It's a nightmare she has more often than she'd like toadmit, and it always starts the same.
Elpis has no traditional day and night cycles like Pandora. There is no atmosphere to bath the day in blue, or cloud the skies with reds and oranges during the dawn and dusk times. Instead, there is only the rich purple-violets of the spacescape above, peppered with twinkling starlight and other such debris far above. Pandora, more often than not, crowds the visible sky, a constant barrier between sun and moon.
Serenity's Waste is as quiet as it usually is. There is no sound in this memory. Not even the noise the gravel beneath her shoes makes as she walks across the barren landscape. Janey is not alone, she is joined by another woman, as beautiful as the starlit sky. Their hands are linked, fingers lovingly entwined. She smiles and opens her mouth in laughter, but Janey cannot hear her voice. The scene plays out like an old ECHO vid. Janey knows what's coming but is locked to a predefined set of motions, powerless.
The scene shifts, as if the ground beneath them suddenly twists and upheaves them both. Before even the first vestiges of panic can set the adrenaline pumping through her veins, pain pierces Janey's body. Her skin blisters and bubbles as heat washes over her, ribs cracking under the weight of an enormous pressure. Teeth, or something akin to teeth, sink into her abdomen relentlessly, and it is then that Janey opens her mouth in a silent wail.
Atop of her, the monster – the kraggon – snarls, and looks upon her with eyes that are not eyes. Janey isn't sure where she finds the strength, let alone the sense, to wrench her untouched arm back to her holster. Yet she grabs the gun there and rips it free, shakenly bringing it to the beasts' head. Sensing the danger, the kraggon rears back, opening its jaws wide-
"JANEY-!"
She does not hear the gunshot, only the scream, only that desperate cry for help. The kraggon above her falls, belching its molten innards right into the side of her face, pain anew searing into her flesh. Spurred by her own pounding heart Janey forces herself to move, ignoring the agony, the stench of burning skin, dragging herself along the harsh ground.
But she is already too late. The second kraggon, driven by instinct, flees. What it leaves behind are pieces of what once was a human being. Blood stains the rocks, limbs torn from their sockets, displaced organs shiny and wet in the light of the sun. The face is barely recognizable, expression wide-eyed and dull, lips agape. Dead.
All at once she's aware of the searing pain, of her tears. A new ache sets in. It is the ache of loss, of guilt, of self-loathing. She can't even bury the remains, too injured as she is. Soon there will be nothing left.
When Janey finally, finally awakens, it is with a lump in her throat and the name of long-dead woman on her lips. She is not in that blood soaked canyon, nor is she even on Elpis. Brunette hair greets her vision, an expanse of sunkissed skin along toned shoulders and back. The scent that cloys in her nostrils is a pleasant one, and she inhales deeply to better ward off the tears. Athena is a light sleeper, though. Janey might try to be as quiet and unnoticeable as humanely possible, but the gladiator still stirs into wakefulness soon.
"What's wrong?" is the immediate question. Athena might not be the most socially advanced person, but even she knows that waking in the middle of what accounts for the Pandoran night is off.
It hurts Janey to lie to her lover, but she is not yet ready to open that old wound. Nor does she want to cause Athena any undue concern. So she simply smiles and leans over, dragging her lips along the exposed expanse of her girlfriend's neck with a pleasant hum. "Nothing, darl. Just having a mite trouble getting some shut-eye." She is grateful that Athena doesn't contest it, or seem to realize it's a fib. The brunette doesn't even fuss when Janey maneuvers herself out of the bed. "Gonna get myself a quick cuppa. Back in a bit."
Tea is a common beverage in their household. The tin Janey pulls from its hiding place isn't a common variety though, especially not on Pandora. Cryovine tea is a particular blend, used for its medicinal properties. It's a depressant, one potent enough to cause addiction if not used carefully. More than that, it gives dreamless sleep. Yet cryovine does not grow on Pandora, and so her reserves are running dangerously low. Less than a fourth remains, and it pains Janey to spoon out even a pinch for herself. What she'll do when the rest is gone, she doesn't know. There may be an alternative, but she highly doubts such.
As she sets the cup aside to steep and she goes to lid the tin, a glint at the bottom of the can catches her eye. When Janey fishes it out she finds not tea, but a ring. It's a beautiful piece of work, with a golden band and a polished moonstone inset. An engagement ring, and one Janey knows intimately. She made it herself, what felt like a lifetime ago. When the light hits the inner band just right, the embossed name Stephanie can be read.
She drops it back into the tin as if she'd been burned, biting her lip to stifle the sudden urge to cry. It goes back to the hiding spot behind the other teas, to be forgotten. Janey snatches up her cup and downs it in a single gulp, not even regretting the way the bitter brew bites into her tastebuds. Then it's back to bed, where Athena is still waiting on her. And this time, when she sleeps, that age-old memory won't come back.
Not for now, anyway. Not until the cryovine is gone..