I startle awake, shooting up in bed. At first all I see is black darkness, but soon the different items of my bedroom fall into place. The dresser to my right, and Sloane across from me. Scratch that, the turbo engine across from me.
I chuckle lightly as I stand, exiting the room to grab a glass of water. The hallway seems to stretch farther with every step I take, and I come to a halt.
"Stop it!" I scream. "Stop it! Please! Stop!"
Almost like a jump cut, my hand suddenly rises in the air, a glass of water in hand. I begin to down the drink, but as I do the water turns dark.
Blood.
I pull the glass away from my mouth, sputtering, and a spasm causes the cup to crash to the ground. Glass shards fly, and the coppery liquid splashes all over me.
I look down at myself, when I hear a gunshot. Then another. They don't stop until I hear five. The small blotches appear in my chest, and I look up with tired eyes.
Standing across from me, gun in hand, stands Michael.
"You murderous pig," he snarls. "I can't believe any of us ever trusted you, Locke."
The name.
I should've heard the name.
But before I can even process his words the floor beneath me disappears, and I'm free falling through the abyss.
I scream, flailing my arms and legs, when suddenly I erupt into a pool of water. Dark and salty, the cool burns my skin, setting my flesh aflame wherever it has direct contact.
I scratch at myself. My arms. My legs. My chest. Anything to get the feeling to go away.
But nothing happens the way I want it too.
Through the pitch blackness of the sea around me my skin lights up. Sparks and flames igniting my whole body. I scream, air bubbles floating away from my mouth, and I feel myself shooting downwards, oxygen slowly depleting, until my feet meet air. In the flash of a second, the rest of me catches up, and I fall into nothing once again.
The flames still flicking around me, I twist and turn, trying to put them out, but instead I land in a pile of coal. My flames start a bonfire, the orange heat spreading like a disease through the stones.
I'm in a chamber. A large rectangle, full of the light that erupts from my body.
In front of me, only meters away, is an exit. I begin to drag myself, pulling myself along the burning cobbles.
"Help," I rasp. "HeLp."
I pull myself closer to the entrance, but each metre is three more back. Soon the door is so far out of sight, that I collapse, the flames enveloping me in a terrifyingly familiar embrace.
My skin begins to sweat, soon melting off like candle wax, and I shift into a pool of flesh within the chamber...
I shoot upwards, my breaths coming heavy and fast. My chest heaves, a cold sweat sticking to my body. Rough hands push my hair out of the way, and I let out a whimpering sigh.
The nightmares should've gone away by now.
But nothing happens the way I want it too.
I slink out of bed, languidly making my way to the bathroom. Sloane's snores can be heard even behind the closed door, and however unbearable the sound is, it's my comfort at my darkest times.
Without turning on the overhead light I twist the water in the shower on, the drops hitting the tub in a rhythmic fashion, almost hypnotizing. I almost get stuck there before I shake myself back to reality and groggily turn to face the mirror.
Staring at my reflection I can see the bags under my eyes slowly come into form. Sleep has not been my strong suit recently, but it's only now starting to show. I sigh, pulling my tank top off.
Twisting to glance at my back through the quick fogging mirror, the crude mark of a Q on my back stands out against my still pale complexion. A yawn ripples through me as I straighten, staring once again at my face. The longer I glare, the clearer I see Dean standing behind me.
Wrapping his arms around my waist he ducks his head into the crook of my neck, and if it weren't for the cold air against my back I would've thought he were truly here.
I brush my teeth, the action feeling like an eternity before I'm rinsing my mouth.
Stepping out of the rest of my clothes I hop in the shower, letting the heat rake over my body. It diminishes my thoughts, the warmth being the only thing in the room.
Hands rest on my shoulders, my hands, and as I lean my head back I let the torridity wash over me.
A contented sigh escapes me, and however great my disdain for it is, I shut off the water, my skin immediately becoming cold. Exiting the shower, I wrap a towel haphazardly around myself, glancing in the now invisible mirror once more before leaving the dark room and walking back to mine.
Standing in the cold emptiness of my bedroom I can't help but smile at Sloane's loud and constant reminder that I'm not alone.
I quickly pinch my hair dry with the towel, pulling on my undergarments before slipping into the closet. I grab a white turtleneck, black cargo pants, and a long charcoal overcoat. Putting together my outfit, a yawn ripples through me, yet my eyes are wide awake and I know I won't get much sleep after that nightmare.
