With a low moan and wet cheeks, Jake rolled to face the dying fire that had been made an hour or two ago (he wasn't sure, as even his Seiko watch was confused with the time here). He was shaking and his eyes glittered with tears from his dream, that dream, the one he thought would never go away. Jake had that dream on the first night after leaving New York- the one where the Mansion pulled Jake into it's jaws and munched away at him with it's plaster teeth and ground away at his dying body and Roland wasn't there to save him.

With another moan, Jake drew his knees to his chest and hugged them tight under his hide blanket. The last glowing embers of the fire were the only thing keeping him comfort while he felt exposed, as if a million eyes peeped from everywhere. A chilly breeze tickled the corn-hairs at the top of his head that poked from the blanket. Jake scrunched himself up further.

He kept a small hole in front of his face in the cavern of his blanket so he could see the light of the embers and breathe. Jake swallowed thickly and took a deep breath, followed by a whimper, and let tears roll down his cheeks. In that moment he almost wished that he never came back (it was certainly not true, the gap in his memories would've driven him crazy) to this world.

Jake's lips pinched together. The embers were going out. In their dying light, along with the light of the moon and stars, he saw Roland nearby. Susannah and Eddie laid a little farther away together. They were all asleep, lucky for them.

While shuddering, Jake squirmed towards Roland. He didn't want to leave his blanket, as if it would protect him against anything, but he knew it wasn't true. If anyone or anything really could protect him against anything it would be Roland, and if he didn't get next to Roland for safety he might scream.

As soon as the boy got close enough to see the vague details of his face in the dark, he saw the gunslinger's eyes slowly open. Jake felt a pang of something that drew him in. The man's blue eyes were like a beam.

"Jake," he said with a slightly concerned tone. Jake laid beside him a half of a foot away. His eyes were still wet and trails of tears were dried onto his cheeks. He rubbed at his face ashamedly. "I had a bad dream," he whispered as quiet as the breeze. As Jake stared at the gunslinger he felt a soft flutter in his chest, as if cobwebs were tickling his heart.

Without a word Roland put an arm out from under his blanket and reached around Jake's shoulders. Jake did not stiffen at all. The touch of the gunslinger felt natural and comforting, so he scooted closer until his small frame was pressed against a larger one.

A big, warm hand was in Jake's hair, gently stroking. He didn't know that Roland could be so caring when he was normally somewhat drawn away from that type of thing, but he was going to appreciate every second of it. Jake put an arm around the gunslinger's torso and laid his head on his shoulder. He refused to cry anymore about his dream and no longer had a reason to.

Roland wrapped both arms around Jake now. Jake felt so content from the lulling warmth of the man's body. He slid his cheek across Roland's soft deerskin shirt until their faces were only centimeters apart.

And then Jake kissed the gunslinger innocently on the corner of his mouth. It was a way of thanking him, of telling him how much he loved him, because he was too warm and satisfied in the silence to speak.

Roland gave Jake a squeeze and the kiss was returned on the bridge of the boy's nose. The gunslinger did break the silence, but it was pleasant.

"Sleep, son."