A/N So sorry for not uploading sooner, I re-wrote this chapter about five times, and I'm still not happy with it. But, good news, I have half of the next chapter ready. If I don't re-write the thing, I've already done that twice already.

Oh, and yes, Dawson is, was, mentally ill. Did I convey that properly? I always get nervous when I write from a character's point of view-which is all the time.


Tony could only see black.

...his eyes were closed, well, that solved things in a hurry.

When he opened them, he saw her. Whitney. Leaning over him, close to his face, her skin and hair radiating from sunlight.

"What took you so long?" she asked with a slight smile and a tilt of her head.

Whitney, the girl who had been missing for nearly two days was right in front of him!

"Whit, you're supposed to be gone!" he exclaimed, pushing himself up on his forearms.

"What do you mean? I've been here ever since you fell asleep, darling. You've been dreaming." she gently coaxed him back down, keeping her hands on his shoulders.

"But, you're not real!"

At this she smiled, leaned in closer, and pressed her lips to his smoothly.

"Am I real enough now?" she asked, a flirtatious tone to her voice.

Maybe, this wasn't a dream.

"Very," he moved a hand to rest on the back of her neck and pulled her back down, letting their lips meet in a passionate caress. He slowly moved his arms to wrap around her waist, and flipped her over, breaking the kiss.

"Hey, take it easy!" she giggled, her light laughter filling his ears.

"The dream was so real, Whit." he said, his voice full of emotion, "I lost you for so long."

"I had no idea," she shook her head slightly, lifting a hand to touch his cheek, "I'm sorry, darling. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, no, that's okay. I think, I just want to make sure."

He moved from over top of her carefully, scanning over her as he sat beside her. She appeared to be real, this place even appeared to be real. He could feel the comfortable texture of the picnic blanket underneath his hands. He could hear the gentle, soothing sounds of the birds chirping through the light summer breeze. It was almost too realistic, the area was unimaginably serene, and undisturbed. Quite unusual for Central Park, but then again, they had a knack for discovering reposeful places such as this.

Her yellow sundress blended with her hair and the light shining its way through the green leaves of the park's trees, making her seem angelic. She had one of those daisies in her hair, he probably gave it to her, they were her favorite flower. Oddly, she had her locket around her neck. Why was she wearing it out where people could see? Not that he minded in general, after all, he gave it to her. He loved it when she was able to wear it; maybe she put it on after they were alone?

But were they truly alone...

For a minute he forgot where they were, but one look around and he instantly recognized the property. They were in the park, an open space, not their spot. What were they doing here? They never met in a public space unless it was all four of them, lest the ever-stalking paparazzi caught up with them, and if by some terrible mistake that the photographers just happened to snap a picture of them together, it was bye-bye birdie for a little while. At least for a few weeks, until some other poor soul got trapped in the suffocating intensity of the media's spotlight.

He kept his eyes on Whitney as she clasped her hands together on her stomach, closing her eyes as another gentle wisp of wind blew over her face. She seemed so real, and who was he to contradict himself like this? She was here, this didn't seem like a dream, and he missed her. Everything was fine, perfectly fine, but he had to make her promise something. That dream made him realize a truth; he couldn't lose her, like that, or any other way.

"Whit?" he kept staring at her peaceful expression, incapable of taking his eyes off her.

"Yes?" she pushed herself up into a sitting position, smiling at him.

"I love you," he moved closer, and wrapped his arms around her waist, staring into her eyes, "Promise you won't leave me."

"That must have been a horrible dream, I'm so-"

"Promise me."

"Of course, darling. I promise."

"Good," he pulled her close and let their lips touch again.

"I love you, Tony." she confessed after they broke apart, her nose barely touching his.

Tony smiled before asking, "This might sound a little weird but...do people know about, us?" he combed his fingers through her hair. She looked puzzled, but she nodded, affirming his question.

"Then, everything in my dream-"

"It was just a dream, everything is alright, I'm right here."

