Prompt: 022 ~ Fanatic May 2011©
Fandom: Alice Nine
Focus: Tora x Namie
Word Count: 1,798
Fandom: Alice Nine
Focus: Tora x Namie
Word Count: 1,798
When Namie woke up with a splitting headache in a very soft bed in a very bright room, she knew immediately that something was terribly wrong. She resisted the urge to open her eyes more fully and gain her bearings a bit by the fear of knowing that she would not like what she found.
The headache wasn’t too unusual.
But in any sort of sane world, the rest was impossible.
Unless something had gone horribly awry.
Namie was on tour with Alice Nine; or more accurately, commuting to be on tour with the world famous rock band. She was slated for a two-night train trip and a short on-site nap before the first show she was playing with Alice Nine's on-going summer tour. Having just finished up her own musical tour, the quick turn-around would be brutal, but not impossible.
But it was not supposed to be this comfortable.
Her anticipated accommodations were small and dark, mixed with the horrid, penetrating vibrations of the train ride. And if by some miracle they’d already made it to the venue, she ought to be curled up on a couch backstage. A full size bed was out of the question. Especially one this warm.
Cracking her eyes cautiously, Namie realized that the room she was in wasn’t entirely unfamiliar. It took a moment for the vague familiarity to kick into real recognition. It was an MV set she’d once used, nearly ago. Amidst the white of the sheets and the pillows, and the very familiar slip that she was wearing, were the decorative golden cuffs on her wrists and ankles and the collar that was secured with a thin but sturdy chain to the bed’s headboard. It was so familiar, the set of Queen; the set where Tora had first waked into her life. It was the set that had changed everything.
Dizzy, she tried to sit up. She swayed a bit side to one side, but she didn’t quite fall due to the support of the chain on the collar. The chain had been part of the MV’s storyline, a princess locked away and a prince to set her free. They’d used real metal in the props, so that she could make her attempts to break free believable.
The memories of that music video shoot were filtering back in sharp detail. The snippets of the past were as vibrant in her mind as if they’d occurred only a day before, rather than a year.
In her haze, dizzy and confused, Namie began to question if it hadn’t all been a dream; the product of an overtired mind. Perhaps the entire thing, her relationship with the most amazing guy in the world, had all been the product of her exhausted imagination. Tora was awfully close to perfect; logically no one could even come close to being that perfect. The thought raised a suffocating bubble of panic in Namie’s chest.
Frantically, she began to squirm in the sheets, fighting dizziness and a strange fog of fatigue as she tried to find the release latch on the collar. Movement at the door caught her eye as her fingers scrapped across smoothe metal. Namie spotted a dark haired figure carrying in a tray of her favorite snack, banana bites with Nuetella and whipped cream.
Namie’s heart soared with relief. It had to be Tora. Only Tora would know about her favorite snack, she’d only told a few crew members that she’d even liked the sweet, let alone that it was her favorite. Namie could barely get her eyes to focus, but it had to be Tora.
“Don’t fuss, my pretty princess. Your loyal servant knows how hungry you must be. I’ve brought you a snack, it’s your favorite. So don’t struggle, you’ll only tire yourself out more.”
The voice was deep and rumbling, but it wasn’t Tora’s. Namie’s relief collapsed. It wasn’t Tora. How could it possibly not be Tora? Where was he? And who was this?
“Where’s—” the word came out mangled beyond recognition.
“Hush now, you’ve been overworked for long enough, my beautiful queen, and you need your rest,” the voice that wasn’t Tora’s was saying, “Eat this, and go back to sleep.”
A piece of banana and fluff was pushed into Namie’s mouth as she tried again to speak. As soon as she had managed to swallow, she asked desperately, “Where’s Tora?”
“He’s not here,” the voice said, suddenly quite cold even as it maintained a crooning tone. Namie was fed another banana piece as the voice went on, “You never have to be bothered by that inconsiderate, ungrateful bastard again.” Another piece of banana, tinged with the masking tastes of Nuetella and whipped cream. “I’m here to take proper care of you, now.”
More fruit met her tongue and a wave of sleepy dizziness washed over her senses. Namie began to remember other things from before, these were only half remembered and muddled at best, but they were alarming enough to get her to ask, “How long have I been here?”
“Over a week, by now,” the voice said with satisfaction. “Not nearly enough to have rested fully, but you’ve caught up on so much sleep.”
