December 12, 1993
Calandra's drive to escape dwindled as the pain her head grew. There were times when she still tried to bribe the healer or hex the door open, but none of the attempts ever worked, and she was too tired to care all that much. Sirius had escaped. That was enough for now. When she could figure out how to make it through one day without passing out from pain, she'd figure out a way to get out, too.
December 28, 1993
Bright lights spotted her vision. Familiar, yet unfamiliar voices rang in her ears. She clenched her hands to her temples and tried to relieve the unbearable pressure there. Her vision grew blurry and a different setting replaced the grey walls of her room.
She was painting there. Her hands were covered in different colors. Pots of paint and mugs of water lay scattered around her where she sat in front of the canvas. She had a streak of paint on her cheek.
The pressure in her head grew and she hissed in pain. Blinding light flashed across her eyes and she thought she saw flashing grey eyes before drifting into nothing.
January 8, 1994
Calandra tied the sheet tightly around her forehead. She could feel a vein throbbing at her temple and focused on counting the beats. The pressure grew and grew, but the sheet helped a bit. She bit her lip and tried to think through the pain. Bright lights clouded her vision and she slipped away again.
January 15, 1994
She filled the bathtub with water and plunged her head in. Calandra opened her mouth and screamed with everything in her. Her ears popped and she felt relief surge through her.
Finally, the pressure had let up. She raised up and leant against the tub, her hair dripping water down her robes. Her labored breaths grew easier. She fell into a restful sleep there with her cheek against the porcelain, and dreamt a dream she'd never had before.
Two small boys sat in a bedroom in her dream. Both were skinny little things with dark hair. They were so familiar. Calandra couldn't figure out how she knew them. They were studying a sheet of paper as if it held all the answers in the universe.
One pointed down at the paper and nudged the other one.
"That one's you!" he said.
The boy's voice was so sweet. Calandra wished she could hear him talk more. The other little boy nodded and stuck a small hand toward the page.
"And that's you?" he asked tentatively.
The older one nodded. He smiled at the other boy, and his smile was familiar. He scooted closer to his friend and held the page up for them both to get a better look. Calandra craned her neck to see what they were looking at, but fog clouded through her dream. She heard the boy with the sweet voice say something and started running toward them. She wanted to get back to them. She wanted to see what they were looking at.
The fog grew thicker and Calandra's head pounded. She had to get back to those little boys. Something in her heart tugged at the thought of the older one. She knew him. She'd seen him before. She needed to get them out of this fog. What if the fog wasn't safe?
She ran and ran, but got nowhere. Her footsteps echoed and the noise thudded painfully in her head with each step. She had to get to the boys. She forced herself to continue running, trying to think of where she knew the boys form. She tried to remember their names, but her mind wouldn't cooperate.
The pounding in her head grew to an unbearable amount and with an agonized scream she jolted awake. Calandra sat back from the edge of the tub and shivered at the cool air on her wet skin. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth.
She knew she'd seen those boys somewhere before, but where? The oldest one couldn't have been more than six or seven. They weren't any of the boys she went to primary school with. They weren't from the neighborhood she used to live in, but she could have sworn she knew them. At least the oldest one.
Calandra leant forward and rested her chin on her knees. She let her mind wander. Colors and voices swirled lazily in her mind. Bits of music floated through her thoughts like feathers in air. She hummed a familiar tune and let herself get lost in the memories.
A napkin folded in the shape of a swan.
Purple. Royal purple. Lacy royal purple.
"Hi, there. How are you?"
The minty taste of toothpaste.
Burgundy. Rich and expensive.
"It's been a long time."
Hair ties scattered over the countertop in the bathroom.
Laughter as long lanky legs tangled with hers and someone else.
"Seems like we've come a long way."
Red. Dark red. Fanning out in a wide arc.
A bag at her feet with sunglasses and a book in it.
"My, but we learn so slow."
Turquoise. Cool and soothing.
The taste of pina coladas.
"And heroes, they come and they go."
The smell of cigarettes.
Grey. Flashing grey eyes.
"And leave us behind."
A pair of blue striped swimming shorts.
White sand beaches.
"As if we're supposed to know."
Black.
A tiny black ponytail.
Calandra's eyes shot open and she sat straight up. That was the boy. The little boy from her dream was the boy she'd seen that day on the beach. When she thought about the future and realized she'd never have children, that little boy was the one with Sirius's eyes.
She leant her cheek against the edge of the tub and stared into the water . Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. It was just a dream. The little boy was just a dream. A dream she'd never have come true, even if she wanted it. She was stuck in here.
But he wasn't.
The thought brought a faint smile to her face and a pang to her chest. He wasn't stuck anymore. Maybe one day there would be a little boy. A little boy with grey eyes and a quick smile, who would try to make his friends laugh. A little boy that would only know love, and never cruelty, from his parents. Maybe he'd walk hand in hand with them as they splashed their feet in the water. Maybe matching grey eyes would look to the stars and map them.
Maybe one day there'd be someone who'd replace her. That would be ok. Maybe one day, new tattoos would cover the ones that matched hers and someone else would memorize them all. Maybe one day, someone else would sit on the back of that motorcycle and breathe in the smell of cigarettes and caramel. Maybe one day, someone else would run their fingers through his hair and scratch his head. Maybe she'd try to convince him chop it all off. Calandra almost laughed at the thought of Sirius with a shaved head.
Maybe one day there would be a wife and a little boy or a little girl, and they'd be a family and they'd be happy. He would be free. And maybe that would be enough.
