DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters from 'Mutant X'. They're not
my property. They belong to Tribune Entertainment.
***
*********
The big handle of the clock approached the number four on its surface with great effort; when it arrived above the number, it drained out the last amount of energy from the battery and the clock ceased.
Jesse stood up and approached the dead object. He noticed the stopping of the clock because he spent the last 30 minutes just staring at it, waiting for something even he did not know about. Detaching it from the wall, he took it in his hands. "Do you have extra batteries?" he asked.
Brennan looked up at him. "Mm."
Jesse turned around. "For the clock," and lifted the object.
"Oh, yeah. They're in the kitchen, top drawer to the right, next to the door."
"Ok." Jesse nodded and soon disappeared into the kitchen.
When Jesse was gone, Brennan left his eyes on the small Psionic lying on the green couch. "Are you planning on staying numb the entire day?" he asked her.
Emma looked at him. She did not feel comfortable talking to him now. If she did she would probably let her sensitive side collapse on her one more time and tell Brennan what she felt should be hidden from him. She took a huge gulp of air. No, she would not tell him. She would not say a word of her knowledge neither to him nor to Jesse. "It's safer this way," she thought... for now. "What's wrong with that?" she asked casually, pushing the alertness in her voice so further down that it felt invisible to others.
"Well... you haven't said a word since I came out of the bedroom." Brennan pushed himself to think nothing of the almost misty gaze of his friend but the silence which she began building did little to help him in that task.
"I don't have anything to say." Emma placed her arm over her head, letting her fingers caress her left ear tenderly.
"You gotta have something."
"It's not like I've never been quiet before, Brennan." There was no annoyance in her voice although for one brief moment, it was felt swimming inside her until she managed to drown it for a while.
Brennan leaned back on his chair, letting the fingers of his strong hand provide a temporarily leaning instrument for the right side of his face. The silence felt uncomfortable. He felt as if they were all waiting for an unavoidable visit of a shadowy creature to appear and take whatever had been attached as 'precious' to them; it disturbed him. "It's been six hours."
"Shows that you have patience then, doesn't it." She did not have to force it, the gentleness came easily to her voice; it surprised her.
"No, I guess not," he sighed. It felt like a dry sigh that spread through the room like an unwanted scent. But it was a warm sigh, a very warm, lively sigh.
Emma took in another deep breath and managed to accidentally breathe in what left Brennan's lips, partially at least. She closed her eyes for a moment as the warmth of those particles, alien to others but so familiar to her, traveled through her respiratory system almost as if it belonged there.
Her eyelids suddenly applied pressure; it felt good but it shouldn't do that. She would stay on her righteous judgment; Emma was still farther away from presenting him with a truthful forgiveness. Her heart beat silently, whispering to cease that ridiculous grudge. "No," Emma told it. "It's too early."
Her heart accepted the answer with sadness. "One day you will look back at it and it might be too late, Emma."
"No, it wouldn't. I know him."
"Do you?"
"Yeah. Go away."
"Ok." It silenced.
Emma opened her eyes. A slight shiver ran down on her arm which rested on her stomach. He did not avert his eyes. Did he know? About Shalimar? About herself? She could sense his eagerness of finding answers to something which she could barely touch to be able to recognize.
There was still natural light in the room, perhaps faint but it was there and it was revealing his face and highlighting his gaze. If he only possessed the higher powers of the mind, she could at least tell him something and not torture her lips into forming and releasing the words. But he wasn't and Emma felt drifting farther and farther away from him to summon up the courage and tell him.
"Why do you keep staring at me?" she asked him.
"I don't know," he responded. "Maybe because..." he took a breath. "How did Shal appear when she talked to you?"
"You already asked me that."
"Tell me again."
Emma waited for a moment. "Tired. Very, very tired," she then told him.
"Didn't you manage to read anything from her?"
"I'm not a mind-reader, Bren. I can't read thoughts."
"I meant feelings."
"No you didn't."
"Fine... how about her feelings?"
"You don't need to be a telempath to learn what she's feeling. It's pretty obvious."
"But you can sense that better than the others. It could help if you could tell me."
Emma removed her gaze and turned her head in another direction so she would be looking at the ceiling where it was safer. "She felt scared, tired..." an annoying amount of saliva got stuck at the entrance of her throat; she swallowed it. "In pain..." And that would be everything she would reveal for now.
