CHAPTER 26

At times I almost dream I too have spent a life the sages' way, And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance I perished in an arrogant self-reliance Ages ago; and in that act, a prayer For one more chance went up so earnest, so Instinct with better light let in by death, That life was blotted out—not so completely But scattered wrecks enough of it remain, Dim memories, as now, when once more seems The goal in sight again.

Paracelsus by Robert Browning

Inspired by the X Files season four, episode five, The Field Where I Died.

He was standing by a lake. Watching a girl walk toward him. She was a tiny thing, probably barely came to his chest. Her hair was a mass of coppery curls falling in her face and down around her shoulders and she had a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks. When she'd looked at him he'd seen her eyes were a deep green-they reminded him of the forest pools in the hills where he lived. Her mouth though-she had a mouth that looked like it was begging to be kissed.

As he watched her, she came to him and threw her arms around his neck. "We don't have much time now, before ya leave Rafe." He felt her lips against his, the air was filled with the scent of lavender-the scent he always associated with her. He held her close, reveling in the feel of her body pressed to his. At the same time he felt anxious, knew how important it was that they spend this time together before he went away. Because he might not ever come back. No one knew how long the war would last, although he'd heard men bragging that it would be over quickly. They would send the…

Daryl jerked awake, and looked about him in confusion. It was dark in the room, the candles had guttered out at some point. He could feel Vivienne beside him, heard her even breathing which meant she was still asleep. He rubbed his hands over his face and sat up carefully, so as not to wake her. He eased out of bed and felt for his pants he'd left on the floor. He pulled them on, pulled on his tshirt and stepped outside onto the patio to smoke.

He sighed, leaning against the brick wall enclosing the patio. He'd been having the same damn dream for weeks now. It had started a few nights after the first time he'd slept with Vivienne. Everything between them was great-better than he'd ever hoped for. The new group and his group had integrated well. They had all decided to move to another section of the lake, an area even more secluded than where they'd been staying.

The cabins were not quite as ornate or elaborate as where they'd first stayed, but they had been closer together and there were enough cabins that everyone could break off and have a bit more privacy. This area also had an old stone wall around it, which they had fortified and patrolled and this made all of them feel much safer than they had previously. Instead of being right on the lake, this group of cabins was on a sort of little inlet, which made it easier for them to defend their area if there was any attack from the lake.

Daryl and Vivienne had moved into the smallest cabin situated in a small stand of trees closer to the water. It had just one bedroom, and was built much simpler and plainer than the other cabins. He and Vivienne had been spending most of their nights alone together in the cabin instead of with the others and he'd heard the teasing from the others that he and Vivienne were in the honeymooner's cabin.

He still spent his days with the other men, hunting and patrolling and going on runs. He had encouraged Vivienne to spend some time with Patricia and the other women to learn basic cooking and to help out with the canning, etc. He had tried to be diplomatic when making these suggestions-he realized she was young and unused to doing anything really for herself or anyone else. But the world was different now, and everyone had to pull their own weight. After some tears and pouting, Vivienne had seen his point and with his emphasis that he wasn't picking on her she had admitted she did in fact need to start pulling her own weight.

There was still friction between Vivienne and Carol, but things were less fraught now that he and Vivienne were in a cabin to themselves.

Daryl sighed. Life was good now, as good as he could expect it to be in a world gone to hell. He had friends-for the first time in his life he had real friends he could count on to have his back. He had the love of a beautiful and kind woman-something he'd never thought he would ever have. And there was the absence that at any moment his brother would call to say he'd been arrested or that he needed to be picked up from jail. But these damn dreams-they made him feel unsettled, anxious, uneasy and sad. He invariably woke from these dreams feeling inconsolable, and the feeling of melancholy would linger throughout the day.

He had no idea who the woman in the dream was-he'd never seen anyone like her in his life, although she bore a passing resemblance to Vivienne. But this woman always called him Rafe, and he had never known a Rafe as a friend or relative or even through any of the odd jobs he'd ever held.

He looked up to see Vivienne standing in the doorway, and an overwhelming urge to weep swept over him. Looking at her he felt his heart was breaking. He must have made some noise, because Vivienne rushed to him and knelt beside him.

"What is it? What's wrong Daryl?" she whispered anxiously to him. She placed her hand on his cheek and felt it was moist from tears.

Daryl shook his head, unable to describe the feeling of dread that seemed to smother him.

"Come back inside and lay down with me. You're worrying me, Daryl," she murmured and he stood and followed her back into the cabin. Silently he shed his clothes and slid into bed beside her. He pulled her close to him, her back to his chest and wrapped his arms about her.

Vivienne could feel a slight trembling in his body and frowned. He had never been one to sleep well, but since they had moved to this cabin he had become more restless when he slept, often calling out as he dreamt. She hadn't ever heard him clearly enough to understand what he was saying, but he often sounded as if his heart were breaking. She had racked her brain to think of some way to help him but could think of nothing. She had asked him if he was dreaming of his parents, or his brother and he had shaken his head but hadn't volunteered any information of his own.

As his trembling slowly subsided, Vivienne fell back to sleep worrying about what was troubling Daryl and how she could help.