Screaming. Always screaming. It was music that never left his mind.

He walked through the burning streets of Stilwater, looking for her. Buildings around him crumbled and crashed to the ground. Smoke clutched at his throat and eyes. He was screaming her name, and he was finding nothing.

Finally, at the end of an unnamed road, she stood. Violet jacket burnt and shredded. Her long black hair hung to her thin waist. She was crying.

A flash.

They were sitting on the docks by the bay. She had always liked to come here, despite it smelling like fish and saltwater: said it helped her get away. They were holding hands as she gathered feathers from the wood. When she straightened, she was smiling with enough moonbeams in her heart to match her eyes. She placed a white feather to his calloused hand, and told him that maybe it would make him smile.

She kissed him tenderly.

A flash.

She was dying. Blood covered her breasts and stomach. A deep wound tore her face. She was smiling, though. Even as he wept and shrieked into the flames for a fucking ambulance, she smiled. She silenced him with her palm to his cheeks, brushing away his tears.

"You'll be happy someday. With someone who can make you laugh. And there will be nothing to tell you otherwise."

She died. For a moment, her face shifted to one covered in freckles, scars, and set with stunning green eyes.

He awoke with a panicked gurgle. The stars danced in the sky outside the ships' window. A muffled whimper at his side made him jerk as he fought to reclaim his grasp on reality. Riley turned in her sleep, her body covered only by tattoos and scars. She opened her tired eyes to peer at him.

"Johnny… what's wrong?" she asks, registering his fear. He shakes his head, attempting to calm his breathing. She sits up, placing a hand to his shoulder. He struggles to find the words to tell her it was just a bad dream, but tears threaten his eyes. He begins to weep quietly, tugging his fingers through his hair. Fuck...

She doesn't pry him for answers. She moves closer and rests her head on his shoulder. Nothing else. He fucking hates himself for waking her up, for putting her through this again. The dreams had never been so fucking bad.

He had kept everything away from Riley. Of course he missed Aisha, and her death was because of him, but he buried it like he buried Shogo and got on with his fucking life. Riley had been there for him, had talked him down, helped him through, and he… the feelings he had for her were more than just fuck-buddies.

His body shivered. His breaths came in shaky gasps. He wasn't even crying anymore. Riley's steady hand on his back worked in slow circles. Fuck him. He had a beautiful, kick-ass woman beside him, loving him, being his. And this was the best he could do...

"Riley, I…" he stuttered, but she shook her head in the starlight.

"Tell me only if you want to," she whispered, and he began crying again. She was...

They lay back down, and she pulled him into her side. She ran her fingers through his hair, repeating comforting words to calm him. It worked, eventually.

Fuck. He hated being so fucking weak, and felt even worse for having this be the thing that broke him. There was no way he fucking deserved someone so understanding. So easy-going. He knew exactly what she would say when he told her. "Don't be so upset. I get it."

He glances up at her. Her shaved head with the waft of red hair on top. Her scars and freckles. Her gentle eyes. She was sympathetic for a murderer. He wondered if that warm, fuzzy side of everyone was only meant for a special few.

"I'm sorry," he says. She rolls her eyes.

"Shut up," she replies, pulling him closer to her.

Her skin smelled of cherry brandy.