Thoughtcrimes: Forgotten – Part 2

Freya noted it was almost eight as she reached for the cup with her soda. Michael had brought her a sandwich earlier, after learning she'd spent the day sitting with Brendan. Harper, Kunzel, and Merriweather had all been by to check on Brendan's condition, which seemed to be steadily improving. The doctor was even talking about moving him to a regular room tomorrow.

She sucked on the straw, a loud gurgling noise telling her the cup was virtually empty.

Should I tell her how annoying and rude that is?

Freya's head shot up so fast she almost gave herself a muscle cramp. Although Brendan had drifted in and out all day, he'd never been conscious enough to have a lucid thought. Until now.

"Brendan? Thank god. Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

Brendan frowned at her and she felt his questions, his uncertainty. "Do I know you?"

Well, there it was, the question of the day. How should she answer? While she was thinking, he frowned and seemed to be concentrating. "You . . . you were here before." He closed his eyes and grimaced, riding out a wave of pain. Freya automatically took his hand and held on tightly, showing him she was there. A few moments later, he opened his eyes, his features a bit more relaxed under the bandages. She almost laughed at the patch of unruly black that stuck out from the center of the ring of white. "You did that before too," he said softly, his eyes studying the grip she had on his hand.

Freya took a deep breath. His mind was calmer and clearer than it had been since he'd been shot. His eyes reflected the question in his mind. What was their connection? Why was she there? She smiled, suddenly not afraid to share with him what had happened.

"I'm Freya McAllister. I'm your partner. The reason you don't remember me is that you were shot in the head while rescuing a six year old child from a building where a bomb had been planted." She could feel the fear mounting in him and she smiled as she squeezed his hand more tightly. "But the doctors tell me your chances of recovery are excellent and they really seem to know what they're doing, so I don't want you to worry."

She could feel the fear and confusion that was filling him as easily as she could feel him fighting them both. "What day is it?" he asked, a frown scrunching his face.

"I'll tell you, but promise me you won't worry about it. I'm going to tell you what happened and what the doctors have told me. And then I can tell you about us, if you'd like. But if you get all upset, the nurses will kick me out and then I'll have to drive everyone crazy from the waiting room and you'll be stuck in here by yourself."

The corner of his mouth twitched just a little. "Well, we can't have that. No freaking out, got it." Okay, maybe I could have been partners with her. I've never been partners with a woman before. Wonder how many women there are in the NSA. NSA. National . . . National what?

"Brendan, focus, you're drifting."

"Huh?" He looked dazed for a moment as he tried to bring his thoughts back to the conversation at hand. "Sorry . . . mind's fuzzy."

"Maybe we should do this later."

"No, just . . . you may have to help me stay focused. I want to know. Please." He looked confused for a moment, his brows creasing. Crap. I can't remember the question.

Freya sighed and wondered how many times they might have this conversation before it stuck. At least it would pass the time. "Okay, Brendan, today is July 25, 2007."

Brendan blinked a few times and then took a long breath, letting it out slowly. She frowned. He didn't believe her. She looked around the room and finally found the newspaper in the floor beside the chair. She picked it up and showed him the date.

"That's why you don't remember me. You told the doctor the last thing you remembered was going to arrest Simeon Graddy. Is that still right?" He replayed the same scene in his head as before, stopping with him knocking on the door.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it. That's a weird place for memories to stop."

"I talked to Merriweather about it so I could find out how much time you were missing. She said you and Graddy got in a scuffle and he knocked you down some stairs. You had a mild concussion and never remembered what happened after you knocked on his door. The doctor thinks that may have made a natural breaking point of some kind."

"That was . . . a little over two years ago. I'm missing two years of my life." He closed his eyes and grimaced. Two years, gone. What the crap?

"Remember," she said firmly. "No freaking out. The doctor said your memories can come back, we just have to be patient. It might take a while and they might not all come back at once, but they can come back."

He looked up at her, studying her expression. "And they might not come back . . . right?"

Freya sighed and dropped her head a little. "It's a possibility."

Brendan swallowed and looked away for a second before looking back at Freya. "How did you get to be my partner?"

Freya let a small smile creep across her face. "Before I tell you that, I need to tell you something about me, something that very few people know. I want to tell you this first because I waited before and . . . well, it almost had disastrous consequences. I want you to know you can trust me, so I'm going to trust you with this. I'm telepathic."

