With a gasp, Anderson sat up straight in bed. That was the fourth consecutive nightmare she'd had of Dredd dying. Trembling, she reached out for nothing in particular, then clutched her arms. She'd never had dreams this vivid before.
Not wanting to take a chance even though it was the middle of the night, she put on her gear and ran to Dredd's apartment nearby, of which she'd happened to overhear the location from some passing conversation between Judges.
She banged on the door. She heard movement inside, and noticed the light had been on all this time.
The door opened. Dredd was standing there in civvies and looked like he'd been working out. Anderson froze as she focused on his face and realised she was seeing him without his helmet for the first time. His eyes narrowed at the intrusion.
"What is it, Anderson?"
She was still panting from the exercise. "Sir, I keep dreaming of your death."
He stood there, absorbing this information, noting that she looked spooked. "Not my problem."
She was beside herself. She knew that she was acting inappropriately, but couldn't help it. "But, Sir, they are so real…"
"You think you're having premonitions now?"
"I… I don't know…" she said, blinking back tears in her frustration. She started to falter.
Dredd instinctively grabbed her arm. "Have a seat, Anderson."
He begrudgingly led her into his kitchen and sat her on one of the dining chairs. She looked like she was struggling to retain consciousness, to maintain coherence.
He sat two chairs over. "I'm not here to babysit you, Anderson."
"No, Sir…" she said weakly, trying to suppress her worry but failing.
"And you're definitely not here to babysit me."
She didn't laugh.
Dredd sighed, irritated that she wasn't strong enough to contain herself and obey commands. If he hadn't been aware of how strong she could be, he wouldn't bother adjusting to her, cajoling her.
She instinctively avoided eye contact, not wanting to face his criticism since she felt like such a vulnerable mess.
"These dreams… are they the same?"
"No, Sir, they are all quite different."
"And you've had these every night?"
"Yes, Sir."
"And yet, I'm still here."
She remained silent, not wanting to acquiesce to his logic since her illogical emotional centres were still in overdrive. She still felt uneasy but couldn't voice the exact cause.
He could sense what she was feeling, and knew that reasoning wasn't going to get him anywhere. "Why the fuck do you care?"
"You're a good person, Sir. I feel responsible to act if I can protect you."
Hearing no response for a good ten seconds, Anderson looked up at his face. Dredd's face was predictably still, but he seemed torn between being irritated and being flattered. She knew that keeping his distance from others was part of the job for him, possibly to keep him more focused on the perps and also to set an example to other Judges who were not as dedicated as they could be.
Dredd knew he had to appeal to her emotions. "Thank you," he said in a rather staunch, business-like manner.
Anderson's eyes widened and her mouth fell open, realising that hearing him say that was actually helping the way she felt, even though it had nothing to do with practical issues of keeping him alive.
"Now fuck off," he added, eyes silently challenging her to adhere to appropriate behaviour.
She laughed despite herself, and stood up. "Thank you, Sir," she said, raising both her hands to her face, then quickly showed herself out.