Hi! This fanfic was originally planned as a oneshot for one of my other fics- Enorace Oneshots and Short Stories- and then I kind of got carried away with the word length, so I decided to just publish it as it's own separate fanfiction.
Context: This fic is set in present day Florida after the end of Library of Souls, and Enoch and Horace are already out to the rest of the peculiars. For the sake of simplicity and avoiding spoilers I'm just going to write as though the events at the end of Map of Days and in the subsequent books didn't happen, but Fiona is alive and well regardless because she deserves no less.
Anyway, I hope you like it and please leave a review to tell me what you think! :)
Horace bolted upright in the dark, breathing hard. His heart was hammering so hard in his chest that he could hear it in his ears. He glanced wildly around the room, his brain still partly in the dream he'd just had, still in fight-or-flight adrenaline.
There was nothing but pitch black and the soft snores of Hugh and Millard across the room. Clearly Horace hadn't cried out much during his dream, since they were both fast asleep- Hugh in the main bed with his bees asleep in his stomach, and Millard under a heap of blankets on an air mattress like Horace's.
Horace let his head fall into his hands and he rubbed them over his face wearily as the nausea and migraines caught up with him. His nightmares always left him feeling like he'd been dumped by a huge wave- and possibly onto rocks, judging by the way his head was now throbbing.
His breaths were shaky and ragged as he pushed his hair out of his eyes and wiped the stinging tears off his cheeks. His heart was still beating hard enough to hurt, and the slightest sound from the others or the tiniest movement of a shadow had him flinching, spooked. He shivered in the cold night air and hugged his blankets to him, feeling fresh tears burning his eyes and cutting his throat.
It wasn't real, he told himself, forcing himself to take in slow, calming breaths. It was just a nightmare, it can't hurt you. It may not even come true…
The panic began to fade slightly and Horace closed his eyes in relief, letting himself relax. Of course his visions couldn't hurt him, he knew that. He was okay.
Suddenly, Horace felt an all-too-familiar jolt in his stomach and cold, sickly fear pooled from his chest to every part of his body. The darkness around him seemed to solidify and collapse in on him, swallowing him in black as the images he'd seen in his nightmare suddenly flashed lightning-fast through his mind, roaring deafeningly in his ears.
The shadow of a feeding hollowgast stretched huge and menacing across a child's bedroom wall. Cliffs crumbling into a raging sea. A rusted knife. Fingernail scratches gauged into metal. Blood smeared across train tracks.
Horace whimpered and clamped his hands over his ears, pulling the blankets over his head and squeezing his eyes shut as the images flashed over his retina like gunfire. They were remnants, echoes of his nightmares- the last of his prophecies leaving his brain now that he was awake.
The images finally faded out and Horace was left curled in the dark, his duvet pulled firmly over his head. It was hot and hard to breathe under the blankets, but Horace was too terrified move. He knew he was being childish, but some part of his brain told him he wasn't safe in the dark. Not where the nightmares could get him. His muscles were so tense that they ached, and he couldn't stop shivering despite the suffocating heat. He just wanted someone to hug him. He wanted someone else to tell him the visions couldn't hurt him, instead of just having to rely on the panicked reassurances of his own brain.
Most of all, he just wanted Enoch.
Unfortunately for him, Enoch was downstairs and through the long corridors of a dark house instead of in the room right next to Horace's like he had been in their loop. If they were still in the loop, Enoch would be here already- he was almost always awake in the early hours of the morning and always seemed able to tell when Horace was having a nightmare, even if he wasn't screaming half the house awake.
Enoch would hug him. Enoch would tell him the visions couldn't hurt him. To be fair, Enoch would also probably snort and tease him for hiding under the covers like a child.
"What's that gonna do, dummy?" he'd scoff. "You think a hollowgast can't get through cotton and goose-down? It's gonna get you whether you're looking at it or not!"
Which was probably true.
Horace rolled his eyes- evidently, even imaginary Enoch had more common sense than he did.
He finally sat up and wiped the tears from his eyes, gulping in fresh, cold air. If he was to be killed by something in his nightmares, he might as well not be killed while hiding from it like a coward.
Bravado aside, Horace was still very much afraid, and his eyes darted around in the darkness, searching for any threat lurking just out of sight. He took a deep breath, prepared himself mentally, then threw off his covers and padded across to the door. Horace forced himself to ignore the darkness around him and the dizzying panic his nightmares had left him with as he inched the door open, wincing as it creaked, then slipped from the room and out onto the landing.
He still felt shaky and tearful as he headed for the stairs, deciding that if nothing else, he could certainly use some of Enoch's common sense for his worries right now.
