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Like a heron

Summary:

Stede shuts down at work, but Ed knows exactly what he needs.

Notes:

In my experience, there's not as much awareness of shutdowns as there is of meltdowns. Many times they might go unnoticed. But that doesn't make them any less distressing for the people who experience them, or the people who witness them.
I wrote this in a few hours, and I'm posting it on a whim because I love autistic Stede.

There is now a podfic of this story which I recorded, and the wonderful Kninjaknitter is hosting for me.

(See the end of the work for other works inspired by this one.)

Work Text:

It looks like a heron. Hard to tell. It’s so still. Just a grey blob in the distance. He watches and watches and thinks he sees a minute movement. Or maybe it was just his eyes jerking after being forced to stay in the same position for so long. Could be a plastic bag.

There’s a movement behind him but he doesn’t turn. He can’t turn. His heart rate increases and he tenses up.

“All good, mate?” he thinks he hears a muffled voice say. He nods his head before he can properly process what’s going on, and the movement continues past him and away.

He rests his chin back onto the cold metal thing and feels the tension start to leave his body. The metal is cold, and now he thinks about it, it’s a bit wet as well. Actually, there’s quite a lot of wetness but he can’t quite tell where the feeling is coming from. His hand maybe. Or his hair. Perhaps his back. 

The heron still hasn’t moved, and he’s doubting himself now. He knows birds. A heron should be easy. He’d identified the tiny goldcrest he’d seen hanging upside down off the branch that juts out over the water. He knew it wasn’t a firecrest. But he can’t tell if the grey blob in the distance is a heron or a plastic bag. So annoying. 

His body judders and he tries to stop it, but it’s like there’s a disconnect between his physical form and his consciousness. He knows it’s juddering, but he doesn’t know why, and he can’t make it stop. 

There are parts of his body he can’t feel at all. He can’t quite tell which parts they are, or where they should be, so he can’t even try and focus on them to remember them. So he looks at the heron. 

There’s a kind of croaking noise that manages to force its way through the fog in his brain, and his eyes are drawn to a black bird skitting along the surface of the dirty water. It has a white shield on its face so it’s a coot, not a moorhen. He watches it bob along against the strong current, its wake washing down stream and under his feet. 

His feet. He’d forgotten about them. There should be two of them but it feels as though there’s only one. He can’t tell which one it is. 

“Are you alright?” someone says from behind him, and he turns in shock. Whoever it is, they’re very yellow. Not yellow all over. Only their top half. Really bright yellow. There’s a dog, too. The white sort with black spots. Whatever they’re called. He knows what they’re called but he can’t think of it. They run alongside carriages. Tend to be a bit crazy. Full of beans.

“Do you need any help?” Yellow says to him. He concentrates hard, trying to imagine why they think he might need help. He thinks maybe they sound concerned, but he can’t really see their face so it’s hard to tell. They do have a face, and it’s there on full display. But his mind won’t process it. 

He shakes his head. Well, his head sort of shakes itself, like it’s running on autopilot. 

“You’re a bit wet,” Yellow says, and he looks down at their dog. They’re right. The dog is wet. “Do you want my umbrella?” 

He frowns. Why would anyone offer a dog an umbrella? But then Yellow holds out what must be an umbrella towards him. He stares at the proffered object, and then he hears the words “no thanks” emit from his own mouth. He doesn’t know how they got in there, but they’re letting themselves out with no input from him. 

Yellow speaks more. A lot more. He feels his face smile in the way it has learned to in order to get him through life. He doesn’t hear what Yellow says, but he does pick up some words. Cold. Wet. Raining. Inside. Dry. Work. Hug. 

And then Yellow is coming closer, until he’s completely overwhelmed by yellow, and all he can hear and feel and taste is yellow. It’s all over him. And then it moves back, and then it’s getting smaller and disappearing into the foggy distance, followed by the white dog with black spots that runs alongside a carriage.