"And she said nothing more?"
Emma shook her head in response.
"Alright," he sighed again but this time quicker and stood up. Once again he traveled over to the bedroom; he needed to see his lover and escape from the uncomfortable thickness which had started appearing between him and Emma.
Emma did not remove her eyes from the ceiling to watch him abandon the living room; she closed them instead. The darkness provided an opportunity for her mutated genes to create a secret pathway to the memories from Shalimar's partial confession and hopefully with enough persistence and strength she could even enter at least the first corridors or the courtyard of the Feral's mind.
*********
He closed the metallic lid and flipped the clock. Turning the handle at the back he quickly adjusted the handles on the same numbers as those on his wristwatch. "That's better," he smiled. But the smile did not stay long enough to endure the sudden cold tremors which quickly cut through him, causing him to take a stronger grip on the object in his right hand while steadying himself on the counter. The objects before him began to lose their sharpness and add blurriness instead, twisting their shape. His mind began spinning; he dropped the clock on the wooden surface which made no sound and took hold of its edges otherwise he would subdue to the dizziness and fall on the floor. "Oh shit," he whispered, blinking hard several times to try and adjust his vision but it did nothing.
He wanted to shout to his friends for assistance but his voice did not rise, picturing only the mute movement of his mouth, forming words which others couldn't hear. If this did not stop his skin would begin producing sweat and he would lose his balance completely... Jesse was hoping for the opposite.
His body and even a few brave thoughts warned him of a disturbing change if he wasn't careful: he would turn transparent and then concrete and then in a shape even he would not recognize. As the moments were passing, the beats of his hearts were increasing their speed. He opted to cause a sound with the spoon which was placed only an inch away but the cursed tremors speeded down through his body once more and with the same swiftness which it caused the sudden river of strange symptoms, it was with that same swiftness that it ended them.
The original shape of the objects before his eyes returned; the sweat retreated to its source, with no chance of appearance; the balance was not lost; his heart slowly returned its normal pace. "Shit..." he took in a large amount of air. "What in hell was that?" and searched for answers he could not find in front of him with his eyes.
It was quick but it felt longer. Highly alarming but with its disappearance, instead of remaining, even the alertness was lowering itself. Jesse did not let it go but he could hold on only shortly to that awareness. It was there but it stayed in a faint state. Unhealthy response and yet running.
*********
Emma squeezed the fingers on her right hand tightly with the fingers from her right one. She saw images inside the Feral's head which her mind did little to approve and only increased the regret inside the Psionic. The invisible scream when that first miniature blade was thrust inside the, although strong, still fragile and sensitive body of the blonde mutant; the evil green and black eyes which stared emotionlessly at their victim, absorbing the hidden satisfaction of pain which emerged from her. Those eyes... they appeared familiar. Her eyelids pressed harder. Where had she seen them before? The screams registered little but the eyes were raw, almost imprinted from a not-so-distant memory. Where? Where had she seen them? The eyelids applied pressure once more before her blue eyes fought that pressure to be met by the natural light in the room once more. "Oh god..." she whispered. "Brennan's dream."
Her eyes searched the empty space in front of her. They found nothing but the realization felt like a sharp stab to her chest, forcing the Psionic to shut those blues once more. "How did that..." she wanted to continue with her wondering when her mind began exploring, almost independently, once more to return to her memories of the Feral and penetrate the force field surrounding her important thoughts, at least those on the surface; those thoughts which she could access with the littlest effort.
She saw a road; a wide, dusty, abandoned road. Her senses were her eyes, providing light for her, giving her the opportunity to see. Everything else around her was covered in darkness. Emma felt momentarily shivers. It was cold although everything else around her was eerily tranquil. She wanted to call out but the silence appeared more demanding.
Her feet began to walk on the dusty road. For a short moment a small flash came into view in the distance and an unclear voice which resembled Jesse's. He might have been calling for help but it did not appear strong enough for a full detection by her senses so she continued forward. As she walked, another memory was thrown back at her. It hadn't been from the attackers but rather Adam's funeral. Emma looked at her hands as they rested on the soft green grass while the sun shone sadly over her and her friends. The image in front of her brought a heavy black stone on her heart.
