Light spilled through gap in kitchen curtains. A lazy yellow glow from the late morning sun. Valkyrie hovered in the doorway, watching the clouds drift by. Wisps of white cotton against a steel blue backdrop. Off in the distance she could see a field of emerald green grass dotted with grazing sheep. It was a beautiful day out. Picturesque even. It was almost unreal how pretty it was.
The back door opened and she jolted in surprise. Tearing her eyes away from the window, and out of her day dream. She didn't know how long she been standing there, staring, or what she had been doing before then.
Desmond gave her a grin as he entered the kitchen, through the back door. His sleeves were rolled up and his trousers were caked in mud. He smiled when he caught sight of her, "Morning, Steph. Fancy a cup of tea?"
"Sure," she said in a croaky voice. Tea sounded good. She hadn't realized how parched her throat was until now.
Her dad gave her a concerned look as he turned on the kettle. "You don't sound well. Are you feeling okay?"
No was the truthful answer. She felt sick. Her throat, her whole neck, burned. Her eyes was blurry. Her head was buzzing. But she didn't want to say that. It was silly she knew. There was nothing wrong or suspicious about getting ill. But she'd gotten it at work, and that made it a work thing, and the more separate her family life and work life the better.
So instead of saying no she gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "Sure, it's just sore throat. Probably caught a bug or something at school."
Desmond nodded, "It wouldn't surprise me, schools are dangerous places. A breeding ground for disease. Absolutely, no place for a child. If it were up to me we wouldn't have sent you there, but your mother insisted. Remind me to tell her I told you so when she get home."
"Will do. Where is mum, by the way?"
"Out shopping with Alice. I can text her if you need anything picking up. Cough sweets? Cold medicine?"
She shook her head and ignored the prickling of fear edging onto her conscious. "I'm fine, really."
You're really not,said the voice in her head.
"Shut up," Valkyrie muttered under her breath. She was having a hard enough time thinking straight as it was; the last thing she needed was Darquesse adding to the confusion. At least her dad was too busy rattling around the cutlery drawer to notice her distress.
You know, they say that talking to yourself is one of the first signs of madness.
"I sai-"
The kettle whistled. The shrill sound reverberated through Valkyrie's skull. Her words of protest evaporated from the tip of her tongue. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.
Pull yourself together, Val.
She took a few deep breaths and composed herself. Opening her eyes in time to see her dad finish pouring two cups of tea. She plastered a smile onto her face as her dad handed her a mug.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
He gave her a long look, then added, "Are you sure you're okay, Steph? You've been acting strange lately. And I'm saying that as someone who is referred to as 'that strange man over there' on a daily basis."
"I'm fine, dad, stop fussing."
"Alright. But I'll be out in the garden if you need me. Going to see where that damn stimmer's got to. Come find me if you need anything."
He left the kitchen, taking his tea with him. The smile left her lips. This wasn't good. She was getting worse. Like yesterday. Worse than yesterday.
Valkyrie?
She was shaking now. Tea sloping over the mug's brim. She needed to sit down. She took a tentative step towards the nearest chair.
It was warm in here, way too warm. And she didn't like the way the fluorescent lights glared down at her. They were giving her a headache. She forced her eyes closed.
She manged two more steps before her legs gave way. She reached out, blindly, to catch herself. The mug fell from her grasp, shattering as it hit the ground. But her hands caught the edge of the table and she pulled herself upright.
There noise all around her. Cutlery clattering. Chairs scrapping against the floor. Voices talking. It was too loud. She couldn't think over the sound of it.
She opened her eyes again. The kitchen was spinning. Blurring…
...and then her eyes refocused. She was leaning on a silver metal table had been bolted to the ground. Tea coated the floor polished grey floor by her feet. The room she was in was big. It buzzed with activity. There were people, around thirty of them. They were sitting around identical tables and picking at plates of plain-looking food. Most of them kept to themselves, sitting in silence as they ate. A few muttered to themselves, while others sat in groups or twos and threes chattering to each other. There was something familiar about them but she couldn't place any of their faces.
