Open

[deductiongeek]

Who: Conan and Anyone
Where: Gym Car
When: Middle of the night, Egret 23
What: Insomnia and dealing with things. Conan is not okay.

It was the middle of the night, and Conan was wide awake and kicking a soccerball against the wall of the gym car. As the ball rebounds off the wall again he catches it with the back of his heel and kicks it right back at the same spot on the wall.

He'd been at this for a while now. The gym car was far enough away from the sleeping cars that he shouldn't be bothering anyone, and he didn't really feel like laying out a game of solitaire tonight.

Comments

[deductiongeek]

If I was trying to dent the train, I'd have to kick a lot harder than this.

[It wasn't even a lie. His one item had been his kick shoes.]

"This is accuracy practice."

[sendiintheclown]

[Trowa nodded at that.]

When you're ready, I'll listen.

[He wasn't going to push, that would only shut the kid down.]

[deductiongeek]

Listen to what? My soccer practice?

[sendiintheclown]

"To what woke you up." Trowa sat on the floor, the soles of his feet touching as he pressed his knees toward the floor.

[deductiongeek]

Conan stares at him for a long moment, weighing his thoughts.

"Just some bad dreams," he says at last.

[sendiintheclown]

"I know from experience that pushing you to talk won't work, so take your time. I'll listen." Trowa gave Conan the most reassuring look he could manage. Pushing someone to talk would only ensure that they shut down even harder.

[deductiongeek]

Conan stares at Trowa for a long moment. This wasn't the usual approach people took with him, and he found it surprisingly hard to just brush it off like he did to other attempts to get him to talk.

"It was just some memories from home," he says at last. "Things like that come up in dreams sometimes.

[sendiintheclown]

Shifting to sit cross legged, Trowa just looked at Conan. "Those can be the worst sometimes. Giving you thoughts of how you could have done everything different, or how it could have all gone worse."

[deductiongeek]

Conan shrugs as he sits down on the ground beside Trowa.

"Logically, I know that none of it is real." But dreams were the one place his logic was not of much help."

[sendiintheclown]

Trowa hesitated for a moment before resting a hand on Conan's back. "Logic is rarely the driving force in dreams." His voice was soft and understanding, he knew how Conan felt all too well.

[deductiongeek]

"It should be," he grumbles. He doesn't say anything to feeling Trowa's hand on his back, but he does tense slightly.

[sendiintheclown]

Trowa's hand moved to Conan's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "It can in lucid dreaming sometimes, but it's not easy to do that in the middle of a nightmare."

[deductiongeek]

"I don't ever have lucid dreams," he says bluntly. It was nightmares or nothing. And that had become even more true over the last few months.

[sendiintheclown]

Trowa's frown deepened a little. "No one is going to hurt you on this train. I know that's not enough to stop nightmares, but I hope it'll help you sleep a little easier."

[deductiongeek]

And that was precisely the problem. It was possible, certainly. But the paranoia he'd picked up over the last year kept telling him that it was just as possible that one of them was already on the train. He'd only ever learned the faces of a small number of the Organization, after all. And of those he knew at least one was a master of disguise.

But he forces a small mile. "Don't worry about me. I get enough sleep."

[sendiintheclown]

Trowa could tell that Conan was still worrying about something, that he was scared of something, but he wasn't sure what that might be. The sleep comment, however, made his lips twitch up into a smile. "Uh huh. And that Peter kid is as graceful as a dancer."