Tugging on a pair of socks I slip my phone into my pocket and silently find my way downstairs, to the front hall, and out the door.
I step into the cool autumn breeze and breathe in the fresh air. A chill has set in due to the mid October season, making it the perfect weather for warmer clothes. Thankfully, snow has not yet begun to fall, and if I remember correctly from my year here when I was thirteen, it shouldn't until near December.
My shoes tap against the pavement in a steady rhythm, and I focus on the sounds of my soles pelting the ground until I reach my destination.
You can hear the sounds of the Potomac before you even see the fencing keeping people away. Usually the sound is soothing, but as I come closer a flash corrupts my mind.
Through the pitch blackness of the sea around me my skin lights up.
I shiver, but the thought continues.
Sparks and flames igniting my whole body.
I shake my head harshly, but the memory repels against my sincere want.
I scream, air bubbles floating away from my mouth, and I feel myself shooting downwards, oxygen slowly depleting, until my feet meet air.
No matter how hard I try it doesn't-
Stop. Just stop. Please.
My breath hitches in my throat and my face twists as a sob threatens release. Glancing around the park all I see is an ever growing emptiness. Until my eyes land on a metal trash can.
I run towards it, broken high pitched whimpers escaping me during my footfalls.
The beginning was supposed to be happy, I think to myself. My day wasn't supposed to start with a nightmare. With escape. That's not how this should've played out.
But as I reach the trash, I grab the edges. The can is near enough to the metal barriers a few feet away, so I drag it the rest of the distance. As I come up to the rail a tear leaves my eye.
The bin is a lot heavier than I thought, then again, how light was near eighty pounds supposed to be?
I take a heaving step to my right, swinging with my all my might, and with a spin I effortlessly throw the can straight through the air. It soars through the sky silently, and I wait for the satisfying splash as it hits the rivers water.
I give a calming sigh, wiping the stray tear from my eye.
I'm fine.
That's what I keep telling people. So that's what I'll keep telling myself.
Two months ago, Michael got out of the hospital after being shot, once in the shoulder and once in the thigh. Two and a half months ago, those bullets were put into him by our UNSUB. The UNSUB I'd been tracking for almost a month. The UNSUB the FBI was tracking for more than nine.
Our mentor.
And my Aunt.
Special Agent Lacey Locke was a member of Briggs' team in the FBI. She was well liked and held a special place in the hearts of those in the Naturals program.
I mean that sarcastically.
Locke was with the Naturals almost from the very beginning. She would've come around the time Lia and Michael did, and was there with them for five years.
She was trusted, and for the most part respected by those in our program. She knew us in and out. She knew our secrets. And she used that to her advantage, creating an elaborate plan to get me in on a case I never should've known existed.
And it worked.
Unknowingly we all played into her hands, from the receiving her package in the mail, to Club Muse, to the warehouse, to the safe house.
The safe house where she shot Michael.
Where she tied up Dean.
And where she poured out her plans for the future. A future that involved me. Mutilation. And murder.
Michael shot her that day.
That day that she so desperately wanted a family.
That day, I found out she was apart of mine.
Abigail Florence.
The sister of Julia Florence, my biological Mother.
I've told myself I was fine. That she didn't effect me that much, and she got what she deserved. But nobody deserves death. And just as I'd finally accepted her existence in my life, I found out my Mother no longer did. Nor did the Brother I never knew I had.
The last grain of sand in the hourglass.
Nothing that went on two months ago bothered me that much. But little thing upon little thing amounted to a lot in the end. A lot on my conscience, and a lot on my heart.
My nightmares since that day have all consisted of the same things.
Me getting shot -like Locke-
Me getting burned alive -like Julia-
Me drowning- like I feel I have been for a while now.
Drowning in the unknown. The sorrow. The grief. The guilt.
Either I'm amazing at hiding my emotions from Michael, or he's smart not to ask, because these past two months nobody has asked if I were okay -as if I weren't- but Dean.
Dean.
The boy who can somehow always see through me.
The highlight is then that I'm the only one that can see through him.
Eye for an eye. Breath for a breath.
Despite what he may think- I believe I truly am fine. Perhaps that's speculation. Or perhaps it's stalling. But as long as I believe it, it's the truth.
It's my truth. The truth I'm working towards.
Slowly I slip back into reality. The reality where I stand by the rails of the Potomac. I lean over them, glancing into the beautiful waves below.
When suddenly hands grab me, and push me over. I scream a death defying scream as I plummet down.
No.
But the thought does cross my mind. Which is why I back away from the water and begin a walk around the park.
