The Dark Days

Twenty-One.

My nightmares are getting worse.

I'm dreaming about a little girl. She looks just like Peter, but her hair is black and curly. In my dream I'm holding her hand, and she's crying. I ask her why, and she says that she's afraid, afraid because she may never be born. She looks ahead, and when I follow her gaze, my eyes land on Storybrooke. Which is on fire.

The scene seers itself into my mind: The horizon is bright orange and red. Dark gray smoke filters up and stains the sky, making the darkness darker. I can hear the people screaming, wailing for help and death.

I jolt awake, my breathing faster than normal. My skin is slick with sweat and my head aches. I'm alone in the room; And I'm so glad for it. I begin to cry - sob, actually. I curl up in a ball and dig my face into the comforter, trying to cry away the image and the sound of the screams and the beautiful little girl who clung so desperately to my hand. I cry for a really long time, and even when I begin to get cramps in my limbs I stay curled up inside the sheets.

The door behind me opens and I curl in even tighter, trying in vain to wipe away my tears and stop sniffling.

"Oh, Kasey," I hear Peter say gently. He come to the side of the bed and places his hand on my shoulder comfortingly. I uncurl myself and fall against him, gripping his shirt and putting my face into it. Peter is confused for a moment, then puts his arms around me, his face in my hair.

"You know I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong?" he whispers into my hair. "Please tell me, Kase. I'm done coming in here to find you crying, the worst look of fear in your eyes. I want to help you, but you won't let me. Please, please tell me, Kase."

I sniffle and dry my eyes on his shirt, gathering my courage. Then I tell him every nightmare I've had that I can remember since I got to Storybrooke. All of it takes about ten minutes, and by the time I'm finished, I'm crying again. Peter pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me, his hand going to my hair. He holds me tightly against him, almost as if I'll be torn away if he lets go. I put my arms around his neck and hold him just as tightly.

"Jeez, Kase..." he mutters, "if I knew...."

"But I didn't want to worry you," I sobbed. "And I didn't want to scare you. And I didn't want to anger you. And I didn't want you to get any ideas -"

"Kasey, stop," Peter whispers. He pulls me closer - if that's even possible - and burrows deeper into my hair. "I would never put you into a cage. I would never hurt you. And I would never...."

He doesn't finish, but I know we he's talking about. He would never take my heart.

"I know," I whisper. "But it's still terrifying to think about."

Peter begins to rub my back soothingly, making my breathing calm. He kisses my head and whispers my name, which calms me down further. When I'm finally calm enough I draw back and let him help me dry my face. When all my tears are gone he plants kisses all over my face, making me laugh a little, though it sounds hoarse and rough. Peter smiles and then kisses my mouth gently.

"I have breakfast," he announces suddenly, picking up a bag. "You should eat something. I can hear your stomach growling."

I smile, but it quickly fades. I move back and lean against the headboard, curled up in a ball, as Peter takes out our food and gives me mine. We eat in silence, and I can't bring myself to look at him. I finish quickly, only able to eat a little bit, and give him the rest. He looks worried as he takes it, but he doesn't say anything. I lay over onto the bed and curl up, putting my forehead on my knees. Peter climbs up onto the bed and lays on his stomach in front of my legs. His legs are sticking up and his arms are folded under his chin. He looks adorable, but my mind is too muddled to process this, so I just stare into his beautiful green eyes.

"Please tell me the next time you have a nightmare," he says quietly, his left hand stretching out and brushing my leg. "I hate seeing you like this. It makes me really, really sad."

My hand comes up and catches his, making his gaze flick down to our hands. His fingers grip mine gently and he brings my fingers up to his mouth, kissing each one gently.

"Do you want me to stay here today?" he asks.

"No. Go do whatever you need to." My fingers slip themselves from his grasp and return to where they were before. Peter's eyes flicker with sadness, but they're quickly covered by mischief.

Peter grabs my wrists, peels my arms off my legs and straightens me out. Then he wraps his arms around my waist and snuggles into me, our noses just barely touching. "I'm not leaving until I get a kiss."

I press a small, gentle kiss to Peter's lips and he pouts. "Not that kind of kiss," he whines. "The mind that makes me dizzy. The kind that makes me regret leaving you here all by yourself. The kind that makes me high like a drug. Because you are my drug. I need a proper dose every day, or I'll die." I can't help laughing at this, and Peter's eyes sparkle with victory. "I love your laugh."

My cheeks flush ever so slightly and I kiss him. Deeply, passionately, and for a full six minutes. Then I pull away and Peter goes. When the door closes, I consider calling him back. As soon as I get out of the bed the door opens again and Peter comes back in, looking sheepish.

We both just stand there for a second. Finally, to break the silence, I say, "I was just about to call you back."

He smiles a small, genuine smile. "Good." He marches over to me and puts his arms around me. "I just realized that if I left we'd both be bored and have nothing to do for an entire day." He kisses me once. "And since both of our days are empty, dark pits of nothing -" my head goes back as I laugh loudly "- I decided to come back and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you until we're both silly little drug addicts laying on the floor, too high to kiss anymore."

I laugh again as Peter kisses me again and pushes me back onto the bed. I fall to my back and Peter comes with me, wrapping my legs around him.

"No more will you have bad dreams," he whispers as his lips travel to my neck. "From now on, you will only dream of this."

And I believe him.