He looked at her, a small frown on his face. "I must be more drugged up than I thought. I could have sworn you said you're telepathic."

"I did."

"Telepathic . . . as in reads minds?"

Freya nodded.

Either I'm hallucinating big time or she's nuts. Telepathic. That's insane.

"It's not insane and you're not hallucinating."

Brendan narrowed his eyes at her. Lucky guess. "Okay, Miss Telepath, what am I thinking?" The theme to Scooby Doo popped into his head, which he thought was a very freaky thing in itself.

Freya giggled. "You're singing that Scooby Doo song again. The first day I met you, you had it stuck in your head all day." Her eyes widened. "And you don't get that very often. Maybe your subconscious realized that's what you were thinking that first day."

That can't be a lucky guess. Who in their right mind would guess the Scooby Doo theme song? Oh, my gosh, she is a telepath.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you." She paused. "I couldn't tell you immediately the first time we worked together and it almost destroyed your trust when I finally did. I didn't want that to happen this time. I want you to know from the beginning." She looked nervously up at him.

"Thank you for telling me . . . for trusting me."

Freya nodded. "We're partners. That's what we do."

Brendan smiled and squeezed her hand. "I want to know more."

oOo

Brendan shifted restlessly, resisting the urge to get out of bed and pace. When they got him up to walk a few steps or to sit in the chair by the window, he got so dizzy he was sure he'd be in the floor if someone wasn't there holding onto him. The first time they'd gotten him upright, the dizziness had led to nausea and he'd puked three steps from the bed. Fortunately, that had been a one time event. But he had enough sense to know better than to get up by himself for the moment.

Inactivity drove him crazy. He was used to being busy, both with his body and his mind. Even though he was too weak and too muddled to do anything constructive, that didn't mean he wasn't itching to try. He ran his legs along the sheets, alternately bending and straightening each leg and wiggling his toes. Anything to keep the circulation going.

Harper had been by earlier to assure him his job was safe and for him to relax and obey all the doctor's orders. He kept talking about when Brendan got his memory back, as if it was a certainty. Brendan couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he never got them back. Would the NSA still want him? He doubted it. He hadn't had the nerve to ask, not yet.

Then there was Freya. He didn't know what to make of her. She seemed very concerned about him, as if they had known each other for years. It scared him that she knew him so well, that she read his thoughts and feelings and even his pain, as if they were connected. It was more than just the telepathy, although that was scary enough. But he didn't remember her, he didn't feel for her. And that made him feel guilty. He was beginning to like her, but the differences in their memories made it awkward sometimes. He found it unsettling to deal with someone who knew so much more about him than he knew about them.

Brendan sighed and leaned his head back against the pillow. He knew he was lucky he had someone to look after him like she was. Freya almost literally watched over him day and night. He had to periodically kick her out so she could take care of things and he could have some down time. Trying to constantly monitor his thoughts while attempting to revive a stalled memory was wearing him out.

Brendan closed his eyes and squirmed a little to get comfortable. He realized he was moving cautiously to keep from jolting his head. Somewhere along the way, he'd started doing that automatically, so that most of the time he wasn't even aware he was doing it. He really hated being hurt and immobile. As he stilled, the exhaustion began to creep up on him so that he wasn't even aware he was drifting off.

oOo

Freya hurried into Brendan's room to find him sitting in the big chair in the corner. "Sorry it took me so long," she said as she set a plastic bag on the table. Brendan had been out of the ICU for several days and he was looking a little better each day. Although he still had the IV catheter taped to his arm, it was currently plugged and he was line-free. The bandage circling his head was much smaller than what he'd had initially. He'd asked for a mirror at the last dressing change and taken a long, dramatic look at the stitches in the side of his head, but he'd only commented on how lop-sided his hair was, choosing to ignore how close he'd come to death.

"That's okay, I told you not to hurry. I'm a big boy, now. I can stay in the hospital without supervision." He grinned up at her and she could tell he felt better than when she'd left. He'd had a headache, the someone is stabbing me in the temple kind.

"You feel better," she stated.

"I do. Did all my whining work?"

Freya lifted her eyebrows a bit and then dipped into the white plastic bag, pulling out a small yellow package. "Peanut M&Ms, just for you." She tossed the pack at him and Brendan caught it in both hands, not trusting his coordination to try one-handed.

