Warm blood seeped into Mary's skirt, and the scales on her forearms itched and stung as they sprouted, growing and covering her too-slow to protect her from the monster that watched her from a slight distance. She was sure it had been midday, but now the sky was dark, and she could barely see the misshapen remnants of her friends. She couldn't make out any of them in their entirety, though as her breathing sped up, her throat so dry it burned, she caught little glimpses; fingers curled into the hem of a hoodie here, a badly swollen ankle there, a half-open mouth seeping blood like it was a wound itself—

An anguished scream ripped from her throat, and hot tears coursed down her cheeks, dripping off her chin and splashing onto her skirt. She screamed again, her whole body shaking with terror, and behind her the corpses seemed to be whispering, saying words they couldn't ever say to her again.

"It's gonna be all right."

It wasn't going to be all right. Her little make-shift family had been taken from her, torn away before her eyes, and the monster that did it was here in front of her, so why wasn't it attacking her? Why was she the only one safe? It wasn't fair.

"Calm down, okay? Shh…"

A hot thread of rage twisted and pulled taught within her, and though the tears didn't stop she began to struggle to her feet, the soles of her shoes slipping in blood and dirt. The scales on her arms were thick like armor now, and a feeling like snakes coiled around her arms and shoulders, more comforting than such a slithery thing should be. She still couldn't see the monster but—

"Mary, you gotta wake up."

At her name, she jerked and her eyes flew open. The tears on her face were real, but the warmth around her shoulders was a pair of arms instead, and as she twisted and fought to get away, her nails scratching into the skin of her wrists to tear away the scales that she still felt there, she began to recognize her own room at the apartment.

It had been… a dream? Mary's struggles slowed, though thick sobs welled up in her throat to replace them. Everything had seemed so real to her, and she had to crane her neck to look around and be sure she wasn't surrounded by bodies after all.

On the contrary, the only other person in the room was Seto, who was staring at her wide-eyed, his expression unreadable. She checked her arms again for scales, sure it had to be disgust or horror she was seeing, but just as she ascertained that no, her skin was bare and unmarked, he pulled her into another tight hug, his chin resting on her head.

Her tears were easier to hide if she turned her head and pressed her face into his shirt, so she did just that, wriggling to get her arms free so she could wrap them around him. She could hear his heart beat beneath her ear, and if he was still alive then the others were too. A sob of relief bubbled up in her.

"I'm sorry," she gasped as she cried into his shirt, and felt him shake his head. "I'm so stupid, I just thought— it's okay, you're here—"

She couldn't keep going, couldn't reveal her childish dreams of everyone dying like that and disappearing. He'd wanted her to be brave, and here she was shaking and sobbing like a baby.

"It's okay, I know," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. His fingers combed through her hair, and she dug her fingers into his back, twisting her fists in the fabric of his shirt. Every touch reminded her he was still living, and she needed that right now. She needed him.

She hadn't realized she'd said it out loud until he gave a wet chuckle, and what, was he crying too? "I'm gonna be right here, so it's okay. I need you too."

Mary didn't see how he could need her, not when she was always depending on him for things. But if there was comfort she could bring him she'd stay here too, as long as he needed. It was only fair, after all.

She clung to him for what felt like a long time as her sobs subsided, his smell and voice and warmth real enough to make the dream seem pale and long-ago by comparison. His palm rubbed circles between her shoulder blades, and she arched her shoulders a little, leaning into the contact.

When her breathing was somewhat regular, and she felt she could speak without her voice wobbling too badly, she blew her nose in his collar and spoke. "I dreamed you were all dead. Right in front of me—" she thought she was done, but somehow a straggling sob rose in her chest and she went quiet, hiding her face in his shirt again.

"I know," he repeated, his hand only pausing for a second, and she wondered if he ever had bad dreams like that too.

"There was this person— but I couldn't see them—" she attempted, trying to convey it to him, and this time his hand stopped rubbing her back altogether, withdrawing completely. She felt cold and exposed in the dark.

"I know," he said again, and this time she picked up on it, the half-guilt of knowing things he should have never discovered.

She'd heard from Kido and Kano what it was like, to have every secret and forgotten emotion laid bare and picked apart by the ruthless curiosity of a child. She'd never thought she'd know what it was like herself, and she shivered. What had he seen? There were things she hid from everybody, things she especially didn't want Seto to find out.

"When did you—" she asked, her voice a little hoarse, and if she weren't so upset and cold she'd pull away from him a little. Maybe that's why he'd released her, to give her the option if she wanted it.

"Not now," he promised hastily, his voice a little strange in the darkness. "When I first met you— you had a dream like that, I think."

Mary had forgotten that, and she cast her mind back with a sense of horror. Before she met any of them, she'd already dreamed they'd be taken from her. Clairvoyance wasn't an ability she had, thank god, so it probably wouldn't happen, but how had she known what they'd look like?

Another shiver ran down her spine and she clutched at him desperately, terrified by the implications. As if he could sense her fear, his arms wrapped around her again, keeping her safe from a dream that may or may not be real.

"I haven't looked since then," Seto was swearing to her, his voice cutting through her worries. She tipped her head back to look at him, though in the darkness of the room she could only see the edge of his cheek lit by the streetlamps through the curtains.

"I know," she replied finally, snuggling back down against his chest. "I trust you."

A deep sigh left him, his chest moving under her cheek, and she wondered how worried he'd been about something like that. "Thank you," he breathed, and she ached a little from the idea that he thought trusting him was such an amazing thing.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, his breathing soft and regular beneath her ear, and Mary closed her eyes, trying to match her breaths to his. Her eyelids seemed far too heavy to open again.

"Hey," she asked quietly, and the quiet 'hmm?' that answered her made her pause. He already sounded tired. "Will you stay with me tonight?"

She was exhausted, and wanted to sleep, but if she had the dream again, she didn't think she could take it. He sounded half-asleep already.

"Mhmn, of course," he answered, as if were nothing, as if it weren't even a favor he was paying her.

The next few minutes were spent rearranging themselves to get comfortable. He seemed reluctant to let go of her as they laid down, and she had to pull the covers over both of them somehow, snuggling closer and feeling the patches of tears drying against her cheek.

After awhile, she roused herself from half sleep enough to ask.

"If you knew, why didn't you say anything?"

But it seemed he was asleep by then.