Take a Shot

Nightmare

My favorite woman in the world lay asleep in my bed, and I was not having a perv conniption, so that was a plus.

Emerald had just gotten back from a mission. I looked at the clock. She'd been back for about 2 hours now. As our routine dictated, she came to my room to find me. And unlike our normal routine, she immediately pushed past me when I opened the door, buried herself in my sheets, and started to scream.

"Fuck, Em, what the hell?" I yelled, trying to be louder than her screaming. If she heard me, she didn't show it. The screaming didn't stop as I went to shut the door, nor as I came over to the bed, nor as I sat down on the edge and resorted to staring at her. I was actually impressed with how long and loud she could scream. I shook her, and she slapped my arm away. I frowned, deciding to wait it out. She couldn't scream forever.

It took about 4 minutes, but she finally ran out of air. And when she did, she flopped onto her stomach, lifeless. I shook her again. She grumbled something I couldn't hear.

"Come again?"

"I said, stop shaking me or I'm gonna vomit."

I took my hand off her quickly. What had gone on for this mission? She'd not even been gone a day, so she should be better put-together than this. Maybe someone got to her; that didn't happen often, but sometimes it did. Still, I'd never seen her crumble like this. It was really bruising my heart to see her this upset.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No," came her quick, curt reply. I rolled my eyes. It was like the tides, how she kept me out of her work life: consistent, predictable, and downright killer.

"C'mon Em, you're obviously upset." She lay in silence, and I frowned. Stubborn motherfucker. "I don't know what happened, but I can take it." No, I probably couldn't, but if it would make her feel better, I would die, so in a sense I didn't have a choice.

"Just a tough one today," she sighed. I chuckled.

"I can tell. Do you wanna go shower?" She was typically dirty after her missions, and this one appeared to be no exception. I could see a spatter of blood still on the shoulder of her shirt. I shuddered to think what had been on the front. I would have to wash my sheets. Damn. I had just done that a few days ago.

"I can do it tomorrow."

I tried to not reel back in surprise and slight disgust. Showering was always the first thing she wanted to do when she got back. "Gross. You shouldn't sleep in your day-filth," I said, hopefully nonchalantly and not worriedly.

"Shut up," she growled. "Not like I'll get any sleep tonight after what I did, anyway. Leave me alone."

I blinked, raising an eyebrow. I knew she was sort of an insomniac, but what had that meant? 'After what I did.' I could reasonably assume she meant killing someone, but as far as I knew, she never lost too much sleep over the things she'd done for Harmony's sake. It was absolutely terrifying, but it was why she was so good: she was sadistic and heartless.

"What happened?"

"It doesn't matter," she mumbled. "The blood won't come off my hands tonight anyways, so I'll just shower in the morning. Sorry to bug you." She made to get up, and I pushed her back down. She flailed onto her back on the mattress.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's got you so shook up."

"Oh, fuck off, Matt," she huffed, trying to get up again. My eye twitched and I folded my arms. She squinted but stayed put on the bed. She rolled onto her side, crossing her arms and pointedly not looking at me. I stifled an eyeroll.