The Risks

March: Chapter 42

IT WASN'T THE first time I'd woken from this dream in the middle of the night, but it was the first time I'd woken up crying.

I bolted upright in bed, the memory of it still fresh in my mind. A screaming Feral infant, a gun shaking in my hand, a finger squeezing the trigger.

I clutched my chest -god, why did it hurt so bad?- and leaned forward with gasping sobs. The bedside lamp flicked on then, and Parker was sitting up beside me, pulling me into his arms.

"It's alright," he whispered into my hair. "It's alright. You're alright. Just breathe. It's okay."

He didn't even have to ask what was wrong anymore, and on this particular night, I was thankful for that. I didn't think I could explain to him why it was so much worse this time. I didn't think I could tell him that the infant in my dream was no longer Emma, but instead had my nose and Parker's eyes.

The subconscious was a cruel, sadistic thing sometimes. But I had to remind myself that that's what it was -just my subconscious. That aspect of the dream wasn't real. I could move on from that and go back to just being haunted by the memory of killing Emma.

Thank god, right?

Eventually, Parker had convinced me to lie back down, and we drifted off into sleep again until our alarm went off at seven a.m.

I rolled face first into my pillow, allowing it to muffle my exhausted groan. Parker rubbed my back, kissed my shoulder.

"You sure you want to go today?" he asked softly.

"Yes," I answered without hesitation, flipping over and rubbing my eyes.

Parker and I skipped out on the visit to the Zone the first time, and considering the visit had been scheduled just a few days after what had happened to Hannah, I thought it was fair. But I didn't want to skip again. Especially when I had some important questions that needed addressed.

"Maybe we can find something to help you sleep," Parker suggested as we both made our way out of bed. "I'll bet Shepard has something in that cabinet of hers. And if not, we can always go out on a run."

"I'm fine," I mumbled, pulling a sweatshirt over my head. "They'll stop eventually."

"That's not entirely convincing," he said with a concerned frown.

I smiled softly and moved over to him, placed a hand on his jaw and kissed him gently.

"I'm okay," I told him. Even if it wasn't true at this exact moment, I'd find a way to make it be. "Now," I patted his cheek once, "I want breakfast before we leave."

Downstairs in the pantry, Leila and Wes were on duty frying up eggs and pancakes. I loaded my plate up with both, and picked some strawberries and blueberries from the bowl of fresh fruit before finding a place to sit. Putting something into my stomach seemed to improve my mood entirely, and soon Parker and I were giggling like a couple of kids, tossing blueberries at each other and trying to catch them in our mouths. And when he made a ribald comment about the width of my open mouth and how he could think of a better purpose for it than catching blueberries, I launched one at his face -nearly hitting him in the eye- while telling him to shut up because we were in public.

Lance slammed his plate on the table beside Parker and sat. "You two are absolutely revolting. You know that, right?"

"He's just jealous because he doesn't have someone to toss fruit at all cute-like," Xavier explained, sitting down beside me.