Bart extricated himself from the linen sheets that had tangled around his body as he slept, making it difficult to breathe. He reached a tentative hand across the mattress, searching for warmth, but finding the other half of the bed vacant. His lips were tingling, the memory of the kiss still lingering, but he felt hollow. Hollow, and painfully alone.

The days subsequent to when he and Jaime had addressed their feelings were surreal and dreamlike, and Bart had moved through them in a happy stupor. Being ensconced in Jaime's steady arms with their lips molded together was more than he'd ever dared to hope for. The kiss they'd shared had started out firm, but soft, and had soon grown heated and desperate and maybe a little fearful.

Being with Jaime was like free-falling from a building: pure adrenaline, heightened senses, a rush of ecstasy, but at the same time he was scared of losing himself. Their passionate make-out had eventually mellowed to gentle caressing of lips, until Jaime deposited the younger boy on his bed and they'd held close. It was the first sleep Bart had had where he wasn't plagued by nightmares.

It had been the first night where he'd had something worth dreaming about. Something stronger than the nightmares and scars of his past life.

But when he'd stopped by the familiar El Paso neighborhood a little while later, Jaime had brushed him off with the alibi that something else had come up.

Bart understood it must have been hard for Jaime. In this era their type of relationship wasn't always accepted. Or maybe Jaime was going through something else entirely. Family issues, identity crisis, coming to terms with his powers...

Bart didn't know. But he tried to understand. And for the first few days he'd been successfully able to stay away. Maybe it was selfishness that made him knock on Jaime's door for the second time that week. But the nightmares were getting worse again and he really needed Jaime back. Even if Jaime wasn't ready to be his lover, Bart needed him to at least be his friend.

"Jaime," Bart's voice barely carried as he rapped on the door. "Her-man-oh come on. I'm really feeling the mode." He was met with silence.

So Bart retreated back to the Garrick's house in Central City to face his nightmares alone. Except he didn't fall asleep again. Every time his eyes started to drift shut, he'd catch a flicker of movement from the shadows in his room; the darkened corners that were twisted and warped into haunting faces by Bart's imagination.

Bart could feel sweat dripping down his neck as if spiders were scuttling across it. Breathe, he told himself as he lay on his bed curled up in a fetal position. He wasn't sure exactly which memory was bothering him at the moment, just that he felt hopeless. Hopeless, empty, and little more than a corpse.

The hours passed slowly, and he heard each tick of his watch. Time moving at barely more than a standstill.

And then he heard it. A loud whooshing that sounded from outside his window. Bart was on his feet in exactly two milliseconds, and had the window open a moment later.

"Well it's nice to see you again, Blue. Iwasbeginningtothinkyouwereavoidingme."

Jaime's blue and black armor retracted as he stepped into Bart's room.

"What?" Bart deadpanned, "nothing to say to me?"

Jaime's face whipped to the side and he muttered something, more to himself than to Bart. The younger teen studied his friend's sensuous lips as he mouthed to the scarab. When Jaime finally turned back to Bart, he didn't meet his eyes.

Instead, he raised a hand to thumb Bart's bottom lip. Bart felt his breath hitch in his throat, but there was no way he was going to just kiss Jaime, not after how he'd deliberately avoided him.

He started to pull away, but Jaime's other hand clamped around Bart's jaw, forcing the other boy's lips to his own. At first Bart struggled against Jaime's grip, but as the Hispanic teen's mouth and tongue brushed his jawline, Bart realized he didn't have the resolve.

Jaime's hands cupped either side of Bart's face as he leaned in for another kiss. This was not the same kiss they'd earlier shared. This kiss was forceful, and Jaime was in full control. Bart made the mistake of sighing into Jaime's mouth, which made Jaime kiss him harder, harder.

The air was charged with electricity. Bart felt dizzy. And light, like he was floating on air. But mostly dizzy.

Finally Jaime pulled away long enough for them to catch their breath, and Bart's hands rested on his shoulders to steady himself from his lightheadedness.

"Jaime," he panted, "we shouldn—"

Jaime's lips began to travel down Bart's neck, trailing love bites as he sucked at his flesh.

