Modo felt her life begin to drain out of her. He begged her to fight it. She still died, by the hands of the Rat that now laughed, the gun in his hand trembling from the wicked laughter that racked his body. The grey Martian he held at gunpoint said nothing, tears wetting his cheeks..
And Modo woke up.
"Buddy, you okay?" Vinnie shook the grey Martian's shoulder, a worried look on his face. Modo nodded silently. Vinnie stayed for a moment, knowing the big grey mouse was lying, and then left.
Modo reached up with his real hand, touching his left cheek gently. His fur was dry. His weakness hadn't showed.
The dream had come back, because the date of that fateful death was approaching. Modo sat up, rubbing his forehead, remembering the words of a Martian healer he'd encountered after a biker rally.
"..This has to be dealt with." At the time, he'd brushed it off with a few none-too-polite words, but now he understood. He straightened his shoulders, sitting up, and began to relax himself, easing the mile-a-minute thunder of his heartbeat.
And he remembered.
It was the day after the Holiday of Renewal, the day where the deity known to the fiercely religious as Sha'ario, the patron of the starving and sick, had been created by the All-Mother Goddess. Supposedly. Modo had never been that into Martian religion. His mother, however, had insisted they go to the monk's retreat, for the ceremony of cleansing, which gave him a day off from work. He certainly wasn't going to argue with that.
The Plutarkians enacted their hostile intentions that day after the holiday. Modo and his mother Resera had come home from shopping to find Halara, Modo's older sister, unconscious on the floor, her husband captured, her son and daughter nowhere to be found. Modo had gone off on his bike, furious beyond restraint, and found a Rat outpost where they'd taken his relatives. He then proceeded to wipe the ground with those Rats, and free Rimfire and Primer.
"Get out," he shouted, and they started to go, before a Rat stood and pointed a gun at them. Primer stood before her brother, shielding him, and she took the shot. Modo thusly proceeded to kick Rimfire sharply, screaming for the young mouse to run, and Rimfire ran.
"How's it feel, Mouse?" the Rat hissed, a wicked grin twisted his face. "That's what real loss feels like. That's what you've been doing to my race for three hundred years!"
Modo growled, helpless before him. Primer choked in his arms, blood bubbling in her throat. Modo felt her life begin to drain..
"NO!" Modo opened his eye, breathing heavily. The memory of her death was sharp in his mind. The grief and rage were too fresh for him to remain steady.
I can't. I can't. No. No, no. Modo angrily pounded the pillow several times, ashamed at his weakness.
Too soon, he told himself. It was too soon to try and dull the memories. It wasn't that he was being a coward, he tried to convince himself. Not at all.
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