"Yes! Thank you! A man's gotta have a little junk food every now and again." He tore off the top of the package and snagged a couple of the candies, tossing them in his mouth. Freya laughed as she pulled the smaller chair a little closer and sat down next to him. He was dressed in pajama's and a robe she'd brought from his apartment. Both looked so new that she theorized they were rarely used.

"Happy now?" she asked, enjoying the fact that he was enjoying the candy.

"Definitely. Harper came by while you were out. They've charged the four rich kids with everything from extortion to attempted murder and they're pretty sure they have enough evidence to make it stick, no matter what kind of lawyers the parents hire. Darrell Griffith is still out there."

Freya nodded. "Well, at least they got four out of five. Did they ever say why they shot you?"

Brendan hesitated, chewing his lower lip. "BJ was the shooter. Turns out he's quite a marksman. He was there for me. Darrell felt I was a threat and told BJ to get rid of me and anyone else who looked like they might mess things up."

Freya stood looking at him for a few moments. "Do you think he might come after you?"

"I doubt it. His rich foursome of freaks are down and out, along with his money supply, and he knows the cops are looking for him. He'll be laying low and looking for a way out. Besides, I don't remember any of this, so there's no way I'm a threat to him now."

"But he may not know that," said Freya, her worry increasing. "And he may just want a little revenge."

"Nah, this guy is too meticulous for something like revenge. He'd only come after me now if he saw me as a threat and I'm not his problem any more. At least until I get out of here and have a chance to study the files."

"Brendan."

Brendan frowned and looked up at Freya. "He's partially responsible for injuring dozens of people, including several firemen still searching the building they called in the threat for. It's just a matter of luck that no one was killed. They did thousands of dollars of damage to the office building that was evacuated and the area around the blast site. And we haven't even talked about the kidnappings. He's not walking away from this."

"Okay, I agree he shouldn't, but you're not going after him until you've healed some, kapish?" Her voice held a warning that was unmistakable.

He looked at her as if he might argue, then relaxed his posture and flashed her a lop-sided grin. Looking down, he leaned his open bag of M&Ms her way. "Want some?"

"No, you go ahead," she said, relieved he wasn't going to argue. "We've got to get some meat back on you before winter or you'll freeze."

"You're always whining about my weight. I'm fine."

Freya froze, staring at Brendan as he studied the M&M package and then looked up at her. "What?"

"Why did you say that?"

Brendan frowned. "Say what?"

Freya took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, telling herself to calm down. "Why did you say I'm always whining about your weight?"

Brendan's eyes widened, as if he hadn't really processed what he'd said. "I . . . I don't know. It just popped out . . . and it seemed right." He looked down at the yellow package in his lap. "I . . . I don't really . . . " He trailed off, staring across the room as if in a daze.

Freya reached out, picking up an image of them walking back to the car from the cemetery. "And you're always complaining I don't eat enough."

The image switched to them riding in a car and this time she was speaking. She could remember the conversation like it was yesterday. "Brendan, you haven't slept in a week and you've barely eaten. You can't keep driving yourself like this."

Next she was waving a sandwich in front of his face as he worked through a giant stack of files in the conference room. "Will you just stop and eat before you dry up and blow away in the next good wind? You're becoming a walking stick."

Brendan blinked and wiped at the sheen of sweat that had formed across his face. The color seemed to have drained away, leaving him looking pale and sick. "Brendan, are you okay?"

He slowly lifted his head to look at her, his hand trembling slightly. "I . . . I remember something."

Freya stood and took the candy package from his lap, where he'd let it fall from his grasp. Laying it on the table, she turned back to him. "Maybe you should lie back down. You like kind of shaky."

Brendan pulled away from where she was trying to take his arm. "No, no, I'm fine. It just caught me a little off guard is all. I'm okay now."

The color had begun to return to his cheeks and he looked less like he was going to pass out cold right in front of her. She sighed heavily. "Okay, but only for a little while longer. How long have you been sitting there?"

Brendan shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe forty minutes."

"Five more minutes and then it's back to bed."

"I'm not tired."

"Yes, you are. I'm a telepath, remember?"

Brendan furrowed his brow slightly. He couldn't seem to keep that fact in his mind. "Well, that really sucks sometimes," he said, almost pouting.

"Probably, but it's also come in handy a few times as well."

