He was back in the forest.
Off to the east, the full moon was shining through the branches, illuminating just enough of the ground to allow him to see an assortment of boulders in his path.
The wind had died down, quieting everything around him until all Steve could hear was the beating of his own heart; frantic, hurried, afraid.
He was alone, stuck in the middle of a cluster of tall pine trees and uneven ground, hip-high bushes that tugged on his clothes, along with the distinct feeling of being watched.
Glancing around was a hopeless effort, his eyes not able to see past the menacing darkness that overshadowed his surroundings, blinding him to the threat that felt so real he could taste it on his tongue.
Swallowing the nervousness back down, Steve walked past the trees, keeping up his guard in case somebody was hiding behind the massive trunks, setting one foot in front of the other, feeling the pine needles cushion his weight and silencing his steps.
He didn't question why he was here to begin with. All he could sense was an overwhelming urge to keep moving along, not stay in the same place long enough to get caught by whoever or whatever was after him.
The sound of a twig snapping made him flinch and come to a complete stop, only to realize that he'd been the one stepping on it.
Releasing a breath he'd held for far too long, Steve glanced around once again, ensuring that there was no imminent threat beyond the few rays of moonlight, then proceeded through the narrow path carved out between the stand of pines.
Pushed forward as though an invisible force was guiding him along, he sped up his pace, careful to avoid the rocks and roots in his way.
Several yards ahead, he saw a clearing where the trees parted and the rolling hills dipped enough that he couldn't see farther ahead. A dark green hue surrounded the area, its light fading and brightening at the rate of a heartbeat.
Slowing down somewhat, Steve approached the clearing and carefully peeked down, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end when he came upon a small pond, the water level barely waist-deep in most spots.
A musty, sulfuric odor surrounded the entire perimeter, permeating his skin and clothes as he stepped down the small embankment.
The feeling of being watched grew stronger, forcing him to look around, trying to find whoever was after him, only to be met with the same darkness that greeted him before.
Sighing, Steve reached the waterline, feeling his socks getting wet where his shoes sank into the mud.
Straight ahead was a sight he'd been loathing to see, and yet, the green hue from the pond seemed to intensify around it.
A boulder, small enough that he could wrap his arms around, seemed to be the epicenter of the light.
The invisible force pushed him closer, practically beckoning him toward it even though he wanted nothing to do with it.
And yet, step by step, Steve felt himself approach the rock, taking in the immediate area to look for clothing, body parts, any warning sign that whatever would greet him below wouldn't be pleasant.
Then, with shaking fingers, he dug into the silty soil next to it, until he could feel the ridged edge. Giving it a good pull, Steve was able to move it up enough to roll it off to the side and out of his way.
It was then when his entire body froze, unable the move, the sight so horrifying that it shook him to his core.
Instead of little Kevin's caved in skull, it was Mike's face that greeted him, bloodied, beaten and undeniably dead.
The painful scene was so intense that it made him step back several feet, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest, a scream stuck in his throat, never able to escape.
With his breaths coming in short gasps, Steve shook his head in disbelief, trying to fight the urge to vomit, his entire body shaking from what his eyes had to witness and his heart couldn't fathom.
Suddenly, a noise from behind caught him off guard.
It was that of rapid footsteps heading into his direction, carelessly breaking twigs and moving through the incessant brush at an unrelenting pace, like a predator ready to attack its prey.
Steve had enough time to turn around and see Morris's angry face, as the Homicide Captain ran toward him, the pistol in his hand trained at his center mass, before a loud shot made everything turn black.
In an instant, Steve woke up, covered in sweat, his labored breathing filling the otherwise still bedroom.
Needing several moments to regain his composure, he sat up, resting on his elbows, allowing the cold breeze against his clammy bare chest to help him return to the comfort of reality after a nightmare so lifelike and intense, it had shaken him to his core.
Under the dull light from the streetlamps outside, he checked his clock, able to make out that it was just after 2:30am, meaning he'd slept less than ten minutes.
With his entire body trembling from the strain of the nightmare, he decided to sit up in bed, resting his face in the palm of his hands, trying to come up with a plan on how to get the allotted amount of sleep before the lack thereof would drive him to insanity.
And yet, no matter how many times Steve tried to tell himself that the horrific images his mind had conjured up were nothing more than a stress-driven psychosis, it ultimately did little to assuage his strained senses, causing him to be wide awake and ready for battle when he should be sleeping.
Mike.
God, he was so worried about his partner and best friend.
Not that there was any reason for it. But still. The dream had been real enough, it could very well serve as a warning to back off a bit, watch their six, make sure that those they were trying to indict wouldn't turn on them.
When another wave of adrenalin shook his body, Steve tried to envision his partner once again; the dark grey suit, red vest down below, blue and grey checkered tie, grey fedora, left hand shoved into the pocket of his dress pants as he bid him farewell for the night.
Everything was fine as far as he knew.
There was absolutely, positively nothing to worry about.
Then again, bad things had a tendency to happen when one would least expect it. And no matter how often he told himself that dreams were just that, that bad premonitions never came true, reality had told him different over the past few years of working Homicide with the famous Mike Stone.
There was no telling whether or not his nightmare had any sort of revelation to the future- that was, unless he'd check things out himself.
It was a silly thought at best, one that would probably annoy Mike to an extent. Not enough to make him angry, but enough to make him roll his eyes and nod skeptically.
Or he could stay home, brooding on this issue for the remainder of the night since sleep was out of the question after the terrors that had descended upon his dreamworld.
But how much good would that do, considering Mike would need him at his best again to continue the investigation?
Maybe the easiest way to clear things up would be to check on the Lieutenant after all. Call it a welfare visit. Admit to the fact that the nightmares had been getting worse and that all he wanted to do was to check on him, make sure he was alright.
This soon after he'd been dropped off, the Lieutenant would still be awake, possibly pondering on the case himself, maybe have a cup of coffee.
Inconvenient as it might be to drive across town to see his best friend, it made more sense the longer he thought about it.
And perhaps, selfishly enough, Mike's calming presence would eventually help drive out those monsters that were so relentlessly haunting him tonight.