But I learned fast how to keep my head up 'cause I

Know I got this side of me that

Wants to take the yoke from the pilot and just

Fly the whole mess into the sea

~The Shins

It started the same way it always did.

"You look tired."

There was a quiet intake of breath.

"I am tired."

Always the same answer, always the same muted tone.

"Did you have that dream again?"

The young woman sighed, bringing her feet up onto the cushioned black chair she was sitting on, allowing her chin to rest on her knees. She wrapped her arms around her legs tightly, sinking further back in to the plush fabric.

"It's all the same," she answered, her eyes glazed over with distraction. The dream was always the same, not a thing out of place.

"Are you still convinced that it's trying to tell you something? Give you a message?"

The young woman averted her blue eyes to the middle-aged blonde sitting across from her. No doubt she had been pretty in her youth. She still was pretty despite the faint signs of age showing near the corners of her eyes and thin-lipped mouth. To anyone at first glance, she may have appeared stern and unapproachable, but one look at her eyes and the young woman knew there was something deeper festering inside the rigid body clad in black work pants and a matching blazer. Her deep emerald eyes bored into the faces of her coworkers, her clients, with a cold, calculating glare, one that said she knew more about life than she ever wanted to know. But there were moments, rare moments in which her eyes would flash with a sudden vulnerability, so great and intense that it made the young woman uncomfortable. She wanted to know the things Monica knew and, yet, she didn't. It was incredibly ironic, considering Monica's profession.

"Jerrica," the blonde called lowly. Even her voice was laced with the heaviness of desolation, an inner suffering that Jerrica knew all too well.

"Yes," she responded finally. "It has to. It's too...different, vivid, for it to be just some random reoccurring dream. It has to mean something." The older woman narrowed her eyes in deep thought, not sure if she should go along with what Jerrica was dead set on believing or if she should delicately sway her onto the path of reason. After all, dreams are just a projection of the subconscious, a random and frenzied manifestation of inner thoughts and feelings. In no way could a dream be a premonition of any sort. That would be logically impossible. As a woman of science, she could not bring herself to consider such an idea.

"I know you don't agree with me," Jerrica said suddenly, "but how is it possible for me to just dream up people I've never met before? Or of places I've never seen? Monica, I'm telling you, something, or someone is trying to tell me something."

Monica sighed and nodded her head. She was only there to listen, to guide Jerrica into a happier, more productive state of mind. Disagreeing with her and shutting down her ideas wouldn't help in the slightest.

"Alright, then what do you think it's trying to tell you?"

Jerrica paused. In all honesty, she had no idea what it could possibly mean. It's been stumping her for the past year. She had researched for days and weeks on everything there is to know about dreams and their meanings, but nothing could ever explain the things she would see every night in her unconscious mind. So, Jerrica only shrugged her shoulders and placed her chin back on her knees.

"I'm still trying to figure that out."

"Jerrica," Monica began hesitantly. Jerrica immediately knew the direction this was going to go and tensed her body in preparation. "You said these dreams started up shortly after your mother...disappeared." Jerrica nodded slowly.

"I did."

"And you said that your mother appears briefly in every dream, in a white flowing gown, you said?"

"Yeah, and a gold head piece thing."

"Are you sure that, maybe these dreams aren't just a way of your mind comforting you over her disappearance? It could be that-"

"No," Jerrica snapped. Her eyes turned apologetic towards Monica, and her face contorted into one of guilt. "Sorry, I just...don't think that's the reason I'm having them."

Monica nodded in sympathy and noticed the recognizable glint of sadness in Jerrica's deep blue eyes. "What is it, Jerrica? There's something else going on, isn't there?"

It was uncanny how observant this woman was, and it never failed to catch Jerrica off guard. No one was quite able to read Jerrica as well as Monica, not even her own sister. Monica saw the small flinch in her client's body, knowing full well that she was not used to other's picking up on the highly concealed hints of her emotions. But Monica was observant, she always had been. It was a gift that she would have traded any day just to obtain the blissful ignorance that her colleagues seemed to take for granted. They didn't make that saying for nothing, and, as smart and realistic as being observant has made her, it also made her susceptible to the grey, dark side of the world where real evil lingered like vultures over a a field of dead animals. Maybe she would be happier with her ignorance. Maybe she would be somewhere else, enjoying her life, and not sitting in a small, cramped up office with client after client telling her their problems. She didn't have to do this, she knew that. She always had a choice. And she ultimately made the choice to help those who shared the same feelings she did. But how can you really help someone when you can't even help yourself?

