I DREAM of you...

Summary: "I wish this was one of your books, so you could re-write the ending."
But you can't change destiny ( what's already been written down ) - or can you? *AU*

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters; they belong to the fabulous A. W. Marlowe and ABC. Paul is mine, though.

A/N: I had to change the title, just in case you wondered.

I have also edited the first chapter now, to correct my mistakes and to put some more feelings and depth into it. If you like, reread it, it's much better now. But it doesn't really matter for the plot if you don't.

A very special THANK YOU goes to my beta arkem. You're amazing and this story wouldn't be the same without you.

So, here's the second chapter. I know it's quite dark and angsty, but I can assure you that we get to a brighter place eventually, if you stick with me.

"I'm walking where my dreams have been.

But what are dreams?"

( Enya - "Dreams" )

When The Bell Rings Twice

"Rick, what's wrong? What are you doing here this late?"

"Can I come in?"

"Yeah, of course," Paul says, ushering his friend into his generous apartment. "What the hell happened to you? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"Well, that's actually not so far from the truth. God, I can't believe it myself…" he groans, letting himself fall onto the couch. "I told you about my dreams over the last two years, remember?"

"Yes, you said that you constantly dream of a beautiful woman with green eyes and brown hair," Paul recalls, "And by the way you talked about her, you seem pretty much smitten."

"Please. I am not smitten. But anyway, I dreamed of her this morning again and… It wasn't just a dream…" he whispers.

"What? I don't underst-"

"Paul, you have to promise me that you do not even tell anybody what I am now telling you! Not Alexis or my mother, and especially not Paula or Gina. Nobody. Do you promise me?"

"Rick I… What is this all about?"

"Do you promise me?" he asks again with more force in his voice.

"Yes, you've got my word."

"Ok," Rick takes a deep breath. "What I see… I mean, when I seem to dream of her… These aren't just dreams, Paul. It's real. She's real."

"She's real?" Paul asks disbelievingly. "Rick, I know you for over 20 years now, but this story is one of your best," he chuckles.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me."

"Then why did you tell me?"

"Because I didn't know who else to tell. You know me, Paul, better than any of my other so-called friends. I cannot tell this to my mother or Alexis. They'd worry too much. Hell, I don't know how this is even possible. But I assure you, Paul. It's real. I don't know what is happening to me here, or why it is happening, but I'm telling you… It's real!"

"How can you know that?"

"Because I saw her about half an hour ago."

"You saw her?"

"Yeah. I um… I kind of saved her life…" he states quietly.

"You what? Wait a moment, Rick. I… I think we both need a drink now. And then you have to tell me what exactly happened."

Rick accepts the whiskey gratefully and tells Paul everything about the dream he had that morning as well as that feeling he got in his stomach and the assumption that this was something more than just a dream. He tells him about the sudden urge to find out more, about finding the pub and about being there when his dream happened in the exact same way he saw it that morning.

"And then I stood there and I knew that if I didn't do something she would die. And Paul, I just couldn't help myself. I ran around the corner and then she was right there and I couldn't stop anymore and crushed into her and we both tumbled to the ground. That was when the other man fired his gun. It missed us by inches, but it missed us."

"And what did she say?"

"Before I could realise what happened, I was already standing again and running away," Rick admits quietly.

"You didn't talk to her?"

"No. I freaked out. My dream had just become reality, Paul. I just found out that the woman I see almost every night actually exists out there. And what could I have told her? That I was dreaming of her for two years and saw this morning that she would get shot and I came to save her?"

"Yeah, well, this sounds really a little… well… not too – ah, convincing." Paul struggles with the words. Rick can see it in his eyes that his friend doesn't quite believe him and how could he blame him? He can barely believe it himself. Rick is just grateful that Paul tries to not let it on too much.

"Right? So I left, before she could react properly. She was safe after all, so… I left."

"Ok, Rick. Let's just… sleep on it, ok? This is really…" Paul struggles with the words.

"Yeah… It is…"

A long silence follows after this conversation, both lacking the words, but their long friendship helps them to understand what the other one wants to say nevertheless. They spent so much time together before Rick's success and know each other by heart. Sometimes they have the comforting feeling of being like brothers, because – although neither of them has siblings – the connection is there.

"Does Alexis know where you are?" Paul asks suddenly.

"Oh shit, I didn't have time to tell her. I really have to go now. Thank you, Paul."

"For what?"

"Listening to me."

When he comes back home the loft is dark, except for the light he left burning in his study.

And no sign of Alexis.

He sighs in relief, she apparently hadn't even noticed that he was gone for about two hours.

He makes his way up the stairs to her room, knocking lightly on her door. When she doesn't answer he opens it slowly, just a crack, just enough to tentatively look inside.

And there she is, lying awkwardly on her bed, her schoolbooks surrounding her. He puts them aside and helps her to lie down in a more comfortable position; she's sound asleep and doesn't even stir.

