Two Souls : Chapter 01

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Disclaimer: I don't own the show, but the characters are still fun to play with.

Summary: What if Vansh's wife and daughter were Ajay Roy's first victims? What if nobody at the CBI knew about Vansh's past? AU, dark exploration of possibilities.

Warning: I should probably add a more explicit warning for this, but I really don't want to give too much away. So, let's just say that parts of this are as dark as midnight on a moonless night. Also, the first chapter will make sense eventually. And if you are a purist about your fanfiction and characters, this might not be the story for you.

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September 1975

The woman entered the lobby of the hotel, her two young sons trailing behind. The strap of the travel bag cut painfully into the flesh of her right shoulder. Other people had suitcases with wheels; she was sure that she was already attracting attention. The concierge gave them the key without even looking away from the match he was watching on a small portable TV set and she was grateful for his lack of interest. Their room was on the top floor of the building, at the very end of everything. It was exactly where they belonged; she liked the metaphor.

She was tired and sore when they finally arrived upstairs. If the hotel had an elevator, she had failed to find it. Her hand trembled when she opened the door. The room was small, glum. But, like a miracle, there were the beds. Two of them, with white bedclothes. She took off her shoes, fell onto the bed beneath the window and closed her eyes to shut herself away from the world for a while. This was nothing unusual for the kids; sometimes she slept the whole day. They got along, fixed themselves some food, watched TV. Maybe it was her constant tiredness, her inability to stay awake and to be bright and polite all day long, that distanced herself from others. Briefly she wondered how the boys would entertain themselves in a tiny hotel room with only two beds, a wardrobe and a bathroom, but she already felt herself slip away.

She left everything behind.

The town.

That room.

Herself.

Her mind and body were freed.

She felt no pain, no fear, no shame.

When she was floating between alertness and sleep, she always felt as light as a feather. But then, eventually, she fell asleep. Sometimes she believed that sleeping wasn't as bad as being awake, but once in a while her nightmares made her question that. Dreams were never a sanctuary for her; they were hell. Often she was falling, with nobody there to catch her, until the gaping abyss swallowed her whole and she awoke with a start.

Crushed.

Penalized.

Exhausted.

She heard her sons' voices which tried to pull her out of the familiar humming of her dark, cold visions. Eventually she came around, didn't know exactly where she was, but she knew that she needed to stay. Here. In this room. It was almost dark outside when she opened her eyes. The rain still unwaveringly refused to stop falling from the sky.

The boys were spread out on the other bed. She didn't tell them about the dream, pretended to feel refreshed after her nap. She wanted to convince herself that she was alright, but failed miserably when her youngest son demanded to eat. He always wanted something; she felt like she was never able to put up with his needs. She reached for her purse, took out a bag of chips. It wasn't a full meal, but no matter what others thought she was able to provide for her kids.

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