He couldn't stand it any longer, and he brought her forward again. He enjoyed this, having her close again, kissing her. He pressed their lips together one time after the other, and Whitney just let him kiss her. Several times.

When they finally stopped, she spoke, "I hate to say it, but I think you should have those dreams more often."

"Very funny, Stane. Very funny." he teased her, "That wasn't very nice though."

"Tony...you've got that look in your eye," she scooted back,

"What look?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"That look."

"I don't know what that look is, obviously I can't see myself in a mirror."

"The playful one."

"And what's so wrong with that?"

"Nothing it's ju-"

He gently pushed her down and tickled her sides, laughing along with her as she tried to push his hands away.

"Tony!" she laughed, "Alright, alright, I take it back, I take it back!" she put her arms around his neck after he stopped, and he lifted her back up.

"Wow, how did that taste coming out of your mouth?" he asked, still holding her.

"Like vinegar," she answered bluntly, "But you can be very...persuasive, I'll give you that."

"I'll do us both a favor, and take that as a compliment." he tugged her closer to him, pressing his lips to the side of her mouth.

She smiled timidly at his affectionate action, looking away as a rosy blush crept up on her cheeks. He took that as permission, and pulled her even closer. To this, the familiar sight of goosebumps appeared on her arms, a sure sign that she was becoming reserved. In order to respect her silent wishes, he let her go, and she brushed back a wave of her hair blown into her face by the breeze, still silent.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, now worried.

"No," she said lightly, playing with her fingers.

"If you want, we can do something else."

She gazed up at him through thick eyelashes, another one of her bashful gestures.

"Anything wrong, Whit?"

"I need to tell you something."

"What is it?"

She audibly gulped, smoothing the skirt of her dress, "I'm pretty confident that I-that I really, really, really love you, Tony. And I mean, really."

"I know," he trailed a comforting hand down her arm, trying to make her more comfortable.

"You don't understand," she lifted her head to look at him, "I want to be with you forever, and I actually mean that. I stayed up half the night wondering if this was right, and it is." she pressed her lips to his cheek before whispering, "You're a dream come true for me, and I want to make you happy for the rest of my life."

He couldn't contain the wide smile on his face from Whitney's words, and right then, he decided that he was going to tell her something he had thought about for quite a while,

Their engagement.

"You're amazing, you know that? I wanted this to be a surprise, but I've been thinking about this for a long time and," her eyes went wide as he delicately plucked the daisy from her hair, "I guess for now, this will have to do. I had a whole speech planned and everything, but it's nothing you don't already know; I was going to tell you that you're like a giant beacon of light, guiding me through any kind of fog, or darkness. I was going to tell you how much you mean to me, every day, and how I want to make sure that you never regret choosing to marry me, if you say yes that is. And I wanted to tell you how, shocked, I am that you let me love you. You could've had anyone, and you chose me. And I was going to say how the ring is like a promise; a promise to love, honor, and cherish you for the rest of my life, but since this flower here is a stand in, I don't know how that'd fit."

By the end, she was biting her lip, and openly tearing up.

"Well, here goes. Whitney Stane...will you marry me?"

She nodded, and choked out, "Yes."

He released a breath of air, and embraced her, keeping the daisy in his hand.

When they let go, Tony glanced at the flower, then back at her, "Can you keep this until I'm able to get a real engagement ring?"

"I'll try not to lose it," she smiled as he placed the flower gently in her hair.

They stared into each other's eyes, electric meeting ice in an affectionate gaze.

"I can't believe it," she shook her head lightly,

"It's okay if you're not ready, Whit. I completely understand, and it wasn't very nice of me to force that on you. I won't hold it against you if you don't want to do this. I mean, we're young, we've got a lot of ti-" he was silenced by a pair of soft, warm lips.

Whitney pulled away with a light pop, "And here I am, thinking you knew everything about me. Of course I want to marry you, jerk!" she punched his arm playfully, a sparkle in her eye.

"You have a way of making me feel really bad," he sniffed, faking hurt.

"Aw, I'm sorry. Marry me?"

"I'll think about it."

