Insomnia

Home : Stories by Catw00man/Stories by Zippit : MBN Universe : Insomnia

Summary: Control is an illusion

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: Hard R
SERIES/SETTING: MBN Universe
CHARACTERS: Jeff Gordon, Jeff POV
PROMPT: Taming the Muse #27 (#2 for me) - Hamartia
COMPLETED: January 27, 2007, Revised November 22, 2009
WORDS: 2,291
DISCLAIMER: I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok, this is more of the dark and twisted MBN Universe and takes place the same night as Outsider.  Basically this is what happens after Jeff goes home after his encounter with Kevin in the bar. 
AUTHOR'S WARNING:  This fic is…a bit dark and refers to some not so nice images.  There is nothing explicit here, but references are made and to be honest…Jeff really isn’t a very nice guy here.
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North Carolina Condo: September 27, 2005

I can’t sleep.

Ok, maybe that’s not exactly true. I won’t sleep. At least, I won’t when I’m not alone.

Not again.

Glance over at the exhausted boy sleeping beside me and see there’s no peace to his features even now, not with all I put him through. He has one hand fisted in the sheets and I can only imagine what he’s dreaming. Look away but don’t miss the lines in his brow that are way too deep for someone his age. I should send him home soon. I shouldn’t have let him stay this long. But he was so tired, and he did everything I asked of him tonight no matter how harsh I was to him. Shake my head. I shouldn’t be so cruel…not when I know he’s idolized me most of his young life.

Slip out of bed silently and move across the dark room with practiced ease. Pick up my full length, silk robe from the dresser and slip it on as I head out of the bedroom. I need to get away from him. Pull the robe tight, not so much to keep warm as to cover myself completely, and make my way through the unlit condo to the kitchen. I need a drink. Cross over to the liquor cabinet and pull out a half full bottle of Crown. Fix myself a large glass, nothing but whiskey and ice, then take a long drink. I never should have gotten involved with Boston or Blake.

But they made it so damn easy.

Turn to lean against the counter so I’m facing away from the bedroom and take another drink but it doesn’t stop the memories from playing through my mind. Boston was barely 21 when Ricky started talking about bringing in young “development” drivers, and I wasted no time in mentioning that I knew a promising kid from Indiana. A kid who actually still carries an autographed copy of my rookie card in his wallet. I swear I didn’t even have to try. He practically worshiped at my feet already.

Blake was almost 22 when Ricky introduced us and I instantly saw the same thing in him, a young kid ready and willing to do anything to make the big time. From day one they both looked at me with stars in their eyes…just like another set of adoring eyes used to. I should have left it alone. But just like it was with the others I couldn’t help myself. So when Ricky got it all worked out, got them the chance to share a Busch car with another young driver it all started again.

I really don’t think either one of them knew what they were in for.

But I did. I’d played the whole game before. I knew before the season was halfway over I’d have them both in my bed, corrupting them in ways they’d never imagined. And it’d be so easy. I’d use all my knowledge and influence as a four time champion to take everything I wanted. A little encouragement here and there from the one who helped get them a shot and they’d have no choice. They’d owe me. All I’d have to do was get them alone, individually of course, and seduce them…just like I did the ones before. Then they’d be mine.

And I’d be in control.

Clench my hand tight around the glass and take another long swallow of the burning alcohol before filling it to the brim again. Shove the bottle back in the cabinet, pausing only for a moment as my eyes linger over a prescription bottle hidden in the back. No, no I don’t need to get into that now, not while the kid’s here. Force myself to turn away and shuffle into the dark living room. Drop down on the couch and exchange my glass for the pack of cigarettes on the end table. Light one, take a slow drag and watch as the exhaled smoke curls through the moonlit room.

Control.

My life’s always been about control in one way or another. It’s just been a matter of whether or not I was the one who had it. My hand trembles as I bring the cigarette to my lips again, but I’m too wrapped up in keeping certain memories at bay to worry about an unsteady hand. Blow out the smoke and try to find that elusive control I’ve worked so hard to maintain. I’ve spent years making sure I’d never lose it again, that my life would remain stable. That’s part of why I signed the lifetime contract with Rick. No one can touch that. No one can make me leave where I feel safe. I’ll drive for him or I won’t drive at all. And that same permanency is why I pushed Jimmie so much, why I needed him to submit to me totally, why I wanted him to….

Squeeze my eyes shut and snuff out my cigarette as I feel a raw aching pain inside at the very thought of him. Bring my hand to my face and rub my temples as I try to push back the image of those amber eyes picking up the light of the sun and directing it straight into my heart. Of chocolate brown eyes that would become almost black with desire as he cried out my name in passion or longing. He was mine. He swore it on everything we ever held sacred. He was mine and he always would be. 

“Jimmie…” I whisper softly and reach for my drink. Swallow it down and seek the cold emptiness I find deep inside when the pain becomes too much. He’s the one who betrayed me. He’s the one who left when he swore he wouldn’t. Now I wonder if he knows how much pain he’s caused others at my hand just because their eyes weren’t the right shade of brown.

