Sometimes, she dreams of him.
Not anything really anything serious, just like what their children would look like, what the style of her dress would be at their wedding.
The dreams are brief, too brief, and they end sooner then she'd like. For some reason, the dreasm hurt more then not having them do. It's a nightly reminder of what would never be hers.
She wants to hate him for favoriting other people- that aren't her- but how can she begrudge hi m that n she does the same to him?
Some nights, she dreams of him. The night that are lonely and cold, with Rhys away somewhere else -he says he's going to Dav's, but she can smell the perfume on his clothes- she dreams of what could be. Of his arm around her, of his lips against hers.
When she wakes up, she's crying. It hurts that Rhys can't even stay with her-she laughs bitterly, because didn't she do the same to him?- more then she'd like to admit.
The others can tell –she hates Owen's sypmathectic glances- and she avoids looking at him, but it's hard to not see his electric blue eyes.
It's after he left and she still denies it –why did he go?- and can't believe he's really, actually gone. It hurts so much, more then she's ever felt. She's strong for everyone else, bt breaks down when she's alone.
As if to make matters worse, she finds underwear that isn't hers in their bed and leaves Rhys. Every night she's cold and lonely and misses him so much. The dreams return every night, even more vivid and colorful then before –whispers of I love you- and her pillow is always wet in the mornings. No one notices the defeated slump in her shoulders, the empty look in her eyes or the tear tracks on her face. Not that she wants them to, but she would like someone to hold her –she wants him- but she must be strong.
He's back and alive and oh, she loves him –so much- and then it happens. The moment. And that is enough to fuel her dreams forever. Because the dreams are back –better, now- and she doesn't cry as much. But he notices –of course he does- and talks to her and she wants to tell him –so badly- but she doesn't. Maybe she'll regret it but she doesn't.
And then there's a night she can't remember anything –none of them can- but her dreams are full of her and him sitting at a table and I love you's.
She's pretty sure her heart is broken –unfixable-.
These dreams are different. Cold and soft, painful and silently heartbreaking. She wakes up sobbing into her pillow and wants him.
She sees Rhys with another woman and turns away. He sees Rhys and asks about him. She tells him –perhaps something will come from it- and he hugs her for a while. She closes her eyes and cries –he doesn't know why, will he ever?- and he strokes her hair.
She wonders if he dreams.
The dreams are fast and far and long and loving. She keeps them close to her, not letting them escape –she's afraid that her heart will disappear- and hopes.
The alien rushes at her and she feels it hurt her. She closes her eyes as she falls, and doesn't feel her body hit the ground.
He talks to her, but it's desperate, longing. She smiles; she knows it's the end.
"Hey," she says softly. He gazes at her. She takes a deep breath and hands him the book she always keeps in her pocket. Her dream diary.
"I will always love you."
She doesn't hear his reply, the darkness is too much –and too little- and it's over. Her last thought:
He can't die.