Comfort, Date, Run, AU, Oops, Wine ((Ithinkthosearetherightones))
If there was one thing Rizzo and Altan shared in common, it was the fact that they both suffered from nightmares that absolutely terrified them. Altan had gotten good at reining his reactions in—those dreams that caused him to wake up screaming in terror now had him quietly whimpering. They were no less terrifying, but it was better than waking up the dead with his keening.
Unfortunately for Altan, this proved to be more detrimental than helpful.
One night, he woke up from a particularly bad dream—the details of which he still can’t think about without trembling. Covered in a thin layer of cold sweat and shaking terribly, the Janissary pulled on a coat and left the camp, using a back way to get out. Easier to avoid the guards that way.
His walk took him, surprisingly, to the top of the Galata Tower. Even more surprising, was the fact that none other than Rizzo was there, feet dangling over the edge as he softly played a tune on his flute. Altan went up and sat by him, resting his crossed arms on one knee, letting his other leg dangle.
"Couldn’t sleep?" Rizzo asked after a few minutes.
"Nightmare." Altan said, his voice very quiet. Rizzo didn’t ask anything further—it was plain to him that by the sound of his friend’s voice that he didn’t want to discuss it.
Not while it was still fresh on his mind.
Without a word, Rizzo stood up and reseated himself behind Altan, then wrapped his arms around the still-shaking Janissary, whispering comforting words in Italian and hoping he would be able to understand some of them.
Altan finally relaxed, and he turned to face Rizzo.
"Thank you." Altan said quietly, looking down at his hands. "I appreciate that."
“Nessun problema, Altan.” the performer responded, just as quietly. “Going back to camp now?”
Altan shook his head. “No… I’ll just stay here.” Truth was he was exhausted, and he didn’t feel he could walk back.
"Here…" Rizzo stood up, pulling Altan up with him, and led him over to a randomly placed bale of hay. He flopped down into it, and invited Altan to do the same. The Janissary, a bit more reserved, laid down in the hay and shifted until nothing was poking him. It wasn’t his first place to sleep, but it would do.
"Good night, Rizzo." Altan said, rolling over onto his side, taking in the view of the harbor.
"Good night, Altan." Rizzo scooted closer and wrapped an arm around him. The gesture alone helped Altan relax enough to sleep, and within a few minutes, he was out.
Rizzo followed soon after, and the two of them enjoyed a dreamless few hours of sleep before the sun woke them up. They parted ways there, not sure when they’d see each other again but both feeling a little more ready to face the world again.
(Umm… okayIhonestlydon’tknowwhattodoforthisonealksdjfa. Anything I do for it will end up being overly cheesy sooo… no romance from me sorry.)
Altan’s shout was all the warning Rizzo got before all 215 pounds of Janissary swooped down and threw off the bandit trying to get into Rizzo’s blind spot. He dispatched the thief and immediately turned his attention to another, only for him to be taken down by one of Rizzo’s deadly knives. He had no time to thank the Assassin before yet another was trying to stab him.
The fight raged on for a few minutes, and by the time it was over, several bandits lay dead or injured.
"When will they ever learn?" Altan said, shaking his head as he sheathed his bloodied sword. He made the mistake of turning his back on one that he thought was down for the count—a knife had been thrown right into his thigh, but he’d been the most vicious fighter of the bunch.
The bandit pulled himself up, yanking the knife out of his leg with nothing more than a hiss. Then, he leapt at the Janissary and plunged the throwing knife deep into his side. Altan cried out and drew his gun, shooting the bandit right in the heart, killing him instantly. The Janissary fell to his knees, one hand clutching the knife.
"Altan!" Rizzo had turned at Altan’s shout, readying another knife, but the damage was done.
"R… Rizzo…" Altan whimpered as he yanked the knife out, pressing his hand to the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.
"We… we’ve gotta get you to a doctor!" Rizzo helped Altan to to his feet and over to his horse. The Assassin, still terrified of the animals, shied away a moment, and Altan tried to pull away to mount up himself.
"W… wait…" Rizzo whimpered. He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat and slowly approached the black horse. She pawed the ground, making Rizzo stop and take a few steps back.