He slid his arms around her, and kissed her. Meaning to hold it for as long as he could as he pulled her even closer, and he felt her arms around his neck.

This, this wasn't a dream.

This was pure bliss.

Out of nowhere, and without warning, the sky grew dark, a complete gray, overshadowing the couple in their moment of affection.

She pulled away with a puzzled glint in her eyes, and she glanced up and looked around, "What's going on?"

"I don't know," he got up, and reached down a hand to help her up.

"How can you not know what's going on?"

That voice. He recognized that voice.

He grabbed her arm as she stood up and they both looked around for the source of the voice.

"You are the protective type, aren't you?"

The voice was back, now even closer. It wasn't possible, none if it was possible. None of this should be possible.

"Oh, I assure you, I am very possible."

The voice was in front of them!

She let out a small, surprised yelp at the sight of the man, and Tony placed in arm in front of her, gradually pushing her behind him.

"Who are you?" he demanded,

"You don't know who I am? I'm your nightmare, I've always been your nightmare. Remember? You're afraid of me, you've always been afraid of me."

She clutched his shoulders as he stepped forward, "Look, pal, I don't know who you are. Do yourself a favor, and go away," he stared down the intruding man, "Please?" he added after the man stepped closer, eyeing Whitney.

"You're scared of losing her to me, aren't you? Yes, you are. I know everything that goes on in your mind, every little thought."

She held on to him tighter, "Leave us alone," she tried to sound threatening, but her voice squeaked in fear instead.

"How cute. Isn't she cute, Tony? I think she is." the man continued to advance on the couple, his emerald eyes firmly locked on her.

"Alright, that's it. Listen here, creep, I don't know who the heck you think you are, but you stay away from her!" Tony gently pushed her back even more, stepping forward again to fully confront the man.

"Brave, are we? I wouldn't be so confident...if...I were you."

"Tony, don't, let's just leave. It's fine."

He could hear Whitney's quivering behind him, but he wasn't leaving until he gave this weirdo a piece of his mind. Who did that guy think he was? Waltzing up in here, staring at her, acting like a creeper. Well, no creeper was going to scare her and get away with it! No, sir, not on his watch!

"Last warning before I get rough with you mister, stop messing around with her unless you want a black eye." he glared at the man, being as intimidating as he could.

But the man kept staring.

"Okay then, if that's how you want it," he started to march forward when a hand touched his shoulder.

"Come on, Tony, please, let's go away from here." Whitney pleaded,

Tony turned around to give her a reassuring smile, then turned around again to face the man, "If I catch you near her, ever, you're going to find yourself in a hospital, got it?"

The man smiled, "It's too late for that." then he disappeared, completely evaporating into the wind.

One bang,

One gasp,

One thud.

Whitney collapsed to the ground after the bullet pierced her chest, near her ribs. He watched her go down; his pulse raced, and time slowed down as he applied pressure to the wound. But it was too late, it was always too late, he was always too late. He could never save her, every time this night terror happened, he couldn't save her. She always died in his arms, staring up at him through those eyelashes, the innocent eyes glazing over as red liquid seeped through both of his hands. It was always the same; she would always choke out 'I love you', she would always cough exactly two times before finally giving in, and letting go.

He would always beg her to come back, but she wouldn't.

It was always the same.


Tony shot up from the bed, covered in a cold sweat, and breathing heavily.

Why did it have to be her? Why her, instead of him? She trusted him, she trusted him with her life. Her life. She trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms! He deserved the nightmares, he deserved to suffer because of what he did. He left her. He would never forgive himself, never, it was his job to protect her. He didn't. What kind of boyfriend was he? A stupid one. He triggered an alarm because he was stupid, blinded by the mere thought of her, he was senseless. Foolish. He choked back a sob, burying his face in his hands. He would give his life for her, that's how much he loved her, he loved her enough to gladly die for her. He would gladly take everything for her; everything, and anything. She was so innocent, child-like innocent, truly one in a million. No other girl, or person, would be as faithful as she was. There were no words to describe when she looked up at him, those eyes, full of wonder, and devotion. With pure, and utter adoration.