Her body tried to appear heavier on the couch on which it laid as she gripped the edges of the armrest beneath her head. Her gaze glided silently over the deceased corpse of their mentor. Funny... it should have been raining, thunder, heavy black clouds but there was intense sunshine instead. She was sitting on the grass, two feet away from the dreaded site. His face peaceful and clean... they had cleaned him with great care two days before, Shalimar and she; his body was still and almost perfect as if he had died in his sleep, experiencing the sweetest of dreams. Emma tried to breathe in but if felt difficult; his body although peaceful sent annoying needle-like obstacles for her to lungs to process the air in the right order; the heart, trying to rid itself from the heavy stones of grief could offer no other help but increase her difficulty in her fight to breathe correctly. More pressure was applied to her blue eyes as the memories made the eyelids heavier.
The weather was warm, almost beautifully warm but she felt so much colder inside. all of them did. Her inner torture did not seem enough for some evil force watching over her. No, she "needed" the sufferings of her friends as well. Yes, she needed more weight to be placed upon her, her mind, her senses... her heart. The dark and depressing emotions of the people surrounding her were arriving every moment and layering themselves on her. Her psyche gave little resistance to them. She thought she was stronger than this but the sharp correction erased that false hope quickly.
A cold sigh. Emma closed her eyes. She knew the others were in pain but she wanted them to stop; she wanted them to turn off their emotions and just stare coldly in front of them. Another sigh. Why was she being so selfish? Was she not tough enough to pass through this sad time by herself? Of course she would not walk through it alone... but it was getting growingly difficult for her to shield herself from the deepening remorse which generated from the others. A soft hand was felt on her shoulder as the tears barely took a moment to disappear. Her hand wanted to touch it but instead it remained on the grass. She did not know how her psyche and heart would endure the following days. She would try. It would be torturous beyond her humanly stamina but she would try.
The greenness of the grass beneath her fell into the dusty brown color of the familiar road. Emma wiped the invisible tears from the soft surface of her cheeks and took a deep breath before she continued. While walking, she temporarily dived into her own hesitation of whether to continue this small journey with more painful memories she knew would attack her without warning and without mercy. She stopped and looked around. It was still silent; still dark with only the road visible to her eyes. Emma needed help but neither Jesse nor Brennan could provide it for her.
She would have to continue. Perhaps more answers could be found this way. Ten steps were taken when her mind was sucked in yet another vortex of memories/unearthly illusions.
She stood on an empty street at night. The sign as the beginning had said "KEEP OUT" with letters in red paint but Emma apparently had passed it without much thought. The buildings were barely visible and only their giant presence was sensed without the chance to be ignored. But the buildings were empty; there were the flickering lights from the bent but tall polls which were struggling to maintain their function. Two old pages of a newspaper rolled swiftly in front of her, across the empty street. Only a few howls of hungry wolves were needed for this scene to resemble that of a horror movie.
She was waiting for someone but without certainty of their identity. Her further thinking was stopped when two hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back, pinning her to the body of her attacker without the opportunity for the upcoming assault to be returned. Her heartbeats rose when her mouth was violently covered with the intention to be ripped out. Her regular breathing came into difficulties as an arm was wrapped too tightly around her waist and her hands held by another person she could not see - a shadow that appeared next to her without a face. Then a third shadowy figure materialized in front of her, causing her heart's pace to increase even further, reaching its limit. Another disturbing surprise and the heart would surely rip itself out of her chest and simply the mere thought felt rigorously painful. Suddenly two eyes were uncovered in front of her; blue and bright but that heavenly color could not mask the devious intentions lurking inside them. Emma wanted to scream but she couldn't. The eyes frightened her. Their gaze unwontedly reached down inside her, pulling out further evidence of the Psionic inability to battle this fear. Her powers were dead. They did not function. This realization caused further panic. She was helpless.
The shadowy figure lifted a metallic object in front of it. It had three long thin knives with edges which appeared deadly sharp with fresh blood dripping from them. The site of the weapon reached inside the Psionic once again. Her fear, instinctively increased, blowing icy winds inside her, causing her to shiver. This was not a memory. This never happened! What was this? "Help!!" She screamed franticly beneath the cold pressure of the hand.
No one.
The eyes smiled devilishly. "Don't struggle," a voice from the shadow was heard. It sounded childish and calm... it sounded unfamiliar.
Emma shut her eyes tightly. She could not battle this. She wanted to remove the images but it was hard. "Em! Em!" she then heard Brennan's voice but her fear kept his face invisible to her.