That's the question Monica asked herself every day and it never failed to irritate her. Jerrica could see the inner battle raging inside of her therapist. She was observant too, but unlike Monica, she didn't treat it like a curse. It was just a part of her, something she was always able to do and neither hated it nor liked it; it just was. Because of this, Jerrica found herself better able to hide her feelings, to hide behind a blank expression that, up until now, no one was able to see past. At least Monica was there to help, and Jerrica knew that whatever was said in the office stayed in the office. So, she let out deep breath and allowed the words to tumble from her mouth.

"I feel like I don't belong here," she mumbled into her knees.

"You mean you feel like you don't belong here in New York?" Jerrica shook her head sadly and sighed once more.

"I mean I don't feel like I belong here, in this...world." A flash of alarm lit up in Monica's eyes and Jerrica was quick to fix her mistake. "No, no, I don't mean that I want to-to...kill myself. What I meant is that I feel like I should be somewhere else, living in a different world or time. I know it sounds crazy, but that's just how I feel. Freya said she feels it too at times, that we aren't supposed to be here."

"Your sister?"

"Yeah."

"How is she?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, how is she."

Jerrica wasn't very comfortable with talking about her family, or lack thereof. Freya was all she had now and was the only thing keeping her sane in her world of abandonment and dull routine. How could she talk about her sister without revealing the fact that Freya, too, had the same dreams every night? That evens her older sister-the role model, Jerrica's lifeline-has fits of complete and utter despair? One's that only Jerrica could tranquilize through soothing words and soft lullabies from their childhood; and when Jerrica had her moments, Freya was always there too, singing to her in a voice that was so much like their mother's. Yes, they were completely and absolutely dysfunctional, two dead women walking. But they tried. They tried every day to make the most of their situation. And sitting here, revealing her inner thoughts and feelings, having to reveal her sister's, it only brought Jerrica back down into her deep pit of anger, sadness, and confusion. She didn't want to remember, she wanted to forget. She wanted an escape. Therapy sessions certainly were not an escape. And, so, Jerrica did what she usually always did: she closed up and only responded with the vaguest of answers, never revealing too much, but giving enough to satisfy the question asked.

"She finds ways to distract herself. She's doing well, I think." Monica gave her that look, the one that said she knew what Jerrica was doing, but wasn't going to push her any further.

"And you? Are you finding ways to distract yourself?"

Of course not, Jerrica thought in her head, but she obviously would never actually admit it. Instead she nodded her head and answered with a dull, "yeah."

Monica knew she was lying. She did it herself all the time. She knew the repercussions of pushing someone so unstable to the edge, she had been there. That's what differentiated herself from all of her coworkers. None of them actually understood, none of them actually got it. They wanted to see progress for the sake of progress. Monica didn't want that. She wanted progress for the sake of the client and their mental stability. Yes, it meant that her client's would last longer and most of the time, they would get nowhere, but it's what needed to be done to ensure to herself that she was doing a good job, that she was actually helping. Today was one of those days that the two of them, Jerrica and Monica, were getting nowhere, and, it could very well be the reason that Monica decided to flip her notepad closed and lean forward to the young woman in front of her.

"Jerrica, when you say you feel like you belong in another world, what world do you think you belong in?"

Jerrica was silent for a long while, recovering from the shock of such a question being asked to her, especially from Monica. Of course she's thought about it, but the underlying question was whether or not she wanted to share personal information such as that. Freya and herself have discussed it at length, spending hours creating new lives for themselves, new adventures. It was their thing. But Jerrica could see the near desperate look in Monica's eyes, how much she wanted to make a break through with someone so far gone as her. Jerrica relented, but was careful with how much she revealed.