He couldn't go back to school in the morning, he just couldn't. He couldn't imagine walking past her locker, seeing the flowers there, or hearing all the gossip from his classmates. It was too painful to even think about it, but he had to, she would want it that way, but he was going to see to it that she wasn't missing for long. He would do every possible thing he could to ensure her safe return. The FBI issued an Amber Alert for her tonight, or at least that's what Pepper told him, she said they even notified the Canadian Border Patrol to be on the lookout.

Like he should be doing.

The dream played back in his mind as he laid his head back down on the pillow, steadying his breathing. The one thing that affected him the most about the nightmares was that he proposed to her, with a daisy. The same one he gave to her when they were nine, for Valentine's day.

And she would always say yes.

He wanted to marry her, he wanted to cherish her, forever, and there was a chance that he might not be able to do that. That he would never have one last kiss with her, one last sweet, tender moment. He became sort of addicted to that small blush, the gentle laugh, her timid voice. Around her, he felt six again, he felt happy, truly happy. He wanted to make her feel the same way, and as soon as she was able to leave the hospital, he was going to give her something that would surely cause her to be that way. He was going to take her out to dinner...and ask her to marry him. Right then and there. He was going to give her the very thing she never had, but so desperately wanted, a family. She loved children, and he wanted her to have them. With him, of course. He was going to give her a wonderful home, and whatever she wanted, he would provide for her. For a lifetime, he would see to it that she had everything she ever needed, or wanted, and he would never hurt her.

He was never going to make the mistake of causing her to cry; he did that once. They fought pretty hard one night, yelling at one another. He couldn't remember what they were arguing about, but at one point, they almost broke up. It was difficult to believe now, but they almost did. He asked her if that was what she wanted, to go their separate ways, and she didn't respond. He took that as a yes, and started to walk away. He only got as far as a few feet when she threw her arms around his neck from behind him, and begged him not to leave her. She apologized, and asked him to forgive her. He did. He would always forgive her, and he would always care for her.

Once she was well enough to have visitors at the hospital, it would take a considerable amount of force to tear him away from her. Most likely the joined forces of Rhodey, and Pepper. Even then, he would return almost instantly once he got away from them. Now, once she got home, that would be a separate story altogether. As soon as he got her alone, he wouldn't be able to stop holding her, kissing her, just cherishing her. He couldn't wait until either he, or some law enforcement agency, found her, and brought her home. He couldn't wait to hold her in his arms again, and hear that soft, contented sigh.

Hopefully, he would be able to track her using every resource he could get his hands on,

Or he would die trying.


Red. Black. Blue. Green. Different colors, so many different colors.

Whitney saw lights, different colored lights, flash before her eyes. Was she dead? She had to be dead, everything was so black, now it was red again. Why couldn't she open her eyes?

"Cassidy!"

She heard a voice, a strange, but familiar voice. Was it her dad's? No, no, it was too deep. Definitely too deep to be Tony's. He had such a calming voice when he spoke to her, soothing and caring.

"Cassie, wake up!"

Wake up. She wanted to, but her eyelids felt like giant weights, she couldn't move anything. Why couldn't she move? Her back felt all warm and sticky, like she was laying in something. What was it? The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, and she needed to cough to get it out. It was choking her, she didn't like it. She could smell copper, or what smelled like copper. She didn't like that either. She wanted to talk, to say something, but all that came out was a gurgle. That metallic taste was back again, the one she didn't like, and the choking thingy.

"Hold on, Cassie, I'm going to get you to a hospital."

The deep voice was back. Why was she going to a hospital? Oh, she didn't care, those lights were back. They were pretty, she liked them, she liked watching them dance around the blackness. Little dancers, that was funny; tiny, little, dottie things dancing. Imagine, dots dancing! Dottie, one of her Sunday school kids. Dorothy was such a sweet girl, could never grasp the flood though, no matter how many times you explained it to her, but sweet, very sweet. She would teach at her church when Mrs. Garner wasn't in. She liked that, she liked teaching the little kids a lot. They were nice.

