"Sydney! Wake up!" Francie shook her friend roughly.
Sydney's eyes popped open, and the look of fear and horror on her face was evident. Then she took note of her surroundings, and uttered a large sigh of relief. It was just a dream, Bristow. Vaughn is fine. He's probably sleeping right now, which is what you should be doing, she reminded herself.
"What did I do?"
"Scream."
"I did?"
Francie nodded. "What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?"
Sydney let out a small snicker that was practically inaudible, and could have possibly been taken for an intake of air. Bad dream? That was an understatement.
But she nodded. "Sorry for waking you up. I'm really tired right now, and I have to get up early for work tomorrow…"
"Don't worry, I'll just ask you about it tomorrow," Francie joked, running a hand through her messed up hair.
Sydney smiled her thanks as Francie walked out of her room, closing it gently behind her. Then she fell into her thoughts again. Didn't I have a dream that Danny would be badly hurt just a few months before it happened? What if my dream really meant something…What if…
She reached over to her nightstand, picked up the cordless phone, and started dialing the number she had committed to memory without thinking.
----
Vaughn groaned as the sharp ringing of the telephone next to his bed jarred him from his well needed sleep. Who the hell could it be, calling this late? He asked himself, reading the time off his radio. 2:37, it read in black numbers, the black contrasting with the neon green background of the small screen. He felt for his phone, and pressed the 'TALK' button and brought it to his ear slowly.
"Hello?" he said in a sleepy voice.
"Vaughn? I'm so sorry to wake you, and I have no idea why I called now," Sydney's equally tired voice crackled through the line.
"Sydney? What's wrong?" he asked, immediately awake, although he was still lying on his bed, his head on top of a pillow.
"Oh, it was nothing."
"Sydney, you know you can talk to me," Vaughn said gently.
"…well, I had this dream, nightmare actually. I had one just like it before Danny died, and…"
"What about?"
"Well, you and me were in some warehouse, with a few big men with guns…I think they all had a tattoo on their arms…skulls dripping with blood and the letters EBC or something underneath…Well anyway, you told me to get the hell out, but I didn't. I think someone knocked me to the ground, and…killed you," Sydney summed her nightmare up in just a few sentences.
Vaughn was silent, half wishing it wasn't a cordless phone, so he could twirl the cord around his fingers. It was the bad habit that always came up when he was stressed or nervous, that had developed at the office. It was either the cord or the coin.
"Look, I'm not expecting you to analyze my dream, because I know you're not a psychologist," Sydney started.
"No, it's OK," Vaughn interrupted. Sydney fell silent.
"Well…" Vaughn began, "Maybe you're right. I'm not going to analyze it, because I don't know where to start and how. But I will give you one piece of advice. Go to sleep. Just sleep it off, and start the day tomorrow clean and fresh."
"Yeah, it is pretty late isn't it?" Sydney asked in an apologetic tone. She was relieved that he didn't think her crazy.
"I wasn't that tired anyway," Vaughn lied.
"Vaughn, don't try to make me feel better. It's not working."
"Feel better for what?"
"For waking you up so late, or should I say, so early?"
Suddenly, Sydney let out a loud yawn.
"Go to sleep Syd. I'll see you tomorrow probably," Vaughn said.
"OK. Thanks for listening," Sydney replied. "Bye."
"Yeah, bye," Vaughn responded, listening to the click and the following dial tone that rang monotonously in his ear. Where is Barnett when you need her? Vaughn asked himself just before his eyes closed again, the phone lying on the pillow next to him.
Sydney's eyes popped open, and the look of fear and horror on her face was evident. Then she took note of her surroundings, and uttered a large sigh of relief. It was just a dream, Bristow. Vaughn is fine. He's probably sleeping right now, which is what you should be doing, she reminded herself.
"What did I do?"
"Scream."
"I did?"
Francie nodded. "What's wrong? Did you have a bad dream?"
Sydney let out a small snicker that was practically inaudible, and could have possibly been taken for an intake of air. Bad dream? That was an understatement.
But she nodded. "Sorry for waking you up. I'm really tired right now, and I have to get up early for work tomorrow…"
"Don't worry, I'll just ask you about it tomorrow," Francie joked, running a hand through her messed up hair.
Sydney smiled her thanks as Francie walked out of her room, closing it gently behind her. Then she fell into her thoughts again. Didn't I have a dream that Danny would be badly hurt just a few months before it happened? What if my dream really meant something…What if…
She reached over to her nightstand, picked up the cordless phone, and started dialing the number she had committed to memory without thinking.
----
Vaughn groaned as the sharp ringing of the telephone next to his bed jarred him from his well needed sleep. Who the hell could it be, calling this late? He asked himself, reading the time off his radio. 2:37, it read in black numbers, the black contrasting with the neon green background of the small screen. He felt for his phone, and pressed the 'TALK' button and brought it to his ear slowly.
"Hello?" he said in a sleepy voice.
"Vaughn? I'm so sorry to wake you, and I have no idea why I called now," Sydney's equally tired voice crackled through the line.
"Sydney? What's wrong?" he asked, immediately awake, although he was still lying on his bed, his head on top of a pillow.
"Oh, it was nothing."
"Sydney, you know you can talk to me," Vaughn said gently.
"…well, I had this dream, nightmare actually. I had one just like it before Danny died, and…"
"What about?"
"Well, you and me were in some warehouse, with a few big men with guns…I think they all had a tattoo on their arms…skulls dripping with blood and the letters EBC or something underneath…Well anyway, you told me to get the hell out, but I didn't. I think someone knocked me to the ground, and…killed you," Sydney summed her nightmare up in just a few sentences.
Vaughn was silent, half wishing it wasn't a cordless phone, so he could twirl the cord around his fingers. It was the bad habit that always came up when he was stressed or nervous, that had developed at the office. It was either the cord or the coin.
"Look, I'm not expecting you to analyze my dream, because I know you're not a psychologist," Sydney started.
"No, it's OK," Vaughn interrupted. Sydney fell silent.
"Well…" Vaughn began, "Maybe you're right. I'm not going to analyze it, because I don't know where to start and how. But I will give you one piece of advice. Go to sleep. Just sleep it off, and start the day tomorrow clean and fresh."
"Yeah, it is pretty late isn't it?" Sydney asked in an apologetic tone. She was relieved that he didn't think her crazy.
"I wasn't that tired anyway," Vaughn lied.
"Vaughn, don't try to make me feel better. It's not working."
"Feel better for what?"
"For waking you up so late, or should I say, so early?"
Suddenly, Sydney let out a loud yawn.
"Go to sleep Syd. I'll see you tomorrow probably," Vaughn said.
"OK. Thanks for listening," Sydney replied. "Bye."
"Yeah, bye," Vaughn responded, listening to the click and the following dial tone that rang monotonously in his ear. Where is Barnett when you need her? Vaughn asked himself just before his eyes closed again, the phone lying on the pillow next to him.