(T)
Angel's Wings
Ilena
She's wandering the gardens again. Can't remember what drew her here, why she came...when she came. When she realizes it, she also realizes where she's staring. With a start, she looks guiltily around, then turns and walks away. Even if he's not here, she won't give it, or him, away. The place calls to her, though. This isn't the first time. She's only free to walk under the sky for a short while, but there isn't anything there for her. Only empty arms that swing by her sides as she walks. She looks for, listens for, anyone who is crying. Her arms can still hold someone...even though the empty ache won't leave, it will work for a tiny bit of time...be a distraction.
-o-o-o-
Dull, aching pain. Darkness. She shivers, whimpers. ...A hand covers hers with warmth. "You're not alone." Suddenly she's aware, her heart is hammering in her chest, her breathing hard and ragged, like she's been running. "Ah, sorry. That was too abrupt. I'll try something else next time." Wellesley...no Obi.
"Please." It's hard to get the word out around the fear. Once she's breathed a few more times and calmed down, "Thank you." He moves back to the other bed. She's left with empty arms again, but she can't ask to have them filled. He pushed himself to just do that much...because he understands. For now, it's enough. It has to be. Tears follow her back into sleep, but she keeps them silent, keeps them from changing her breathing. She knows he listens to the breaths she takes. He interrupted the regular, reoccurring dream early. She's grateful. Bittersweet.
-o-o-o-
Empty garden thicket. Darkness. Stuffy, closed in darkness. Her breathing comes in gasps, except she can't breathe. That wakes her up, the body demanding real air. It always does. The nightmares are brief, except the ones that include the beating (but those are rare), because of the claustrophobic requirement for air.
Odd. Tonight, it's still hard to breathe. There's a strange weight on her chest. Ilena reaches up and feels, then holds still in shock. It's an arm. The only smell in the room, other than her, is Obi. Obi's holding her? In her bed? He's rousing, her change in breathing and her touch has likely done it.
She pretends to settle back into sleep, the initial movement disguised by a mere shifting again of the arm. He slips back into sleep, or he wakes up and holds still, hoping she really is still sleeping, she can't tell. He's as good as her at this game. Eventually she gives up and really is back to sleep - sooner than she would have been. It was hard to lay still, though. He was sooo close. It helped that she was held down by his arm.
-o-o-o-
Cool air across her face. The smell of outside, drink, and Obi. Her arms ache again. He's so close, yet so far. He only comes in her room from outside when he's been to town (drink) or riding (horse). She doesn't need to be jealous tonight. When it's 'horse' she is. "Welcome back."
"Thanks."
Would that be opposite most women? "When you drink, do you let other women hold you?"
He freezes, half-way to the settee, still next to her bed. "Nooo...?" She giggles in relief. His sudden caution, bordering on fear, mixed with complete surprise and trepidation has told her all she needed to know. "Whhyy-y?" He's recovering at the giggle, thinking she's teasing now, maybe.
"I was just thinking...I'm probably odd. I get jealous when you come in from riding Ferier, but am relieved when it's just drink. It's backwards, don't you think?"
He stays still, thinking. When he moves quietly on towards the settee, she knows he's figured it out. "Yeah, I guess it would be, for most women." His voice is light...too light. Her empty arms ache. She holds herself, again. It's too obvious when she holds the pillow, and she's not allowed to call for Rio anymore, not since he's taken up residence in her settee. Maybe she'll call anyway...next time.
-o-o-o-
Dull, aching pain. Darkness. She shivers, whimpers. ...There is movement next to her and quiet arms take her and hold her, waiting for her to come up to reality without forcing it. A kiss follows, on her forehead. Breath, warm, on her face. Smells of Obi, rather than the sick room - which were the same as the smells in the coffin box. She takes deep breaths to trade out the smells - the one in her memory and the one in reality. She wishes he would hum. Her hand comes up to take his shirt...oh, no shirt, then to feel his heartbeat, palm on chest, the scar a faint ripple under her skin. He pets her hair, sleepily and gives another kiss.
She loves being awakened in his comforting arms when she's had her nightmare, and she slips back to sleep...only to be awakened again some number of hours later. It's his turn now to have his nightmare. Her arm slips gently around his shoulder to hold him close to her. "I'm here." She holds him close. He burrows into her shoulder and his arm pulls her closer, holding her tightly, as if he's missed her for many years. She understands. She's been waiting just as many for him to be here, too - for full arms.
