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"Leah!" Quatre cried out as his eyes opened and he looked at his surroundings, at the beach he had seen so many times before. But this time, the tangy salt air was punctuated with a bitter, acrid smell. He recognized it; having been a soldier, he had sensed it enough times. It was the smell of blood. "LEAH!" He screamed and ran forward, his feet finding next to no purchase in the sand, yet still, continuously running. A dark shape, lying in the wet sand, grew steadily larger as he sprinted his worry and his love sprouting wings from his ankles. He fell to his knees next to the still figure. Blood had once spurted out of a wound in her chest, and now a dark mass of congealing blood had formed around the open flesh. Wasting no time, Quatre began to work, washing away the blood. He pulled out a pair of tweezers and dipped them into the wound, feeling around for the hard lump he knew would be there. He found it, and drew it out, then sewed the injury shut. His mind was working furiously, not letting any stray thoughts in, but his subconscious was a mess of thoughts and fears. There was one thought that kept resurfacing, no matter how much he tried to bury it deep within him; this is too much like the dream. This is too similar to the dream. He kept replaying the scenes in his mind, those scenes that had become so familiar to him. Somehow, deep within him, he knew she was going to die. But then his heart stopped a beat as her eyelids fluttered -oh, how beautiful her lashes were! - and she fought to open her eyes. With a great effort, she had forced them open, and lay on the beach looking up at him. "Quatre?" she whispered, then winced, as if it hurt to speak. "Ssh, love, sh, it will all be all right," he told her, his voice breaking. "I'm here, and I'm not leaving." "No, Quatre! No!" she yelled out, suddenly animated. Quatre drew back, afraid at the wild look in her eyes. "You MUST go back! You cannot stay here! They have found a way.to get to you.through dreaming.I was their bait, go back, Quatre.If ever you loved me, you MUST go back!" Her words were slurred, her voice drunken. Her fingers clutched his wrist, her nails digging into his flesh. "Go back!" she told him again. "I'm not leaving without you," he said fiercely, a wild heat burning in his chest. Was it his love? Was it pain? "You.must.go." she whispered again, an animal-like look in her eyes. "You can't stay, they will kill you." "Sh, love, this is only a dream, they can't hurt us here." "Oh, but they can! They can, and they will, Quatre. They will kill you. Don't you.don't you." Her chest heaved and she lay on her back gasping for air. Her short, ragged breaths escaped through her mouth, the pungent smell of death evident. Quatre was once again reminded of his dream, and of how close she lay to dying here, now, at his knees. As if she had read his mind, she whispered, "When I am gone.put this.at the head.of my.grave." She reached up and patted the cross that hung at his throat, then her hand sank down to the sand once again, the effort of holding it up too much for her weak and injured body. "You won't die!" Quatre screamed. "You won't, you mustn't!" In frenzy, he jumped to his feet and began wailing in anguish, his head tilted back to the sky. Before he could realize what he was doing, he dived on top of her, his hands placed firmly against her wound and her heart, his teeth clenched. A white light shone from his hands and began pulsating, entering her body. The wound disappeared, her breaths slowed and became less ragged, and her eyes lost the madness. With a gasp, Quatre sank to the sand, dimly aware that he was laying atop of his love, that their bodies were so close.so very, very close.he could smell her, feel her, if he had stuck his tongue out he would have been able to taste her.Allah above, he wanted her so badly.but he was too tired, all the energy was gone from his body, and all he could think of was sleep, restful dreaming. His eyes closed and he sank into a deep sleep, his breathing matching that of the girl lying beneath him, both of them unconscious in the sand.
"Leah!" Quatre cried out as his eyes opened and he looked at his surroundings, at the beach he had seen so many times before. But this time, the tangy salt air was punctuated with a bitter, acrid smell. He recognized it; having been a soldier, he had sensed it enough times. It was the smell of blood. "LEAH!" He screamed and ran forward, his feet finding next to no purchase in the sand, yet still, continuously running. A dark shape, lying in the wet sand, grew steadily larger as he sprinted his worry and his love sprouting wings from his ankles. He fell to his knees next to the still figure. Blood had once spurted out of a wound in her chest, and now a dark mass of congealing blood had formed around the open flesh. Wasting no time, Quatre began to work, washing away the blood. He pulled out a pair of tweezers and dipped them into the wound, feeling around for the hard lump he knew would be there. He found it, and drew it out, then sewed the injury shut. His mind was working furiously, not letting any stray thoughts in, but his subconscious was a mess of thoughts and fears. There was one thought that kept resurfacing, no matter how much he tried to bury it deep within him; this is too much like the dream. This is too similar to the dream. He kept replaying the scenes in his mind, those scenes that had become so familiar to him. Somehow, deep within him, he knew she was going to die. But then his heart stopped a beat as her eyelids fluttered -oh, how beautiful her lashes were! - and she fought to open her eyes. With a great effort, she had forced them open, and lay on the beach looking up at him. "Quatre?" she whispered, then winced, as if it hurt to speak. "Ssh, love, sh, it will all be all right," he told her, his voice breaking. "I'm here, and I'm not leaving." "No, Quatre! No!" she yelled out, suddenly animated. Quatre drew back, afraid at the wild look in her eyes. "You MUST go back! You cannot stay here! They have found a way.to get to you.through dreaming.I was their bait, go back, Quatre.If ever you loved me, you MUST go back!" Her words were slurred, her voice drunken. Her fingers clutched his wrist, her nails digging into his flesh. "Go back!" she told him again. "I'm not leaving without you," he said fiercely, a wild heat burning in his chest. Was it his love? Was it pain? "You.must.go." she whispered again, an animal-like look in her eyes. "You can't stay, they will kill you." "Sh, love, this is only a dream, they can't hurt us here." "Oh, but they can! They can, and they will, Quatre. They will kill you. Don't you.don't you." Her chest heaved and she lay on her back gasping for air. Her short, ragged breaths escaped through her mouth, the pungent smell of death evident. Quatre was once again reminded of his dream, and of how close she lay to dying here, now, at his knees. As if she had read his mind, she whispered, "When I am gone.put this.at the head.of my.grave." She reached up and patted the cross that hung at his throat, then her hand sank down to the sand once again, the effort of holding it up too much for her weak and injured body. "You won't die!" Quatre screamed. "You won't, you mustn't!" In frenzy, he jumped to his feet and began wailing in anguish, his head tilted back to the sky. Before he could realize what he was doing, he dived on top of her, his hands placed firmly against her wound and her heart, his teeth clenched. A white light shone from his hands and began pulsating, entering her body. The wound disappeared, her breaths slowed and became less ragged, and her eyes lost the madness. With a gasp, Quatre sank to the sand, dimly aware that he was laying atop of his love, that their bodies were so close.so very, very close.he could smell her, feel her, if he had stuck his tongue out he would have been able to taste her.Allah above, he wanted her so badly.but he was too tired, all the energy was gone from his body, and all he could think of was sleep, restful dreaming. His eyes closed and he sank into a deep sleep, his breathing matching that of the girl lying beneath him, both of them unconscious in the sand.