August

She was dreaming. It didn't take long to realize that. Abby always had a dress on in her dreams and her curly chestnut hair was always longer, right down to her waist instead of the middle of her back. This, however, was no normal dream. It felt more like a nightmare.

There was heat, followed by pain that made her double over and gasp for air. Pushing the feeling away, she stood upright again, taking in her surroundings.

This place was dark, broken and evil. There was no light or happiness here. Only pain and death. The stone floors were cracked and uneven, much like the walls that surrounded them. Pillars that may have once stood tall had been toppled, large pieces of them scattered haphazardly around the floor and there was no form of decoration. There were no signs of life really but she could feel the presence of at least one person. Their pain was calling out to her.

She glided through the room, quickly and carefully, her anxiety rising quickly. All the hairs on the back of her neck and on her arms were at full attention. She felt watched, but her light gray eyes hadn't been able to pick out a single person around her. This was a dream, after all, and she could make herself wake up if she needed to…right?

On the far side of the room, she found the source of the pain. Chained up on the wall was a man, his body limp against the chains.

Before even getting close to him, she could tell that he was tall, taller than her anyway. He was pale too, a bluish tint threading through his skin. He was completely bare before her, with only a small rag fitting over his hips, hanging dangerously low. He was well muscled but thin, almost starved looking. She couldn't see his face, partly because of the way he was hanging but also because his ratted black hair was hanging in front of him, effectively shielding him from her eyes.

As she got closer, the more upset she became. Cuts and burns ravaged his body, blood trickling out of him slowly. She could see shallow, painful breaths being taken, but she was sure he was unconscious. His pain raged through her, coming in waves and it was all she could do not to fall to the ground next to him.

Hello, she whispered through her mind. She dared not speak out loud. Sir, can you hear me?

His body tightened but he said nothing, hanging there. Sweat dripped from him, landing in little droplets on the floor. Approaching cautiously, she knelt down in front of him. Taking him in, Abby couldn't help but be shocked. Her dreams had been vivid before, but never anything like this. This felt so real.

She took in his wounds, trying to figure out what she could do for him. Start with his chest, work my way out.

"Sir, you're okay now, I'm going to help you," she whispered softly, trying not to startle him. It didn't work however. He jerked back, as if her very presence burned him. A strangled whimper went through him as he tried to contain a cry.

Tears came to her eyes. She wanted to wake up now. This wasn't something she wanted to see but she knew what had to happen before she could ever wake up. She had to help him.

"My name is Abigail, but call me Abby," she said soothingly. Raising her hands slowly, she brought them to where she was just barely touching him. "I need to help take your pain away, sir. I need to help heal you."

He spoke for the first time. "You're not real. You're not real!" He sounded strained, his teeth clenched and his voice raspy as if he hadn't had a drink in days.

"You're not real either, you know," she replied, summoning her energy. "You're a dream, something that I have to fix before I get out of here."

"I'm not a dream," he whispered. "I'm real…real…"

Abby frowned. This was not how her dreams replied. Usually they were all about having her help them but this one seemed to want her gone, out of his sight. What if…

Shaking her head clear, she bent to try and catch his eyes. The soul came in through the eyes. "Sir, please, let me help you." Bringing a finger up under his chin, she lifted his head until his eyes met hers.

She was so startled that she almost dropped him. His face was handsome, that was certain, but his skin was very lightly ridged in certain places, so lightly she could barely see them. It was his eyes that scared her, though. Pure, violent red with black holes in them, they were tinged with more pain than she had ever seen in her life.

"Oh, my," she murmured. "What happened to you?"

He looked at her, a spark of defiance and confusion gleaming there. "You're human."

A small smile graced her lips. "What else would I be?" A pause. "What is your name?"

His mouth tightened and he looked down at the floor again. Her mind reached out, seeking his. What she found was alarming.

Usually when Abby could actually look into someone's mind, all she could see were colors. They were very similar colors, mostly bright yellows and blues. She didn't do it often because it wore her out so badly she would be in bed for days. This man wasn't normal though. In his head, there was green and gold, threading together and faded, not vibrant like most. There was a darkness creeping there, slowly but surely taking it over, changing those colors to pure black.