Then something happened. That voice sent strange waves around her, relieving the pressure on her lips, shoulders, wrists and waist until it finally disappeared. She could breathe now. She could finally breathe. Opening her eyes quickly, Emma saw the Elemental's face upon her. There was natural light once more; the darkness disappeared; the eerie silence was gone; the cold eyes were replaced with the chocolaty warmth of her friend. Pulling herself up, she flung her arms around him, embracing him tightly with the fear that one loose moment might cause him to disappear. "Oh god... oh god... Bren..." she breathed out, staring in front of her. The bodily warmth increased as his arms were wrapped securely around her, allowing her to drift into the corridors of needed safety.
"Shh... it's ok." he whispered softly. Her grip appeared with such might that if Brennan hadn't been physically built as strong as he had been, she would surely squeeze the life out of him.
Emma did not want to shut her eyes again. She did not want to return to the dark fear which was beginning to ruthlessly cut a cold, spiky bath for itself inside her, going towards her heart. "What happened?" she heard him ask.
"Those eyes," Emma spoke with an uncertainty so obvious in her voice that it almost wanted to shout out to be heard. "I saw..." she took in some air, "I saw the same eyes from your dreams..." she was fighting not to allow the shivering to appear; she did not need to appear so vulnerable, not now.
"And?"
"They wanted to hurt me and I... I-I couldn't do anything," but her voice betrayed her. Brennan already felt her lack of defenses and he proved that by tightening his embrace, increasing the unnecessary comfortable safety around the Psionic.
"A dream?"
"No, no... I don't know what it was but it felt..." if she would allow herself to cry right now, the distress would pull down an entire flood of thick colorless tears. "Scary." The last word transformed the trembling voice into a soft whisper as she buried her lips into the rugged material of Brennan's shirt. Her eyes continued to stare needlessly in front of her; she did not feel safe enough to return to the darkness of her mind again.
He could feel the dry flesh of her lips even beneath the clothing. She was breathing steadily as the warm waves of her breath hit the surface of his skin like sea water on an abandoned rocky shore. Brennan picked up a strange smell which sent a brief sign of alarm through him until he realized that he could not only feel the insecurity through the movement of her body and the sound of her voice but he could also smell it. He sighed sadly; she was beginning to draw concerns from him.
*********
***
*********
The big handle of the clock approached the number four on its surface with great effort; when it arrived above the number, it drained out the last amount of energy from the battery and the clock ceased.
Jesse stood up and approached the dead object. He noticed the stopping of the clock because he spent the last 30 minutes just staring at it, waiting for something even he did not know about. Detaching it from the wall, he took it in his hands. "Do you have extra batteries?" he asked.
Brennan looked up at him. "Mm."
Jesse turned around. "For the clock," and lifted the object.
"Oh, yeah. They're in the kitchen, top drawer to the right, next to the door."
"Ok." Jesse nodded and soon disappeared into the kitchen.
When Jesse was gone, Brennan left his eyes on the small Psionic lying on the green couch. "Are you planning on staying numb the entire day?" he asked her.
Emma looked at him. She did not feel comfortable talking to him now. If she did she would probably let her sensitive side collapse on her one more time and tell Brennan what she felt should be hidden from him. She took a huge gulp of air. No, she would not tell him. She would not say a word of her knowledge neither to him nor to Jesse. "It's safer this way," she thought... for now. "What's wrong with that?" she asked casually, pushing the alertness in her voice so further down that it felt invisible to others.
"Well... you haven't said a word since I came out of the bedroom." Brennan pushed himself to think nothing of the almost misty gaze of his friend but the silence which she began building did little to help him in that task.
"I don't have anything to say." Emma placed her arm over her head, letting her fingers caress her left ear tenderly.
"You gotta have something."
"It's not like I've never been quiet before, Brennan." There was no annoyance in her voice although for one brief moment, it was felt swimming inside her until she managed to drown it for a while.
Brennan leaned back on his chair, letting the fingers of his strong hand provide a temporarily leaning instrument for the right side of his face. The silence felt uncomfortable. He felt as if they were all waiting for an unavoidable visit of a shadowy creature to appear and take whatever had been attached as 'precious' to them; it disturbed him. "It's been six hours."
"Shows that you have patience then, doesn't it." She did not have to force it, the gentleness came easily to her voice; it surprised her.
"No, I guess not," he sighed. It felt like a dry sigh that spread through the room like an unwanted scent. But it was a warm sigh, a very warm, lively sigh.
