Chapter 25: One Sweet Dream

Midnight dreamed.

Cold. Always so cold. The stench of blood, death, and feces fills the air. A girl cries as they beat her. The swish of a whip slicing through the air—through skin. Help me she cries. No one can help you.

The bell tolls. It hurts his ears. The screaming. The tolling. The laughter as they spill another child's blood. The panting of the fleshy demon dogs. Claws scraping, dragging, screeching on stone. The sobs. The tolling. They are doing worse things to the girl than beating her now. He squeezes his hands over his ears but he can still hear the sick sounds and above it all her wails… Help me. Please stop. Help. He's crying too. Because he can't help her. He can't help any of them. He's just as helpless as they are. Trapped. No one can help you.

Please… If there is a God… I pray. Please make it stop. Please make the crying stop. Please make it quiet.

He squeezes his eyes shut but as soon as he does he sees the eye. Jellal's sadistic laugh, mocking him. I am your God. And I will never let you sleep in peace. The eye swallowing him and driving pain through his body. Unbearable pain. The pain of fists against his skin, hands pulling his hair, fleshy dogs gnawing on his arms and legs… The screaming hurts. The crying hurts. Everything hurts. He can't take it. He'd rather die. He'll do it. He'll kill himself.

The blade in his little, shaking hands. This will end the fear. This will set him free.

I won't let you, Jellal mocks. You think death will set you free? You will never be free. You are mine. I am your God. Pray to me, Macbeth. Pray to me for mercy.

Bodies cast carelessly into a furnace. New ships dumping innocent children on the shore. They look so scared. They have no idea what real terror looks like…

The screaming. The crying. The helplessness. The endless noise. Not one moment of silence. Not one moment of peace…

And then.

It's gone.

It's… quiet.

He's not in the tower of heaven anymore. Wherever he is, it's warm. There's no screaming or crying.

Silence.

Silence at last.

The sky above is bright blue. There's grass below him, as soft as cotton. It flutters in a gentle breeze that wraps him up and warms away the cold from the cell floor. Golden sunlight blankets everything. Endless hills of grass. No scenery—nothing to distract from the peace and quiet. Golden sunlight, but no sun in the sky to be seen. The light comes from everywhere. There is no darkness here. No darkness, no cold, no pain, no noise…

He sits up. At the bottom of a hill he sees his friends.

There's Hoteye, eating half of a baked potato. No… He's not in torn clothes, crying for his brother… This little boy is in all white, with groomed hair and happy eyes. This isn't Hoteye, it's Richard. Richard eating half of a baked potato in the endless grass.

And Racer… No, Sawyer. He's rolling in the grass and smiling. So wide. So happy.

Sorano. She's in a little white dress, hands behind her head, smiling at the glowing blue sky.

Then there's Erik. His best friend. Wrapped in the grass by Cubellios, licking his boyish face. He sees him on the top of the hill, grins and waves.

"Macbeth!" He calls. "Come sit with us!"

So he does. He descends the grass and joins them on a picnic blanket. The other children greet him affectionately. Warm hugs. A kiss on the cheek from Sorano. A lick on the nose from Cubellios.

"Where have you been, Macbeth?" Sawyer asks, with grape jam on his cheeks.

"We've missed you," Richard adds.

"I don't know…" He can't seem to remember where he's been or where he left in the first place. There is only this place. This warm world where the only sound is the laughter and gentle chatter from his friends.

They eat and play. Sawyer runs from Cubellios over the hills. Sorano makes white butterflies appear in her hands and flutter toward the sky. Richard falls asleep with a smile. Erik braids his friend's hair and jokes about how he looks like a girl.

"I think it's time." Sorano stands up. She changes, suddenly. Her childlike form grows into that of a woman, in feathers that accentuate a large bust, curves, an air of importance.

He notices that all of his friends have grown up. Richard is big, with a face like a diamond. Sawyer wears glasses and resembles a penguin. Erik looks strong. Mature.

He's grown up too. He looks down at his leather vest, long torso.

"Let's go, Macbeth." Erik says this. The others stand at his back and stare expectantly at him.

"Where?"

Where will they go? Is there some place besides this?

"Anywhere we want," Sorano answers with a gentle coo.

"We're free now," Sawyer adds.

Free. That's right… He's free now. He can go anywhere. He can do anything. And as long as he's with his friends then what could be missing?

He starts to follow. A few steps on the soft grass and then something stops him. He's not sure what it is. Something feels… wrong. He can't place it but… there's an emptiness somewhere. A longing. Something is missing, something he's familiar with.

"Wait…" He looks at his friends. "We can't leave yet."

"What do you mean we can't leave?" Erik crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes. "What's gotten into you, man?"

"Something's missing." He's sure of it now. It's something he knows is important but he can't seem to remember. Something like… pink flower petals floating on the breeze. Like the scent of key-lime pie, fresh air, and flowers.

Sorano looks beyond his shoulder. Her lips part in awe. The others follow suit, and she whispers:

"An angel."

He turns and sees her standing a little way off. Her eyes are cherry blossoms. Her hair is honeyed cream tossed by the gentle breeze, her skin the porcelain teacup. She wears a dress of flowers. She smiles and he knows that she is the reason there is no sun in this place. She is the sun.