She felt like she was moving, a very faint sensation, but prevalent enough to entice her out of her present delirium. She didn't want to leave, it was peaceful there, serene, harmonious. She felt happy there, in her little place with the little dots. Her glamorous, dazzling lights. Her perfect fairyland.

The next thing she knew, people started to crowd around her, strange. They were asphyxiating her, they were so close. She wanted to tell them to stop, but she couldn't speak, that choking thing was back again. She found that she didn't have the strength to cough, she couldn't do anything, she was stuck. Her mind fogged with fear, and anxiety. Where was she? Who were those suffocating people? Almost immediately after these thoughts passed through her mind, she could breathe again, something hurt, but she could breathe. That was the important thing. Or was it? Something was wrong; her back flared up, like flames were engulfing her body. She wanted to scream, she wanted to let someone out there know she was in pain. Horrible pain. It felt awful, truly awful, not being able to communicate even slightly.

Light, bright light, crossed over her closed eyelids. What were those people doing, trying to blind her?

"She'll be fine."

She heard someone say something; not the deep voice, but a calm one, quite monotone. It freaked her out. Another voice that she had to figure out, possibly someone she didn't know.

"She looks familiar." another voice, a female one. Older, perhaps mid-forties, not too old.

"She does, doesn't she?" same voice as before, the dreary one,"Hello there, little one. Can you open your eyes for me?"

The bored voice changed, it turned happy. Forcefully happy. There was a difference between the real thing and the fake that she was all too familiar with.

She tried fluttering her eyes like the voice asked, and they opened.

The light was blinding, but the two people leaning over her were blocking it a bit, which was good. The light began to hurt her eyes, and she squinted to see more accurately as her vision cleared. This place looked like a hospital, what she could see of it that is. Something felt weird, her body felt all mushy, and pliable. She wanted to speak, but she couldn't, there was something down her throat. It hurt, she didn't like it, and she wanted that thing out. She narrowed her eyes, and concentrated, trying to move something, anything, but it didn't work. But at a tediously slow pace, she began to regain feeling in her limbs. She felt a needle in her arm, and now, something was down her throat, and something else sticking out of her arm. Who were these people anyway? They were mean, treating her like this, not letting her speak.

"There we go. Do you know where you are?"

The other voice, the woman's, spoke next. That voice sounded like Valarie's. Valarie...Tony...Pepper...Rhodey. Where were they? If she was in the hospital, they would be right by her side. No, they couldn't be here, because she wasn't home, she wasn't home at all. She was with somebody else, someone frightening, terrifying, a real monster. Her eyes widened in fear; where was she? She tried to cry, and a small tear released from her eyes. At least those people would know she was upset.

"It's okay, don't be afraid. Everything is going to be okay. We're going to take the tube out now, okay?"

She couldn't nod, but she wanted that thing out. She closed her eyes as the nurse swiftly removed the tube with obvious experience. She coughed as her throat constricted against the plastic intruder, and she started to cry harder, tears falling like raindrops down her face.

"There now, it's all over. You did such a good job!" The lady praised her, but all she could do was cry.

She was scared, so scared. The monster would come and take her away again. Why couldn't they just leave her? She had undeniably been close to death, close to Heaven. Why couldn't they have let her die? She remembered something; she couldn't die, she had a life waiting for her, she had friends waiting for her. She even had someone special waiting for her, who loved her. Tony. The very thought of her lover's name caused her heart to grow heavy, exactly like the times when they weren't able to see each other.

When the gossip magazines started to...gossip...again, they had to lay low. They couldn't risk it. During that time, however, they would do anything just to brush the other's hand, bump into one another, anything to initiate some sort of contact. She would drop her books so she could gaze at him for a few irreplaceable seconds, falsely trip over a chair so he would catch her, ask for help with her Physics homework so she could lean against him. Just a few subtle, simple touches could send her to the moon. Way, way up high, like she could touch the stars she had always admired. Sometimes, even Tony himself would start to do things to get close to her; he would tap his pencil on her notebook when they sat together in the library, quickly touch her shoulder as he talked with her, even gave her lingering glances. All those things somewhat alleviated the distress of not being with him.

