Crossfire

Chapter 4

I was stuck in a cage again. Monica was watching me from outside, a cold curiosity masking her face. She stuck a needle into my arm, rendering me helpless as she pulled me out of the cage and onto a cold metal table. I couldn't move. My wings were stuck. She took a scalpel and cut along my chest. It wasn't healing. My healing factor was gone. I could feel everything that she was doing to me. I couldn't scream or even make a sound. There was nothing I could do. She stepped away from me, her hands red with blood. She coughed and blood spilled onto her shirt. Onto her chest. A gaping hole appeared and I regained the ability to move. I held her in my arms as she died once more.

I woke up with a start, my breathing quick and unsteady. Erik was already awake, sitting at the desk. He turned to face me. He didn't seem surprised to see me in this state. I had had nightmares before when I was around him, but never like that one. Never so... real. Erik set his drink aside and walked over to me. He sat next to me on the bed, pulling me to rest against his chest. He sang softly in German. I listened to his voice and felt the beat of his heart against my cheek. It calmed me down. He held onto me for a moment longer before walking away and pouring me a glass of scotch. I took it gratefully. Erik sat across from me.

"Your nightmares have been getting worse, haven't they?" He said softly.

"Yeah." Was all I could really manage to get out.

Erik and I had been working together for almost a year now. It was 1962. My hands were shaking. The nightmares had never been this bad before. They had never been this bad... I shivered. I needed to talk about something else. Anything else.

"Where did you learn that lullaby?" I asked him.

He had a faint smile across his lips. "My parents taught it to me, when I was a boy. Before the war."

That was right. I had seen the number on his arm once. He had only told me a little about it. I had never really asked. It didn't seem like it was my place.

"It calmed me down after I had a nightmare."

"I've found that alcohol helps too." I joked.

"That it does." He finished off his drink. "Would you like to talk about it? It might help stop future nightmares."

"Monica. She took me in after my escape. Shaw killed her."

"He killed my mother."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too."

I reached to the bedside table and pulled out a faded paper. The title was still clear, despite the amount of times that I had pulled it out for this very purpose. This was all that I had left of her. One short story that I didn't even have a copy of. If anything happened to this, I would lose my one and only connection to Monica Weller.

"What is that?" Erik asked. "I've seen you with it several times."

"Monica was a writer, of sorts. This was one of the last short stories she ever wrote. It's about an angel who falls into the woods and is taken in by a weary traveller. She may have been, erm, inspired by some real life events." I smiled. "It was all that I took from her. I didn't go back to the house, once she died. I was afraid that Shaw would still be there. This was what she had on her at the time."

"I'm sorry that you had to see that happen." Erik said. He sounded genuine. He took my hand for a moment. "He won't get away with it. I promise you that."

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"Thank you for the information." Erik said, using his powers to remove the metal collar on the man's neck.