Chapter Fourteen (You Make Me Real)

Missy felt...strange, as she dropped a couple thousand on new beds complete with tempurpedic mattresses and bedding. They were of vastly different styles but they shared a common trait in the sort of open style of the headboards. She wondered if Jax would notice that, and figure out why she'd chosen them. Knowing him? He would and then...Missy bit her lip even thinking about how his eyes would go darker blue, darker than any blue she'd ever seen when he got in that wanting mood and she actually found herself having to sit down. You got it bad, Miss. The upside being that she knew in her heart that Jax had it just that bad for her. Musing a bit, she pulled up Twitter and posted a little thing for him – a picture and she was looking pretty cute if she had to say so herself, hair up because she'd been working at the house again. A momentary pause, and she added Love Miami. Best decision I ever made was taking trip to interview with @bjaxsun

She didn't even care that she'd missed a word, because she meant it. Missy closed the tab, and went back to looking at bookmarked pages for furniture and so on when it hit her, and it hit her hard. What if I hadn't? What if I hadn't come to meet him, hadn't felt that spark? Her hand hovered over the mouse, frozen in mid-motion. "Stop this shit. You did. You're here, in his house right now...picking out furniture you both can stand, you fucked in the shower this morning. You're here. This is real." She bit her lip when she realized that she'd actually had to say it out loud, but the stupid part was she had needed to hear it. A sigh as she released her bite and she had a moment of just letting how it would have felt... how she had actually felt before that trip, if she was honest...wash over her.

Carefully, controlled, she stood up from the chair – it was one of those that was going to be replaced, so she didn't care so much that it tipped over anyway as she moved away from the desk. He was still here, but might not be for long so she rushed to where she thought he was, exhaling with relief to see him standing in the kitchen. She had no idea what her expression actually was, but she saw his brow start to rise so she imagined it wasn't all that composed. "Hey. Jax... I really, really need...fuck it." She crossed the kitchen floor and flung herself at him, arms sliding up around his neck and she pushed up with her toes even as she used her arms to pull her up further. He drew in a breath, probably going to ask her what was up but she exhaled and then melded her lips with his in a hot kiss. She could feel her lungs burning a little, she was going to have to break the kiss or...then she felt it as his arms tightened hard around her, and he gave her his breath. Missy felt like melting right then, and he let her break the kiss while he watched the almost mystified expression that had come to her face. Shaky, she spoke and that strange feeling of wonder hit her – I'm talking to him, with his breath.

"...woah."




The hallway was endless, the windows to his right covered in frost as though the winters he remembered in New York had somehow followed him to Florida – the glass was cold against his trailing fingertips, the lines they left in his wake serving as a sort of breadcrumb trail. Looking back over his shoulder, it stretched back until his vision blurred, making him dizzy and his pulse was racing when he turned back, desperate now to make it to the foyer. If she wasn't in the living room, he'd look upstairs. The glass was colder now, the ice thicker to where it was making his fingers ache and the view of the swimming pool beyond was completely obscured beyond that crystalline fog. Pulling his hand back, the fingertips were white, as though frostbite was starting; he started running, bare feet slapping against the hardwood, his breath condensing in front of him.

MISSY!

He opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out and then it felt like the ice was inside him, tagging along on the inhalation. His insides froze, lungs tight so that when he hit the doorway, he skidded to a stop, muscles locking up. The living room was empty, that hideous orange couch back even though they'd come to take it away a few days ago. He tried to turn towards the stairs but movement in his peripheral vision made his head whip towards the front door. It thumped against the wall, a blizzard raging on the other side so that a few inches of snow had drifted against the stoop. That beanie of hers rested there, as though it had been discarded in a hasty flight and his heart rose up, immediately freezing in his throat. He heard that crackling sound and knew the ice was overtaking the room behind him.

Even though his legs were half-frozen, he managed to stagger over to the door, gripping the frame with fingers that were starting to blacken at the tips and of course the knitted hat was the one with the patch that read FUCK YOU BUDDY – the message loud and clear. He fell to his knees there in the snow and ice, legs shattering on impact and then he was suffocating in that drift–

He sat bolt upright, disorientation making his head spin. He pressed a fist against his mouth to stifle the sound of the scream that was caught in his throat, finally dislodging with a sound that was more the grunt of a confused animal than a man. He shuddered, chilled to the core even though he was soaked in sweat. His pulse was pounding, his chest constricted to where he could barely breathe as his skin buzzed.

"Fuck no..." the words came out on a shuddering exhalation, but his brain was still caught in the dream and he reached out with one aching hand, finding the other side of the bed cooler than expected. "Miss?" The other groped for the touch lamp on the bedside table, swatting at it before squinting in the feeble glow. The bed was empty. He was alone in this goddamned house again.

"No..." he whispered, his voice breaking as a thousand repressed fears capered through his mind, "don't leave me here… please… I'll be... I'll do anything." He didn't sound like he was over forty – he sounded like a frightened child trying to strike a bargain.

There was never any Missy. You imagined her. And Carnage Wrestling. And Alex Kelly. A title shot handed to you on a silver platter? Hilarious. You don't deserve nice things. None of it's real. Couldn't even hold the gold against that GoT looking motherfucker in Uncensored. Lyv's gone. Nobody wants you. Nobody.

He screamed then, tears covering his face as he tried like hell to pull in a deep breath. He was hyperventilating and the bed was empty.

She's gone. She left you for good.

He felt the bed beside him, feeling the residual warmth there, but no body. Shaking his head violently, he slid to the floor, huddled against the bed with his knees up to his chest, panting and sweating.