When he puts the blanket over her body he can't help the bright smile forming in his face. It feels a lot like those days when she was still little, when he tucked her in after she fell asleep on his lap in front of the TV.

His little, big girl.

He kisses the crown of her head, her soft red hair tickling his nose, and leaves her room with a last look back on her.

He's a happy man. Despite all these strange dreams and the latest nightmares – not to mention the absolutely surreal experience he had this evening – he's such a happy man.

He descends the stairs again, goes into the kitchen to pour himself a drink. A strong one.

He takes the glass with him into his bedroom and sits down on his comfy king-size bed with a long sigh.

It doesn't make any sense. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot think of a logical explanation for the things happening around him. To him.

If he could write such a story, it would be magic. There would be some reason behind all this, a reason why he always dreams of this woman and why he was thus able to save her life.

And maybe there is. Maybe he just has to find it.

When Rick wakes the next morning something feels off. He cannot really put a finger on it, but something just feels wrong.

Since he can't quite grasp the mess currently ruling his thoughts, Rick tries to distract himself with his morning routine – a shower, a shave, a fresh shirt and shorts – before heading to the kitchen for breakfast and his first dose of coffee.

Still feeling sleepy, he rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand and squints at the digital clock on his oven. Half past 7.

Hmm, Alexis must have left for school early this morning.

After the first few sips of the strong, dark liquid he opens his eyes a little more and finds a note from his daughter that says that she has lindeed already eft for school and didn't want to wake him.

Reassured, he puts the note aside to grab a pan and get some eggs and bacon out of his enormous fridge. After setting the stainless steel pan on top of the stove and leaving his eggs to fry, his thoughts are drifting away.

To her.

She's always on his mind, especially since the events of yesterday. He wonders why he didn't have the courage to talk to her. But it wasn't a conscious decision, he just ran away without thinking about it. He just panicked, looking into her wondering eyes, smelling the faint scent of cherries that surrounded her, feeling her hand on his arm. He's seen her so often, but to actually smell and feel her was something so completely new, so world-shifting for him that his first instinct was to back away, to sort it out on his own.

He didn't and still doesn't even know what to say to her. He is a best-selling author, a famous mystery writer – and he just can't find words to explain what is happening.

And while he is able to believe in a higher power, in fate and magic, who could tell if she would believe in this?

If she would believe him.

Or if she would just freak out and put him behind bars. Or call a psychiatrist. And then the press would–

Oh God. His career would be over. He has to be careful. But if her life depends on him…

Her life– her–

"Shit!" he exclaims when he smells and sees that the eggs are completely burned. He puts the pan into the sink and hurries to open a window.

And suddenly he knows it. He knows what feels off this morning. He dreamt of her again, but he cannot remember what the dream was about and just the realisation of this is enough to freak him out.

Was it because he had a drink too much last night? How is it that he can recall seeing her face, but doesn't remember another single thing from that dream?

He grabs his phone and calls his friend.

"Hi Rick, what's up?"

"Paul, I need to talk to you, do you have minute?"

"Hey hey, what's wrong, buddy?"

"Are you alone?"

"Yeah, for the moment."

"I… I don't know why this freaks me out so much, but I… I can't remember my dream of her last night."

"Of whom?"

"Of her…" Rick sighs. He cannot understand why people always had to ask. Why didn't they know it from the way he says it? She is so important to him, so much part of his life; why don't they understand that?

"So? Maybe it's over, Rick. Maybe you're free now after saving her life yesterday."

"Yeah, maybe…" Rick murmurs.

"That's great news, why do you sound so depressed? Look, Rick, just look at it like a mission you've fulfilled. You saved her. Now you can move on."

"Yeah, that could be."

"You don't want to let her go, right?"

"What? No, no, that's fine. Please, I don't even know her."

"You said it, pal. I've got to go now. Bye."

Then the line went dead.

Rick sinks down on one of the bar stools at his kitchen island.

Shit. Paul was right. He doesn't want to let her go. But maybe it was better this way. Maybe it was time to move on.

He is surrounded by darkness again. And the familiar feeling of dreaming is back.

And just like the first time he stumbles forward, searching for something to hold on to, but there's nothing there.

He can hear her speaking again and slowly moves in the direction of where her voice comes from.

"… Why here… I'm alone… my mom's case…"

He only hears a few words; she's just too far away. It doesn't make any sense.

And then he hears her scream, telling somebody to let her go, that she has back-up. But no one comes. He can hear her muffled cries as well as the sound of footsteps from a single person walking away from him. From her.

He has to do something, he has to help her, but he can't see a fucking thing and he doesn't know where to go. And then he hears a crash and there's no sound of her anymore.

He wakes up in his kitchen; his head must've fallen onto the counter, because he feels a sharp pain on the right side of his face.

Seems like Paul was wrong. His mission wasn't over yet. The menace wasn't gone and she was still in life-threatening danger.

Oh no! How the hell was he supposed to find her?

