Title: Sleep, Sleep Sweetheart

Author: Tristana

Fandom: Animamundi: Dark Alchemist

Pairing: Read and you will see… Duh.

Disclaimer: I don't know these guys… Else Bruno would get Mikhail drunk and tell him that it's "Okay to be gay"… Because it is.

Note: The title comes from the song by Darkseed, "Sleep Sleep Sweetheart". I just thought about it when rereading this ficlet. And it screaaaaaaaaaaams Dashwood and Georik to me.

Note bis: First "happy ending" in a loooooooong while, and the first in a angst context.

Consider this as a Christmas gift for all Anima lovers and more particularly, for Master, who was the one giving me the idea of writing something a bit surreal, dealing with dreams and all.

MERRY XMAS EVERYONE!!!!

Trashing wildly, there was nowhere to turn. No one to hold onto in this cold night. Sheets and limbs entangled and silent screams echoing from a torn throat. Blood seeping from wounds unseen – scars that would never fade. Crimson strands on a sweat covered forehead, shivering skin taunt on hard bones. A bird fallen from the nest, an angel in the deepest pits of hell. Smooth voice whispering words of unnamed tortures, nails ghosting over him like knives. Blood and gold, that was his world. Try to wake up, but no one would help him out of this nightmare.

And still, he falls, and falls – never to rise. An oath was taken and a soul was raped – cruel smile under fake concern. The varnish wore off – acid sprung free – chilling his bones – poisoned blood. Crawling – unmoving – alone – cornered. Four words – cardinal points of a mental web. The spider striking him down – venom pouring inside of him like rain. Closing eyes – would they open again?

Alone and scared, still trashing on the bed. Hands gripping thin shoulders – ragged gasps. He can't breathe – let him go. He's dying – hold his hand. Relentless nightmares still haunt his nights. Years might pass, scars might fade – still his blood would flow, his soul would scream. The man became a puppet – puppets cannot bleed – they just break.

Lying down, he would not breathe anymore – hurts too much. Turning away, he could not live anymore – want to sleep. No more nightmares to haunt him and drown him in a sea of pain.

But strong hands cover his own and long hair fall over his face – calm low voice amidst the gold and red – spreading darkness… A midnight sky – fluttering wings – unearthly scent. An eye opens – no dark, cold eyes – no bloodlust. Just ocean blue – a vivid pain – unknown feelings.

Someone holding him through the night – with gentle lips and careful touch. His ferryman. He would see another dawn – and another dusk. Nightmares would come again – but for now, his heart is soothed. For he is watching over his sleep…

Georik.