. The android’s full attention was directed at him.
“It’s just-“ Astarion couldn’t find the right words, and ended up with, “-I feel like nowhere is safe, including here, because Cazador can barge in at any moment, and what can I actually do against him? I can’t run, I can’t fight, I can’t freeze, because all of that means I lose. And I can’t lose again, I can’t go back, Gale, I can’t go back.”
Astarion struggled to hold back his tears, though only one or two escaped. Gale stood up and put his book down on the stool, then sat on the mattress next to Astarion.
“I will not let him take you, Astarion. I swear on all that I am that he will not have you,” Gale declared. The android had a look in his eyes that seemed to pierce through Astarion’s own soul and the light on his chest was a silvery green. Confident, maybe. “Trust in me to protect you as I have time and time again, and will continue to do so for as long as I exist in the same world as you.”
“…I trust you,” Astarion murmured, and laid on his back. “And thank you, Gale. For everything.”
“No need to thank me. It is always my absolute pleasure,” he responded and moved to stand up. Astarion’s hand moved before he could think and grabbed Gale’s wrist.
“…ah, my apologies,” he said, and quickly let go.
Gale stared at his wrist where Astarion grabbed it, then looked directly at him. “Would you like me to stay here for the night?”
Astarion didn’t know what he wanted, honestly. But he did know that having Gale beside him was safer than having Gale across the room. “Yes,” he started warily, “But if It makes you uncomfortable, don’t feel obligated.”
Gale’s light shifted to a light pink, and the android reached over to grab his book before settling in the bed. “It is no trouble at all. And the bed is quite comfy, no? Beats sitting on a stool all night.”
Astarion snorted. “Oh, yes, the stool is uncomfortable for the man who I have watched hunch over his echoband like a ghoul for hours on end. I see, I see.”
“The intricacies of androids are extraordinarily vast,” Gale began in a tone that indicated a lecture – which Astarion was way too tired for. “In fact, two-hundred and forty-four years ago there was a scientist named J’afaar Qel Doussal that incorporated the Ventis Diagram into research on how microprocessors reacted to outside stimuli that produced results that varied from…”
Gale’s voice had a melodic tone to it, shifting up and down in a way that Astarion’s brain had such an easy time following. He did not listen to the words Gale was saying, but instead followed the tune of them until they lulled him into a restful sleep.
Though he did wake from nightmares once, Gale was there to act as his rock both literally and metaphorically. It took a few nights until he felt comfortable opening up a bit about the contents of his nightmares; they were not met with scorn, but instead understanding. And Astarion later wondered what he was so afraid of because, in the end, there was nothing to be afraid of – not with Gale by his side.