AN: And I'm back again! See, told you it wouldn't be another two years. Also, we're back in Millie's head for this one, yay! Reviews are awesome.
Chapter Eleven
The dream always begins the same way, in a blur of elation and music and bass that pounds like a heartbeat. You're dancing, twirling through the madness of light and colour and movement, your body singing with heat, strange and familiar faces blending together. Then you're above, floating, watching the patterns in the chaos, pulled by them, until they lead to her. She's fuzzy, indistinct, but you know she's you. You from that night. She's fawning over another shadow, and that shadow is Jake. You try to float closer, but you're still twirling through the patterns above, and you can only watch as he pours drink after drink into her mouth. He beckons and she follows like an obedient hound, and you twirl after them, helpless. There's a noise, drowned out by the blur of colour and music that screams that this is not true, you weren't this trusting, this naïve, but it echoes soundlessly through you as he invites her out to the alley and she agrees.
He pushes open the door, and beyond it, all you see is stillness and blackness and silence. You try to scream, to tell her to stay, but the blackness reaches out and suddenly you are her. And you're not twirling; you're frozen, pinned to the ground because he's here, above you, around you, pressing you down with his weight. And then there's light in the blackness, an eerie red that reflects off his knife and his eyes, and you look down and realise that it's your blood because he's cutting you, slicing you, and you scream and struggle.
This dream is different, though. This time, when he opens the door, there's a glimmer in the blackness. When the darkness reaches out and forces you into her, when you're slammed into her and to the ground, he's not there. There's no stifling presence pressing down because the glimmer is here, and she's between you and him. The two figures are moving, and you're moving with them, twirling and twisting as the blood red of his eyes meets the icy blue of hers and flares brilliantly white. Then she's turning, and cupping your cheek and brushing back your hair and touching her lips to yours and he strikes. And he's above and beneath and around her, and you're trapped again as his red plunges into your chest, and she's keening as your blood is spilling, darkening her blue and you're screaming and—
You jerk awake and try to sit up, only to realise that you're not in bed. You look around, disoriented, and recognize Rachel's living room as your last conscious memories come back to you. There's movement next to you, and you flinch, but even as you're turning towards it, you recognise her perfume and relax. You cried yourself to sleep on her shoulder, you realise as the still-healing cuts on your stomach protest the sudden movement.
She had woken when you did, but without the benefit of adrenaline, she's far less alert. "Millie?"
You feel your cheeks warm as you look away from her. "Sorry, I…Bad dream."
She nods sleepily, and you blush as you realise your positions; you'd been lying almost on top of her. "Sorry Sarge, I didn't mean to fall asleep…"
She smiles and shakes her head. "It's okay. And anyone who drools on me is allowed to call me Rachel."
Your blush deepens as she says that, but it makes you smile, too. "Rachel." You murmur to yourself. Her name feels warm in your mouth, and saying it feels right, somehow.
She arches her back, languidly stretching her arms, and you look away as the move pulls her shirt up, exposing a flash of skin at her waist.
"You should text Katie." She suggests, after she's settled back onto the sofa. "She'll be worried if she comes home from work to find police tape on the door." You nod and look around for your phone, and it takes you a moment to remember.
"Eddie has my mobile." You tell her with a sick feeling in your stomach. You'd forgotten. For one brief, golden moment, you'd forgotten that your life had been turned upside down. You'd forgotten why you were here, with her, instead of curled up in your own bed.
"Hey." She squeezes your hand, drawing you out of the spiral before it can really begin. "It's okay. You can use mine." She retrieves her mobile with her free hand and passes it to you. You tap out a quick message to Katie, explaining where you are but not why, knowing that she'd panic if she knew what happened. Instead, you just ask if she can pick you up after work. You type in her number from memory, and a few moments later the phone chimes with her reply.
"She says she'll pick me up after her shift." You tell the sergeant as you pass her phone back, and she nods then blinks sleepily.