Reach for the pack of smokes again and light another as a myriad of images run through my mind, memory after memory, so many more bad than good and all the recent ones go back to him. Jimmie gave me the control I needed…that we both needed. He let me be who I thought I needed to be and I held my control so tight with him. I never cracked, never wavered, never showed a hint of weakness. I had someone else for that, and I guess if tonight was any indication, I guess I still do. But then it all started to slip, the world took more and more of him and I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let him go….

And I slipped.

Squeeze my eyes shut as I remember the feeling of conscious thought slipping away, of the cruelty coming out that I couldn’t reign in. I did the one thing I swore I never would. I acted like--. I lost myself and I didn’t even see him anymore. And I hurt him. I hurt the one I loved more than anything and he walked away, and I didn’t have the right to follow. Not after everything I’d done. I broke him down so much, forced his dependence on me, his complete and utter trust in me and then shattered it all in an instant. It’s no wonder he still can’t look me in the eye.

But that goes both ways, doesn’t it? I can’t face him anymore than he can face me. Stare blankly into the dark room and distance myself from the pain the way I have ever since he walked away. I feel cold, even though the room is more than warm enough. No, this cold is on the inside and something I perfected long before Jimmie ever came into my life. This is the chill of survival, the hard reality that the world is a vicious place and we are all just pawns in the web. The only question is who’s spinning the web.

After Jimmie left, the answer was me.

He made me fall, even though I was the supposed to be the one in control. He was the submissive…how did he end up with all the power? It never worked that way for m--

Shake my head and take another long drink, forcibly pushing thoughts from my mind that I refuse to deal with or even acknowledge. Better to think about Jimmie no matter how much it hurts. Swirl the ice around in my glass and swallow hard. After him I swore I’d never get caught up in emotion again. That’s why I let him go instead of forcing him to be mine. Even though I had every right to I couldn’t. I loved him too much and I couldn’t take the chance that I might slip again.

That’s when I really turned into a monster.

Brian, Blake, Boston, it’s all a fucking blur. Crying, begging, I can still hear them. Or is it me?

Shake my head and lift my glass to down the rest of the whiskey but it’s already gone. Bring the cigarette to my lips but it’s all turned to ash. The world is spinning. I didn’t take any pills…did I?

No. No, I’m the one in control here. Boston knows it. So does Bla--

Push off the couch and quickly make my way back to the kitchen to pour another drink. I need to make my mind go blank. I need to make it all stop. But it won’t. Not anymore. The haunting images won’t let me go even in sleep. My hand shakes as I refill the glass, whiskey spilling onto the counter, and I can’t keep the real reason why I won’t sleep out of my mind.

I’m scared.

More like terrified.

Squeeze the glass until my knuckles are white. I need to get rid of the boy. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t take the chance of losing it again…of getting lost in a dream--nightmare--all over again. It was so wrong. Everything was so damn wrong.

It was weeks ago with the other one, Blake. It was his turn in my bed and I remember him passing out from exhaustion with all I put him through. And he still trusted me. He trusted me so much his arms stayed wrapped tightly around me even as he slept.

And then it happened.

I fell asleep and everything began to crack. All my hard fought walls I’d built around myself crumbled as if they’d never been there at all. My control--was it ever really mine?--began falling away as if it were nothing and the past I buried so deep came back in vibrant Technicolor.

I was with…him…and he was cruel and brutal and vicious. He hurt me. Dominated me. Abused me and I couldn’t make it stop. I couldn’t even make a sound because I knew all too well the consequences for disobedience. Memories I’d suppressed--or tried to--came back full force and I was the same weak. pathetic, twisted creature again. But it was so much worse.

“No!” I scream and hurl my glass across the room, not even flinching as it hits the wall and shatters in a shower of glass and whiskey. The whiskey slides down the wall and for the briefest instant I swear it’s crimson and not amber. Shake my head and slide down the cabinets to the floor and cover my face. Why can’t I make it go away?

I don’t even really remember waking from the dream as my own screams echoed in my ears.  I don’t even really remember taking out all that pain and horror on the boy in my bed.  I swear it couldn’t have been me.  I swear I really wasn’t turned on by the imagined tortures in my head.  No, no that couldn’t be me.  I can’t really be that fucked up.  I can’t really be that…evil.

I have to make them go away. Boston. Blake. God, if I could I’d even get rid of Brian. I can’t bear to see the accusations in their eyes anymore. I’m slipping, cracking and it’s falling all apart. My control is a lie. It’s always been a lie. I haven’t changed. I should’ve seen it with everything I’ve done to Havoc. I haven’t changed. I’m still the same twisted fuck he made me…. Tears run down my cheeks I barely feel and I crawl over to the open laptop on the kitchen table.  Climb into the seat and numbly start to run on automation, opening windows until I pull up the “journal” Havoc convinced me to create. He uses it to let me know where he’ll be…not that he’s actually expecting me to be there. I know how the game works. My eyes scan blankly over his crude entry for the night, the one letting me know he was going to be at the bar, even though I’d never admit that’s why I went.

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Catw00man & Zippit - mbn@cryptoffic.com