Emma took in another deep breath and managed to accidentally breathe in what left Brennan's lips, partially at least. She closed her eyes for a moment as the warmth of those particles, alien to others but so familiar to her, traveled through her respiratory system almost as if it belonged there.
Her eyelids suddenly applied pressure; it felt good but it shouldn't do that. She would stay on her righteous judgment; Emma was still farther away from presenting him with a truthful forgiveness. Her heart beat silently, whispering to cease that ridiculous grudge. "No," Emma told it. "It's too early."
Her heart accepted the answer with sadness. "One day you will look back at it and it might be too late, Emma."
"No, it wouldn't. I know him."
"Do you?"
"Yeah. Go away."
"Ok." It silenced.
Emma opened her eyes. A slight shiver ran down on her arm which rested on her stomach. He did not avert his eyes. Did he know? About Shalimar? About herself? She could sense his eagerness of finding answers to something which she could barely touch to be able to recognize.
There was still natural light in the room, perhaps faint but it was there and it was revealing his face and highlighting his gaze. If he only possessed the higher powers of the mind, she could at least tell him something and not torture her lips into forming and releasing the words. But he wasn't and Emma felt drifting farther and farther away from him to summon up the courage and tell him.
"Why do you keep staring at me?" she asked him.
"I don't know," he responded. "Maybe because..." he took a breath. "How did Shal appear when she talked to you?"
"You already asked me that."
"Tell me again."
Emma waited for a moment. "Tired. Very, very tired," she then told him.
"Didn't you manage to read anything from her?"
"I'm not a mind-reader, Bren. I can't read thoughts."
"I meant feelings."
"No you didn't."
"Fine... how about her feelings?"
"You don't need to be a telempath to learn what she's feeling. It's pretty obvious."
"But you can sense that better than the others. It could help if you could tell me."
Emma removed her gaze and turned her head in another direction so she would be looking at the ceiling where it was safer. "She felt scared, tired..." an annoying amount of saliva got stuck at the entrance of her throat; she swallowed it. "In pain..." And that would be everything she would reveal for now.
"And she said nothing more?"
Emma shook her head in response.
"Alright," he sighed again but this time quicker and stood up. Once again he traveled over to the bedroom; he needed to see his lover and escape from the uncomfortable thickness which had started appearing between him and Emma.
Emma did not remove her eyes from the ceiling to watch him abandon the living room; she closed them instead. The darkness provided an opportunity for her mutated genes to create a secret pathway to the memories from Shalimar's partial confession and hopefully with enough persistence and strength she could even enter at least the first corridors or the courtyard of the Feral's mind.
*********
He closed the metallic lid and flipped the clock. Turning the handle at the back he quickly adjusted the handles on the same numbers as those on his wristwatch. "That's better," he smiled. But the smile did not stay long enough to endure the sudden cold tremors which quickly cut through him, causing him to take a stronger grip on the object in his right hand while steadying himself on the counter. The objects before him began to lose their sharpness and add blurriness instead, twisting their shape. His mind began spinning; he dropped the clock on the wooden surface which made no sound and took hold of its edges otherwise he would subdue to the dizziness and fall on the floor. "Oh shit," he whispered, blinking hard several times to try and adjust his vision but it did nothing.
He wanted to shout to his friends for assistance but his voice did not rise, picturing only the mute movement of his mouth, forming words which others couldn't hear. If this did not stop his skin would begin producing sweat and he would lose his balance completely... Jesse was hoping for the opposite.
His body and even a few brave thoughts warned him of a disturbing change if he wasn't careful: he would turn transparent and then concrete and then in a shape even he would not recognize. As the moments were passing, the beats of his hearts were increasing their speed. He opted to cause a sound with the spoon which was placed only an inch away but the cursed tremors speeded down through his body once more and with the same swiftness which it caused the sudden river of strange symptoms, it was with that same swiftness that it ended them.
The original shape of the objects before his eyes returned; the sweat retreated to its source, with no chance of appearance; the balance was not lost; his heart slowly returned its normal pace. "Shit..." he took in a large amount of air. "What in hell was that?" and searched for answers he could not find in front of him with his eyes.
It was quick but it felt longer. Highly alarming but with its disappearance, instead of remaining, even the alertness was lowering itself. Jesse did not let it go but he could hold on only shortly to that awareness. It was there but it stayed in a faint state. Unhealthy response and yet running.