"C'mon," she says, standing. "We should get to bed." You blush again at the unintentional innuendo, but she doesn't notice. She offers you a hand, and you let her pull you up. There's another stinging wave from your stomach, and your bruised arms ache as you move them, but you ignore them, distracted by the tingling sensation that runs through your body as you touch her. You wonder if she feels it too, because there's something like surprise in her eyes and she drops your hand quickly. You pretend not to notice as she leads you upstairs to the guest room.
"Do you need something to sleep in?" She asks, but you shake your head. The clothes you'd worn to the station were comfortable enough, and the thought of wearing something of hers gives you a funny feeling in your stomach. You wriggle out of your jacket and kick off your shoes, and her eyes linger briefly on the newly revealed bruises on your arms, but she doesn't mention them. Instead, she just smiles at you.
"I'm just down the hall if you need anything. Sleep well." She turns to leave, but you catch her hand, feeling that same tingling run up your arm and down your spine. She turns back and looks at you questioningly.
"Just…Thank you, Sar—Rachel. I mean it." You blush and look down, but she squeezes your hand and you meet her eye again.
"You're welcome." She smiles at you again and the warm shiver runs up your arm again before you release her hand and turn to the bed. She slips out of the room as you're wriggling under the covers, and she closes the door only partway, so a thin strip of light from the hall paints the wall. You hear her move down the hallway, then the sound of another door closing as you settle into the unfamiliar bed and close your eyes, leaving you with only your thoughts as you drift off again.
…
You sleep only briefly. It's is not unusual; you haven't slept through the night, or even for more than a few hours at a time, since you'd left the hospital. Every time you close your eyes, he's there, in one form or another. Though the content of the nightmares he's given you usually vary, the gist is the same: I was stronger than you, my rose. You were too trusting. And now he'd shown that he knows where you live, and could get in with little effort. Your home had always been your sanctuary, your bubble of peace away from the awful things you see at work. You'd always felt safe there. To have that violated in that way was almost as bad as what happened in that alley, a continuation of what he'd started that night.
You shift your weight, rolling to your other side and anticipating the dull ache from your stomach as the move pulls at your cuts.
Your dreams are only part of the reason sleep is eluding you. You have too much energy and nothing to spend it on. You're an active person, and being forced into inactivity, even for a day, is driving you crazy. Especially now, when every little shadow in your flat could be him. Every little noise might be him coming back for you. That, coupled with the fact that you have nothing else to do other than see how long you can go without one of your injuries twinging painfully means that you're desperate to get out. It's why you jumped at the chance to go to the station when Max called, even though the thought of actually going somewhere with that many people scared you. But you'd deliberately chosen a time when you knew the station would be mostly empty, and when Katie had pulled up outside and you'd noticed Rachel's car there, you'd instantly felt better. That's why you'd taken the long way to CID, so you could detour past the sergeants' office in the hope that she'd be there and not out with the troops. She had been, and having her there through the ordeal of Max's questioning had been a blessing. You'd heard little of their confrontation in the corridor, after she'd pulled the DS out of the room, but you'd got the gist from their tones. The fact that she'd been willing to stand up to the force of Max's personality for you had sent a warm tingle down your spine.
You can hear her in her room, moving restlessly, and realise that you're not the only one who isn't sleeping well tonight.
You had always been somewhat attracted to her. You'd known that since the first time you'd seen her, when you'd been high off the adrenaline of a car chase and a burning motorcycle, and your interactions after that, both at work and when you'd both gone out with the others after shifts, had done nothing to diminish it. But getting to know her beyond work, knowing Rachel instead of Sergeant Weston, was rapidly morphing the physical attraction into infatuation. You're aware that part of it is a tiny bit of hero worship, and another is probably because you're clinging to the first comforting presence after a trauma, but you're fairly sure you wouldn't be reacting this way if it had been Roger or Smithy or Mel who'd found you. There was something about the blonde sergeant that drew you in and held your attention. You have no intention of actually acting on your crush – even if she did reciprocate, there are rules against it – but at least it gives you something more pleasant to dwell on, and this time, as you drift off, it's her face that follows you into your dreams.
