His brown eyes snapped open. His lungs were desesperately trying to draw in as much air as possible, his breathing coming in quick and shallow gasps. He sat up, his young body shaking with distress, unable to calm down, unable to stop the memory of his nightmare to flood and invade his mnd. It had been barely a few days since his father was floated for treason, barely a few days since he managed to get past the surveillance of his teacher and sneak in the air lock chamber, barely a few days since he watched the air sucked out of his father and his corpse thrown into space.

The chamber kept haunting him. He felt the hands holding him down, tasted blood and tears as the bit the inside of his cheek, but none of these compared to the vision of his mother, eyes red and pleading, mouth open in a silent scream of pain, terror etched in every one of her features.

What if... He needed to be sure. He needed to know she was alright. It was all just a dream, a harmless dream, it didn't mean anything, right ? It couldn't. She had to be alright. What was is that his mom once said to him ? Do not overthink dreams, my son, for they are visions of your heart ; sometimes God comes at night and whispers words in your ear, listen, do not fight, let them fill your mind. The cold hit his bare feet as soon as he put the covers aside and stepped out of his bed. The soft sound of his small steps was the only thing to be heard in the apartement as he quickly moved towards the other room and came to a halt in front of the door, teeth chewing on his bottom lip, one hesitant hand over the knob.

His face scrunched up as his heartbeat picked up speed again, he felt trpped inside his own body, unable to make up his mind, unable to make a move. A step back. Why was he so afraid ? He didn't understand, he didn't want to understand for he feared the answer to his own question. Would it hurt more to know that it hadn't been a mere dream, more than to ignore the possible truth that layed behind the closed door ?

"Mom..."

Was is his voice that sounded so hoarse and weak ? Who was he pleading to ? Praying ? The wetness on his cheeks kept sliding down his face, drops stopping on his lips, others landing on his chin and onto his shirt. Lost, he was lost. He should go back to his room. Act like it never happened. It, the floating and the dream. Nightmare. He shook his head violently, tried to clear his mind from all the intrusive and unwelcome thoughts that plagued him.

A hand interrupted his movement. On his cheek, soft, warm skin against his. Another on his shoulder, grounding him to the world.

"Marcus ? Honey, hey, I'm here."

"Mom ?"

He brushed his fingers against her hand. She was real. Alive. Reassured and yet still frightened, he couldn't hold back his sobs and soon he was crying so much his head began to ache and his body to shake.

Arms were wrapped around him, she hug him with all her might, a need anchor. He breathed in the familiar and comforting scent, welcoming the immediate effect it had on his strained muscles, it was wonderful how much influence such a trivial detail could have on him. No one else could, and ever would, make him feel that way, of that he was sure.

"I'm so scared..."

"I'm scared too."

Her words whispered in his ear made him shiver, because then, who would be here to support him ? They only had each other to rely on now, the people on the Ark could be merciless sometimes, he had learned it the hard way, and it frightened him to no end. She didn't have sweet, soothing words to sell him, the only reason being that she wasn't sure herself how they would be able to make it work. She had lost a part of her soul that fateful day, a part that she would never get back, and yet she had to put her pain aside, to ignore it and focus on her son's well being. He needed her as much as she needed him.

Feeling his weight on her when she picked him up made a sad smile appear on her lips. Soon, too soon, he would be too old to be carried, she knew she would miss the pleasure of walking with his heard buried in the crook of her neck, with his chest against hers and his hair tickling her face.

He didn't utter a word as she went back to her room and carefully laid down on her bed. On her side, she kept her arms around Marcus, and brought him closer to her, one hand coming up to stroke his hair, something she knew always helped him fall asleep.

He hung to the arm around his torso, intending to never let go. He felt warm, at home. He closed his eyes, gently rocked by her breathing and the soft humming of a lullaby.