He turns back and rests his chin on the railing again. That’s the word. He couldn’t remember it before. It’s a railing. He looks for the coot again, but it’s nowhere to be seen. 

The water is moving fast underneath him. It’s swirling and dirty. Swollen. That’s how they describe it, isn’t it? It burst its banks a few days ago, but it’s subsided now. Still very swollen. It’s all the rain. It’s been raining for days. It’s raining now. Ah. That makes sense. That’s why he keeps feeling wet. It’s the rain.

 

“Oh, Stede,” a new voice says, and he turns and sees a man in a black coat with a red stripe across the chest coming towards him. 

Shit.

The man with the red stripe comes up and stands right next to him, then puts an arm around some part of Stede’s body. He can’t tell which. And then he can’t help the tears that spill forth from his eyes. Maybe that’s why he’s wet, actually. He’s definitely been crying a lot. 

He looks for the heron and he thinks it might have moved a little bit since he last looked, but he can’t quite remember. 

“Can I speak?” Red Stripe asks. Stede nods automatically. “We need to get you back inside.” Stede focuses on the heron, willing it to move so he can be sure one way or the other. 

“I’m just gonna phone to tell them I’ve found you. Is that alright?”

Found him? What does that mean? 

Stede nods and Red Stripe takes a phone from his pocket and makes a call.

“Hi Jill.. Yeah, I’ve got him… On the bridge… Yeah, he is… Alright… See you in a minute.”

Stede thinks he can see the heron’s beak now. It’s the right shape and colour and angle, anyway. Or maybe it’s just a branch. 

“Stede,” Red Stripe says. “You’re obviously really upset.” 

Is he? He’s not sure how he feels, actually. Sort of like he’s a bunch of jigsaw pieces from various pictures of different feelings, but none will fit together. 

“Will you come back inside?” Red Stripe asks. 

Inside? Inside where? Stede’s not sure what he means, but the autopilot makes him nod, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, isn’t it? Agree to what your boss asks.

“Come on, then,” Red Stripe says. “Let’s get you sorted out.”

Red Stripe walks in front, and Stede follows him. But he’s going too fast for Stede and he can’t keep up. He can’t make his body move like he usually can. It won’t listen to him. And he can’t hear it, either. It feels like he’s driving a car if all the controls have been reversed. Nothing works as it should. But he follows dutifully as best he can.

They approach a large security gate, and Red Stripe stops and turns to Stede. “Do you mind people seeing you like that?” he asks.

Like what?” Stede wants to ask, but he can’t speak. He frowns, and looks down at himself. His clothes are wet. Huh. How had that happened? Oh. Yeah. The rain. Because it’s raining. 

Stede shrugs, and Red Stripe continues. He taps his ID card and pulls open the gate and waits for Stede to follow him through. 

There’s a building. Stede knows it’s a building. He knows this building well. He’s been coming here five days a week for almost four years. But even though he knows it’s the building he works in, he can’t quite resolve all the shapes and colours into anything other than shapes and colours. He follows Red Stripe, and as they approach a glass door, Stede catches sight of someone he recognises on the other side of it. 

They’re wearing khaki combat trousers and a maroon hoodie. And they’re completely drenched. Their blond hair is hanging down on their forehead, and their face is red and puffy. They look a total mess. Stede feels a pang of sympathy for them. He wonders what could possibly have happened to them to be in that state. 

He stops to look at them, and as he brushes a damp curl out of his own face, the person copies his movements exactly. 

Then the door opens and the person vanishes with it. Stede stands frozen for a moment, trying to work out where the familiar person went so quickly. 

“Stede?” Red Stripe says. There’s no one else there. Just Stede, Red Stripe, and someone sitting behind the reception desk. Stede follows and watches as Red Stripe taps his ID badge on a screen. 

Hmm. Stede should really do that. He usually does it when he’s in here. He’s not sure how to even begin to think about how to do it. So he just stands still. 

Then, a person all dressed in all black with blond hair comes through another glass door. 

