Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
AN: Just a quick explanation. This was inspired by a line in CarnageKiller's story Second Chance about Henry being relieved that he wouldn't suffer from nightmares anymore about seeing Abigail murdered. However, nightmares never disappear that quickly, even if the cause of them turns out to be false. However, I literally own nothing of thist - you could say that it's a fanfic of sorts for another fanfic (how does that even work?!). Thank you for your patience - this was mostly just an excersise in expounding upon my editor-ramblings...
No longer did he have to dread the nightmares, or the flashbacks of her death - for she was here with him, clearly alive.
The hallway loomed before him, and he faltered at the opening. The last thing he wanted to do was to enter, to see what lay at the end of the corridor. Even as he pleaded with himself not to be so stupid, he took a step forward – Fate dragging him wither he wouldst not go.
He already knew what he would find. Somehow he had already seen it. It was if he was living a life, and yet remembering a nightmare; and his heart no longer seemed to beat. His breathing echoed in the suffocating air; and the darkness twined it's way around him, strangling him.
Was it imagination, or did the walls bend? Were they solid, or simply panels of smoke, of ghosts coming to watch his downfall?
"Henry?"
He turned towards the voice, and there she was, standing beside him.
"Henry, don't you like the house? All of the memories here... Can't you see them?"
He held a hand out to her. "Of course I can, Abigail – I can always see this place."
"We're almost there now – why do you keep coming back?"
"Coming back?"
"Yes." A tear slipped down her cheek.
"I don't know..." His steps faltered again, but she pulled him forward. "I don't want to be here."
"Henry, don't come back – you mustn't come here."
"I know, Abigail – why can't I stop?"
"Because you saw it, Henry." She let go of his arm, and walked in front of him to the end of the corridor, only a few more steps. She turned to him, and he cringed at the tears she was crying for him. "You saw it, Henry – and no matter what happens, or how much time passes, you'll never be able to forget. You'll never be free of this home, of that day."
He reached for her, horrified as her tears turned red, and she fell back onto a bed. Falling to his knees, he shut his eyes, struggling to block out the image burned into his mind forever: the image of Abigail, dead.
"Henry. Henry! Wake up!"
Distantly, he felt someone shaking him, and he pulled away from their touch.
"Henry, it was only a dream – you're awake now. You're safe."
The soothing voice continued, and he began to relax. Suddenly, he tensed and sat up as he recognised the voice.
"Abigail?"
"Yes, Henry."
"Abigail, but you're..."
"It was only a dream, Henry, I'm well. That wasn't me."
He released a shuddering sigh. "But you're alive – why am I still dreaming of it..."
"It's a nightmare, nothing more. It won't go away instantly, Henry; just because I'm back, your mind and heart won't heal instantly. It just takes time."
He stared at her for a few minutes, as if memorising her features; and, slowly, his breathing slowed, and he relaxed.
"Abigail, I – thank you."
I'm falling through the black, slipping through the cracks – falling to the depths, can I ever go back? Dreaming of the way it used to be... Can you hear me?
AN: Thank you for taking the time to read this! Gramercy, and God bless!