*********
Emma squeezed the fingers on her right hand tightly with the fingers from her right one. She saw images inside the Feral's head which her mind did little to approve and only increased the regret inside the Psionic. The invisible scream when that first miniature blade was thrust inside the, although strong, still fragile and sensitive body of the blonde mutant; the evil green and black eyes which stared emotionlessly at their victim, absorbing the hidden satisfaction of pain which emerged from her. Those eyes... they appeared familiar. Her eyelids pressed harder. Where had she seen them before? The screams registered little but the eyes were raw, almost imprinted from a not-so-distant memory. Where? Where had she seen them? The eyelids applied pressure once more before her blue eyes fought that pressure to be met by the natural light in the room once more. "Oh god..." she whispered. "Brennan's dream."
Her eyes searched the empty space in front of her. They found nothing but the realization felt like a sharp stab to her chest, forcing the Psionic to shut those blues once more. "How did that..." she wanted to continue with her wondering when her mind began exploring, almost independently, once more to return to her memories of the Feral and penetrate the force field surrounding her important thoughts, at least those on the surface; those thoughts which she could access with the littlest effort.
She saw a road; a wide, dusty, abandoned road. Her senses were her eyes, providing light for her, giving her the opportunity to see. Everything else around her was covered in darkness. Emma felt momentarily shivers. It was cold although everything else around her was eerily tranquil. She wanted to call out but the silence appeared more demanding.
Her feet began to walk on the dusty road. For a short moment a small flash came into view in the distance and an unclear voice which resembled Jesse's. He might have been calling for help but it did not appear strong enough for a full detection by her senses so she continued forward. As she walked, another memory was thrown back at her. It hadn't been from the attackers but rather Adam's funeral. Emma looked at her hands as they rested on the soft green grass while the sun shone sadly over her and her friends. The image in front of her brought a heavy black stone on her heart.
Her body tried to appear heavier on the couch on which it laid as she gripped the edges of the armrest beneath her head. Her gaze glided silently over the deceased corpse of their mentor. Funny... it should have been raining, thunder, heavy black clouds but there was intense sunshine instead. She was sitting on the grass, two feet away from the dreaded site. His face peaceful and clean... they had cleaned him with great care two days before, Shalimar and she; his body was still and almost perfect as if he had died in his sleep, experiencing the sweetest of dreams. Emma tried to breathe in but if felt difficult; his body although peaceful sent annoying needle-like obstacles for her to lungs to process the air in the right order; the heart, trying to rid itself from the heavy stones of grief could offer no other help but increase her difficulty in her fight to breathe correctly. More pressure was applied to her blue eyes as the memories made the eyelids heavier.
The weather was warm, almost beautifully warm but she felt so much colder inside. all of them did. Her inner torture did not seem enough for some evil force watching over her. No, she "needed" the sufferings of her friends as well. Yes, she needed more weight to be placed upon her, her mind, her senses... her heart. The dark and depressing emotions of the people surrounding her were arriving every moment and layering themselves on her. Her psyche gave little resistance to them. She thought she was stronger than this but the sharp correction erased that false hope quickly.
A cold sigh. Emma closed her eyes. She knew the others were in pain but she wanted them to stop; she wanted them to turn off their emotions and just stare coldly in front of them. Another sigh. Why was she being so selfish? Was she not tough enough to pass through this sad time by herself? Of course she would not walk through it alone... but it was getting growingly difficult for her to shield herself from the deepening remorse which generated from the others. A soft hand was felt on her shoulder as the tears barely took a moment to disappear. Her hand wanted to touch it but instead it remained on the grass. She did not know how her psyche and heart would endure the following days. She would try. It would be torturous beyond her humanly stamina but she would try.
The greenness of the grass beneath her fell into the dusty brown color of the familiar road. Emma wiped the invisible tears from the soft surface of her cheeks and took a deep breath before she continued. While walking, she temporarily dived into her own hesitation of whether to continue this small journey with more painful memories she knew would attack her without warning and without mercy. She stopped and looked around. It was still silent; still dark with only the road visible to her eyes. Emma needed help but neither Jesse nor Brennan could provide it for her.
She would have to continue. Perhaps more answers could be found this way. Ten steps were taken when her mind was sucked in yet another vortex of memories/unearthly illusions.