…
The next time you wake up, the darkness out the window has given way to the cold grey of near-dawn, and you hear movement somewhere below you. You slide out of bed, shivering slightly as the chilled air hits your skin, and pad softly downstairs towards the noise. You find its source in the kitchen, where Rachel is leaning against the sink with her hands wrapped around a faintly steaming mug. She's staring, glassy-eyed out the window, but she blinks out of it when you move in her peripheral vision. There's something like surprise in her eyes, but her expression clears quickly and she smiles at you. You can see the dark circles under her eyes that confirm her night was no more restful than yours, and her voice is slightly husky as she speaks.
"Morning. Sleep well?"
"Yeah." You reply, trying to sound more awake than you feel. You don't think you succeed, though, because there's a knowing glint in her eyes that makes you realise that if you could hear her tossing and turning last night, she could probably hear you doing the same.
"Do you want a coffee?" She offers, setting down her cup.
You nod and move to lean against the counter next to the sink as she reaches into a cupboard to retrieve another mug. The newly risen sun is sparkling through the dew on the window, and for a moment, you're entranced by the light and shimmering colour. It reminds you of your dream, and for a second, you're back in that miasma of colour and music and movement, dancing and twisting and twirling… Something nudges your arm, and you blink out of your reverie to see Rachel beside you. She hands you a mug and you wrap both hands around it, letting the warmth soak into your cold fingers before taking a sip.
"Thanks." You murmur over the rim, and she smiles, reaching past you to retrieve her mug. Her hair is still damp from a shower, and the scent of her shampoo is mixing with the sharp aroma of coffee. Her hand brushes against you as she leans back, and she frowns.
"Millie, you're freezing." She gasps, putting her free hand on your arm. You hadn't noticed, but she feels warm – almost hot – when she touches you, and you look down to see a line of goose bumps trailing across your fading bruises where her arm grazed yours.
You look up, and your breath hitches in your throat as you realise how close she is. Her breath is ghosting over your cheek, and you can see the tiny flecks of silver in her eyes. You remember your resolution not to act on your feelings, but it feels unimportant now because she's stilled almost totally, her face inches from yours, and her eyes keep flicking down to your lips. The instant freezes and crystallises in your mind, and tiny details sear into your memory; the way her heart is fluttering at her pulse point, the tiny beads of water still clinging to her hair. There's a voice in your head that whispers it would be easy, so very easy to close that distance, just press your lips against hers and…
A knock on the door echoes through the house, shattering the moment and making both of you jump.
"Rachel! It's Callum."
She doesn't answer him right away. You're both frozen in place, staring wide-eyed at each other. There are too many emotions swimming through her gaze for you to identify any of them, and a second knock at the door breaks the spell.
"Rachel? You there?"
"Coming!" She calls back, putting her coffee down and hurrying past you. You stay rooted to the spot, frozen by what had just happened. Had you imagined that? That fraction of a second when you were sure she was going to close the distance between you? You must have. It must be wishful thinking on your part. You shake yourself, trying to rein in your rioting emotions, and follow Rachel.
You find her standing by the door with Stone, who is still in his uniform. He smiles when he sees you. "Millie. How're you feeling?"
"I'm fine." You give what has become your automatic answer to that question. You know it's a lie, mostly, but trying to put into words everything you're feeling – I can't sleep, I'm terrified to go out alone, I want to kiss my sergeant – feels too hard. You can tell by the look in their eyes that neither sergeant really believes you, but they're both tactful enough not to push.
"Good." He says instead, while Rachel stays silent. "Here. These are your new flat keys. And here…" He extracts a plastic evidence bag from one of the pockets on his vest. "Eddie's done with these. Sorry about the bag." He hands it over. In it are your mobile and wallet. You get that sick, swooping feeling in your stomach that you associate with thinking about the alley, and it must show on your face, because Rachel sways slightly towards you.