"Somewhere...older and much more adventurous. A world where people don't have to go through twenty years of schooling to become something. I don't know, a world where I don't feel so lost and alone, where Freya and I both don't have to feel that way."

It was Monica's turn to be silent, absorbing the response she just received from Jerrica. It was more than she was expecting, quite honestly. Although she, herself, had never dreamt of living in a different world or time period, the way Jerrica made it sound made the idea incredibly appealing. Monica realized that her younger self would have wished for the very same thing, even her present self wouldn't mind it a bit. But those were just dreams, nothing more, a fantasy for those who were desperate for an escape. She couldn't allow herself to sit around and wait for the impossible. It would only proliferate the dullness of reality, and it was already dull enough to Monica. Jerrica was old enough where she needed to allow herself to differentiate fantasy from reality, to move on with her life and make something of herself. She, too, couldn't sit around and wait for the impossible. But these dreams that plague her mind every night, this feeling of utter loneliness is keeping her from doing that. Monica didn't pity Jerrica, but she felt obligated to help the twenty year old.

"It sounds lovely," Monica said with a faint smile. "But, you know, you can find your way here, in this world. Sitting around and waiting for something magical to happen won't make you feel any better, Jerrica."

Annoyance built up inside Jerrica at Monica's words. Did she think Jerrica was stupid? Of course she knew that her wishes were impossible. It's not like all she did was lay on the couch and await her fairy godmother to appear before her, waving around a magic wand and granting her every desire. Jerrica was trying to do something with herself, she just didn't know what to do.

"I'm aware," she said somewhat bitterly. "I'm not waiting for anything impossible to happen. I'm waiting for...for..."

"For what?"

Jerrica didn't respond, she didn't know how. What was she waiting for? She did all the normal things a twenty year old should do: she went to school, she had a job, a car. But what was she supposed to do with all of that? Even though Jerrica had built a somewhat crooked path in front of her, if only to last the next couple of years, she felt like something was supposed to...come to her, fill her with a sense of completion or at least guide her to where she was meant to go. Nothing was happening, though, and if only she knew what it was that she was waiting for than maybe things could make just a little more sense to her.

"Jerrica," Monica pushed. "What are you waiting for?" And then she snapped.

"I don't know!" Jerrica suddenly stood up from her seat, her hands on either side of her head. She was breathing deeply, attempting to keep the inevitable panic attack from surfacing. "I just want things to make sense! Nothing makes sense anymore!" In the background, the intercom machine beside Monica's desk buzzed lowly. It took a minute for the older woman to answer; she was quite taken aback at Jerrica's outburst. Never in the nine months that Jerrica had been her client had Monica ever seen the young woman react like that. She was always so unwilling to express any type of emotion, stubbornly keeping everything in. They made a few breakthroughs, like with the reoccurring dreams, but other than that, Jerrica revealed nothing. This was something entirely knew for the both of them. Monica stared at Jerrica with eyes wide, watching the girl close her eyes, pinch the bridge of her nose and walk off the panic attack that had been triggered by her outburst. The intercom buzzed again, a bit longer this time. Slowly, Monica stood up from her seat and made her way to the intercom, using her long index finger to push down on the large white button.

"Yes?" Several seconds passed before the muffled and cracking noise from the other end of the machine filled the heavy silence lingering in the office. A nasally voice on the other end responded loudly, causing both Monica and Jerrica to tense their necks and shoulders in discomfort.

"Mark Tungston is here for his appointment." Monica's eyes averted to the digital clock at the corner of her desk, the bright red numbers reading five o'clock meaning Jerrica's session was now over.

"Send him in," she said. Monica sighed and looked up at Jerrica who seemed much calmer than before. "Well, our time's up. I'll see you next week."

Jerrica wasted no time in grabbing her coat and purse, quickly walking out of the office with a short "goodbye." Relief flooded through her when she stepped into the hallway. She absolutely hated therapy. It was stupid and did nothing to help her in any way. The only reason she still went was because Freya wanted her too and Jerrica would do anything for her big sister, so long as it made her happy. But it was getting to the point where these sessions were draining her and every minute there only reminded her of the people she's lost, the things she desperately wanted but couldn't have, and the things she held onto for dear life to keep herself afloat. Jerrica didn't like thinking about the shit in her life. She tried to stay as positive as she could. At least she had Freya, if no one else. At least she was alive and healthy and capable of attempting to turn her life around. Sometimes, things have to get worse before they get better, and that's what Jerrica held onto in her moments of darkness.