“We’re using the meeting room,” she says to the reception person, and Red Stripe puts an arm on Stede’s body, possibly his arm, and directs him to follow All Black. 

 

“We were really worried about you, Stede,” All Black says. He’s sitting on a vibrating chair, which feels very strange. He frowns at her but can’t speak. “We didn’t know where you were.”

They’d said he could go offsite if he needs a break. He’s sure they’d said that to him. He always goes to the bridge because the water soothes him. 

Stede tries to look at his watch but his sleeve is stuck to his skin with wetness and he can’t work out how to pull it out of the way.

“You’ve been gone for two hours,” she adds. 

His jaw drops and he stares at where her face should be. He knows she must have a face because he can see all the individual components of it, but he can’t understand it. It’s like it’s been poorly translated from another language into English. 

Shit. Two hours? That can’t be right. Shit. He’s meant to have been working. 

“You’re not in trouble, Stede,” All Black says. “We were just worried because we couldn’t find you.”

The chair Stede’s sitting on is vibrating harder now, and he wishes it would stop. He wants to ask her to turn it off, but he can’t speak. He looks at his hands but they don’t quite look like his hands. They’re wrinkly, like prunes. 

“You’re shivering because you’re so cold,” All Black says. “You’re soaking wet.”

Stede looks at his sleeves again. Oh yeah. He is wet. And he’s cold. He’s freezing, actually. Then Red Stripe puts a mug on the table in front of Stede. He forgot they’d asked him if he wanted a hot drink.

He reaches out for it, but his hands won’t follow his instructions and almost knocks it into his lap. He takes his hands away. 

“We called Ed,” All Black says, and Stede breathes in sharply, and looks at her face, and actually sees her face for the first time. She’s smiling, he can see that now. But it’s not a happy smile. “He’s on his way.”

Ed. Oh Ed! Ed’s coming. Safety is coming. He’s going to be safe. 

There’s some talking. All Black and Red Stripe. They’re probably talking to him. But all he can think is that Ed is coming. Ed will be here soon, and everything will be alright. 

And then the door opens and Stede hears the best sound he’s ever heard in his life.

“Oh Stede, Baby,” Ed says, and Stede turns to see him and instantly bursts into tears again. Ed kneels down in front of him, and puts his hand on Stede’s cheek. 

“Ed,” Stede whispers hoarsely. 

“Come on, Baby,” Ed says. “You’re freezing. Lift your arms up. Lemme get this wet stuff off you.”

Stede thinks really hard about how to do that, then focuses all of his effort on controlling his body so that he can lift his arms. Ed peels his maroon hoodie off him and drops it onto the floor. 

“Oh, your t-shirt is wet as well, but it’ll be alright until we get you home.” Then Ed pulls his own hoodie off and slips it over Stede’s head, and Stede’s enveloped in the smell and warmth and softness and safety of Ed. And if he wasn’t already crying, he’d burst into tears with the joy of being surrounded in Ed.

Ed stands up and pulls Stede to his feet by his wrists. He draws Stede into the tightest hug he can manage, and sways him back and forth, whispering soothingly into his ear. 

Stede’s body starts to go limp and he lets Ed take most of his weight. He allows Ed to completely overwhelm him. He sees and hears only Ed. He breathes Ed in. He feels him at every point of contact. He lets Ed bring him back. 

“What happened?” Ed asks All Black, still swaying the crying Stede back and forth.

“His assistant said he got overwhelmed by some contradictory emails. He signed out, and we didn’t know he hadn’t come back until he’d been gone for over an hour. We’ve said he can take breaks off-site, but he’s only ever gone for ten or fifteen minutes before.”

“Shit,” Ed says. “So he’s been out there for over an hour?”

“Two hours by the time we found him,” Red Stripe says.

Ed squeezes Stede tighter. “Oh, Baby,” he whispers into his ear. 

“We’re really worried about him, Ed,” All Black says. 

“He’ll be okay when he’s warmed up and had a bit of time to settle,” Ed says.

“He was on the bridge,” she adds. “We were worried he wasn’t safe.”

“The bridge is his safe spot,” Ed says. “I thought you knew that.” 

“We thought he might…”

“Okay,” Ed interrupts. “I think you’re seeing something different to what actually happened. I can see why you would be worried about a crying man standing on the bridge over the river in the rain. But that’s not what this is.”

“He didn’t even realise he was wet from the rain. He lost all sense of time,” All Black says. 

“He’s not suicidal,” Ed says matter of factly. “It’s a shutdown.”

“A what?” she asks.

“A shutdown. The opposite of a meltdown. It happens a lot. I guess you’ve never seen him have one here before.”

“There was a heron,” Stede whispers into Ed’s neck.

“What, Baby?” 

“There was a heron.” 

“Was there? By the river?”

“Yeah. I was watching it.” 

“Cool. What was it doing?”

“Nothing. It didn’t move.” 

“Well that’s boring,” Ed says with a chuckle. Stede huffs a little laugh. 

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“What else did you see?”

“Coot.”

“Yeah?” 

Stede nods. “Yeah. And a goldcrest.”

“You like goldcrests,” Ed says warmly.

“Yeah,” Stede says. “And a dog.”

“What sort of dog?” 

“Can’t remember the name.”

“Was it cute?” 

“Think so.”

Ed kisses him on the cheek. “I’ll take him home,” he says to All Black. 

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll call him tomorrow, if you think he’ll be up to that.”

“He’ll be fine tomorrow. Maybe a little tired. But yeah, call him tomorrow.”

***

Ed guides Stede up to their bathroom, and Stede has enough control of his body to climb the stairs without too much help. He feels slower than usual, but things are working correctly. Ed turns the shower on, and Stede stands under the spray for several minutes.

Oh. That’s what warmth feels like. It’s so nice. So much better. He’d been so cold.

Ed helps him get dry, then to put his favourite brushed cotton pyjamas on, and he pulls his oversized, floor-length fleece hoodie on over the top. 

Ed dries Stede’s hair for him, even though he knows Stede will have to wash it and dry it again when he’s feeling better, because no one else can ever do his hair just the way he likes it. 

 

Downstairs, Ed makes Stede his favourite tea, and takes it to him on the sofa. Stede takes it gratefully and sips it slowly. He feels the warmth of it glide down his throat and into his chest, then spread through his body. 

Ed brings his headphones over and hands them to Stede, and as soon as he puts them on, his body feels a bit more like his own. 

“Music?” Ed asks, and Stede nods. Ed takes Stede’s phone from the table and unlocks it. “Erasure?” Stede nods again, then he closes his eyes and sighs as the squidey, colourful electronic sounds fill his ears. 

Ed vanishes for a few minutes, then he comes back and puts a packet of biscuits, a large glass of water, his phone, a book, and TV remote all within easy reach of the sofa. He sits down next to the arm, swings his legs up, and pulls Stede into him. They fidget until they get comfy, Stede’s head resting on a pillow on Ed’s chest so his headphones don’t dig into his flesh. Stede slips his hand under the pillow so he can feel Ed’s heartbeat, and Ed picks up his book with one hand, and puts his other hand on the back of Stede’s head, running his fingers through his hair. 

 

Stede closes his eyes and breathes a huge sigh of relief. The music fills him up and begins to stitch back together the parts of his body which had become disjointed. The feeling of Ed’s heartbeat grounds him and helps him to know he actually exists, and that Ed, his safety, is right here with him. The brushed cotton on his skin is so soft, and helps him to feel every part of himself in the correct place now. The warmth from his fleece gives him comfort and safety. And Ed’s hand in his hair sends little electric tingles down his spine and through his body. 

He knows he’s real again. Knows his body is his own. Knows he’s in the right place. Knows he’s safe. Knows nothing and no one can hurt him while he’s here with Ed.

“Dalmatian,” he says to himself with a little snort of laughter. And then he drifts off to sleep. 

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