"Okay, okay… you got this, Rizzo." he said to himself. He approached the horse again and, somewhat messily, helped Altan mount.
"Will you… will you be alright?" Rizzo asked, looking down. He wanted to go with Altan, but his fear was stopping him. And he felt horrible about it.
"I… I don’t know…" Altan was still bleeding, and there was a good chance he’d pass out before he made it to a doctor. With a slight whimper, Rizzo climbed up behind the Janissary and took the reins. Without any instruction from him, the horse shot off towards the nearest city, Rizzo holding on for dear life and praying to whatever deity that was listening to him for it to be over soon.
Altan sensed the commotion long before he heard it. He had chosen to walk home following the review of the newest Marine recruits—a sad looking bunch, but maybe that was just him. He tugged on the sleeve of his dress uniform when he felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle.
He turned back the way he had come, breaking into a light jog.
Then he heard the noise—not shouting, but people talking in raised voices. He finally tracked it down to a small, narrow alley, turning into it without hesitation.
Three people were there, and two had the third up against the wall. A trio of homeless people, no doubt trying to “settle a debt.”
Which usually ended with someone dead.
"I told you, I’ll get it for you!" the man against the wall pleaded desperately. He had a long mess of hair and wore a hoodie with a pair of worn jeans. The others were dressed in dirty, ragged clothes as well, but he knew better than to be fooled by their less than favorable appearance.
"Don’t you know better than to pick on someone bigger than you?” Indeed, the long-haired man was a good head taller than these two—though they had the muscle to make up for it.
The two turned to look at him, blinking dumbly at the sight of the Marine. Said Marine merely cocked an eyebrow. The two seemed to reconsider their options, but apparently their pride won out and they decided he was a better target. They moved to flank him—like he hadn’t seen that one before!
Within seconds his saber was in his hand. While it was merely ceremonial, he could still cause an injury with it. And it was all he had.
"Uhh…" The two men stared, not sure what to make of this. They finally decided it wasn’t worth the risk and scampered off down the alley, casting a look back at him to make sure he wasn’t following.
"Wise choice." Altan slipped out of his defensive stance and sheathed the saber, glad he didn’t have to use it. The long-haired man stared at the Marine, a cross between gratitude and apprehension in his eyes.
"I don’t think they’ll bother you anymore." Altan said.
“G… grazie…” he said, straightening up.
"The name’s Rizzo." he said after a long and awkward silence.
"Staff Sergeant Altan Kartal of the 2nd Marine Division." He straightened up and simply inclined his head—salutes were reserved for officers.
"…What was that?" Rizzo asked, cocking his head.
"Allah, Rizzo, you just had to provoke them, didn’t you!?” Altan growled, ducking his head as the Byzantines ran by. He was far from amused—Rizzo had thought it would be a wonderful idea to play a prank on a couple of the hardasses.
Next thing they knew they had a whole contingent chasing after them demanding their hides.
"Whaaaat?" Rizzo asked, shrugging innocently. "They need to lighten up!"
"Shh!" Altan smacked a hand over his mouth as a couple of gunmen peeked into the dark alley they had taken refuge in. They walked in a little, speaking to each other in Greek.
“Merda…" Rizzo whispered. The Byzantines turned to look right at them. Suddenly, Rizzo stood up and chucked a pair of knives at them, catching one in the shoulder and the other in the throat. Both men fell to the ground, one screaming in pain.
"Come on!" Rizzo grabbed Altan’s wrist and yanked him to his feet, pulling him out of the alley. They took off down the street in the opposite direction, not entirely sure where they were going and not really caring at the moment, as long as they were going in the opposite direction.
Finally, they collapsed against a wall, out of breath.
"Next time you feel it’s a good idea to pull a prank, make sure you’ve got a more reliable escape route."
The unsent text, date unknown, timestamp 2:43 AM. Riiiiizzzzzooooo… Haaay man. I… Duuuuuuuuuuuude… I’m soooo damn drin… dunk… drunK! Th… the batender’s… he’s gonna drive me back to ze base… meet mere there’ kay? Oh god I’m gonna b sick.
