Side story for my fic White Eyes. This part is linked to chapter 6.

WARNING: quite a lot of blood.

Story 1 – Blue nightmare

Even though he slept often in his dream bubble, Tavros seldom had nightmares. But when he did, it was always the same one. It wasn't a dream that haunted him – it was a memory.

His nightmares were filled with cerulean blood. It always started at the same time: Vriska laid in front of him, dying. Agonizing. Everything was covered in her blood. She had taken control of his hand to write her begging demands for a swift death. All he could was watch his own fingers urging him to kill her. He felt her psychic powers grew weaker by the minute – his body was full of her agony.

He knew he had to do it. He had so many reasons to do it. But when he took his lance out of his strife specibus, he immediately started to feel sick. And the gut-wrenching sensation was growing stronger and stronger. The metal of the weapon felt burning hot against his palm. He wanted to let go. But he held on so as to fulfill her last request. He got closer, right above her. She opened an eye with difficulty.

When she saw him with his lance, she closed her eye and cracked a tired smile. He wanted to throw up. Something in him was preventing him from putting an end to her suffering. He felt dizzy, and tears were coming up to his eyes. His whole body was shaking. That was when he started hearing it:

"Don't kill her… Don't kill Mindfang…"

It was a man's voice, unknown yet somehow familiar. Rufio? No, even he knew full well Rufio wasn't real. But that wasn't his main concern.

He was scared. Genuinely scared. Of what he could do. Of what he should do.

"Pl…ease…"

Her voice was barely audible, but since she was just beneath him, he could hear it. She frowned, in an effort to muster her psychic strength. His left hand suddenly moved, bringing the tip of his lance just above the symbol on her shirt. His tears started to fall on her skin, brown barely washing away any of the blue she was covered in. He heard himself say "Mindfang…" He felt that she had taken control of his free hand, and could only stand in horror as it raised to his face, tracing letters on his forehead. Even if he couldn't see it directly, he understood what she was writing.

'K8LL M8'

He faltered: he didn't know why, but he couldn't do it. Even now.

Before he knew it, his hand threw the lance away, and he fell down beside her, his body shaken by tears.

"I'm sorry Vriska… I can't kill you…"

She was probably too weak to speak again now – but she was still alive. He felt that she was trying to make his hands strangle her neck with her psychic powers.

"Please… No…" he begged, more desperate about this than he probably should.

He bit his right arm, in hopes he would regain full control of his hands. It worked, so he proceeded to dig his claws in his left arm, and backed off, bleeding and tripping on the floor made slippery with Vriska's blood. But the brown blood was but a drop in a blue ocean.

One last time, she took over his hands, probably to write messages for him, he though – but it was only a long, painful scream that she couldn't voice anymore.

Then it stopped.

He fell down, panting, crying, bleeding. He had to leave. He dragged himself to his vehicle painfully, still feeling sick. Once on board, he turned the engine on to leave, and once he was far away enough, he broke down into tears once again.

He was a coward.

"Thanks for not killing her, I'm proud of you," the unknown voice in his mind said.

After that, he only heard it again once, when he confronted Vriska on the meteor.

He still felt like a coward.