Sweet Dreams
Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Titans
"You cannot escape your destiny…what you have done will fulfill prophecy forever."
"I don't want to! You're"—
"Foolish woman! I am Trigon the Terrible!"
"Don't touch me!" Arella screamed, flailing around in the darkness and gasping as a muscular arm wrapped itself around her bare waist. "Get away from me! Let go!" A heady rush of adrenaline threatened to overwhelm her as she finally collapsed, huddling on her edge of the bed and curling the sheet around her.
"Arella," Slade said groggily, "What"—She shuddered at his hand on her shoulder. "Don't touch me!" She cried as her breathing became erratic, "Don't—just leave me alone…stop…" The exhausted woman trailed off and gave a sob as reality set in and the nightmare faded to the background.
Silent tears continued to course their way down her cheeks as Arella's chest heaved with sobs. God, she hadn't dreamt about that n…years maybe? And it brought back everything she didn't want to think about, which threatened to break the solid mental dam she had worked so hard to construct.
"Arella? What's wrong? It's four a.m." My husband…she thought to herself as she shied away from the nightmare. "Would you just…leave me alone for awhile?" Arella asked, her frail voice cracking and shattering into a million pathetic pieces. She felt him hesitate; felt the current of air where he almost laid a hand on her shoulder but changed his mind.
"Whatever you say," Slade murmured, offering a light kiss against her temple in place of holding her in his arms. Arella stiffened at even this gentle gesture as the cobwebs of her dream refused to be brushed away from her mind. They clung to the fact that she had known someone before Slade, and he hurt her—badly. So when Slade touched her, at least for the moment, it was like he was touching her. The thought made her want to throw up.
She closed her eyes as Slade clicked on his bedside lamp and bathed the room in a faint glow. The bedsprings creaked a bit as he got up, gently folding the sheet around Arella while she continued to cry.
"I'll be better in the morning, darling," she mumbled to his back as he opened the door. He didn't answer to her forced term of endearment and she shut her eyes, latching her thin arms around the pillow like it was a life preserver. Arella really couldn't say how long her face was buried in the pillow, or when she pushed a few strands of messy black hair away from her face, but she was still awake when the door opened without a sound.
Her sob became audible then and Slade knelt by the bed, capturing her cheek gently with one hand. He looked at her in a serious way and leaned forward to meet Arella's mouth with his.
Slade held the kiss for a long time as he stroked her cheek with his thumb, forcing her to be torn between misery and a cloudy perfume of endorphins. Pulling away first, he trailed his fingers through her hair—eliciting more tears from Arella. Slade sighed and stood up, presumably to walk around to his side of the bed.
Arella watched with interest as Slade wordlessly set a small tray on her bedside table, which bore only one steaming cup of Chamomile tea—and a single red rose.
"Pleasant dreams, my paramour," he whispered, leaning close and kissing her forehead before rolling over to go back to sleep.