He knew the nightmares would start once he closed his eyes. But the exhaustion had been too overwhelming to fight off any longer. With his body screaming for some much needed rest, he'd succumbed to the inevitable fate of waking up drenched in sweat and his heart pounding frantically in his chest.
Anything was better than losing his mind at this time.
Steve had managed to sleep for most of the night, waking up occasionally when the scenes playing in front of his inner eye became too realistic, too painful to relive. Thankfully the peace and quiet he felt in Mike's home was enough to lull him back to sleep every time, even if it was just for a few additional hours.
It was the last nightmare that brought him back to the yacht club. Steve saw himself hiding behind a small pleasure craft, his revolver drawn and staring intently ahead at a murder scene playing out at the other end of the docks. He could feel the cold damp breeze chilling his bones, as he watched a tall man in a black overcoat gun down a mobster just a few hundred feet away.
He could hear the revolver fire off from his covert position and watched the victim drop lifelessly onto the wet wooden boards of the dock. Drawing in a deep breath, Steve froze in his spot, when the killer turned around and looked straight at him. A set of cold blue eyes met his for a brief moment, chilling his soul. He could see himself starting to run toward the parking lot and the safety of the Galaxy, the killer giving chase and catching up quickly.
Steve felt his heart hammering in his chest as he passed the few hundred feet to the tan sedan, hoping to radio in support. Just before he reached the driver side door however, the killer raised his gun again, shooting at him from a distance that allowed for a clean kill.
He heard the familiar sound of a revolver firing from behind, before the impact of the bullet threw him against the Galaxy, taking his breath away as he tumbled to the ground. Reaching forward to brace for impact, Steve felt the loose gravel digging into his hands as he went down. The bullet embedded in his back made the world spin and he felt blood rushing up his throat, threatening to choke him. Footsteps from behind signaled that the killer had caught up with him, slowly approaching his battered victim as if to savor every step while he watched him bleed to death.
Rolling onto his back, Steve groaned in pain and met the cold blue eyes once again, recognizing the rigid square features of the man's jaw, his defined nose and short black hair. He tried to say something but spat out blood instead, something that made the man smile in satisfaction.
"I told you to stay out of my way, cop.", the killer said with a heavy Russian accent, before pointing the revolver at his head, "You should have listened."
Steve felt his whole body jerk when he saw the gun discharge, the bright flash suddenly being replaced by a sullen blackness.
As every muscle and sinew in his arms and legs began to cramp, he opened his eyes, trying to take a breath but panicked when he couldn't do so through his mouth.
The blood! The blood was still choking him!
As he desperately tried to adjust to the darkness surrounding his whereabouts, Steve moved his free hand to his face, only to find strong fingers grabbing his wrist and pushing it back down onto the couch.
Horrified about the unexpected company, he opened his eyes wider, but could only see an outline against the dim light coming from outside. As his senses left the twilight zone of his nightmare, Steve realized that a strong hand was covering his mouth, effectively keeping him from calling for help.
Perhaps his nightmare wasn't quite over yet.