"Missy… Miss… Miss..." he kept repeating her name in a broken whisper, rocking himself until his back started to hurt from slamming into the bed frame.

There is no Missy. None of it was real.

The voice kept whispering in the back of his head, until he was about to completely lose his mind. He groped in the drawer of the nightstand, finding the bottle of Xanax. He popped the top of it and fumbled, dropping the pills all over the floor. He found one by sheer luck and swallowed it dry, trying to keep from screaming again as the panic built. He couldn't keep it in.

"MISSY!" He shrieked her name at the top of his lungs, feeling something tear in his throat at the force of it.

She'd been walking back to the bedroom, it seemed like that hall from the kitchen to the shallow stairs that led up was longer when you were half-asleep and trying not to make more noise than necessary. Missy chided herself a little, she hadn't been forced to go downstairs to get a drink of water but that want for ice sort of forced her to. She'd just made it to the top of the stairs when she heard noise from the bedroom, was that thumping? Must have imagined that...then that shout. Her heart picked up pace so hard that she almost dropped the glass out of shock, and she didn't realize she was running until she skidded on the floor, almost hitting the doorframe in her haste. He didn't yell like that, something was wrong. Missy felt winded and totally off-balance, clutching that glass hard as her gaze swept the bedroom and she took shaky steps toward the bed once those big eyes of hers locked on Jax. Crunch. She looked down, having stepped on some sort of… didn't matter. She shakily set the tumbler of water down on the table, fuck why did I even want it and reached for him with her right hand, willing it to stop trembling. Her voice sounded so little, so ...scared and she didn't think to examine why. "Jax…? Baby, what's wrong?"

He recoiled before that touch came, scuttling back against the wall, eyes wide as they fixed on her but they were glazed, like he wasn't really seeing her, let alone the room they were in. "The ice…" the words came out hoarsely, muffled as he buried his face against his knees. "It… it's on the windows… inside."

Her dark eyes stung, and she lifted her left to swipe angrily across them with the back of it. Not now. The room was cold, but he liked it that way and usually he was so hot that even if she felt chilled she could just cuddle up to him and be fine. "Jax...hey." She edged toward the side of the bed, carefully sitting before she took a deep breath and tried so hard to think. Now that she was a little less on that adrenaline edge and a little more awake, it occurred to her what might be going on. She wanted to just put her arms around him, hold him and tell him it was fine, but he needed to come to her...that's how you did it, right? Missy bit her lip, trying to think of what might break through to him. "...well, we don't want that. You...you know how cold I get, right? I mean look at me over here with no blanket. Just one of your shirts."

"Didn't take your hat… what're you thinking, Miss? Gonna catch your death out there… I gotta… I…" turning his head, he looked in her direction, letting out a shuddering breath. "Doesn't snow in Miami…" he mumbled, like he was trying to rationalize the dream that wouldn't loosen its grip on his panic-stricken mind.

"Must have forgotten it… hey, but you could warm me up. If you wanted to." She kept her tone soft, but shivered a little herself, rubbing her arms with her hands. "Hey, I kinda need you...Jax. I'm right here…" She wanted to launch herself across the bed so bad, almost vibrating with the need to do it, but she reined herself in, trying to almost will him to cross that distance.

"Nobody needs me," he sounded so sad, so broken even though he actually looked at her this time, his eyes actually seeming to focus on her.

"No, don't you dare. Because that's not true. Not even a little." She took a hard breath, that stinging behind her eyes back with a vengeance and she felt those hot tears spill out. Fucking hell, like he needs to see that right now? "Don't you get it? I need you, Jax. I really need you, you're like air for me. I can't...Jesus Christ Jax. Fuck." She furiously wiped her eyes, blinking and trying to clear them after. "Don't you get it? You got me to say I love you."

Those tears – why was she crying? He blinked, staring at her in confusion as the rest of the dream finally fell away, leaving his chest and limbs aching thanks to the damned panic attack that was finally starting to abate. "Hey…" his voice caught, his throat burning as he swallowed. "Hey… what… babe? Why are you crying?"

"...because ...it's stupid. Just hey, don't you ever doubt that I need you, and I mean that." Missy suppressed the urge to sniffle like a brat child, and took a breath. "So about you maybe, coming over here and just, make it better. Can we do that?" She tried wiping her eyes again, and was kind of hoping he wouldn't question her about it because the last thing she could do was lie to him.

"Yeah…" he groaned, straightening out his legs before bracing his hands on the edge of the mattress, boosting himself back up. As soon as his butt was on the bed, he held out his arms to her. "C'mere, beautiful."

Missy exhaled hard, and nodded before she scooted across the bed to him, melting against him and she didn't care he was still sweaty, not one bit. She closed her eyes a moment, before sliding her arms around him. "There we go." A softer murmur. "Hey, you know...I really feel that way, when you say it like that. When you call me beautiful."

"Good," he hugged her tight against him, pressing his lips to the top of her head, "sorry if I scared you… just… had one of those moments. Guess I went to sleep thinking about what life would be like without you and… well, it wasn't pretty, anyhow." He sounded embarrassed. "Haven't had one of those in a really long time."

Her voice was so low he might think he'd misheard her at first. "We need to stop doing that to ourselves." Missy sighed soft, nuzzling against his chest. "Well, I'm not going anywhere without you right with me. I can't, no...that's not right. I don't want to. Kinda putting all my cards on the table, Boss." A little hint of a smile was on her lips even though she didn't realize it. "So how about we just remember this is real. Me, you...all this. Because if it's not, I'm going to shank a higher power, swear to God."

"It's real." He repeated, vehemence in his tone. "You're real."