Ok, ok, there had to be a way. Her voice and the steps of her murderer sounded hollow – as if they were in a huge and empty building. But that was it. He doesn't have any more leads. And he still doesn't have a clue who she is. Is this another case? Another suspect that gets her killed? But why now? Why is she in such danger now?

He realizes that all these questions don't bring him any closer to the truth, so he decides to go to bed and try to sleep. He has to dream again, has to go there again. Maybe he'll find out more then. He just has to.

He tosses and turns in his bed, frustrated and frightened, but it is all in vain. He cannot sleep. He's wide awake, adrenaline rushing through his body and the fear of losing her – of not being able to save her – is the only thing he can think of. He doesn't even know her, but he feels a connection to her that he cannot explain – even to himself. She depends on him and he is letting her down.

He has to find a way.

There was a text from Alexis earlier that said she would stay at Tracy's over night to study and watch a movie. It was fine with him; he didn't want her to see him like this anyway. She knows him too well; she'd figure out immediately that there was something terribly wrong with him and he just didn't want to explain it to her.

But what was he supposed to do now? What if it was already too late?

He decides to take matters into his own hands now and goes into the bathroom to his medicine cabinet. He pulls out one of those little blue pills his mother left there and gulps it down with a little water.

He really hopes that this will work now. And when he lowers himself down onto his bed again, he already feels his body getting heavy and his brain a little clouded. Those little pills seem to be stronger than they look.

The last thing on his mind is her.

He feels as if he's drunk, his whole vision is blurred.

He finds himself in front of a huge warehouse. It's dark around him, only the dim light of a street lamp lets him see something. There's a small street and some more warehouses around him, but the whole place is empty and silent. No car, no other human being.

But he can barely see a thing, it all just swims before his eyes. It has to be the effect of the sleeping pill, he thinks, and heavily regrets having taken one. On the other hand it actually did work and he is dreaming again. So he may be able to save her after all.

He tries to walk towards the empty, dark warehouse, but he can barely set one foot before the other. He sways so much he almost falls down on the concrete. But he has to find out what's happening in there, from what he has to save her.

When he enters the building he hears a bell ring, some old long-case clock long forgotten in a dark corner, he supposes.

DING

DING

Two times, that means it must be two o'clock. What the hell is she doing here, alone, in the middle of the night? He doesn't get it.

He moves forward, walks down a long corridor until he reaches a huge room. He freezes when he hears her anger filled voice.

"No, you tell me now what you know about my mom's case! No more games, or I'll arrest you and you can spend the night with a drug addict on withdrawal. This is your last chance," she spits out.

But her counterpart only laughs darkly. The rough voice of this man sends a shiver through Rick's spine when he tells the woman of his dreams that he was never supposed to tell her anything, that he doesn't even know what she is talking about.

And suddenly he hears her scream.

But the sleeping pill prevents him from running to her; he just stumbles to the ground and can barely move.

He only hears her muffled cries; the men must've gagged her. He remembers that she said something about back-up, but there's still no one in sight. He manages to get onto his hands and knees and crawls forward, fights the dizziness in his head. He has to see what happens, what he has to prevent. Just a few inches more and he could see them, but he just can't–

"You can give up now, poor thing. No one will find you here. And if they do find you, they will think it was a terrible, terrible accident. It's a pity; you're such a gorgeous thing…"

Rick can't take it anymore. He needs to move. Although he doesn't really want to see what the man has planned to do to her, he has to know. And then he'll come here and save her and everything will be fine again.

He inches forward and then he can see her, lying on the ground, bound at her hands and feet, gagged, and trying desperately to free herself. The man is only a dark figure who walks over to the right to a long rope that turns upwards to the ceiling of the building, vanishing in the darkness. He cuts it loose with a knife and Rick can only watch when a huge pulley with a ton of chains crashes down – right onto her.

His vision is still blurred – and for the first time he's thankful for that – but he can see the red pool forming around her shattered body which is completely buried under all these thick chains.

The man who killed her walks away calmly and Rick's vision goes black.

He wakes up when he falls off his bed onto his left arm. It hurts like hell, but the only thing he can think of is her, lying on the ground tied up and gagged, waiting for death to come and take her.

Does this stupid son of a bitch really believe this would look like an accident? Rick shakes his head and winces, the effect of sleeping pill hasn't completely faded yet and his head spins. That really had been a bad idea.

He stumbles into his bathroom and splashes some cold water onto his face until he can see clearly again and looks up into the mirror. He looks awful, barely recognizable.

But one question remains, even after he dreamt again – how the hell is he supposed to find her?

He slowly makes his way back into his bedroom and moves forward to his study, reaching for his laptop.

When he opens it and his eyes fall to the little clock in the right corner of his monitor, his heart skips a beat.

He doesn't even know where the hell she could be and it's already half past one in the morning.

He slept almost the whole day and now there is no chance of finding her in time.

He's too late. He can't save her this time.