-o-o-o-
Obi
Dark. Chill, hard pavement. Thin blankets didn't help much as northern winters set in. He'd have to earn a thick one, or a place in a House for at least the winter - not. He'd take a thin blanket over that. Wishing he could have real warmth, only the warmth of memories was available. At least he had those. Most didn't. He knew that. He'd been lucky to have earned...been given...that gift. Not earned. He had no idea why that gift was his. It just was. He used it this night, like so many other nights since he'd been 'free'. He mentally wrapped those warm arms around him, felt the presence of her, buried his head into his knees, imagining it was her shoulders, once again. Sleep came...eventually.
-o-o-o-
Dark. Running. Leaping. Killing. Damn...it's this dream again. They'd all be the same, but this one...already held the anticipation of the fear of the end. That always told him it was this dream. It was the only battle of its kind he'd left afraid. He fought it, trying to rise up out of it, even managing to get a sound out, rather like, 'grgh'.
"Obi, Obi it's okay. I'm here. You're not alone." Soothingly said, just loud enough to cut into the dream.
He grabbed the anchor. It was enough to pull him up faster. He took a shuddering breath, then another, skimming past the part where he gets slammed in the chest with a sword that rocked him to the core. Jumping scenes past everything until he's under the bush. He pauses there. 'Wellesley. Live. Live for me. Please.' He jumps scenes, not wanting to remember the next part, because the voices were the same. The past one from the dream, the current one that anchored him. He leaves the dream, knowing he was bandaged. He can feel the familiar unfamiliar bed under him, the wall pressing against the back of his hand where it's flug out.
"Are you okay, Obi?" His new 'partner's' voice is concerned, gentle - coming from the bed on the other side of the room.
"Yeah, thanks." He tries to make it not too sour. This is the one support he won't make fun of or reject, won't deny her either. They both lived in hell together, even if he doesn't trust her she does understand. He takes a deep breath, twice, to get his heart calmed down. "Thanks," he says again, one more time softly. This time...it's for what happened before.
"Always," she answers, meaning it. She understands. Living in darkness, living in hell, was so much easier when there was someone to share it with. She might even know exactly what he was really thanking her for. The sour returns. She reads his mind all the time, after all. They keep each other company for a while. He's not sure which one gave up first to slip back into sleep before the other. Maybe they went together. They don't talk about it the next day, or ever.
-o-o-o-
Run. Jump. Fall in a ground-eating landing, roll, run. Breathe. Searching...for what? A wall - running up the wall and over. Fighting. Terror looms, but this time, the sword isn't headed for his chest, but for hers. His muscles tense and there is faint movement under ...in? on? his arms that pulls him up enough to consider he might be dreaming again. Enough to smell a scent that doesn't go with the scene. Enough to feel a tickle on his nose. Which pulls him up enough to feel the rising and falling of his arm, and the warmth under his arm, that lifts his arm and makes it fall. He listens to the dark...not the dream. Soft sleeping breaths. Safe, living. Still with him. Her. He drifts off again...but the ache of the lack of arms around him goes with him, as does the warmth in his arms. Bittersweet.
-o-o-o-
Dark. Running. Leaping. Killing. Damn...not again. Not again! He wrenches himself up and out of the nightmare that still to this day haunts him. But now he's disoriented. Where is he? Ears first when it's dark. Don't move or make a sound or change your breathing...if you remember what your breathing pattern was. Listen first to stay alive. Soft breaths, regular, sleeping breaths behind him. Nothing else.
Feel second. Soft pillows, square. On a soft surface, but not a bed. Couch or settee. Then, he's in the castle. A castle anyway. Did Master let him spend the night this time? So many nights coming up from this nightmare means lonely silence and sleeplessness for the rest of the night...only staying put because he can remember at the end there were surrogate arms around him and she'd been there.
She. No, he remembers now. This is her settee, though she's given it to him, because she understands. It's one of his first nights in it, so he's disoriented, forgotten, lost. But her breaths remind him...he's found, remembered, wanted (confused). He falls asleep again, lulled by soft breaths, but still wishing for the warmth of arms he's not allowed to ask for...not yet.
-o-o-o-
Dark. Running. Leaping. Killing. Damn...-
A warm arm slips around his shoulders, splitting his awareness between the dream and reality. It tightens briefly. "I'm here." Murmured, mostly still asleep words. He burrows his head into warm shoulders, his own arm pulling her close. Warmth. Angel arms, really here, really warm, really his. Always. Forever. He wants to weep in relief, but slips into sleep instead, never really awake to begin with.
-O_O-
If Obi ever had a major dream he wanted to have fulfilled by Ilena, this would be it, though if he'd been asked he would have claimed it was a minor, or at best a medium, dream. Almost all the other dreams she fulfilled for him were truly minor or medium ones. This one though...
Hmm...you think Ilena, too? *wink*