So absorbed in her thoughts, Jerrica did not realize that she wasn't alone in the dimly lit hallway leading to the elevator. A tall man had sauntered past her, his features hidden by shadow. She kept walking, her head down and eyebrows furrowed in deep thought.

"Excuse me, miss," a low and chilling male voice called from behind her. Jerrica jumped in surprise, swiftly turning around to face the stranger only to wish that she had kept going. His very presence made Jerrica uncomfortable. He was incredibly tall, albeit, most people were incredibly tall compared to Jerrica considering her rather small frame, but his height seemed almost unnatural. Every article of clothing the man wore was black, even his hair was black and tumbled down to his shoulders in messy, greasy waves. Beady black eyes stared right into hers, holding her hostage to their predatory gaze. He smiled then, a spine-tingling smile that made Jerrica want to turn and run for the hills.

"Uhh," was all she could manage to get out. He chuckled at her obvious fear, seeming to enjoy it. Jerrica gulped.

"I believe you dropped this." It was then that Jerrica realized that his gloved hand had been outstretched towards her the whole time, silver, gleaming object laid out in his palm. Her eyes widened when she saw exactly what he was holding. She cautiously brought her hand up, swiping the necklace away from his grasp and taking a step back. Jerrica was growing uneasy with every second she was in front of this man, but she was unable to just turn and leave. It felt like something was keeping her there, holding her feet to the floor.

"T-thanks," she said unsteadily. Her heart began to pound painfully in her chest when the man took another step towards her, and another.

"I have heard much about you, Jerrica Faulks." Jerrica's eyes nearly bulged out of her head when he said her name. She was absolutely sure she had never seen this guy in her life. How did he know her name? Words failed her as she continued to move back, the material of her coat brushing against the white wall behind her. His grin looked evil, his entire being shrouded in the darkness of the building, almost blending into it. Jerrica was terrified.

"W-what do you want?" she choked out. The man was a foot away from her, cornering Jerrica so she couldn't run away. He chuckled darkly again, relishing in Jerrica's fear, but something about his voice was changed. It was deeper and seemed as though several different voices were laughing along with him. It sounded demonic, causing Jerrica's knees to buckle in fright.

"Erebor will fall, the world of men will burn, and you will do nothing!" His form began to change, arms and legs morphing into a cloak of black smoke that consumed the entirety of the man's once human body. It only took mere seconds. Blood red eyes glowered at her with malicious intent, deadly. Jerrica's mouth flew open, a scream lodging in her throat as this demon flew towards her with an ear-splitting shriek. She couldn't run, she couldn't turn away, she was paralyzed.

But, suddenly, the demon flew back, the black smoke swirling around and disappearing into the air leaving behind no trace of anyone having been there, not even the man. At the same time, the door to Monica's office opened and the woman herself stepped out.

"Oh, Jerrica, you're still here," she remarked with furrowed eyebrows. Jerrica couldn't speak, she couldn't breathe. She quivered against the wall with wide eyes, unable to comprehend what she just witnessed. "Jerrica, is everything okay?"

She tried to speak, her mouth was opening and closing, but no sound came out. The only audible noise coming from her was her erratic breathing and quiet gasps for air. Jerrica knew it most likely looked like she was having another panic attack, and it wouldn't be far from the truth. But Jerrica was done. She needed to leave and dealing with Monica or anyone else besides her sister was out of the question. So, she ran, leaving behind her bewildered therapist and the ever darkening shadows that danced menacingly along the floor.

This chapter was just newly revised by mwah so here yah go.

The first few chapters are going to be kind of slow and are just mainly to fill in on some things about Jerrica and Freya before they make the inevitable trip to Middle Earth and such so bear with me here!

Comment, favorite/follow, please!

Thanks for reading(: