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Les Deux: A Castle Fic [1/??]

So fembot77​ asked for Sleeper crack!fic and amtepe​ put this idea in my head with her post. This was supposed to be a three-shot, but then it found a plot, so its now officially a work in progress. Begins between season six and season seven, but holds elements of Sleeper. Title (and parts of the story, lets be honest) is a play on the tv show Alias. Read the other chapters to this story here. Cover art by my fab URL twin alwayswiththecoffee.

Thirsty. 

Water. 

Technically speaking, one of those things was not like the other. Yes, he needed water to quench his thirst, but it was no more the answer to the question than his name or what day it was. 

Water was important. But not important because Rick’s mouth is like sandpaper, tongue too heavy and sticky where it presses against the roof of his mouth. 

The licking of his lips, the light smacking of them together is experimental and yet it causes a certain pain to flare in his cheeks. The sun is beating down and he’s slowly come to understand that the big yellow ball in the sky is both responsible for his dehydrated state and the painful sunburn that’s leaving pricks of discomfort traveling over his exposed skin. 

Opening his eyes requires far more effort than it should, and he grunts against the bright rays. Even his efforts to shield himself, however marginally, from the sun seems sluggish, arms stiff and awkward with disuse. The sort of sleep that you really only get after a load of the really good painkillers. 

He grunts again, bones popping and muscles creaking in ways that dutifully remind him that he’s going head long into 50. The days of sleeping in uncomfortable positions on anything aside from his ludicrously expensive mattress are going to have to go to the wayside. 

It hurts his pride to admit it, but he’s just not as young as he used to be. 

Water. 

Why is water so important?

Rick pushes himself into a sitting position with a huff, hand rubbing absently at his face. For now he even ignores the sting of his skin, how inflamed and warm it is. He just takes a minute to get his bearings, to take stock of all the ways his body hurts and throbs. 

Water.

Another smack of his lips, another long sigh that accompanies the slow opening of his eyes. The bright sunlight makes them water in protest and then widen with a comical realization. 

Water is important because he’s surrounded by it. On all sides there’s nothing but shining blue. Blue on blue where the water meets sky.

Boat. 

Water. 

“Shit.” 

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