Horace walked across the cold concrete floor to the living room, his footsteps deafening in the silence.
"…Enoch?" he whispered into the dark.
No response.
Horace was starting to regret his decision now. He was shivering in the cold, wishing he'd brought his blankets or at least a jacket with him, and the pitch darkness all around him was causing his fear to creep back in.
"Enoch are you there?" he said a little more urgently, hugging his arms to himself.
"…Enoch?- Oh this is ridiculous," he huffed as he nearly tripped over the coffee table, and he felt around for the light switch.
At last the room was bathed in light- and Horace felt a little of his fear disappearing. He took a rattling breath and stepped further into the room. He could hear Enoch's footsteps coming towards him from another room, and he felt relief flood through him- before a wave of dizzy-sick nightmare fear suddenly hit him like a truck.
He tried to call Enoch's name, but suddenly found he couldn't speak. No sound came out of his mouth as he stumbled back in panic, his mouth opening wordlessly. All he could hear was blood roaring past his ears, deafeningly loud and coming from every direction- all around him, from his open mouth, from inside his own head. He felt like someone was crushing his skull, and his vision spun blindingly fast between between searing light and pitch dark. He felt his limbs go numb and his stomach jolt like he was free-falling. He could hear voices, screams, cries in his mind, and the last racing thought through his dazed brain was, …is this a vision…?, before the back of his head hit the floor with a painful crack that sent red spiderwebs of pain pulsing behind his eyes, and the vision swallowed him whole.
He was drowning. He was facedown in a pool of nightmarish images and he was flailing, trying to lift his head from the dreams that sucked him down, down, down. He was fighting against it, trying to wake up, but he wasn't strong enough to fight the pull of it, the surface tension of this vision that left him trapped, suffocating, drowning, that pulled the air from his lungs and filled his brain with floundering dark.
The peculiars and the Bird were bent over a book that spread itself as large as the room. Its page suddenly lifted to turn and it rose above him like a cresting wave, crashing down and sending him tumbling over the huge, red printed words. He staggered to his feet and found was drenched from head to toe in wet ink, thick and red and slippery over his skin like blood. He stumbled backwards, choking on it, and he fell through white mist, tumbling through empty white void until he landed in a crumpled heap in field of dead and rotting grass. He clambered up to find the blood-ink gone from his skin. Instead, he was alone in an eerily silent landscape of polluted, yellowed sky and damp grass that smelt like mould and musty cigarettes.
A sudden, echoing voice behind him had him whirling around. Olive stood before him, her face disfigured and stretched like it was made of plasticine. She giggled and it echoed through his brain as she started to sing, a lilting lullaby in strange, distorted words he didn't understand.
"…Olive…" he stammered, but his voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away. She tilted her head to the side, smiling violently, and her song continued without her mouth moving. She had started to froth at the mouth- thick black hollowgast ooze that dripped from her lips and pooled from her eyes.
Suddenly she convulsed, bending over double, and vomited out a twisting mass of hollowgast tongues that coiled and slithered from her open mouth. Horace screamed and stumbled, falling backwards into the grass. When he looked again, Olive was gone, replaced by a true hollowgast. It turned on him, for once completely visible as its tongue-filled jaw unhinged. It let out a piercing scream that shattered the ground around Horace as if it were made of glass. He squeezed his eyes shut, hiding his face from the shards that sliced at his skin… and then suddenly all was still and silent.
Horace climbed dazedly to his feet and found himself in the Portmans' backyard at night. He could see a faint glow coming from the house, and silhouetted against it, the figures of two boys sitting on the edge of the deck. Horace ran to them desperately and as he grew closer, he realised it was Enoch and Jacob. Enoch had a bored expression on his face as he reached into his own open chest, tearing off pieces of his heart and passing them to Jacob. Jacob took them from Enoch, still bleeding, then suddenly turned to look straight at Horace.
"I love his eyes," Jacob said, but the words were in Enoch's voice.
Horace staggered back in horror, feeling sick, when suddenly his foot slipped and he fell, the air rushing past his ears and drowning out everything else.
The next thing he knew, Horace was gasping awake on the cold floor of the Portman's living room. His whole body ached, and his head was throbbing more than usual. He felt winded, breathing hard, and there were tears in his eyes that spilled sideways down his face as he stared up at the ceiling.
He frowned and wondered vaguely how he got there- had he collapsed?- when suddenly the reality of what he'd seen in his vision settled back into his brain. His blood went cold and he gasped again, sitting up violently- just in time for his forehead to smack into something hard.
