A/N: For those who have noticed, I haven't been able to reply to the reviews you've left me lately. I'm in the midst of writing my Bachelor Thesis. Hopefully, in August, it will be all over... Thanks to everyone who commented, selected my stories as a favorite or put me on author's alert... You're making me survive this. I'll see you.

Air after Rain – Chapter 12

A Broken World

Summer was fading.

Dying, really – dying a glorious, beautiful death in every color the spectrum had to offer. Red and golden and orange and blue and violet. Sunsets never had been prettier before, never as intense as they seemed now. But the air was slowly growing colder, and nightfall brought a wind that reminded her of fall.

It smelt like fall, too.

Teresa could feel him long before she heard him approach. It was some kind of reaction deep inside her, something that seemed connected to him even when he wasn't close. It scared her. He slipped into her view like a ghost, his movements achingly familiar. Since when? And did it matter?

"Hey."

"Hey."

He didn't come closer, didn't touch her. Not yet. It felt like he was moving around her like he would around a wounded animal: no hasty movements, no loud voices. She didn't blame him. She felt like one. Brittle and scared, ready to bolt. Dreaming of something for years only made one shy away from reality when it presented itself in the colors of said dream and Teresa wasn't sure yet this was real.

"How was your day?"

She shrugged. "Normal."

Cassidy chuckled. The sound reverberated in her mind, a warm echo of a feeling she didn't name.

"That bad, huh."

At that she looked at him, really looked at him for the first time that evening.

"Not bad. Just… normal."

"I was joking."

"Oh."

She felt foolish. They fell silent again. The sun had already sunk, leaving the world in a dim glow that almost-but-not-quite blotted out the shadows. It softened Cassidy's features, evened out the lines of his face. Teresa tried to follow the lines with her eyes and blushed as he met her gaze.

He chuckled again.

"Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are when you blush?"

She blushed even harder. The easiness of his words still was new, so unusual she didn't know what to say. He said it as if it was a fact, as if it was something absolutely normal to compliment on something like her blushing. His openness scared her in the same way it attracted her.

"Of course not. I'm sorry."

He was lying.

Watching Teresa, Cassidy knew by her reaction that he had scared her again, and he felt sorry for that. So perhaps his lie wasn't a total lie, this time. But he had said those words fully conscious of the effect they would have. She was beautiful when she blushed – God, she was beautiful whatever she did – but he loved to see her reactions to his compliments. He went as far as to provoke certain situations and was quite sure he probably should feel guilty for it – but he loved to see her regardless.

She looked young, the way she was sitting there, her gaze on her hands. Most of the time he forgot she was two years younger – she was more mature than many men of his age – and talking to her wasn't any different than talking to Nadia or Terrence. She was intelligent, too. Her views on certain matters were interesting. But on some days she looked like a lost little girl and he found those were the days he wanted to hold her and not let go for the next few hours.

Today was one of those days.

However much he loved to tease her, Cassidy had never before tried to push her to say or do something. He knew, for one thing, that he couldn't – couldn't in regard to Terrence, who would kill him if he did something to hurt his precious sister – and because he knew she was strong enough to fend him off. On the other hand he felt like he could wait. If it was for her, he would wait for decades to open up to him. It didn't matter how long she took as long as she was there and belonged to him.

Four weeks.

Should he be worried? Probably. Terrence was. Cassidy found he could only look at Teresa. He was looking so hard he almost missed her quiet voice.

"I don't want to fall asleep."

…

She dreamed it again, last night.

The only thing she wanted, by now, was to have her old dreams back. Those had been comfortable and familiar. She had woken with a feeling of loss so great it made her weep, but she hadn't been scared. Now other dreams make their ways into her night and it is not their level of scariness that has her want to never fall asleep again but the feelings they leave behind.

Why on earth she would start having nightmares now she does not know.

Teresa killed people, two nights ago. In her dream, of course. It wasn't intentional, and it wasn't in cold blood. She remembered waking up drenched in sweat and paralyzed with fear. Unable to move, she had lain in her bed, had waited for the images to fade.

They still were in her head, vivid and colorfully. And it hadn't gotten better.

There never was blood or dead or violence. There were the feelings of loss and overwhelming guilt, and uncertainty as she doubted her own decisions, her way of life. The fact that there was no apparent reason only made it worse, gave her the feeling something was wrong with her. Nightmares weren't strange to her. She had dreamed a lot as a child – of burning houses and trains leaving without her, and of fire and flames again and again. And then there had been the dreams of Cassidy. Somehow, they had pushed away her nightmares, had blotted them out. Now that she knew him they seemed to have returned – but these ones were different from her childhood dreams. These images remained in her head clear as crystal as soon as she woke up.

She told him.

In her quiet, somewhat rough voice she told him about her nightmares and Cassidy listened attentively. She sounded fragile as she related them, her head bowed and her hands playing with strands of her hair. He didn't make a move to touch her but his mind was whirling in an attempt to soothe her.

"I dreamed of you, too, you know."

At that, he smiled. It was a wide smile, without any irony or sarcasm, and she loved him for it.

"You dreamed me."

And he kissed her, carefully, but she didn't pull back.

…

Stay with me tonight?

I don't think that would be a good idea.

Please.

…

They are walking down a dark street, the lamp posts illuminating his features once in a while. The night air is cool on her heated skin, cool but not cold. Summer is her favorite season and she loves the way the soft night wind whispers through her hair. She loves the way the air tastes alive and heavy. She loves the way the night sky is black and endless, and the way the stars seem like a thousand little lights so far, far away. She loves the silence all around them, the silence that seems to envelop her entirely, sets her apart from the sleeping world and makes her part of it more than anything else. But she loves dying summer, too. The world is slowly fading to fall, leaving behind the dream of a life in polychrome. Slowly preparing for winter. Dreaming up spring again. The moist wind is an envoy, whispering of what is to come. Teresa loves the wind, and the coolness, and the rustling leaves collecting on the ground.

And, most of all, she loves him.

…

Teresa wakes up and feels Cassidy's hand in hers.

Dreams, dreams, but not the nightmares that have plagued her the days before. She smiles as her eyes fall onto Cassidy's sleeping figure. He still has his glasses on. She checks the alarm clock. Sunday.

It is a broken world she lives in.

Her parents are dead. Her family is dead. Her patchwork family is wonderful, and scary in its perfection, because she is used to fighting parents and screams and shouts and breaking glass. She expects to hear sirens sometimes, to see flashing blue lights, and feels heat and red flames everywhere. On those days, her scars hurt, the ones that cover her back and legs. On those days, she wants to bury herself somewhere, wants to disappear from the face of the earth. On other days she wakes up (like today) and feels whole, and she knows she is safe here. She loves her new family dearly, she loves her siblings and she has learned to value life, even if she cannot love it on some days.

And then there's Cassidy, and she loves him with every shattered piece of her heart.

"I have to warn you," he mumbles. She turns to face him. He blinks up at her groggily, his glasses askew on his nose.

"I'm not a morning person."

Teresa feels laughter bubbling up in her stomach. She can live with that. She can live with a lot. She can live.

It is a broken world. And she chooses it.