My thanks to Sylvain for the beta work.

In Dreams

It had seemed so real, so real that when I opened my eyes I expected Jackson to be here, but as I look around the room for him, the bedroom I now share with Ed, I remembered everything, where I am, and how things really are… and reality hits me hard. It had been a dream, just a dream! A cruel trick of sleep, nothing more. Jackson is dead and, right now, I feel like I've lost him all over again.

I feel the sting of tears, the all-too-familiar ache inside. I crumble physically and emotionally. I haven't cried over Jackson in a long time, and I'd stopped hurting, stopped beating myself up over what had happened. But the pain is unbearable right now, I feel so very raw inside, like a wound has been reopened.

I've missed him; I know I always will, just like I know that I will always love him. But I've moved on, at least I thought I had. I'm with Ed now, I like him, really like him, and things are good between us. Coming here, to France, this new start was exactly what I needed. It was the right thing to do, and I've been happy here, happier than I've been in a long time. But not now, I'm crying, tears are rolling endlessly down my cheeks and each one of those tears is falling for Jackson… because he's not here, because, for a heartbeat, I truly believed he was.

I bury my face in my pillow, trying to stifle the uncontrollable sobs, the spasms of grief that have me at their mercy. Thankfully, Ed's not here, he left early for training, leaving me to sleep on. But should he come back, and he could at any minute, I don't want him to hear me, to witness this lack of control, this... this betrayal! And that's what it is, isn't it? A betrayal! I don't know, I can't think straight; my thoughts, like my emotions, are all over the place. I'm not even sure who it is I feel I've betrayed, Ed or Jackson?

I tell myself to get a grip, to man-up, to sort my head out before Ed finds me like this. I can't expect him to understand me crying for another man, not in his bed, and not now that I'm sharing his life. But then, I know in my heart that he would understand, because that's the sort of man he is, and just one of the many reasons I care so much about him.

A little time has passed and the tears have all but stopped, just the odd straggler letting me down. I'm back in control, well, mostly, and I'm thinking more clearly, reasoning has returned and my thoughts are centered on the dream, its images fill my mind...

I'm in Emmerdale, I've just left the Smithy and I'm walking down the hill. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, birdsong fills the air, it's a beautiful spring day…it all feels so heartwarmingly familiar.

I make my way to the Woolpack, something is drawing me in there. But as I step inside, I find the pub empty, at least it seems to be, there's no one else there, not even behind the bar. I turn to leave and then I see him, he's sitting, looking into his pint, lost in thought, just like he was that evening we finally got together, just after we'd had that showdown with that idiot, Wayne.

He looks up and, seeing me, he smiles that heart-stopping smile of his. I smile back, pleased to see him, but strangely not at all surprised to find him there... but then it was a dream and dreams never make sense, do they? I'm not even surprised to see that he can move, that he is no longer paralyzed, it's like the accident never happened.

Jackson gestures at the other pint that's set on the table and says, "I got you one in." It seems he'd been expecting me.

I sit beside him, take a sip of the ice cold lager, then ask how he is, just like I would an old friend I haven't seen in ages. He tells me he's good, that he's happy and the conversation quickly turns to football, to the team he's supported since he was a kid. He moans about their poor performance of late, about their most recent pitiful defeat, "3-0" he spits scathingly as he goes on to detail the match in that animated way of his. He blames the manager, says he wants sacking, and gives me his take on what the team needs to do to regain its rightful place in the league. His enthusiasm makes me smile; he always was passionate about his footy; he always did have plenty to say about 'the beautiful game'.

He makes me laugh with one of his wicked one-liners, then he turns the conversation to me, asks me how I'm doing... and I open my heart to him.

His smile widens as I tell him about Ed, about my new life with him. He listens intently, and is obviously happy for me... but how can he be? That's something else I don't understand now that I'm awake, how I could so easily tell him about my new relationship, or how he could so calmly listen to me talk about Ed. He hadn't been able to do that after he'd pushed me away, ended things between us, and I'd started seeing Flynn. The thought of me with someone else had broken his heart…at least it had then.

