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THE MUG of coffee has gone cold in her hands. Ellie's eyes are blurred and burning as she stares into the dark liquid. The nightmare that shocked her out of her sleep has her completely shaken. The hair on the nape of her neck is stuck to her skin from sweat, hands shaking as she tries to bring the cup to her chapped lips.
She'd give anything to not dream ever again.
It's the same every night. She's back in the truck with Erikson and Vance. They get stopped. She's left for dead and then Graves walks up, Ellie crying for him, reaching out for his hand. He tells her that she's been holding him back, dragging him down. So he leaves her. After she cries for what seems like an eternity, Ghost is there.
She cries for him and all he does is watch her.
Then she wakes up.
Cold sweat. Tears on her face. Heart racing. Wondering why Ghost never tries to help her, why he doesn't talk to her. She wonders if what Graves tells her in the dream is the truth, the way he's always felt about her. He's dead now. There's no point in worrying about it. She tries to convince herself of it.
"Got any idea what time it is?"
His voice is thick, the sound of sleep still laced in it. When she looks up, Ghost is opening the cabinets, routinely getting the items he needs for his tea.
"Yes, I do," Ellie replies, pushing the cup of coffee away from her. "What are you doing up?"
"I'm always up this early."
She bites her lip before asking, "Would you mind making me a cup of tea?"
He shrugs. "Guess not."
Muttering thanks, Ellie goes to pour out her coffee, keeping her head down as she stands beside Ghost who is filling up the kettle with water. She waits beside him to rinse out her mug. He turns the tap off, hand resting on the handle.
"You ok?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
Crap. She knows it's obvious she's been crying her eyes out. She can feel how swollen they are. Ellie's never been able to hide it. It always sucked when she'd cry privately, Graves would come around and see right through her. Her face would stay splotchy forever, it seemed.
"Do you want the real answer? Or the more comfortable one?"
He sets the kettle on the hot stove eye. "The real one. Always."
She wants to laugh, feeling ridiculous about sharing the truth. "I've been having the worst nightmare for weeks. I've always had them, but this one is different." He stays quiet, leaning against the counter, and looking away from her. "I'm sorry, I should keep myself more composed. I don't need to dump all of my issues on my Lieutenant."
He grabs the tea bags. "What is it?" Ellie looks at him in confusion. "What is it that you see every night?"
She lets out a shaky breath. "You're sure you want the real answer? Always?"
