Redemption

Eleven

Dreaming. He was dreaming. Soft murmurs in his ear, a tender caress on his skin, lips against his cheek. Her face was just out of reach, a hazy blur he couldn't focus on. Rueben, she cooed gently. Rueben, wake up.

"Wake up,"

Eyes snapping open, he sat up before knowing where he was.

"It's okay," Olivia was beside him, her hands on his shoulders. "You were having a nightmare."

"Was I?" Gruff from sleep, his voice was hard. "I don't remember,"

"It's okay now," shifting to pour a cup of water from a pitcher kept on the nightstand by her bed, she offered it. "You were calling out."

His grunt was distracted as the cobwebs in his mind began to clear. The water helped.

"Is that normal? Having nightmares?"

"No," scooching closer, she gazed at him. "What about after... you know?"

Shaking his head, Lane scowled, swallowing the rest of the water. He couldn't remember now, but it clung to him. The emptiness of loss. The sharp ache of grief.

"Why am I here," he muttered sullenly, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Why,"

"You're a traitor, Rueben."

It stabbed into him so hard he froze, mouth popping open in stunned surprise. Green eyes held poignant sympathy as she watched him turn to face her. His features were nearly ashen.

"It's all you told me. It's all you would ever say about your past."

"...traitor," he choked out the sound, unable to accept it. "No, I... I can't be."

"It's true. You were branded when you were put on the prison ship, but," her shrug was gentle. "After so many floggings, the brand is gone. It was on your neck."

Lifting his hand to touch it, he realized his body remembered it, even if his mind did not. He remembered the scars on his back.

"A traitor," scowling with a shake of his head, he stood up, pacing the room. "That's... that's not me. I... no. No! That's not me. That's not who I am."

"Perhaps not now." Gently soothing, her voice brought his focus back to where Olivia sat, watching him. "You don't remember what you were like. How angry you were. How violent. How full of hatred for the world. So yes, Rueben, you were a traitor. Whatever the reason, whatever the circumstance, it's the truth."

Running a hand through his hair, he blew out a heavy sigh.

"Did Prescott know?"

"You two never got along very well to start with, so I cannot imagine you'd tell him, but," her lips twisted into a soft pout. "He did buy your freedom, so maybe the prison commander told him?"

"More questions," slumping against the wall, his features hardened. "All I get is more questions."

"I'm sorry," her sigh was empathetic but neither moved.

"What else have I done?" without looking up, he ground his jaw. "In the years I worked for Prescott, what did I do?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

Lips set in a tight line, jaw muscles bunched, he shook his head.

"I have to, though. I need to know what I was."

"Why? Why torture yourself, Rueben?"

"Atonement." His gruff whisper brought tears to her eyes. "I have to atone for what I've done."

"Let me get you some coffee first," standing, she straightened her gown before pulling on a robe. "We're going to need it."

"Do I like coffee?"