Y/N is abducted by aliens part 4 (Patreon)

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part 1

part 2

part 3 

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iv.

Can she hear?

Make her listen!

Listen, is she listening!

Make her listen!

She’s hurting.

Quiet! Can’t think.

“Y/N?” Harry’s voice pierces through the fog her brain had been misted over with, encouraging her eyelids to flutter open and reacquaint with the daylight (which, no matter how gloomy the day, was still quite bright). His hand was resting on her knee with his body cranked around in the seat to face her, “Sweetheart, we’re pulling through for food now. Were you dreaming?”

She presses a hand to her forehead, nodding, and though she tries to find a suitable answer for him, she’s hyper fixated on the warmth of his palm. It cuts through the chill that had entered her bones from the window being rolled down as they inch closer and closer to the speaker at a drive-thru. Y/N doesn’t recognize the place, but the possibility of eating something manufactured and greasy makes her mouth water (hell, anything at this point might make her mouth water -- she’d always loved eating the fact that she had to go a month without chocolate dipped pretzels might just be what depressed her the most about her situation).

Y/N was always a bit boggled after sleep, and she finds it was even harder for her to reorient herself to the present when her mind is attempting desperately to sort through misplaced memories. Though at least now she finds it’s much easier for her to remember while she’s sleeping, even if it’s only bits and pieces, it’s more than she had before.

She needed to tell Harry -- she should tell him, but she’s a bit shy to do it around Mitch. Y/N understood he knew the situation at hand, but she still felt. . .weird. She felt odd speaking about being taken away by aliens, or her time spent in the lab, or the possibilities of what they were going to do with her afterward with him around. Not because she didn’t trust him, but because a certain embarrassment suckled away at her typical confidence to discuss any problem at hand thoroughly like she usually does.

Not only that, but she was having trouble deciding what was an actual memory and what was her mind trying to fill in blanks. Was she actually hearing aliens worried about her being in pain? Or was her brain just so desperate to understand what had happened, it was scrambling to create a narrative that had otherwise been non-existent? Until she could figure it out, she felt that she should keep her mouth closed, no matter how hard it was.

But for now, she would be quiet, and instead, she only tells him, “I think I was having a nightmare,” before immediately changing the subject, “What am I allowed to eat? That won’t be too much?”

Harry seemed skeptical but let her have it, turning toward the menu that they slowly rolled closer to, “Do you like eggs? We can try one of their breakfast sandwiches -- they have some good ones on a bagel. And we’ll do a water, yeah? Does that sound good?”

“Yeah, that’s good,” she reaches out her arms, stretching the muscles that had stiffened in her position, rolling her neck around back and forth, “You’re eating too right?”

“Mhm -- reckon I’ll have the same thing.”

The drive-thru is uneventful, as is them eating, and Y/N is thankful for it. She was still weary but felt as if no more sleep would come to her, whatever had been left of the sedative had worked its way clear through her system. While it was tempting to try and nap again with a full belly, it instead gave her a small boost of energy that she hadn’t had in a long while. Nothing crazy, but enough that she didn’t feel so heavy as they drove, and her mind was moving enough for her to fully comprehend the situation at hand.

“So where is it exactly that we’re going?” She finally asked, about ten minutes after she’d finished her bagel and drank half of her water, hoping that the fluid didn’t induce a needed bathroom break too near in the future, “Can I know?”

“Of course you can know. We aren’t in that facility anymore, Sweetheart, any questions you want answered you’ll get answered no matter what they are,” he started off, “We’re on our way to a cabin that I purchased long ago under an alias so, in the off chance they were able to pinpoint I was the one who took you, they would be unable to find us.” He reached forward, tilting the vents so they were directed more toward her than they had been, “It’s pretty deep in the forest and while it isn’t on the cover of Ideal Home it isn’t an eyesore. . .I visit it every year to make sure that bears haven’t set up shop, but this will be my first time here this year so fingers crossed they haven’t.”

Y/N blinks at him, “There’re bears?”

“Not too many, but enough where you should keep your eye out,” Mitch chirps in, “There was a story about a bear once that opened up a door ‘cos it was unlocked and the man who owned the house woke up with it in his kitchen tearing through his bread.”

Harry looks at Mitch like he might have just told a child that the boogeyman was real, mouth just barely agape and brows furrowed as he murmured, “Fuck sake, Mitch --” he began before shaking his head, “You don’t have to worry about bears, I was only joking. They’re further into the mountains than we are.” He turned so he was looking at her again, “I wouldn’t bring you somewhere, where bears might be a serious threat.”

“You shouldn’t discredit them entirely th--”

“Mitch!”

“There’s food there and everything?” Y/N cuts them off before Harry could start scolding him, and it takes his attention back toward her, “Or do we scavenge for berries?”

A smile pulls at his lips and makes her warm, “The only scavenging we might do would be for firewood but there’s a small town not too far from it where we can stock up on supplies. The goal is to not be there too terribly long, but we’ll go over the semantics of that when we’re there and settled. Is that good?”

“Yes, that’s good, sorry.”

“Babe, I’m not gonna say it again,” he shifted to face forward, “Stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Harry could say it until he was blue in the face, Y/N knew she’d keep apologizing until she was blue on her own.

.                         .                       .

Y/N’s bladder had always disliked her.

