June 11, 2007

Dave found his lungs and felt the air rush back into them as the images from his nightmare clear away. He glanced over at Meryl next to him and met her brown eyes piercing him through the darkness of their bedroom. They radiated all the questions and concerns that she had yet to open her mouth to express.

"I'm fine." He answered them aloud to her.

"You always say that but it's never the truth. You need to see a doctor. Your condition--"

"Meryl, stop calling it a 'condition'. I'm not dying."

"A disease, an illness, a sickness? What would you like me to call it to make you feel better about it?"

"It's nothing. A nightmare. So just call it that."

"You're impossible."

"What can a doctor do? Charge me two thousand dollars to tell me I'm screwed up and give me some pills to completely numb me."

"You're already numb, Dave. The pills would be an improvement."

The ice combined with the venom from her voice traveled up his spine in a cold poison.

"Meryl, I'm sorry--"

"No! Stop apologizing," she snapped at him, "I can't take one more apology from you."

Dave followed her quick descend down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"What is your problem?"

"My problem is your problem, Dave. Your nightmares, your flashbacks, your random bursts of anger, your mood swings...that's all become my problem."

"It doesn't have to be your problem. I told you not to worry about me."

"Well, Dave, I care about you so I kinda can't do that exactly. Things get better with you for a moment and then get ten times worse than they were before!"

She slammed a small glass on the kitchen counter and began pouring the contents of a bottle from under the counter that Dave had never seen before. She took a long drink and looked back at Dave. "I mean, what kind of a person would I be", she continued as she replaced what she had drank out of the glass, "if I sat back and watched and didn't worry?"

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you stop pretending like re-enacting your friend's death in our kitchen was normal."

"I don't know what happened to me that day."

"I can tell you exactly what happened that day. You scared the hell out of me."

She snatched her glass off the counter and whisked past him to the sofa. He watched her in heated silence as she rolled the rim of the glass back and forth along her bottom lip.

"Who's Nina?"

"What?"

"You called me Nina that day in the kitchen. Who is she?"

"She wasn't anyone important."

"I beg to differ."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because sometimes, Dave, I feel like I'm living with a stranger. I don't even know what my last name would be if we ever—which I know we won't—actually got married. I don't know where you're from, what high school you went to, what's important to you. Nina's name is the only one I've ever heard you say with any kind of real emotion behind it. That's how I know that at least she was someone that meant something to you."

"I don't want to talk about it, Meryl."

Nina's name had trampolined on Meryl's brain from the moment she had gotten a last name to put with it from Hal. His advice to not bring it up to Dave meant little or nothing to her now as she watched him try and process the last few minutes of their conversation for himself into anger, frustration, or whatever the hell that feeling rising from the pit of his stomach was.

"I talked to Hal a couple of weeks ago." She put her drink down and crossed her arms in front of her. "Nina's death wasn't your fault. It was Big Boss who--"

"Stop it!"

Meryl calmly placed her hand on his arm. She could feel how upset his was moving into his muscles, so she moved her hand up and down in small spot near his shoulder in a subtle attempt to calm him.

"Your guilt from Nina Peterson's death is what caused the flashback that day and they're going to keep getting worse if you don't do something about it."

"Meryl, don't do this…"

"No, listen to me, Dave. You've spent the past eight years of your life blaming yourself for something she made the decision to do. It doesn't matter how young she was, she knew what could happen to her and she died doing what she felt was the right thing to do."

Dave suddenly grabbed Meryl by her shoulders and forced her back to the far wall, knocking over a shelf that was unfortunate enough to be in their path.

"Shut up! You think you know everything because Hal told you what that fucking debriefing said?! I could have saved her but I was too selfish to do it. I—"

The moment finally dissolved enough to let Dave see the new fear of him Meryl's eyes carried. His head now spun even without a single drop of alcohol to blame for it.

"Get away from me." She hissed at him.

"Meryl!"

Her eyes made him feel like a monster. She backed away from him slowly as he extended his hand to subconsciously bring her back to him, physically and any other way she was now moving away. Her reflexes brought her hand hard across his face.

"Don't touch me!"

"I didn't mean to—"

"I'm leaving for Arizona first thing tomorrow."

"I thought you weren't going until next week?"

"Change of plans. I can't stay here."

"Meryl, wait!" His hand grabbed her arm before she reached the top of the stairs. He eased his grip enough for her to slip out of it but she chose not to. He waited for her to stop fighting her urge to look back at him before he spoke.

"Don't go to Arizona."

"You can't tell me what to do to."

"You have every right to hate me right now but, I don't want you to go."

"And why shouldn't I?"

"Because…because I know you're not coming back."

A/N: Meant to mention this in the last chapter but, Nina Peterson is a totally made up character, so, you didn't miss anything in case you're wondering :). Anyone enjoying domestic violence Solid Snake? Oh yeah...I'm like Degrassi. I (almost) went there.