The Devil Walks Among Us; Book l - Completed 4/21/22

Fire Away

Honey, load up your questions and pick up your sticks and your stones. And pretend I'm a shelter for heartaches that don't have a home...

Mia clung to Michael's chest, suffering through what looked like to be a nightmare, which was the one of many she had over the last two years, but this one looked to have more of an effect on her. Michael had his fair share of nightmares - always having to wake up to an empty white room at Smith's Grove. Nobody cared, so neither did he. Nightmares were nothing but normal to him. But hell, he himself was a nightmare.

The sun beamed through the curtains, her bare back exposed to the air as the rays warmed her back, causing her skin to show a faint layer of sweat on her skin. She was hot to the touch, and not in an intimate way. She pressed her cheek to his chest, listening to his heartbeat as the soft thud soothed her. In a moment, she had startled herself in her sleep, waking up with a gasp, her eyes frantically looking around the room as it took her a few seconds to find her bearings.

Michael looked at her, studying her face as he knew it was a dream about something personal. He reached for her hand that was curled on his chest, using his thumb to rub circles on her knuckles. "You okay?"

She sighed, laying back down and pulling the blanket over her, curling her face into the side of his chest, "No."

"Bad dream?"

She nodded.

"You want to talk about it?"

He felt her sigh, "It was about my parents is all... It's just another bad dream."

He frowned, knowing what had happened to her parents. He couldn't help but feel empathy - not only for her but for all of the people he had terminated over the years. How many times have I made someone cry over losing someone? He fought his inner demons with brute force now that he had to provide for someone else. Before, he had no empathy, no remorse for his actions. That is until Mia came along. If only you came into my life sooner...

Maybe he wouldn't have turned out the way he was. Maybe he would have had an early start into a normal life, but he was grateful, and rather lucky, that he got to experience it, even though he was at a later stage of his life.

He felt her weep against his chest. He understood that she didn't want to talk about it and all he could do was hold her - to let her know that it was okay to confide in him for her emotional and physical comfort. Her body was still bare from their intimate entanglement, although Michael himself was never one to sleep without clothing on, so he resorted to one of the many shirts that he slept in, each being a dark shade of earth-tone colors.

Steel grey or navy blue was his favorite.

He leaned his cheek against her forehead, his beard giving her the familiar sense of warmth and physical comfort that she needed, gently and slowly rubbing his palm up and down her bare arm. She cried as quietly as she could, wiping her eyes before looking up at Michael with bloodshot eyes. He looked back at her, watching her eyelids weigh down on her eyes, smirking softly at how her mascara pooled at her lower lid, taking his thumb to wipe away the makeup.

Not like she needed it anyway.

"Was I Cooperin'?" She sniffled.

"What?" He tilted his head.

She forced a half-smile, "It's an Alice Cooper reference... He wears makeup around his eyes-"

"I know who you're talking about," He chuckled. "Just never heard that before."

"Well, now you did," She sniffled, now feeling his lips against her forehead, laying his head back down onto the pillow. "We have to start over, Michael."