Freya nudged him in the arm as they sat at a table. "We have what we need."

The room seemed to spin as it came back into focus and Brendan closed his eyes against the illusion of movement. "Yeah . . . handy," he murmured weakly. He was suddenly very tired.

"Brendan, let me help you back to bed."

"Hmm, 'kay." He opened his eyes, but he the room still seemed to be slowly shifting around him. With Freya's help, he slowly got to his feet and they began shuffling to the bed. He didn't lean on her for support so much as he leaned against her for balance. The dizziness wasn't getting worse, but it wasn't getting better either.

When they finally arrived, she helped him out of his robe and then to get settled into bed, drawing the covers up to his chest. His eyes had slid closed during her fussing, but he opened them a slit to smile at her. "Thanks."

She nodded, returning the smile. "You're welcome. It's starting to come back, Brendan. Just be patient and I'm sure you'll remember more. For now, just get some rest."

Okay. You're right . . . this is handy.

Freya's smile twisted into a bit of a smirk as he let his eyes close and she smacked him playfully in the arm.

oOo

"You wouldn't be so tired if you hadn't insisted on stopping at the office on the way home," scolded Freya as she unlocked Brendan's door. She carried his bag in as he shuffled along behind her and made his way slowly to the couch. She caught his arm before he sat down and began steering him down the hall.

"Oh, no you don't. You're going to bed."

Brendan pulled away as he circled around her and went back to the couch. "I've been laying in a bed for . . . how long was I up there? It doesn't matter, for long enough. I want to sit on my couch and watch TV."

Freya put her hands on her hips as she watched him sit down and put his feet up on the coffee table. "You know, like this," he said as he grabbed the remote.

She growled under her breath. "You're impossible."

Is that a problem? He turned on the TV and began channel surfing while Freya sat down and watched him. She hadn't been able to read him very much today, almost as if he'd shut her out. He'd demanded to stop by the office so he could look around and sit in his chair, efforts geared to jarring his still faltering memory. She had to admit, the look of horrified shock on Harper's face had almost been worth it. It took Brendan five minutes to convince the director that he wasn't trying to come to work his first day home from the hospital. With anyone else, she would have wondered at the man's intelligence for even thinking such a thing, but it seemed a natural assumption with Brendan.

He was switching the channel every five seconds or so and she was pretty sure he couldn't tell her what was on any of them. He seemed to be on autopilot. "Brendan, are you okay?"

He stopped changing channels, but continued to stare at the TV. After several long seconds, he turned his head to look at her. The bandage was gone, the fresh scar and stubble of hair just beginning to come back in a harsh reminder of his ordeal, one that wasn't over yet.

"I still don't really know you. I don't know what I've been doing the last two years."

Freya frowned, troubled by the depression she felt coming off him. "But you've been remembering."

He sighed and turned the TV off, dropping his hand with the remote to his lap. "I remember flashes of events that have no meaning. It's like watching TV clips of someone else's life. There's no emotion. It doesn't . . . feel like it's me."

Freya clasped her hand together and stared at them. She suddenly understood what he was saying. She had been so excited about him starting to remember things, that it hadn't occurred to her they might be a string of meaningless flashbacks. He remembered that she was his partner, but he didn't feel that she was his partner.

Brendan glanced over at her, shifting his feet back to the floor and sitting up straighter. "Look, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. Even though I don't really remember much about the way we worked together, I already feel . . . like there's some kind of connection. You've really taken care of me the last few weeks and I get the idea that we're a lot more than partners . . . although I'm not sure . . . " He suddenly looked frightened. Crap. I never thought to ask if we were involved. I just assumed we weren't since we were partners.

Freya smiled and shook her head. "No, we aren't involved. We're just really close friends. Brendan . . . I haven't told you much about what happened to me before the NSA, but let's just say it wasn't pleasant or fun. You and I, we . . . well, we connected almost immediately. I think we both had giant voids in our lives that the other just happened to fill." She leaned forward to take his hand. "We had something special . . . we have something special."

Brendan sighed. "I just wish I could feel it," he said quietly, rubbing his forehead as he closed his eyes.

"You will," she whispered. Freya got up and pushed gently on his chest until he leaned back and allowed her to help him lie down. She brought a pillow and blanket to help him be more comfortable before fetching a glass of water and a bottle of pills.

