Beneath the Waves

Setting: Near(ish) future, tied with my one shot Sandcastles at the Beach

He felt the water close in around him and filling his lungs. He fought hard, but a hand much larger than his own held him down, shoving him beneath the surface. Fear ripped through him, stealing away rational thought and his focus to fight against it. His vision darkened around the edges and he tried to hold his breath, but he had already swallowed too much water. He couldn't even remember how he'd gotten there or why someone was trying to kill him.

His eyes snapped open and suddenly he was lying on the beach, a pair of wide, blue eyes staring down at him, tangled dark hair falling around her round little face and a name that wasn't his tumbling from her childish lips.

"Tom? Wake up."

That one jolted him fully awake, his name working its way through the dream with Liz's voice murmuring it, and as his eyes opened - really opened, not just as part of the dream - he found what looked like an older pair of the same eyes he had just seen. He blinked hard, pulling himself fully from it, and his wife grimaced a little. "You were having a nightmare."

"Yeah," he managed, his voice raspy from sleep and he shifted. She moved so that he had room to sit up. They were in their bed, in their apartment. He wasn't drowning and there wasn't any immediate danger. He had gotten in late the night before, jet lagged from a week long trip to Hong Kong, and had crawled into bed with Liz and had been out almost immediately. The next thing he had known the hand was wrapped around his shirt and shoving him beneath the waves, saltwater filling his mouth and nose and lungs.

"You okay?"

Tom startled out of his thoughts. "Yeah," he managed, one hand running through his dark hair and standing it on end. "Just a dream."

Liz inched closer, her hand finding his pressed against the mattress and her fingers moved across his. "You want to talk about it?"

"That's usually my line," he teased weakly.

"Yeah, well you have to let me return the favour every now and then," she answered as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his bare shoulder. "Talk to me, Tom?"

He pulled in a steadying breath. "I was drowning. It's… I haven't had that nightmare in years, but there's a hand shoving me under water and I can't fight it."

"You've had it before?"

"Yeah. I… I don't know. It might have happened? If it did, I was really young. It's always felt more real than just a dream." He closed his eyes and felt her arms wrap around him, pulling a real smile from him. "I'm okay, babe. Promise."

"Why now do you think? Did something happen on your trip?"

"No. Nothing that should have sparked that." He sighed. "The strangest part was there was something new. It's always just ended with me blacking out and I wake up, but… I woke up on the beach. I'm not even sure it was connected. It didn't feel like it was. I didn't feel like I'd just nearly drowned." He chuckled softly, his attempt to explain his spinning thoughts coming from him halted and awkwardly, but Liz hadn't let go yet, so he tried to work his way through it. "There was a girl there. She looked like you, but a lot younger. A kid." He risked a glance at Liz in the dark to find her staring wide-eyed. "What?"

His wife finally let go of her hold on him and scooted towards the opposite edge of the bed. "I was going to show you when you got home, but I fell asleep before you came in."

"Sorry."

"Because I've never done that to you?" she laughed and started digging through her purse. "Your boss called a couple days ago and wanted to give me something. Flip the light on?"

Tom frowned and squinted as he did as she asked, blinking hard to try to clear his contacts that had dried in his sleep. Liz circled around to his side of the bed and pulled a photo from an envelope. "She said that the woman in the photo here is my mother. That's why she gave it to me. That's me and the little boy is Christopher Hargrave."

He was still sitting in their bed, but he felt the world give a dangerous jolt. Little Liz in the photo - then a young Masha Rostova, he supposed - wore the exact same face as the little girl in his dream. The name she'd said, the one he couldn't quite remember when he woke, hit him like a blow to the face.

Christopher.

"Tom?"

"She was you," he breathed. "From the dream."

Liz loosed a breath. "Well, you've been looking for something more concrete to verify what Red told you."

Tom snorted. "Dreams aren't exactly concrete."

"Babe…."

"I'm okay. Just processing," he promised, and a short laugh escaped him. "You know what this means, right?" he asked as he tapped the photo.

"I've known you for a long time," Liz answered as she reached a hand out. He took it, pulling it to his lips and kissing her knuckles, listening to her sigh. "It doesn't have to change anything. You and me, we make our choices. We may have been Masha and Christopher, but we choose to be Liz and Tom. We've earned that at least."

"It'll change some things when Scottie finds out, and it'll come out eventually if I keep working for her."

She hummed a soft agreement. "Do you want her to know?"

The question sounded so simple, but they both knew it wasn't. Did Tom want to try to see if he even could connect with his biological mother? Did he want to wade into the questions of who he was before his life had gone to hell and who he might have been had he been able to stay. He never would have been Jacob Phelps or have had to struggle just to survive. Maybe he would have met Liz again, maybe not. "I don't know," he managed after a long moment.

Liz shifted and her hand was soft against his scruffy cheek. She pulled him down to meet her, the kiss tender and reassuring. "You know I love you right? You stood with me when my crazy father kidnapped us."

"Well, I'm not expecting Scottie to kidnap us," he answered with a quirked smile.

Liz rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove. " I just mean that you should know you don't have to face this by yourself."

"I know," he murmured.

"We've got this. Together."

"I love you too," he whispered, leaning in so that their foreheads touched. They had already been through so much, and he was certain that he wouldn't dare face this emotional land mine without her there to hold him steady. She was his peace, though. She was his anchor that kept him rooted against the storm and kept him from slipping beneath the crashing waves. She was his everything, and even with all the questions that surrounded them, they had that. They had each other.

"It doesn't have to be decided tonight," she reminded him, pulling him with her as she scooted back into bed.

Tom reached for the light and she set the photo on the nightstand. They had a good couple of hours before Agnes would be awake, and sleep sounded amazing right about then. He inched back under the covers, Liz laying her head in the crook of his shoulder and draping an arm around his middle. As long as she had hold of him, he knew he wouldn't drown.

Notes: It's official, I'm utterly obsessed with the idea that Liz and Tom met as kids. It's my little pet theory that I will not let go of unless canon proves me wrong lol.

And just as a side note to Becca, because I have no other way to contact you outside of leaving you a note in one of my stories and hoping you see it, but I wanted to let you know that your comment in your review for Deep in the Grey sparked a gif set over on Tumblr. So thank you! :D