Scientific Fantasies (Wattys2015)

Chapter Twenty-Six

She couldn't sleep that night, nightmares plaguing her after the news Sam had given her about the new idea for the military, her dreams full of blood and terror. The memories that the conversation had invoked wouldn't leave her alone, interrupting her sleep, making her watch her mother dying over and over again. Long before sunrise, she was awake, abandoning her book when it couldn't help her, and tugging a jumper and shoes on. If she couldn't sleep, then she'd try to bury herself in her work.

Talon was awake when she entered, but she ignored him, even though she knew that he could - and would - come over to her at any point. He wasn't chained or caged, after all. She just didn't want to speak about anything, especially after the heated exchange they'd had the night before. She sat at her desk, trying to concentrate on the data and results in front of her, but a soft touch on her shoulder made her spin, fear flooding through her. Dark eyes gazed back at her, and she turned her head away.

"What do you want?" she muttered.

He perched on the edge of her desk, watching her, and then his gaze dropped to her hands. She followed, and was humiliated when she saw that they were shaking. She hid them under the desk, trying to forget about it, but his gaze just shifted to meet hers again.

"Scared, scientist?"

She winced at his scornful tone, but met his gaze squarely. "Yes. I'm terrified, like you. I have nightmares, and I'm sure you do as well."

He didn't move. "The difference between you and me is that when you wake up, your nightmare ends."

She flinched. She didn't know what to say to that, for it was true. She knew that nothing could happen to her during her nightmares, no matter how terrifying they were. But he never knew what would happen to him. Ingvar was too unpredictable for that. She'd tried to be predictable, but she wasn't sure if it always worked.

"Do you ever have nightmares?" she asked softly, not daring to look at him. She wasn't sure she wanted to see his expression in response to her question. He took a long time in answering, and she finally had to look up, to find that he was watching her carefully, although she thought she detected a strange look in his eyes before he managed to hide it. Even when they met eyes, he didn't move, and she began to think that it was a stupid question, and that he'd never answer. But he did, slowly.

"Yes." It was the barest whisper. "More than nightmares. Memories. Memories that are more than nightmares. You do not want them. You would not want to wish them on your enemy."

She swallowed, instinctively lifting a hand out to him. "I know saying sorry doesn't help," she said quietly. "It's never helped me before." She tried to swallow her nerves. "You heard me tell the professor what happened to me. It comes back, often, in my dreams. I can never escape them, no matter how much I try. "

He just shrugged. "Nothing can change them." He turned away, brushing suddenly gentle fingers over the flowers on her cactus. "Tell me of outside," he muttered abruptly. "Where I can do what I want."

Something touched her heart, and she turned in her chair, tugging her lab coat off and tossing it over her already messy desk, uncaring for the papers that would spill to the floor. "It's a strange world," she told him. "The people are strange. But it can be wild." Somehow, she knew he didn't want to hear of the cities, where the rush and bustle would confuse and terrify him. He wanted to know of the trees, the open space. The places he could be free. "There is nearly always a wind, somewhere. Sometimes it's playful, sometimes it's mean. But it always smells like freedom."

He'd turned to face her, and settled on the ground, his knees tucked to his chest, watching her unwaveringly. She continued, finding solace in the descriptions herself.