"Take one of these," she said, offering him one of the pills from the prescription bottle. "And don't try to tell me your head doesn't hurt after all that running around this morning.

Brendan didn't argue, perching up on one elbow to pop the pill in his mouth and take a few sips of water before lying back against the pillow. "Thanks."

She gently traced her finger along the outside of the fresh scar, feeling the bristle of new little hairs coming in around it. Brendan watched her through slits in his lids, but didn't move or comment. "I was so scared I'd lose you those first few days. You ground me in ways no one else can. I know you don't really feel . . . us yet, but I know you will." She pulled her hand back and looked at his face. "Rest. I'll be here if you need anything."

He reached up to take her hand and squeeze it, a small smile twitching the corner of his lips.

oOo

Freya opened her eyes and stared into the dark, trying to remember what had awakened her. She could just barely make out the basic outlines of Brendan's living room furniture from her position on the couch. There was a sharp clanging noise from the kitchen that made her jump.

Shoot, Brendan, be quiet or you'll wake up Freya.

Freya smiled as she listened to him shuffle around in the kitchen. The refrigerator door opened and then closed.

Crap, I hate this. My head always hurts, I can't remember anything. I practically have a stranger living here and taking care of me because I can't be trusted to function by myself. I can't help put together our latest case because I can't remember any part of the investigation. I'm going to lose what's left of my mind if this keeps up.

Everything went silent for a few moments, prompting Freya to sit up and listen. Without warning, the sound of glass crashing violently against the wall shattered the stillness. Freya leaped to her feet and sprinted to the kitchen, stopping at the threshold. It took a few seconds to find Brendan, sitting in the floor with his back to the cabinets. His knees were bent and his arms rested across them, his forehead resting on the back of his right arm. She couldn't hear any thoughts, but she could feel the despair.

"Brendan, are you all right?"

"No," he whispered. It was several moments before he lifted his head to look up at her, his eyes glinting in the gray light. "I'm not me any more."

Noting the shiny spot on the far wall, Freya decided her feet were safe on this side of the room and she moved over to sit beside him. "That's a strange thing to say. Of course you're you."

"Doesn't seem like it. I feel like I'm slipping away, like my life is sliding out between my fingers and no matter how much I tighten my grip, it just keeps . . . moving away. I have this handful of spotty memories, but none of that really helps me. What if I never remember the last two years? What if I forget something that proves critical later on down the line?"

"Brendan, that's a lot of what ifs. You're trying too hard. You need to relax and just . . . let it come in its own time."

Brendan leaned his head back against the cabinet and stared off across the dark room. "Maybe I could just hit myself in the head with a frying pan." The image of a frying pan coming at him full force suddenly popped into his head, making him wince. "Never mind, I guess someone tried that already."

Freya smiled and wrapped her arm around his bicep. "That would be from our first case together. I tried to warn you."

"I'm guessing I didn't duck fast enough."

"No. I just realized how many times you've been hit on the head in the last two years. It's wonder you even know who you are. We need to get you some head gear after this."

She could feel Brendan relax next to her, a trace of a small smile creeping across his face. "Shouldn't you be commenting on my hard head about now?"

"No, I'll cut you a little slack. You look like you could use it." She tightened her grip on his arm. "Seriously, just give this some time. It's going to be okay. And I'm not going anywhere, whether you like it or not. You're stuck with me Brendan Dean, because you're not only my partner, you're my friend. You may not remember that yet, but I certainly do."

Brendan looked at her for a few moments. "If I never remember you . . . do you still want to be partners? Provided the NSA doesn't let me go."

Freya sighed, feeling the internal battle between hope and fear that was currently being fought in his head. "Harper told me if you started questioning the safety of your position to squelch it immediately. He's willing to wait until you're ready. You're his best agent and you have talents no one else does. He brought in a temporary to help with the case load until you get back, but he made sure everyone knew it was only until you were back on your feet. And as far as I'm concerned, you are my only partner. We got to know each other once. If we need to, we can do it again."

Brendan sighed and gave a small nod. "What if I don't want to be your partner?"

She had a moment of pure terror before his mental wall came crashing down. "Brendan! That wasn't nice," she said sharply as she punched him in the arm.

Brendan chuckled. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." The smile faded and he looked down at her. "Seriously, though . . . thanks. I have to keep saying that to you. Do you always take such good care of me?"

