Awakening

Chapter 21

Rose hadn't gotten much sleep that week. Nightmare upon nightmare had made sure of that. Every time she closed her eyes she would see his face, hear his voice. She laid awake at night, trying to convince herself that it wasn't real. That he wasn't real, that he had died in the fall. But then some pesky little part of her would remind her that she had survived, so who is to say he didn't as well. Then she would fall asleep, only to wake up screaming or crying. She was so tired, utterly exhausted. She wished that if he were still alive that he would just come and kill her already and be done with it. At least then she'd have some peace.

She sighed and looked at the test papers on her desk. It was Friday afternoon and the school halls were completely void of any people or activity. She had hoped that grading the past week's tests would keep her mind busy, but she was so tired that she was seeing double. She rubbed her eyes, trying to concentrate. Suddenly she was aware of movement to her left, at the classroom door. She jumped up, claws fully out, and let out a loud growl.

"Whoa! Rose, it's me. Calm down." Max said carefully, holding his hands before him. On his back was a sports bag. He had been helping Simon out with coaching the football team, meaning they had seen quite a bit of each other the last few weeks.

She blinked in shock, looked at Max's concerned face and before she knew it, tears were spilling over her cheeks.

"Rose..." He quickly made his way over to her and pulled her into his arms. "Shhh..." He kept repeating this, whilst rubbing her back, trying to soothe her. Her tears now fell more freely and she clung to him, almost hopelessly.

When she was done with her emotional meltdown she took a step back and looked away. She couldn't believe that she just lost it in front of him. She hadn't broken down in front of anyone since Dolores. She crossed her arms before her chest. "I'm sorry." She risked a look in his direction. "I've ruined your shirt."

He smiled sweetly at her, trying to reassure her. "Don't worry about it. I didn't like it that much anyway." A small frown crossed his face. "I am worried about you, though. What's going on?"

She swallowed hard. She hated that he had seen her like that. She was afraid that his concern for her would push her over the edge again. She suddenly felt the need to run. Her eyes darted to the door.

His deep voice broke through her thoughts. "Don't even think about it. I'd catch you before you were out the door. Now, spill it. What's going on with you?"

"Max... I can't..." A sobbed almost escaped her mouth and she bit down on her lip. She looked to the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from spilling over.

His voice was soft. "Rose, let me help you. Please?"

She sniffed, very unladylike, and swallowed the tears. "It's nothing. I'm just tired, that's all."

He frowned and examined her face, his eyes landing on the dark circles beneath her green orbs. "Not tired, exhausted. How much sleep have you gotten this week?" He was using his doctor voice now.

She looked down and fiddled with an imaginary piece of thread on her shirt. "Uhm, maybe two or three hours a night?"

"Rose..."

She could hear the disapproval in his voice, but said nothing.

"Ok, that's it. Pack your things, we're leaving."

She looked up, confused. "Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you home."

#

Fifteen minutes later they walked into her hallway. He had lectured her the whole way about not talking to him when she was in trouble, physically or emotionally. At least she was feeling better than she had an hour ago. His presence had lifted her mood considerably.

She gave only three steps down the hall when she stopped dead in her tracks, the hairs on her neck standing on end.

"What's wrong?" Max asked.

She answered him quietly, almost whispering. "Someone was here."

He frowned and walked to where she was. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I can feel it..." A pair of arctic eyes flashed in her mind and a shiver went through her body, the need to run was overwhelming.

Max listened for a moment. "Well, here's no one here now." Then he made a quick decision. "I'll go right, you go left?"

She took a deep breath and nodded and carefully they made their way down the hall, checking every room. He split off towards the kitchen, the spare bedroom and the garage and she made her way into the living room. Her heart was beating fast and her palms were sweaty. Seeing that nothing was disturbed she made her way to her bedroom. She checked the en-suite bathroom and then her room. Something on her bed caught her eye. She slowly made her way towards it and her eyes landed on an old photograph. She picked it up and immediately her legs gave way. She fell to the ground, shaking. "No, no, no..."

She heard footsteps coming closer. Max came running through the door, saw her on the floor and immediately looked around for any sign of danger. Finding none, he knelt before her. His voice was laced with concern. "Rose, what happened?"

She sat there, eyes wide and filled with fear. She couldn't get any sound out. He looked around for evidence of what had upset her and saw the picture laying at her feet. He carefully picked it up and stared at the faded faces. The one on the right was a young man, his light hair flowed past his shoulders and he had a funny sort of smile on his face. Max didn't give him much thought, however. His eyes were locked on the other person in the photo. Next to the man stood a young girl. Dark curls framed her face. A brilliant smile graced her mouth, her gaze lovingly resting on the man standing next to her. He looked at the woman in the photo and then looked at the woman sitting on the floor before him. They were one and the same. He turned the picture over. On the back a note was scrawled in elegant handwriting. "V & R - 1852"

He swallowed hard, his brow furrowed with confusion. "Rose. What is this?"

She gave no answer and he continued. "This is you? More than 150 years ago? How..." he trailed off.

Rose didn't hear him, however. Her mind was reeling. He was still alive. She thought back to that day on the cliff and remembered the feeling of absolute terror, the feeling that was now consuming her. She couldn't face him again. She feared this time around she wouldn't be so lucky. She only had one option left.

She jumped up, completely ignoring Max's questions, and pulled out a small suitcase from under the bed. Frantically she started piling clothes into it.

Max watched her silently for a moment. The wheels in his head were turning, but nothing was making any sense. He watched her run to the bathroom and come back with toiletries, throwing them into the suitcase. He didn't know what was going on. All he was sure of was that the woman before him was scared out of her mind.

"Rose, what the hell is going on?" he asked, but she gave no answer. So he stepped closer to her, took her hands into his and turned her towards him. "Rose..." he began.

She tried to turn back to the suitcase, squirming in his grasp, but he held fast. She looked at him pleadingly. "Please, Max. I have to go. Let me go, please."

He could see the terror in her eyes, but he needed to know what was going on. "No, not until you tell me what's going on."

"Max... Please, let me leave." A look of determination crossed her face. "Don't make me go through you." she softly threatened.

Irritation at her stubbornness sparked up inside him. "Dammit, Rose. You're exhausted and quite clearly emotionally drained. Stop acting like a child." He looked at her and realized that she was too terrified to think rationally. He had to get her out of there. Take her somewhere where she would feel safe. Without another word he grabbed her hand and with a scowl on his face, he dragged her out of the house towards his car. He was getting some answers, come hell or high water.