From a young age, she was always the one who asked to stop first on road trips, ask the teacher if she could use the bathroom, laugh so hard that she might wee herself. She wants to believe it's because she drank so much water that her system was always flushing out and she was incredibly healthy and free of toxins, but she knows likely she just has the bladder of a toddler. Her friends always say she needed to revert back to Pampers since she always had to go.

Which led her to this very moment, having needed to wee for about thirty minutes and trying to muster the courage to ask for them to pull over. They were finally passing through another town where they could pull through a gas stop, but for the life of her, she just didn’t want to ask. Not when they were something short of being on the run -- if they got caught because of her baby bladder she would have to throw herself right off a bridge. But each dip in the road or pothole made the need swell and swell until she was certain if she waited another ten minutes she would have wet herself all over Mitch’s leather seats.

And, almost as if they were connected by an invisible string, Harry turns to look back at her, “How are we doing?” He asks before his gaze settles on her crossed legs and the tight, uncomfortable look that had been set on her face. A realization slips over his face as she replies with a short nod and a lie of, good and he subtly, and playfully rolls his eyes at her. The tiniest of smiles gently pulls at his lips as he rests a hand on his lower belly, “Mitch, I dunno’ bout you mate but I’ve had to piss for the past thirty minutes. Could we take a detour?”

“Of course you’d have to,” Mitch, checks his blindspot before switching his blinker on, “You’re lucky I want a chocolate bar or I would’ve told you tough titty.”

The station they pull around to is a bit dingy, and a little unsettling but Y/N cared very little. She’d downed an entire large water in the span of about ten minutes an hour earlier, so she was in no mood to be picky with the place she emptied her bladder. And while she had attempted to act like Harry really was the one who needed to go to the bathroom, she all but ran toward the store, smiling just barely at the man behind the register before tripping over her feet to the bathroom in the far back corner. She has to press through a hallway with a mop bucket filled with some lemony scent and broomstick with red bristles just covered in dust bunnies.

Y/N had never been so thankful to hover over a toilet before, and after that, she had never been so thankful to walk out of the toilet and see Harry standing at the entrance, “You’re good?”

“Nice and emptied,” she grins and Harry chuckles, shaking his head, “Thanks for that, I get a little embarrassed when it comes to it. You think I’d have gotten over it since I was practically pissing on camera for a month. . .for free mind you.”

“Absolutely awful, reckon they should pay you about a billion for all of the shite you’d gone through -- if I could I would,” he motions toward the rest of the store, “And while I don’t necessarily have the funds to provide you with billions, I can do short term goals of slushies and a small snack. Could hear your stomach grumbling from the front seat.”

Placing a hand over her tummy, she tries not to let her brows furrow as she notably scolds her stomach for being so loud, “I thought you said I couldn’t eat too much?”

“Too much too quickly is what I meant to say,” he corrects himself, “I think it’s better for you to start out with frequent small meals as opposed to a massive drive-thru order. Once we get to the cabin and have groceries and all that sorted, I’ll make you a proper meal. Maybe I’ll even let Mitch have a plate before he sets off.”

“Sets off?” She follows him as he walks toward the sweets, “Is he not staying with us?”

Harry shakes his head as he reaches for a shiny blue bag of chocolate dipped pretzels and the sight of them makes her heart race, “Not at the cabin. He’ll be about a thirty-minute drive from where we’re staying.”

She was going to be alone with Harry, which meant a few things. One of those things meant that she should probably also be proactive in their protection, whether that be just knowing when something is out of the ordinary with her surroundings or concocting thorough escape routes as she does for almost every other place she’s been to (she tried a few times when she was stuck in the bunker, but all of her plans always ended realistically with her getting a tranquilizer dart to the bum so she gave up). Another one of those things meant that she really needed to keep this festering crush she had developed in way better check than she had been.

It was hard not to. Not only was he just unreasonably gorgeous, but he was soft and kind, and literally broke her out of a prison. . .but she wondered how much of her feelings toward him were actual feelings, and what was just manufactured in her head. Y/N had done a research paper once, on the effects of someone who falls in love with their first responder. Was that what she was doing? Or did she genuinely like him? Or was she just in a shitty situation and he was the only person who had shown her even an ounce of tenderness and care when she was going through something so terrifying that everybody else was treating like an everyday occurrence?

Whatever it was, she knew who she was, and as much as she would like to think she could keep it strictly professional -- when it came to her brain and her heart, the latter took the reins nine times out of ten. If he so much as wished her a good night she would probably be seconds from getting on her knee and asking for his hand.

God, she gives herself a fucking headache.

“Is that alright with you?” Harry asks and she hums in confusion, “Us staying alone -- is that okay? Would you rather he stay?”

Y/n shook her head, “No, no, it’s okay! I was just. . .” she scrambles for something, anything, “I was wondering how we would drive if we needed to go anywhere, is all.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, I’ve got a car there already,” he plucks up another baggy of the chocolate covered pretzels, “Do you want milk chocolate or white chocolate? They’re out of the dark chocolate or else I would say do them ‘cos they’re delicious.”

“Milk chocolate is fine,” she tells him, trying not to show how excited she was for them, “The slushies are kind of expensive though, so I can just get water.”

“Price isn’t a worry, Sweetheart. You know what, why don’t we grab you two chocolate pretzels? They try to cheat you out on the amount in the bag and how much air they’re injecting into the things.”

Fuck sake, if he keeps this up, she really will be in love with him.