"Bloody hell!" he heard someone curse.
Enoch had been kneeling beside Horace, but now had his hands over his face, groaning.
"I'm sorry…" Horace mumbled, still feeling a little dazed, and he pulled Enoch's hands from his face. "…Are you alright?"
Enoch winced.
"Yeah," he grimaced, rubbing the bridge of his nose bitterly. "Christ Horace, why does your skull have to be so hard?" he complained.
Horace felt incredibly light-headed and dizzy, his own voice sounding muffled in his ears.
"…To protect my brain of course… you should know that…" he mumbled dazedly in a hollow voice as he sank back down to lie on the ground. He suddenly felt inexplicably exhausted.
Enoch recovered instantly, frowning worriedly and shaking Horace's shoulder.
"Hey, are you okay?" he said. "You're acting funny."
When Horace didn't answer, he looked more worried.
"I saw you fall, you hit your head pretty bad… can you sit up?"
He pulled Horace back to sitting, and Horace immediately slumped against him.
"Ow…" he mumbled into Enoch's shoulder.
"Does your head hurt?" Enoch asked. Horace shrugged.
"It always… always…"
"Hurts?" Enoch supplied, and Horace nodded weakly.
"Mhm. After nightmares."
Enoch was frowning more now.
"I reckon you're concussed," he decided. "I'm getting the Bird."
"N-no don't…" Horace forced himself to sit up. "See? I'm… I'm fine…"
Enoch looked him up and down skeptically.
"No, I'm getting her."
…
"Really, Miss Peregrine, I'm fine." Horace insisted for the fiftieth time that night as the Bird tutted and fussed over him worriedly, still in her nightgown and slippers. He was slumped on the sofa in the living room, where Enoch had half-led, half-carried him before getting the Bird. Horace felt guilty for waking her, but Enoch was right- he did feel woozy and a little concussed, not to mention sick and panicked from his vision.
Horace winced and tried to push the thought of it out of his mind. He couldn't face what he'd seen. Not yet, not now. Tomorrow, when it was light and he didn't feel so afraid, he would analyse and dissect every inch of tonight's dreams for clues and prophecies. But for now, it was too fresh in his mind, and the memory of it made his skin crawl.
Enoch himself was sitting on the arm of the couch with his arms folded, watching Horace's face carefully as the Bird fussed over him. Horace could tell he wanted to ask him what his visions had been about, but knew better than to try.
"I suggest putting ice on your head, Mr Somnusson… you said it was a vision that caused you to fall?" Miss Peregrine said, and Horace nodded, then winced in pain as his head throbbed.
"Not a bad one," he explained, his words still a little slurred. He felt incredibly sleepy. "It didn't last long… I was coming downstairs because I had a nightmare just before."
Enoch and Miss Peregrine glanced at each other. Enoch was frowning.
"You didn't tell me that. Since when does that happen to you?"
Miss Peregrine nodded.
"Mr O'Connor is right- a nightmare and a waking vision occurring consecutively is highly unusual for you. I can't even remember the last time it happened… Mr Somnusson?"
She looked to him for answers, but Horace shrugged.
"Decades ago, likely," he mumbled. "It's alright, Miss Peregrine. Sometimes I just have bad weeks for nightmares… maybe this is…" His vision swam for a moment and he winced again, running a hand over the back of his skull, "…maybe this is just…"
His voice faded out, and Miss Peregrine looked worried.
"Mr Somnusson?" she asked.
"You okay?" Enoch frowned.
"I'm alright…" Horace insisted, suddenly feeling guilty as he took in the Bird's glassy, tired eyes. "You can go back to bed, Miss…"
Miss Peregrine shook her head.
"Nonsense. I intend to stay with you until I'm certain you're feeling better. Mr O'Connor, will you get him some ice in a tea towel?"
Enoch slouched off the arm of the couch and headed to the kitchen. When he returned, Horace's pained, glassy-eyed expression had cleared slightly.
"I gave him a little dust to help him heal," Miss Peregrine explained to Enoch as she took the ice from him and handed it to Horace. "Thank you. Here, Mr Somnusson. I would still recommend holding the ice on until the dust takes effect in order to speed up healing time."
Enoch sat back on the arm of the couch as Horace held the ice to his head. Miss Peregrine was all business now, pacing in thought.
"Now Mr Somnusson, I'll give you a stronger dose of the dust in just a moment, but that will send you to sleep and if you don't mind, I'd like to ask you a few questions first while it's all still fresh in your memory." Horace tiredly nodded his agreement, and she continued, "Could you tell me the subject of your two visions? Were they related in any way? If so, it could explain why you had them consecutively."
