With a sudden start, Dick woke up and toppled over the side of his bed. He groaned from the floor, then pulled himself onto his knees and looked over at his clock. 10:08 a.m. Why anyone would choose to be awake at this hour was beyond him. Images from his dreams were slowly coming back to him: there had been a girl, who wasn't actually touching him—she just taunted him with the scarf in her hands. That was the moment that he realized that what had woken him was the sound of the girl in the next room crying.

He stood up and walked out of his room, hesitating by her door, worrying that Mac would be angry with him if he bothered her when she was upset.

Cracking the door open, he looked in to see that she wasn't even awake. She was in her bed, lying on her back and making quiet noises as tears streamed down her face. She was wearing some little cotton dress that looked vaguely familiar, although he couldn't place where he'd seen it before. He moved closer and decided he should probably wake her up, even though he didn't want to.

He knew it was probably Beaver she was dreaming about. What else could it be? His little brother was the one thing that he had ever known to seriously throw her for a loop. Even learning she had been switched at birth didn't faze her all that much. Although, she had confessed one night that she had cried for days after reading the last Harry Potter book. Apparently she really liked some dude who got killed by a wall.

Mac gave a pathetic little whimper then, and it spurred him into action. He walked swiftly to her bedside.

"Mackie," he said quietly. "Wake up." He put a hand on her arm, and her eyes flew open. She sat up with a gasp, looking wildly around the room, her eyes shooting from the balcony to the closet to the door, before they refocused on him and she put her arms around him in a tight hug.

Dick froze. Mac rarely initiated such close contact with him. He shut his eyes and drew her in closer.

"Bad dream?" he asked, because he felt like he should.

"Yeah," she said hoarsely.

"Do you want to…you know?" he asked.

"Not really," she said, and he breathed out in relief.

"Just…" she started. "Please be careful, Dick, okay?"

"Huh?" Dick pulled back and looked at her, completely confused. "Was there a draft? Am I going to war? Great, now I gotta move to Canada."

They stared at each other for a minute, both trying to figure out what was going on.

"No, Dick, you're not going to war," Mac said finally. "I just get worried, you know, about Oliver."

"Who the hell is Oliver?" Dick asked testily, quickly losing patience with the conversation.

Mac shut her eyes, clearly trying to remain calm. "The guy you shot, Dick, his name was Oliver."

"Ohhh," Dick said. "That guy? Pfft. Don't worry about him." Dick would have said more but that was when the implication of her words sank in. She had been having a nightmare that that guy was going to come back and hurt him. It gave him a funny feeling in his chest to know that someone cared enough about his well-being to have an actual nightmare about him. He thought about hugging her again.

At that moment they heard something from downstairs, what sounded like someone rattling the doorknob. Dick looked at Mac with wide eyes.

"You're not like a prophet or something, right?"

"Let's hope not," Mac said, swinging her legs over the edge of her bed.

"Stay up here, and put some shoes on," Dick told her as he moved toward the hallway, grabbing her umbrella on the way and wielding it as a bat.

"Dick, wait!" she hissed at him. She joined him a minute later, wearing the rain boots that had been sitting by her door.

Dick headed down the stairs slowly, motioning for Mac to stay up on the landing. She ignored him and followed, and when he turned his head he came face to face with her exposed legs. He shut his eyes and refocused his attention with some difficulty, because now was definitely not the time to be distracted by his roommate's supple thighs.

The noise from outside the front door had stopped, and the two stood stock-still on the staircase. Then Mac shifted and her rain boot squeaked, causing Dick to shush her with his arms.

"Sorry," she whispered, and he shushed her again, sticking his neck out as he tried to listen.

They both heard it at the same time: the crack-whoosh sound of the French doors that led onto the patio opening. Dick tensed and turned to look at Mac, whose eyes were like saucers. He pointed up the stairs.

"Go hide!" he mouthed.

She shook her head, and he tried to push her a little toward her room. She slapped his hand away and he gave her a look that was half anger and half frustration. He reached out to push her again but she grabbed his hands before they reached her.

They heard a voice and, staring wide-eyed at each other, froze.

Next Chapter: Taken Away

A/N: Dun dun DUNNNN….I have to say, I don't usually write cliffhangers, but this was fun. Happy reading, and I'll try to post the next chapter soon.