Dreamer.

Giggling echoes in the dreamscape. A very different sound than the crying and screaming from before. This is a laugh he knows well, too. A little girl giggling and dancing and twirling on the outskirts of his vision, streamers of black hair following her.

Syllestra.

"You can't leave, Beth. What the hell are you thinking?" Another voice calls out to him. He turns back to his friends, and Gajeel Redfox is among them. He looks just as irritated as Erik, but his eyes are gentle.

He feels strange. Light and airy. Everyone is here. There is nothing missing. But he's confused… He feels small. The golden world feels big.

"Are you happy, Macbeth?" Erik asks.

"Happy?" He isn't sure he knows what that word means. He feels something right now. But it is happiness? Mostly, he feels unsteady. Strange. Confused.

"Have you found your freedom?" Richard reiterates. That makes more sense. Freedom and happiness are one in the same. He knows this. If he has found his freedom than he has found happiness.

But…

"I don't know…" He looks from Dreamer's serene face to the faces of his friends. Listens to Syllest's giggle bounce from hill to hill. "I don't know what freedom is anymore."

Sawyer tilts his head back and the breeze ruffles his hair. He smiles. "Freedom is the wind."

Erik strokes Cubellios' chin and smiles at him. "Freedom is friendship."

Sorano gazes up at the sky and outstretches her hand toward Dreamer's silhouette in the distance. "Freedom is in the eyes of your angel."

Richard raises both hands to the sky. "Freedom is love. Oh yeah."

Gajeel is suddenly holding a guitar, grinning at him. "Freedom is the music in your soul, man."

So many answers… He thinks they must all be the right one. But how can freedom be all of those things at the same time? He doesn't understand…

"Macbeth…" She calls out his name like a lullaby. He looks at her, lost in the magic in her eyes. "Only you can decide what freedom means to you. What is your freedom?"

Her words permeate something deep inside of him. He looks at her. Looks at all of his friends. Looks at the blue sky and the dancing specter along the hills. He feels like the answer is here somewhere. It's so close…

What is my freedom?

Midnight opened his eyes. He wasn't sure what woke him. For possibly the first time in his life, it might have simply been that he'd slept well. His heart wasn't pounding. It was beating evenly in his chest. He wasn't struggling to fend off the hold of a nightmare that refused to release him as he forced his eyes open. He was opening his eyes slowly—peacefully becoming aware.

A flowery scent wafted over him. Dreamer's face began to register in his waking brain, inches away from his. Her soft fingertips dropped away from his temples. Her long eyelashes fluttered tiredly over the infinity pink eyes. And she sat back on her haunches with a heavy, relieved sigh.

"Thank you." She smiled at him. Her face was weary, skin pale, bags under her eyes. But her smile was genuine. "For protecting Syllest in Rose Garden. I'm sorry if using my magic on you was uncalled for, but… I wanted to express my gratitude for everything you've done for us. I wanted to give you one sweet dream."

It was beginning to make sense now. The reason his nightmare had changed so suddenly into that gentle dream he'd had… He'd never dreamed like that. Not once that he could remember. It was Dreamer's doing. Somehow, she'd used her magic to give him a good dream instead of a nightmare.

"I can't make all of your nightmares go away. That's the best I can do." She looked sadly at her hands folded in her lap. "I can only offer you a few moments of reprieve."

He said nothing. He could only stare at her—at this woman who had done the impossible. What she'd done was nothing short of a miracle, an answer to the prayer he'd prayed for endless nights in the Tower of Heaven. She'd given him peace and quiet. Good dreams. One sweet dream… A few moments of reprieve.

He felt tears dripping from his jaw. Had he been crying all along?

She smiled tightly at him and began to stand. She swayed slightly, as if she were weak—as if doing this thing for him had had an enormous toll on her body. Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaning on the wall for support as she left the room he shared with Piper.

When he knew he was alone, he looked up at the ceiling and began to sob.

"T-Thank you," he cried, choking on the tears that wouldn't stop flowing. "Thank you, Dreamer Cumula…"

An angel had answered his prayer at long last.

A/N: I hope you guys liked this chapter! In case you hadn't figured it out, this chapter is the namesake for the fic. I always think of it as a pivotal turning point for Midnight. Give me your thoughts!

I am so humbled. You guys dropped eight reviews for me on that last chapter! I'm beginning to really feel like you're falling in love with this story the way I have, and that's the coolest feeling to get to share with all of you. Few things bring such joy. So again, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for your support and encouragement and all-in-all love for my work.

Simana, I was waiting this whole time for someone to comment on the continuous butchering of Dreamer's name. xD I'm not sure why, but that gag kills me.

QuestionablyCapableGhoul, I almost fell out of my chair laughing at the comment that Midnight is becoming tsundere. In some ways, he really is. xD

All of you: I hope I can continue to serve you and make your weeks a little more exciting with a dose of Midnight. ;) And since this week is special for some, what with Valentines day on Tuesday, I would be willing to post another chapter in honor of the holiday IF you guys want. (It seems fitting to celebrate the holiday of love, considering we have such an adorable Middream to celebrate with.) Let me know, and I'll post an extra chapter!