Freya pursed her lips a second before leaning her head over against his shoulder. "Actually, we tend to take care of each other. We try to be there whenever the other one needs us, for however long it takes." She felt his head lean against the top of hers.

"I think I like that arrangement."

oOo

Freya's hand went out and hit the clock, trying to turn off the alarm. After a few moments of fumbling, she finally got her eyes open enough to see that the clock said 2:14 in the morning. She was trying to figure out why she had set the alarm for the middle of the night when she realized it was the phone. Moaning, she picked it up and drug the receiver over to her ear, yawning as she tried to say hello.

"Freya, it's Brendan."

Suddenly awake, she shot upright. "Brendan, what's wrong?" Something had to be wrong or he wouldn't have called her in the middle of her first night home. She'd slept on the couch his first three nights home from the hospital, not because he wanted her to, but because she still harbored a lingering fear that something would happen to him or he'd need her and be there alone. He'd finally thrown her out and insisted she go home tonight.

"Nothing's wrong. Just the opposite, actually. I remember."

Freya ran her hand through her hair and tried to clear her mind. "You remember what?"

"I remember us. I remembered seeing Krusov with that gun pointed at you and realizing if I didn't do something quickly, he was going to kill you. I was scared. More so than I would have thought possible. A bunch of other stuff kind of came crashing in too, but the important thing is that I felt what was going on. It was me and I belonged there and . . . oh, my gosh, it's two o'clock in the morning. Freya, I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

"Brendan, it's okay," she said, laughing at his excitement. "Do you want me to come over? We can talk about it, you can tell me what else you've remembered."

"That'd be great. I still have more gaps than memories, but it's really starting to fill in and tie together and . . . no, never mind, it's the middle of the night. Go back to sleep and I'll see you tomorrow."

"Are you nuts?" she asked, already up and digging through her dresser with her one free hand. "I'm not going to sleep after this. Look, I'll be over in a few minutes."

"Great, I'll make us some coffee. The good stuff, you know, my Starbucks supply."

"I'll stop on the way and get snacks," offered Freya as she threw the shirt on the bed along side the jeans. "Sounds like we've got a busy night ahead of us. Did you get any sleep at all?"

"I can sleep tomorrow. It's not like I have to go to work or anything. Harper won't let me back until the doctor clears me and that's still going to be a while."

"Okay, just . . . don't overdo it and make yourself sick," she warned as she jumped around, trying to get her leg in her pants.

"Quit worrying and get over here . . . partner."

Freya stumbled and fell back to sit on the side of her bed, smiling as she finally maneuvered her leg through the opening so that her foot came out the bottom. "On my way."

oOo

Freya smiled as she looked at the litter on the floor. That Brendan had dozed off with empty chip packages and candy wrappers on the floor was a testament to how exhausted he was. Her eyes shifted to his relaxed face and she noted the even sounds of his breaths. They were lying side by side on a couple of blankets he'd thrown on the floor, along with an assortment of pillows. They had started in the kitchen and migrated to the couch, only to end up on the floor.

They relived memories from their time as partners. Some things Freya brought up, Brendan remembered, and some things he didn't. But he went through as many as he could, focusing on the emotions and thoughts that made the event a real part of his life and not just a random flashback. They had laughed and teased and sometimes, almost cried. Brendan remembered Chen being killed in the explosion and it was like he'd just found out he'd lost a good friend. Freya held him while he absorbed the loss.

They ate their way through potato chips, popcorn, Hostess cupcakes, and most of a bag of candy while drinking a pot of coffee. She smiled as she realized they should both be nursing stomach aches by now. But they grew to know each other all over again. She muffled the laugh that grew in her throat, afraid of waking him. This was possibly the best sleepover she'd ever been to and it was with a guy and there hadn't been anything sexual about it. How odd was that?

Brendan groaned and turned over, throwing his arm over Freya's stomach and burying his face in her shoulder. She was so surprised, she didn't move until he had settled. She lay there, unsure of what to do as she noticed the gray light beginning to make its way through the window. Yawning, she decided she needed a little sleep herself, so she snuggled her head back into her pillow and closed her eyes, suddenly aware of how tired she was.

You know I could never REALLY forget you, right?

Freya smiled as she brought her hand up to cover his. "I know," she whispered. "Same here. Go to sleep."

THE END