Author note: All characters belong to Angie Sage. Please review and tell me what you think. This chapter is kind of short but I'll upload a new one soon. Enjoy!


Thanks to Dr. Finnico, a bed was organized for her in Milo's room. He had offered it himself, recognizing the worried expression on her face.

That night, she barely managed to sleep, in that cold green room, with Milo lying limply, almost lifelessly, next to her, so close that she could reach him if she'd just send her hand forwards.

When she did fall asleep, however, she had a nightmare.

In her nightmare, she was in Dungeon Number One, all by herself. She stumbled to her feet, barely holding herself up. Looking on the ground around her, she saw Milo, lying there in his unconscious state, somehow peaceful. Turning her gaze away, she saw Alther's body on the floor, as she remembered him the night he died. She couldn't stand looking at him either. Trying not to look at the two figures at her feet, she saw Queen Cerys' body on the floor a few feet away and Septimus covered in snow the day she found him. Jillie Djinn's body was lying limp next to him, and Alice Nettles next to her, still bleeding.

Tears standing in her eyes, she tried not to look at any of them, but she couldn't. More and more bodies kept appearing, of all the people she cared about, or cares about, or died because of her…

"Marcia…" A dead voice sounded, echoing along the dungeon's walls.

"Marcia…" She could now hear a few more cracking voices joining the first.

"Marcia…" Looking down, she saw the bodies starting to come back to life. They were heaving themselves off the ground, like marionettes being pulled up.

They started approaching her, their hands forwards, reaching for her. She backed away to the ladder, trying to reach it though she knew she'd never make it. Her last thought before the bodies swallowed her was that Milo, being taller and stronger than her, would have made it to the ladder in time.

Marcia woke up with a muffled shriek. She looked around the dark room, as if afraid one of the medical devices might turn into another dead person attacking her.

Suddenly she saw something move to her right. Turning her head sharply, and making one of the tears in her eyes slide down her cheek, she saw Milo stirring in his bed.

He turned to face her. "M... Marcia?" He whispered.

"Yes." She said, trying to stop the tears that kept sliding down, remainders of her dream.

"Marcia!" Milo called happily. "What are you doing here?" He tried to sit up.

"No." She said sternly. "Don't sit up, Milo. You are in a terrible state, and you surely don't want to make it worse. Stay where you are."

She stared at the stormy-grey eyes glowing in the dark. Milo lay back down, smiling at the worry in her eyes. "Alright, if you say so." He muttered lovingly.

Marcia managed a small smile. She still couldn't wave away the image of him attacking her like a zombie, as hard as she tried.

"You still haven't answered my question." His words pulled her back to reality.

"I came to check on you. You were unconscious for three days. The hospital sent me a letter asking me to come."

"Three days?" Milo stared at her back.

Marcia nodded.

"And what about the idiot from the bar?" He asked, his face dark, his eyes seeking revenge.

Marcia shook her head. "I don't know. I really don't care, honestly."

Milo smiled at her. "That's the Marcia I know."