Just as Horace was about to reluctantly reply, there was the sound of heavy footsteps and Olive appeared in the doorway in her pyjamas and iron shoes. She must have worn them in order to get there as fast as possible, because her tear-stained face looked panicked and terrified.
"Miss!" she wailed the second she saw the Bird, then promptly ran barreling into her, bawling.
From what they finally managed to get out of her in her inconsolable state, she too had had a nightmare, had tearfully woken Claire in the next bed and told her about it, which then had terrified the younger girl and set them both into a fit. Bronwyn, who slept like a log, couldn't be woken, and the girls refused to go back to bed unless Miss Peregrine herself read them a story and checked the closet for hollows.
Enoch looked thoroughly unimpressed.
"Quit your whining," he snapped. "Horace has had a nightmare too you know, and you don't see him throwing a hissy fit."
"Please, Mr O'Connor," Miss Peregrine scolded, holding up a hand to silence him, "Mr Somnusson doesn't have a patent on having nightmares, and all my wards are deserving of my time and attention," she said calmly, but then a shadow crossed her face and she hesitated.
"However," she frowned, "a concussion is rather serious. I don't know how I feel about leaving you in this state, Mr Somnusson, even with the dust to heal you."
"Please Miss, don't make me go back all alone!" Olive wailed, grabbing at her arm. Horace winced at her high-pitched cries, doubling over and holding his head.
"Someone shut her up," he begged, so quietly that only Enoch could hear.
"It's fine Miss, I'll stay with him," Enoch said quickly, sliding off the arm onto the couch beside Horace and throwing an arm around his shoulders. "I'll make sure he doesn't hurt himself."
Miss Peregrine hesitated, glancing between Horace and Olive, who was still sobbing uncontrollably, before reluctantly nodding.
"Alright then, but don't let him move around too much. And make sure he takes the rest of the dust sooner rather than later, do you understand? Mr Somnusson, the longer you wait, the longer it will take to heal-"
Horace nodded tiredly as Miss Peregrine was pulled away by a frantic Olive. As soon as she was out of sight, Enoch shifted to get closer to him, one raised knee behind Horace, the other leg dangling casually off the couch. Horace glanced at him out of the corner of his eye as Enoch hugged him around the middle, but he didn't complain.
"If you wanted attention, you could have just asked for it," Enoch joked, nodding at the ice Horace was still holding to his head. Horace blinked at him blearily.
"What?"
"Forget it," Enoch snorted, "I forgot you had no sense of humour."
Horace just looked more confused. His ears were ringing and his head throbbed.
"What are you on about?"
Enoch rolled his eyes, resting his chin on Horace's shoulder and looking up at him with an exaggerated pout.
"You're no fun when you're concussed," he complained. Horace shoved his face away.
"Sorry for having brain trauma," Horace grumbled. "Please forgive me…"
"Apology accepted," Enoch grinned, releasing him and moving back. "Is your head feeling better yet?"
"A little… it should be better by tomorrow. But my vision…" he frowned, uneasy.
Enoch looked at him.
"Was it bad?"
"Mmm… not really, but a nightmare and vision in a row? Miss Peregrine seemed worried…"
"I'm sure it's nothing- you said it'd happened before, right?"
"Well yes, but…" Horace suddenly frowned, remembering. "You were in it," he blurted. "In my vision, I mean. You were sitting outside with Jacob and pulling pieces of your heart out one by one…"
Enoch just scoffed.
"Well that ain't exactly realistic."
Horace frowned at him.
"It's symbolic," he insisted, turning to Enoch far too quickly, then immediately regretted it. He suddenly felt like someone had stabbed him in the back of the skull and he groaned, slumping.
"You need to rest," Enoch said. "You should take the dust so you can go back to sleep- let your head heal faster."
Horace nodded, stifling a yawn. Sleep sounded like a good idea. With a little difficulty, he pushed himself to standing, swaying a little but otherwise alright. Enoch hovered next to him in case he fell, but Horace brushed him off. The small amount of dust already in his system had taken away the worst of his dizziness and pain, and he only stumbled once as he made his way back up the stairs.
"Well, goodnight," Horace said to Enoch as he reached the door to his room, keeping his voice low so as not to wake Hugh and Millard on the other side.
"G'night," Enoch grinned. "Try not to hit your head again."
Horace pulled a face, then took the bag of dust from him and stepped silently back into the room.
Thanks for reading! I'm planning to hopefully update this fic every week or so, so I'll see you then for the next chapter :)