When I say park, I really just mean a large open span of grass with benches and biking trails. During the day it can be buzzing with people, but due to the extreme early hour, I'm alone in this peaceful field.
I breathe in the crisp morning air, my attire doing a swell job of keeping me warm. My hair floats with the occasional breeze, and the calming array of nature brings me an inner tranquility that I haven't had in a long time.
Soon my nightmare is far off my mind.
Sometimes, I wonder to myself who else dreams of the events behind us. I know Dean -like me- has had a problem sleeping ever since our parents forced us to do unsightly things.
But what about the others?
Has Maddox yet gotten past his nightmares of being kidnapped?
Does Michael dream of his near death?
Does Sloane ever have issues with the things she'd seen, helping me on the Florence case?
What if Briggs falls asleep at night thinking about how badly he believes he screwed up?He'd worked with Locke for years and didn't notice anything wrong with her.
None of us did.
I laugh lightly into the air. I feel like such a child, fussing over the past I can't change.
Locke is dead.
My family is dead.
And Michaels alive.
That's all that matters.
A ring emanates from my pocket, causing me to jump. I pull out my phone, to see Deans name light up across the screen.
I smile softly and hit accept, bringing the phone up to my ear.
"Hey," I murmur.
"Hi," he mumbles back. "Where are you?"
"At the Potomac," I say, glancing behind me at the loud yet silent river. "I went for a walk."
"It's four in the morning," he chuckles softly.
"Yeah, I just... needed to clear my head."
Definitely didn't throw a trash can into the river.
"Are you alright?" He asks, his quiet voice brimming with slight concern. The emotion is hesitant, as if he knows he shouldn't be worried but he is anyways.
"Yeah, just dreaming," I whisper. "What about you?"
He's silent for a moment before murmuring, "Just dreaming."
A pang of empathy hits my chest. "I'm sorry I'm not there, try your best to get some rest, okay?"
"Yeah... yeah okay," he mumbles. I hear a slight intake of breath on his end, like he was about to say something but decided not to at the last second. "Bye."
"Bye Dean," I whisper, before ending the call.
I look around this park, and it's as if a veil has been lifted. I'm not in the dark anymore. I'm not alone. Locke is gone, and I am okay with that. In the instances that I'm not, all it takes is the reassurance of a certain someone's voice to bring me back to the light.
Dean has always had that effect on me. Seemingly since the beginning. My nightmares may seem frequent, but they mainly come on the nights where I'm alone in bed, and not when I'm with him. As if Dean is a shield, created to protect me from my inner demons.
And me for him.
I start my walk back home. The distance is only around fifteen minutes, and the feat is enjoyable, as it feels as if nothing is left on my shoulders. Nothing but underlying fatigue.
In almost exactly fifteen minutes I see the old Victorian house come into view. The windows are dark, the only light being the stars in the sky. I walk through the front door, locking it behind me as I sneak silently back upstairs.
I pass by Maddox and Michaels room first, then Deans, and Lias, before reaching mine and Sloane's at the end of the hall. My roommates foghorn of a snore reaches me at the doorframe and I smile knowingly.
Slipping my jacket off my shoulders, I hang it on the coat rack by the door. Sloane had brought one up weeks ago for an experiment, and since she didn't put it away when she was done I decided to put it to use.
I tiptoe to my dresser to grab an oversized tee before coming back to the other side of my bed to grab my phone from my jacket pocket.
Throwing the shirt onto my bed I tug the turtleneck off, and just as I reach back to undo the clasp of my brazier I sense a presence behind me.
In immediate succession arms lace around my waist as the person places their head on my shoulder, and it takes me a moment to realize this moment was real, as the man behind me takes a deep breath, pulling me closer.
"Hey," I murmur. "You couldn't sleep?"
He grunts a no and I lean my head against his. "Lay down, Dean," I tell him, but his grip around me only tightens.
I rub his hand reassuringly as I take a deep breath. I get a whiff of his shampoo, and I know he tried to escape the same way I attempted to earlier.
Hesitantly I pull his hands away from me, guiding him into my bed. He climbs in, and I quickly finish taking off my bra to pull on the tee shirt, and slip out of my pants and socks before climbing in next to him.
Right away he pulls me close, burying his face in my chest. I run my fingers through his hair as he wraps his arms around me. Completely tangled in the embrace, we fall asleep almost instantly.
No matter my dream.
No matter my doubts.
I'm home. I'm safe. I'm here.