She stood on an empty street at night. The sign as the beginning had said "KEEP OUT" with letters in red paint but Emma apparently had passed it without much thought. The buildings were barely visible and only their giant presence was sensed without the chance to be ignored. But the buildings were empty; there were the flickering lights from the bent but tall polls which were struggling to maintain their function. Two old pages of a newspaper rolled swiftly in front of her, across the empty street. Only a few howls of hungry wolves were needed for this scene to resemble that of a horror movie.
She was waiting for someone but without certainty of their identity. Her further thinking was stopped when two hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back, pinning her to the body of her attacker without the opportunity for the upcoming assault to be returned. Her heartbeats rose when her mouth was violently covered with the intention to be ripped out. Her regular breathing came into difficulties as an arm was wrapped too tightly around her waist and her hands held by another person she could not see - a shadow that appeared next to her without a face. Then a third shadowy figure materialized in front of her, causing her heart's pace to increase even further, reaching its limit. Another disturbing surprise and the heart would surely rip itself out of her chest and simply the mere thought felt rigorously painful. Suddenly two eyes were uncovered in front of her; blue and bright but that heavenly color could not mask the devious intentions lurking inside them. Emma wanted to scream but she couldn't. The eyes frightened her. Their gaze unwontedly reached down inside her, pulling out further evidence of the Psionic inability to battle this fear. Her powers were dead. They did not function. This realization caused further panic. She was helpless.
The shadowy figure lifted a metallic object in front of it. It had three long thin knives with edges which appeared deadly sharp with fresh blood dripping from them. The site of the weapon reached inside the Psionic once again. Her fear, instinctively increased, blowing icy winds inside her, causing her to shiver. This was not a memory. This never happened! What was this? "Help!!" She screamed franticly beneath the cold pressure of the hand.
No one.
The eyes smiled devilishly. "Don't struggle," a voice from the shadow was heard. It sounded childish and calm... it sounded unfamiliar.
Emma shut her eyes tightly. She could not battle this. She wanted to remove the images but it was hard. "Em! Em!" she then heard Brennan's voice but her fear kept his face invisible to her.
Then something happened. That voice sent strange waves around her, relieving the pressure on her lips, shoulders, wrists and waist until it finally disappeared. She could breathe now. She could finally breathe. Opening her eyes quickly, Emma saw the Elemental's face upon her. There was natural light once more; the darkness disappeared; the eerie silence was gone; the cold eyes were replaced with the chocolaty warmth of her friend. Pulling herself up, she flung her arms around him, embracing him tightly with the fear that one loose moment might cause him to disappear. "Oh god... oh god... Bren..." she breathed out, staring in front of her. The bodily warmth increased as his arms were wrapped securely around her, allowing her to drift into the corridors of needed safety.
"Shh... it's ok." he whispered softly. Her grip appeared with such might that if Brennan hadn't been physically built as strong as he had been, she would surely squeeze the life out of him.
Emma did not want to shut her eyes again. She did not want to return to the dark fear which was beginning to ruthlessly cut a cold, spiky bath for itself inside her, going towards her heart. "What happened?" she heard him ask.
"Those eyes," Emma spoke with an uncertainty so obvious in her voice that it almost wanted to shout out to be heard. "I saw..." she took in some air, "I saw the same eyes from your dreams..." she was fighting not to allow the shivering to appear; she did not need to appear so vulnerable, not now.
"And?"
"They wanted to hurt me and I... I-I couldn't do anything," but her voice betrayed her. Brennan already felt her lack of defenses and he proved that by tightening his embrace, increasing the unnecessary comfortable safety around the Psionic.
"A dream?"
"No, no... I don't know what it was but it felt..." if she would allow herself to cry right now, the distress would pull down an entire flood of thick colorless tears. "Scary." The last word transformed the trembling voice into a soft whisper as she buried her lips into the rugged material of Brennan's shirt. Her eyes continued to stare needlessly in front of her; she did not feel safe enough to return to the darkness of her mind again.
He could feel the dry flesh of her lips even beneath the clothing. She was breathing steadily as the warm waves of her breath hit the surface of his skin like sea water on an abandoned rocky shore. Brennan picked up a strange smell which sent a brief sign of alarm through him until he realized that he could not only feel the insecurity through the movement of her body and the sound of her voice but he could also smell it. He sighed sadly; she was beginning to draw concerns from him.
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