We'd been a couple, we'd loved each other, he'd died loving me and my love for him lived on. But I know he'd wanted, expected me to move on, to find someone else and I have…

I'm suddenly gripped by a sense of guilt, of remorse, and I know those feelings are unjustified, that I've done nothing wrong, but still my insides churn and I wipe away a fresh crop of tears.

I tell myself to think about something else, that I should get up, take a shower, wash away the misery that now seeps from every pore. Hopefully, the steaming jets of water will help me forget the dream, like I forget every other nonsensical dream I have within half an hour of waking. But I can't, I can't move, I don't want to move, I want to stay where I am, cocooned in the comforting warmth and, as painful as it is, I want to relive the time I spent with Jackson in my sleep...

His eyes sparkle with delight when I tell him about my new job, he knows it's a dream come true for me, agrees it was an opportunity I couldn't miss. But then he turns all serious on me, tells me he just wishes I'd left home under different circumstances, with my head held high... and not fleeing from the law.

I try to explain myself, but he just shakes his head, he doesn't agree with what I did, he doesn't understand. No one else does, so why did I expect him to? We don't argue about it though, there was a time when we would have done, when it would have ended up in a right old shouting match, but not this time, not in my dream. I just listen quietly to the points he makes, to his reasoning. He tells me I was wrong, that even doing it for all the right reasons didn't and couldn't ever make what I did right. He tells me I haven't thought it through and I open my mouth to protest but, before I have chance to, he's reeling off a list of things that prove he's right... he always did have to open my eyes to the truth.

While I sit absorbing his words, he tells me he's seen my mum and Paddy... it's more than I have! It hurts knowing that I won't be seeing them in the flesh any time soon. He tells me they miss me, worry about me, and reminds me how much they love me; he then makes me promise to keep in touch with them. It was an easy promise to make, not that there is anything I wouldn't do for him; I proved that the day he died.

He looks at his watch and I know it's time for me to go, for us to say goodbye. We raise our glasses; he makes a heartfelt toast to me and Ed. We hug, kiss... just a brush of the lips... now I'm asking myself why I didn't hold him tighter, and for longer, and how I could have ever let go of him. And why…why was there not one ounce of passion in that kiss?

Those questions are eating away at me. More tears erupt as I see myself pull away from his arms and calmly get to my feet… all set to leave him behind! How could I do that?

The answer comes swiftly and not without some pain, some heartache. We're no longer together; we're no longer a couple. I just hold the memory of him, of what we had together in my heart…

He smiles up at me, tells me to take care, to not let Ed get away, to let him in, to let him love me. I acknowledge his words with a smile; he always was so very wise. As I turn and walk towards the door, I tell him I'll see him again sometime. Suddenly, I remember there's something I haven't said, something I need to tell him, something I want him to hear but, as I turn around to tell him I will always love him... I wake up and find him gone!

The radio alarm bursts into life, making me jump, startling me out of my reverie. A voice fills the air around me, droning on about the latest sports news. Ed's tuned it to a UK channel; he wants to keep up to date with what's happening at home, on the sports front anyway.

I lean over to switch the unwanted intrusion off, but my finger hovers over the button, something has just caught my attention, has me prick up my ears... it's about the football team Jackson supported... the game they played just last night... the final score 3-0! The newsreader describes it as a pitiful defeat... says that the beleaguered team's manager is facing the sack!

The hair stands up on the back of my neck and I clamber upright, moving to sit at the side of the bed. Jackson had been talking about that game in my dream. He knew all about it, every detail, he'd even told me the name of the striker who'd scored the winning hat trick! But I didn't know it had actually taken place, that it was a real event. I knew nothing about it… not til now!

It had to be a coincidence, it had to be... but then, what if…what if it wasn't just a dream? What if it was more than that?

My mind's working overtime now, all sorts of thoughts are tumbling around its confines and one in particular is starting to take precedence. What if it really was Jackson? What if he'd been trying to tell me something, the very thing I've been desperate to know, to be certain of, the one thing that's stopping me from committing to Ed… that he knows I've moved on and that he is truly happy for me?

A sense of peace suddenly settles around me, the dream, the message it contained, now not only received but understood…

End