"What's happening to you?" she whispered fearfully. "There is darkness here and I don't know how I'll fix it."

"Pathetic human," he ground out. "Of all the things they do to me, they make me hallucinate a worthless Midgardian girl. I think they're slipping." His mirthless laughter turned into a fit of rough coughing, flecks of blood splattering his lips.

Abby's eyes narrowed. Either this was the oddest and most vivid dream ever, or it was no dream at all. "I need you to look at me." When he did not, she put her hand to his cheek. Immediately, he turned his face to her, almost nuzzling it as if he was looking for some sort of comfort. He was burning hot, beyond feverish, and it took every ounce of willpower not to jerk her hand away.

Taking a deep breath, she focused on her light and on her touch, slowly making her way to his body. She heard him gasp but ignored it, trying to focus on her task at hand.

His body was badly damaged, inside and out. His mind was on the brink of completely fracturing but with all its cracks, it hadn't shattered just yet. Some were old, faded like scars, but most were brand new and still bleeding. If she could just stop the bleeding…

You're going to be alright. I've never failed in my dreams before and I'm not about to start now.

His body was shaking, sweat now pouring off of him and her. The strength was taking its toll on the girl. Never before had she done anything like this. Quite frankly, she didn't even know she could.

Abby could see little glimpses of memories as she worked on repairing his damaged body. Two young boys, one big and blond and the other dark haired and small, running on the heels of an old man with an air of old wisdom about him. Another was the dark haired boy, slightly older, sitting at the feet of a beautiful woman, eyes wide as she made something disappear right before his very eyes.

The last memory, however, was much darker. All she could see was the pained face of a large blond man staring down at him, his eyes begging and pleading. Above the blond man was the old man from the earlier dream, hair completely white with an impassive look on his face. He said something, but his words had no sound to her.

And then it was black.

Suddenly, Abby was thrust back into herself as the man before her began to struggle wildly.

"Get out!" he screamed in a rage. "Get OUT!"

Abby sat straight up in her bed, bathed in sweat. Looking around, she saw that she was in her room, safe. With a deep sigh, she fell back on her pillows. The sun wasn't up yet, but it hardly ever was when she needed to be up and moving. Glancing at the clock, it read 4:15 in bold red numbers.

She rolled out of bed, groaning slightly. Even though she had been doing this since she was thirteen, she didn't think she would ever really get used to being up so early. It came with the nature of her job though and she wouldn't trade that for anything.

Showering and dressing quickly, Abby grabbed her purse, phone and journal from her small kitchen table before running out the door and down the stairs. Thankfully, that was all that she had to do. For ten years now, Abby had lived over her mother's flower shop Daffodil in Midtown Manhattan. She attended the school six blocks away, ate frequently at Mini's Diner across the street and shopped for her groceries at the bodega down on the corner.

She spent most of her time, though, in the green house. Perched on top of the building, the five-year-old green house was a place Abby often frequented, partly out of necessity, but mostly because it was a place she thrived. When Abby was young, she used to make dead flowers become pretty and alive again. As she grew up, she used that power to make her mother's flowers the most beautiful in the San Francisco Bay area. Her mother used to be a florist to the stars but during her midlife crisis, she decided to take all of her hard earned money and move out to one of the least hospitable places for flowers in the country: NYC.

Abby got the chance to put her gift to use, making plants grow and thrive during the harsh seasons, making it possible for her and her mother to stay there. For all that they had, if Abby was to lose this place, she wasn't sure what she would do.

As she walked around the floor of the shop, making sure that everything was in tiptop shape, Abby found her mind wandering back to the man from her dream. The more she thought about it, it didn't really feel like a dream. It was all too real. The pain, the terror on his face. It just didn't seem like something that she could conjure out of nowhere. This was disconcerting. For all of her healing abilities, Abby had never done anything like that before. Even now, as she took stock of what arrangements needed to be brought down, she felt exhaustion slowly creep into her bones. Never in her life had she dealt with injuries of that level. That man had been tortured, inside and out and if she was being totally honest, she didn't think that she could fully fix him. He needed professional help.

