Left Behind
Chapter 7
"Monica. Monica!"
Monica jerked herself into a sitting position. Sweat covered her body. Her heart pounded in her chest. She was frightened. She had absolutely no idea where she was. It was pitch black in the room, but she turned to the voice that had called her name.
"Monica, it's me."
Monica's eyes adjusted to the dark in a few moments. John was kneeling by her bedside. She saw John's worried eyes searching hers, making certain that she was okay. Was she okay?
John inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. For a second he noted that when she jerked up her bed covers had fallen away to reveal that she wore some sort of black silk nightgown and for once John wished his partner wore more masculine attire to bed. It would definitely help keep his mind more focused on work related matters. John quickly pushed these thoughts aside. "You okay? You were callin' out in yer sleep."
Monica nodded shakily as she tried to catch her breath. "Nothing."
John gave her a look that told her he didn't believe her for a second.
"Bad dream," said Monica unwillingly but realizing that John wasn't going to let her be until she told him what was wrong.
"Wanna talk about it?" asked John as he took a seat on the floor beside her bed. He'd been the gentleman and good host by offering up his bed to her and taking the couch for himself.
Monica voice cracked slightly as she recounted her dream. "Angry voices. Tears. There were people, men I think...and they were taking me away...away from you maybe? I tried to fight them but I couldn't. I was flying....I don't know. And then the next thing I was lying on the ground and I was cold, so very cold. There were people standing around me. I wanted to talk to them, but I...I had no voice. Someone was yelling...angry. Then I woke up."
John wanted to tell her that this was all a bad dream that none of it was true, but he knew he couldn't comfort Monica in that way. He knew he would merely be wasting his breath. She believed in dreams whereas he did not. She believed in a lot of things that he didn't. He didn't know what to tell her so he told her the same thing that he had told Luke when he had a bad dream. "It's nothing. It's not real. Just a bad dream." Shrug it off. Pretend like nothing's wrong.
Monica nodded, not entirely convinced. It might be a bad dream, but then it might not be. But she didn't want to worry John. She could sense his anxiety over her. She smiled at him in an attempt to reassure him that she believed him, that everything was fine. She repeated his words. "Just a bad dream."
John nodded appeased that Monica was okay. Monica laid back down, her head on the pillow. She pulled the covers up over her shoulders. "I'm okay," she told him.
"I'm just gonna wait here til you fall back asleep," John said as he turned and leaned his back against the edge of the bed.
Monica opened her mouth to protest. She wasn't a child who needed a parent to keep the monsters away until she fell asleep. But then she felt the bone deep chill that she couldn't seem to shake course through her despite all of the blankets on the bed. Something wasn't right, but she felt better with John in the room with her. She smiled slightly, gratefully, and closed her eyes. "Thanks, John," she murmured.
"Anytime," he said with a half smile as she drifted back to sleep.
About fifteen minutes later, John could tell that Monica was back into a deep, more restful sleep. Her breathing was normal, regular. He turned his head to look at her. She looked so peaceful sleeping. John didn't believe in dreams but there was a nagging doubt in the back of his mind. Maybe Monica was somehow connected to all of this? Maybe Monica was in as much danger as this Colin fellow was? "I'm never gonna to let anythin' happen to you, Monica," he whispered. It was a promise he had made to her at her beside after that near fatal car accident and he reaffirmed it here.
Chapter 7
"Monica. Monica!"
Monica jerked herself into a sitting position. Sweat covered her body. Her heart pounded in her chest. She was frightened. She had absolutely no idea where she was. It was pitch black in the room, but she turned to the voice that had called her name.
"Monica, it's me."
Monica's eyes adjusted to the dark in a few moments. John was kneeling by her bedside. She saw John's worried eyes searching hers, making certain that she was okay. Was she okay?
John inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. For a second he noted that when she jerked up her bed covers had fallen away to reveal that she wore some sort of black silk nightgown and for once John wished his partner wore more masculine attire to bed. It would definitely help keep his mind more focused on work related matters. John quickly pushed these thoughts aside. "You okay? You were callin' out in yer sleep."
Monica nodded shakily as she tried to catch her breath. "Nothing."
John gave her a look that told her he didn't believe her for a second.
"Bad dream," said Monica unwillingly but realizing that John wasn't going to let her be until she told him what was wrong.
"Wanna talk about it?" asked John as he took a seat on the floor beside her bed. He'd been the gentleman and good host by offering up his bed to her and taking the couch for himself.
Monica voice cracked slightly as she recounted her dream. "Angry voices. Tears. There were people, men I think...and they were taking me away...away from you maybe? I tried to fight them but I couldn't. I was flying....I don't know. And then the next thing I was lying on the ground and I was cold, so very cold. There were people standing around me. I wanted to talk to them, but I...I had no voice. Someone was yelling...angry. Then I woke up."
John wanted to tell her that this was all a bad dream that none of it was true, but he knew he couldn't comfort Monica in that way. He knew he would merely be wasting his breath. She believed in dreams whereas he did not. She believed in a lot of things that he didn't. He didn't know what to tell her so he told her the same thing that he had told Luke when he had a bad dream. "It's nothing. It's not real. Just a bad dream." Shrug it off. Pretend like nothing's wrong.
Monica nodded, not entirely convinced. It might be a bad dream, but then it might not be. But she didn't want to worry John. She could sense his anxiety over her. She smiled at him in an attempt to reassure him that she believed him, that everything was fine. She repeated his words. "Just a bad dream."
John nodded appeased that Monica was okay. Monica laid back down, her head on the pillow. She pulled the covers up over her shoulders. "I'm okay," she told him.
"I'm just gonna wait here til you fall back asleep," John said as he turned and leaned his back against the edge of the bed.
Monica opened her mouth to protest. She wasn't a child who needed a parent to keep the monsters away until she fell asleep. But then she felt the bone deep chill that she couldn't seem to shake course through her despite all of the blankets on the bed. Something wasn't right, but she felt better with John in the room with her. She smiled slightly, gratefully, and closed her eyes. "Thanks, John," she murmured.
"Anytime," he said with a half smile as she drifted back to sleep.
About fifteen minutes later, John could tell that Monica was back into a deep, more restful sleep. Her breathing was normal, regular. He turned his head to look at her. She looked so peaceful sleeping. John didn't believe in dreams but there was a nagging doubt in the back of his mind. Maybe Monica was somehow connected to all of this? Maybe Monica was in as much danger as this Colin fellow was? "I'm never gonna to let anythin' happen to you, Monica," he whispered. It was a promise he had made to her at her beside after that near fatal car accident and he reaffirmed it here.