"Millie?"
You look up at them, putting the I'm Okay mask back on and smiling. "Thanks, Sarge."
You shake the phone out of the bag, and try turning it on, but the screen lights up just long enough to tell you the battery is dead before going blank again. Slipping the useless device into your pocket, you retrieve your wallet and paw through it. Everything is where it's supposed to be.
"Everything there?" Stone asks, and your nod your reply. "Good." He glances briefly at Rachel, then continues, "Rachel said you're going to stay at your sisters. I can take you to yours if you need to get clothes or anything."
You smile at the gesture, but shake your head. "Thanks, Sarge, but it's okay. Katie's picking me up soon."
He nods. "Okay. Eddie's people had a quick look around, and he said they didn't find anything else out of place, but if you do find something, don't touch it, yeah? Just give us a ring. You know the drill."
You nod, and your mask stay in place, but inside you're feeling sick again. The thought of having to treat your flat, your home, as a crime scene is making your stomach churn.
Stone nods, then claps Rachel gently on the shoulder. "Okay then. I'll see you both at work." He gives you one last smile, then leaves.
Your mask must not be as good as you thought, because as soon as he's out of earshot, Rachel turns to you, concern written across her face. "Millie…"
She doesn't ask the question, probably because she knows the answer you'll give. You try to say it anyway. And find you can't. "I'm…I…" You take a deep breath, and look down. "Just catch him, Rachel. Please."
You don't look at her as you say it, and anything she may have said in response is interrupted by Katie appearing at the still-open door.
"Millie? Are you okay? What happened?" She asks as she hugs you.
You start to answer, but find you can't give voice to the words. You don't even want to think about last night; talking about it feels far beyond you. You look to Rachel over your sister's shoulder, your eyes pleading.
She gets the message. "Someone broke into Millie's flat while she was at the station yesterday." She explains, and Katie's grip on you tightens. "We're investigating it, but we think it'd be a good idea if Millie stayed with you for a few days."
"Of course you can." Katie murmurs into your ear before releasing you.
You smile your thanks, then mumble that you need to get your things from the guest room. You hear Katie start talking as you climb the stairs, and Rachel replies with her sergeant voice, but you're not close enough to hear the details. You hunt out your jacket from where it had fallen under the bed, and slip your shoes back on. The sun is glinting off the mirror on the wall, and you take a moment to examine yourself in it. There are dark circles under your eyes, and it might be your imagination, but you think you look smaller than you used to, and much paler. The cut along your hairline sits in stark contrast to your almost-colourless skin, and the bruises – while somewhat faded – still paint an obvious pattern across your arms.
You shudder slightly and turn away, pulling on your jacket. Looking at your injuries is intensifying the swooping sensation in your stomach, and suddenly you can't stand to be alone. You hurry out of the room and back to where Katie and Rachel wait by the door.
"Ready to go?" your sister asks, and you hesitate. Your mind flashes back to the moment in the kitchen, and part of you is desperate to ask Rachel about it, to ask what would've happened if Stone had shown up five minutes later. That tiny, optimistic part is insisting that perhaps your feelings aren't as unrequited as you think. There's another part of you, though, the part you're used to listening to, that's telling you that you shouldn't open that can of worms, that you should take the safe option and just leave it alone. You look at your sergeant briefly as the two parts war in your mind, but she's still got her professional face on, and her expression is unreadable.
Finally, that second, safer option wins out, and you nod. "Yeah." You murmur, turning to Rachel. You smile at her, and that first, tiny part of you wins a small victory when you pull her into a quick, tight hug. "Thank you, Rachel. For everything."
"Anytime." She smiles at you as you release her, and you feel a brief, ugly flare of bitterness at yourself for not being brave enough to take anything other than the safe option. You turn quickly so she doesn't see it on your face, and lead your sister out onto the street, feeling her eyes on your back the whole way.
AN: And so yeah, there's that. I hope people are still reading this. Y'all should review. I'd love you forever.