Namie could almost remember. A chat on the train, a friendly meal, an autograph . . . and then dizziness and shouting. Sporadic bursts of light and sweetness. And sleep. A deep sleep, not like anything natural to her.
She’d been kidnapped by a fan.
It happened more often than one might think, but it was rare enough for an attempt to be made so that those at risk largely disregarded it. The security responsible for them shouldn’t have done the same though . . . she shouldn’t have been whisked away so easily.
Namie wasn’t one to panic in stressful situations, but the mention of just how long she’d been a prisoner here was enough to bring waves of terror and worry to the forefront of her mind.
She’s already been here a week. Where had Tora been during this time? Was he okay? Was he looking for her? Had Alice Nine gone ahead and played their first few summer shows without her? Would she be able to get out of here? Would she ever see her friends again? Would she ever see Tora again?
Another bite of the snack and Namie was certain that the food was somehow drugged. By this point though, Namie had to seriously question if she was opposed to it. She certainly was no longer in any position to really do anything about it.
Tora had once played Namie’s knight in shining armor for a commercial, and as she was fed another piece of banana, Namie found herself praying that he could come rescue her for real. Somehow. She knew that it wasn’t likely. The recovery rate for kidnapping victims that had been gone more than a week wasn’t high enough to give her any sort of hope. She hadn’t been found yet, which meant she probably wasn’t going to be found at all.
There was a loud bang from somewhere outside the room Namie was in. She couldn’t figure out what the sound had been, but she was too preoccupied with her own worries to really try. “What’s that stupid dog getting up to now?” the voice murmured. He sighed and set the tray of sweets down within Namie’s reach. “I’ll go see what the problem is, don’t you worry, my lovely queen.”
The man got up and slipped quickly out of the room. Namie was torn between pushing the tray to the floor, getting whatever drug that was in the sweets away from her, and eating more of her own volition to retreat into the calm of oblivion. While she was unconscious the pangs of despair at losing everything, at losing Tora and her freedom, were muted an unrecognizable. And while she was awake, they tore at her throat like fire, making her effectively as muddled as the drug.
Namie had almost reached her decision, that of taking up the offer of oblivion, when suddenly he was there. In a commotion every bit as fierce and ferocious and furious as his Tiger namesake warranted, he was there. The man who had been keeping her captive was facing the full force of Tora’s wrath, fending off the guitarist’s blows with an almost admirable skill even as Tora was bent on beating his brain out through his pores.
Tora’s vengeful endeavor was largely successful; even through her hazy vision, Namie could tell that much. The vicious blows were beating the kidnapper into the ground as Tora’s attacks pounded into him. When the man fell, the fight turned from one sided to entirely over. Tora kicked at him, demanding to know where the scum sucking slimy dog had taken his girl, his Namie.
At the sound of her name, Namie was pulled into the reality of the situation enough to try and call out for Tora. It was garbled and strangled in her throat, but it was loud enough, and fortunately timed, to catch in Tora’s ears. He froze in an instant as his attention was entirely diverted.
He was at Namie’s side in the same second. “It’s okay, I’m here,” Tora was murmuring as he clung tightly, securely and solidly, to her. He crooned softly in her ear, nonsense mostly, but his deep, solid, voice was more calming than anything else in the world could be. As he spoke, the police filed into the room to apprehend the criminal. Tora had simply jumped the gun when the villain’s identity had been confirmed. In fact, if Namie hadn’t pulled him away from his rage when she had, the Alice Nine guitarist would have been forced to face criminal assault charges of his own.
Tora’s soft nothings and his strong arms around her lulled Namie to sleep much more pleasantly, more comfortably, and more soundly than any drug could. She was vaguely aware of Tora lifting her up enough for the collar to be detached. She latched her fingers to his shirt as someone tried to take her from him. There was a hand to her forehead and a light shone into her eyes. She was declared drugged, but not so much so as to be past recovery, and she was unharmed physically. Then Tora’s arms were back around her and everything was alright.
“It’s okay,” he was whispering.
“I know,” Namie replied. It didn’t matter that the response was utterly unintelligible. Tora knew what she meant, and she knew he knew. Fanatical fans of Namie’s argued that Tora didn’t pay her proper attention, but that was all wrong. He didn’t have to go the extra mile to make it obvious that his attention was on her, because she knew it. And he knew she knew.
And nothing anyone could say would change that.