Shadows whispered to her... filling her with fear, and promises of more to come for her.

She couldn't sleep. Her dreams were a source of preternatural terror to her; filled with the leering eyes and grabbing hands of demented men that took her away for no better reason than 'she' wanted to be free, and liked her skin. She would see the eyes, men's eyes in the dark corners of clubs; broad daylight of coffee shops; in the street; in the stores; everywhere... watching her.

She tried to keep herself calm till she got home, but once there, she still didn't feel safe. The neighbor, the middle-aged blond man with the mustache, the kind face, and friendly tone of voice reminded her of Whitman. Her independence, self-esteem, were both undermined as she tried to fight the nightmares and paranoia with her once vaunted sheer grit... it was to no avail; she went home to recover after having been alone for only three months after returning from Yamatai.

Home was no better: everywhere her culture, her family history... Himiko. Her parents were kind, understanding, but powerless against her frayed psyche. They had her on drugs to give her a sense of calm, but they wore off, and she dreaded taking them because of that fact. She would spend her time on them, dreading the inevitible, terrible moment they would fail. She got worse.

Nightmares turned into a sea of swirling shadows and hidden monsters circling the wooden fortification of her medications and steadily fraying psyche.

Her mother sat with her at night and stroked her daughter's sweat saturated, thinning black hair, crying in the face of the unrelenting torrent of tremors and twitching of her once free, confident, and independent child, now a prisoner to dead men and the shadows of her own families past. Then, she heard it; in the depths of her night terror, Sam breathed a soft breath of calm and safety... HER name.

THIRTY THREE HOURS LATER

Sam was awash in her hell, her body drenched in sweat as she fought to sleep for the sake of her own sanity. Her bedroom door opened, the tall, strong statuesque figure strode silently to her bed, pulled back the sheet and quietly climbed in behind her.

Sam fought, pushing back, "No," she sighed nervously in her sleep,"please no, I want to go home... I want to..."

"Sam," the soft, calm, familiar British voice sighed into her ear as the slender, strong arm slowly wrapped around her waist, and held her gently, breathing slowly till Sam began to breathe in concert with her."It's ok," Lara sighed as she stroked her friends hair away from her face, "I have you."

In her dream, Samantha, once cornered by the beasts of her memory, now stood fearless as a familiar, brave, and beautiful figure strode from behind her into the fray. SHE sent the shadows fleeing from her till the light of the sun was burst free from their hold on her eyes, and shone down on her once more, illuminating the obscured day-to-day objects which were now seen as what they were, and not the frightening misshapen shadows out to grab and rob her of her very soul. There was no threat SHE could not save her from, and in her sleeping state, smiled and sighed peacefully in her saviors arms.

... or so she felt.