It was physically painful to be without him for a certain amount of time.

"Can you talk, are you in pain?" The man she had assumed to be a doctor asked her a question, and she was able to nod. Of course she was in pain, was he an idiot? That plastic hurt her throat, and her heart felt broken from thinking of her friends, and family. Especially Tony.

"We're going to call your brother in now, okay? He'll be in to see you, and we'll get you something for that throat of yours." The nurse smiled at her, and the doctor came back over with a tiny, turquoise cup as the nurse left.

"This will make your throat feel better," he informed, lifting her head slightly and bringing the small cup to her lips, and gradually tilted it back.

Whatever that liquid was, it felt wonderful sliding down her stinging throat, her eyes shut again at the comfort.

"Alright," the cup left, "Does it feel better now?"

She nodded, opening her eyes again.

"Can you talk to us?" The nurse returned,

She nodded, and opened her mouth slightly, just as he came in the room. Her breathing became shallower, and hurried. Her eyes widened, and she tried to move to get away from Walsh's approaching form.

"What's the matter, Cassie?" Walsh tried to hold her hand, but she swiftly moved it away, still staring at him with widened eyes.

"Keep him away from me!" she rasped, hyperventilating.

"What is she talking about?" The doctor asked with an accusing tone,

"I don't know, she's never acted like this before! She got into a fight with a few teenagers at her school the other day, and they really took her down."

"That's not true, don't believe him, he did this to me! Please, keep him away from me!" Whitney started sobbing as the nurse tried to comfort her by patting her hand.

"I'm sorry but in her present condition, we can't allow you in the room if you're upsetting her." the doctor started to usher the man out, but Walsh grabbed the doctor's wrist and twisted it.

"And I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to leave." the man, of which she had observed to have switched to the "Dalton" alternate personality, collided his fist with the side of the doctor's face, immediately knocking him out. The nurse shrieked as the man swiftly approached her, clasping his hands around her neck.

Whitney squeezed her eyes shut, preventing herself from witnessing the terrifying scene in front of her. She struggled to move, to get away, but her body didn't coƶperate. All she received from her endeavors was slight movements, and minor twitches. She figured out why the man had such rapid mood swings; he had an alternate personality, multiple personality disorder. Not much was known on the condition, just that it was brought on by a traumatic past, and that it could be dangerous.

She knew about the last part from the beginning.

"Trying to block it out, Whit?" The man taunted, close to her.

Her eyes flew open to see Walsh leaning over her bed, eyes fierce and threatening as they stared at her in hatred.

"No," she whimpered as he lifted her up, shaking her head.

"Here, you see that," he pointed to the nurse, and the now dead physician, "You caused their deaths. Think about it; if you hadn't been stupid, I wouldn't have killed them. How does it feel to be a murderer?" his grip tightened on her arm as she started to struggle. Not taking any more chances, he punched her in the stomach, his fist hitting her sternum. She coughed, and doubled over, almost falling over the bed.

"Time to say good-night, Winnie." The man sing-songed before he hit the side of her face with a closed hand, causing her to instantly black out.

The man heard a voice immediately after hitting Whitney, his brother's voice, inside his head. Scolding him. Dawson was scolding him? No one, especially his brother, had a right to tell him what to do!

"Shut up, Dawson!" he shouted to nothing, "Once I get my hands around your scrawny little neck-no, no you brought this upon yourself! You shouldn't have taken the girl, you've ruined everything! Now, I'll have to punish you. Yes, Dawson, Cassidy too."


A/N So, kind of cliffhangery, and we're not even close end yet, just so you know. I can't help it, writing long stories is like...caffeine to me. It keeps me from being bored out of my mind! Okay, so I was being a tad dramatic, but I do love writing long stories.

Oh, and the competition I told you about in the last chapter? Well, I'll know if I made it to the next round in a week...