Yes, because figments of my imagination are going to be treated professionally. Real smart, Abby.

The morning went by quickly, as it usually did. The shop opened up at eight and business was pretty steady until the early afternoon. She had five people who worked alongside her during the day, helping make deliveries and get all of the arrangements done. Abby had had to strong arm her mother into hiring other people for the shop and even though she wouldn't admit it, she knew her mom was thankful for all of the extra hands.

Once the rumbling in her stomach could no longer be ignored, Abby excused herself to go upstairs and grab a quick meal. Popping some leftovers into the microwave, she took a seat at her small kitchen table, reading over some of the orders that she would have to start on.

It never ceased to amaze her how many people would place their orders purely on the looks of the flowers alone. They mean something! she always wanted to scream. Like anything else, flowers had definitions and meanings to them, meanings that had been lost to most of the population for years and years now. The only reason Abby knew of them was because of her mother.

She sighed and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. Abby hadn't seen her mom in a few days and she missed her. Meredith was on her honeymoon with James, a well to do professor type who taught at Julliard. He had swept her mom off of her feet, playing his violin for her the very first time he met her. Meredith responded with a vase full of lilac, daffodils and celandine and next thing Abby knew, her mom was planning her wedding.

First emotions of love, new beginnings and joys to come. How could James not have fallen for her mother with that little cocktail of emotion?

Abby sat there contemplating for a moment when her head began to swim. Then, out of nowhere, she heard a whisper.

Midgardian?

Her eyes widened. "No way," she whispered to herself.

You.

Relief, not hers, flooded her. How was this happening right now?

Speak to me, human. I need to hear something…someone. Please.

There was pain in that voice, pain and absolute misery. Maybe even hopelessness. It was that hopelessness that made her respond in the only way she knew how.

Goldenrod, she whispered. Maybe some ginger. Pear blossoms. Definitely stems of black poplar.

What are you babbling on about?

She frowned, still going through her mental Rolodex. The flowers I would give you, if I could.

You would give me flowers? How…interesting.

Don't take that tone. Flowers hold some serious mojo if you know how to present them.

And you think this mojo would help me? There was a hint of teasing in his voice, making her smile to herself.

It might. Pretty much anything would help you right about now.

You're not entirely incorrect. A pause. What did you do to me?

Pardon?

You healed me, I felt it. It was like a light moving throughout my body. A cool, soft light.

I don't really know. I mean, I've been able to do it since I can remember, but I had never helped someone with such bad injuries before. How are you talking to me anyway?

A low chuckle echoed throughout her head, sending shivers down her spine. You managed to restore me just enough. I thought that before they came back to kill me, I should thank the human that managed to ease my pain, at least for a little while.

Abby fell to her knees onto the floor. The world was swimming now, the toll of this conversation heavy. She laid back, the cool tile pressing against her shoulders and the back of her neck.

You need to tell me where you are. I'll send someone for you, you need help.

No one can help me now, little one, but I do appreciate your sentiment. Your efforts have helped me more than you'll ever know. I do wish to know, however, why you chose those particular plants to give to me.

Black spots were starting to dot her vision as she stared up at her ceiling. Ginger gives you strength, and with goldenrod's careful encouragement, you can do anything. The pear blossoms offer comfort and the stems of the poplar are strong. They give you courage, although I don't think you're really lacking that…

As she slipped into unconsciousness, she felt a flood of emotion run through her. Astonishment, appreciation and something else she couldn't place. The last thing she heard as she went under was his voice whispering his thanks.

Hey everyone! This came to me the other day and I haven't been able to get it out of my head. Other chapters are already written, but I want to know if anyone has any thoughts. Let me know what you think and review/favorite/follow! Also, if anyone would like to beta for me, I would love you for forever :)

xoxo

Zeta Rose