A/N: I'm back! : ) More updates coming soon!

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FOURTEEN

They Come at Night

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"Can you tell me what else you remember?"

The sound of the falling rain crashed upon the roof of the house. It was a dark and rather dreary day. Once in a while a car would drive down the street, disappearing until the calmness ensued. They sat in his study on chairs opposite each other. She was silent for a moment, nails digging into her bare knees, eyes downcast, thinking.

Oliver was patient. His pen upon his notes, eyes on her, waiting. The days had turned into weeks and every day tasks seemed and even felt much easier. There were still struggles but there was progress.

"I remember a bird…" She finally answered.

Oliver wrote it down, "What kind of bird? Can you describe it?"

Lana shook her head, "No. I never saw it. I just heard it."

"Where?"

"Outside my window. In a tree."

"In the morning, I presume?"

She shook her head again. "At night."

Oliver raised a brow but continued writing down his notes. "At night?"

"Yes. But I don't know why. It…it just kept me up."

"You know, Common Nighthawks are a type of nocturnal bird that are often found in the U.S. It is very likely one of those little fellas decided to make port outside your bedroom window."

Lana half smiled, "It sure did make a…." She paused, trying to remember the correct word to use. Sometimes she forgot certain words.

"Ruckus?" Oliver gave her a suggestion.

"Yes. A ruckus."

Oliver smiled and set his notes aside, "Well, Lana. I'm sure that little visitor is long gone by now. Not to worry." He stood from his chair and glanced at the clock on the wall. "It appears to be lunch time. Why don't you go ahead and relax a little until I prepare us something, hmm?"

Lana nodded.

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Lana loved Oliver's cooking. There was something about it; probably the herbs and spices he used that made everything pop or perhaps the fact that he made the meals with care. Lana barely remembered the meals served at Briarcliff. Bland— almost tasteless. She shook the thought away, no longer wanting to remember that horrid place.

"You cook so good." Lana commented in a soft tone. Her choice of words made Oliver smile.

"Well, thank you, Lana. That's so kind of you to say."

"Who taught you?"

Oliver stopped eating to answer her, "Myself, if I'm being quite honest." Lana looked surprised to which Oliver chuckled. "I didn't really have anyone to teach me."

Lana looked down to her half eaten meal. Her appetite had returned to normal but she had an aversion to most things. However, Oliver was learning her favorite things little by little.

"Maybe one day when you're up for it, I can teach you."

Lana perked up, "Will you?"

"Of course." He replied with a smile and took a quick bite of his meal. "When you're on your own you'll know your way around the kitchen."

Lana froze for a moment. "On…my own?"

Oliver noted the fearfulness in her eyes. The thought of being alone terrified Lana. She didn't remember how it was to be dependent. It was something she wasn't ready for. Not just yet.

"But of course that won't be for a long while." Oliver said to reassure her.

Lana glanced up at him with those brown puppy dog eyes as if asking if he was telling her the truth.

"For now we can just cook together. How's that sound, hmm?"

Lana smiled, "I like that."

"Yeah?"

She nodded. "A lot."

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The memories mostly came at night in the form of dreams and often nightmares. Lana twisted and turned, often waking multiple times in the night. Confusion filled her as she tried to make them out. Sometimes the memories slipped so quickly from her memory. Large pieces were missing and none of it made sense.

Sometimes she dreamt of the rec room at Briarcliff, a record spinning in the middle of the room. A dark tunnel, monsters in the forest, chasing her through the darkness and the rain. The nuns, a pinhead, a white statue of the Virgin Mary.

However, Lana also dreamt of a quaint home. In her dreams she saw a living room with a coffee table. On top of the table was an ashtray and multiple papers sprawled about. They were covered in scribbles of crayons and pencil. And amongst all of those things she dreamt of the smile of a woman. She couldn't see her entire face or remember the sound of her voice. All Lana could see were the woman's lips, smiling back at her.

And in the early morning, just as a soft, dim, blue light emerged, Lana woke. Her eyes opened slowly, still seeing that smile. Was she real? The woman that lingered in her calmest dreams.

Lana sat up from bed and exited her room. She could hear Oliver in the kitchen preparing himself a cup of coffee. Most days he woke up at the crack of dawn to continue his studies. She was grateful that she found him there that morning, the cup of hot coffee to his lips. He glanced up when he noticed her standing there in the entrance of the kitchen, eyes red from tears that had formed in her sleep.

"Lana? What's the matter?"

"Oliver." She spoke in her lucid tone of voice. The one that let Oliver know something serious was to come, "Have you ever been in love?"