Bart fought to keep his features indifferent, but a moan tumbled from his lips before he could suppress it. Jaime's hand curled around Bart's tee, but as she began to raise the fabric, the speedster slipped out of his grasp.

"Jaime st-" Bart paused because he was having trouble forming coherent thoughts. Did he really want Jaime to stop?

Jaime took his moment of hesitation to his advantage, but Bart darted lithely out of his grasp once more.

"Do you want me Bart?" There was something dangerous in Jaime's tone.

"I, yes, I uh... but—" his voice faltered as Jaime's now armored hand elongated. Jaime raised the bladed edge of his arm and tore through the fabric of Bart's shirt. He pinned Bart to the wall and ran his lips down the length of Bart's chest, following the path that his hands made.

Time seemed to have sped up. Is this what it's like to lose yourself? Bart certainly felt lost. Lost to desire and the heat of the moment. But what finally pulled him back was the sting of a tear on his face, though he wasn't entirely sure whose.

He and Jaime pulled away at the same time, the latter trembling violently. Bart stared at his friend in something akin to anger. How could he just use him like that? Now Bart was taking charge. He tilted Jaime's chin upwards, forcing him to meet his gaze.

Jaime's brown eyes were half-lidded and darkened with lust, but there was something else in his look. Something deeper, and more personal. Something pained and forlorn. Maybe Bart recognized the look in Jaime's eyes because he'd seen it in his own reflection many times before, but whatever the reason, it was evident that something was off.

He lowered his arms and wrapped them around Jaime's waist, holding them there until his shaking subsided.

"What the hell is wrong with you Bart?" Jaime demanded finally. Bart stared open-mouthed as Jaime continued, "why did you kiss me back?"

"Wha—what's wrong with me?" he asked in incredulity. "You kissed me first! I should be asking you that!" Bart curled his hands into fists, relishing the pain he felt when his nails dug into his skin.

Jaime's voice was softer now. "You shouldn't even be able look at me. You should hate me. After what I've done to you as Blue Beetle... You shouldn't want anything to do with me. You let me kiss you. Why? Why do you just instantly forgive me for hurting you? That's not normal. Answer me!"

Jaime's imploring tone confused Bart on a whole new scale. Did he seriously expect an answer to a question that didn't even make sense?

Bart couldn't find any words that would encapsulate what he felt, so he raised the palms of his hand instead of responding. He raised the red and raw flesh where his nails had pierced through his skin. Even with his accelerated healing, the marks remained. And when they faded, new crescent-shaped cuts would take their place. Because the pain was a distraction. Digging his nails into his palms until they broke the skin. It took his attention away from what really bothered him.

"I have them every night," he choked out in a tremulous voice. "The dreams, I mean. Except they're not dreams. They're memories and every night I have to relive them. I see people dying and people tortured, but they're not even people; they're meat. Expendable, and worthless. And it hurts Jaime," he muffled his sob with his hand. "It feels like... like that broken part of me inside is stabbing me every time I breathe. A-and I don't know why or how you do it but every time you're with me it's like the nightmares just go away. And I hate it. Hate that you have that much power over me. How do you do it Jaime? How do you make the nightmares just go away?"

Jaime bristled at Bart's words, and at first all he added to the conversation was "Lo siento Bart." But after he took Bart's hands in his own he whispered, "I get them too. The nightmares. Except mine aren't past memories like yours. Mine are... I mean, my dreams are about what could still happen. I don't want to lose control of the scarab. I don't want to ever lose you."

Bart stood on his tiptoes to rest his head in the crook of Jaime's neck. "You won't lose me."

"Won't I? I don't really understand time travel Bart, but I can at least grasp the whole paradox thing. If the Reach apocalypse doesn't happen, then there won't be any reason for you to have come to the past because I won't need saving. So then we'll have never met. And that's not a reality I can live with."

Bart swallowed painfully. He may have been able to build a time machine, but he didn't understand the rules and principles of time travel any better.

"You won't lose me yet." Bart's legs were turning to jelly, and Jaime caught him as his strength gave out. "Stay with me?"

"Siempra." Jaime scooped Bart into his arms and laid him on the bed. Their arms and limbs tangled as they wrapped in each other's warmth.

As sleep enveloped him, Bart mused silently how easy it was for dreams to slip into nightmares. And vice versa.