She frowned. This wasn't right. This wasn't her kitchen. What the hell was going on? She turned her head wildly, looking for some clue as to where she was or how she had gotten here. It looked like she was in a canteen of some sort. It was clean and spacious, but there were no windows. Just a serving hatch one wall and a huge mural on another. Like the people, the room had a feeling of familiarity, although she had no memory of either her or the reflection having been here. But there was definitely something about it she recognized.
Her eyes flickered back towards the mural. She could have sworn she'd seen it before. It was brightly coloured thing. A pretty combination of brilliant yellows and blues and greens. It depicted a countryside scene, perhaps to make up for the lack of windows in the room. She gave it a hard stare, willing herself to remember. She stared until her eyes watered. Until she was forced to blink and…
…and she was staring out the kitchen window again. It was the view she always saw from the back of the house. Of course it was familiar.
She rubbed her eyes. Nothing changed. She looked around. Same old kitchen. There was a broken mug and spilt tea on the floor, but other than that, nothing was amiss. There was no sign of the canteen or the people in it. It was exactly as she'd left it.
Good God, what the hell just happened? Valkyrie thought, as she came to her senses.
Haven't you figured it out yet? Darquesse asked. Come on, you're supposed to be a detective.
Valkyrie gritted her teeth. You can either be helpful or you can be quiet.
Darquesse didn't bother to reply but Valkyrie was left with the distinct impression she was feeling smug. Valkyrie ignored her and did her best to make sense of what had just happened.
She'd been standing here in her kitchen, feeling unwell. She'd…dropped her mug? Yeah. Yeah, that was right. The mug was still there, on the floor, broken, and lying in a pool of tepid tea. Then she'd… fainted. Right? She must have. And when she'd woken up it had been in a weird canteen that… that… had obviously been another dream now that she thought about it. Because that was the only explanation she could think of that made any sense.
Unless you've got an insight you'd like to share. Valkyrie thought. Darquesse remained silent.
An intense spark of anger flared up in pit of Valkyrie's stomach. Typical! Just typical, she thought. Darquesse wouldn't shut-up the other day, but when she might actually be able to help, she goes with the silent treatment.
She hated her. She hated the voice inside her head. She hated the smugness and the arrogance and everything that Darquesse was. She…she hated everything that she was going to be.
Her fingers curled and uncurled. Her fists ached for something to break. They shook. Adrenaline pumped through her veins. Her whole body was trembling now. A rush of blood filled her ears. Clouded her vision and-
"Stephanie?"
The pressure mounting in her head dissipated. The violent thoughts evaporated. Valkyrie blinked.
"Steaphine? Can you hear me?" asked a familiar voice.
Valkyrie blinked again. A young blue-haired woman in a nurse's uniform came into focus. It took a moment for Valkyrie to place her.
"Clarabelle?"
A smile flickered onto Clarabelle's lips, but it couldn't hide the worry in her eyes. "That's right," she said slowly. "I'm Clarabelle."
"Why are you in my kitchen?"
The smile faded. "Oh. Oh, dear. This isn't good..." she muttered. She reached for a pager on her hip and flicked it open. Her fingers flew deftly over the tiny keys as she typed.
"Clarabelle, what's going on?" Valkyrie asked.
Clarabelle bit her lip. "Just stay calm. I'm just sending a message to Doctor Synecdoche. She'll be able to help you. She'll just be a minute."
"That doesn't explain why you're in my kitchen."
"We're not in your kitchen, Stephanie."
Valkyrie's brow furrowed. What was she on about? Of course they we're-
Her eyes flickered across the room. To the mural on the far wall and the polished grey floors. There were people scattered about the room, sitting at metal tables, eating breakfast. A broken mug lay by her feet.
She took an involuntary step back. Uncertainty flooding her brain. This didn't make any sense. She'd woken up. She'd been dreaming and she'd woken up. How could she be back hear again?
"I… I don't understand. What's going on? Where am I? What is this place?"
"Stephanie, I need you to stay calm. Doctor Synecdoche will be here any minute now. She'll be able to help you."
The back of her neck prickled with unease. It was weird, this place, and strangely familiar. And Clarabelle was acting…well not strange, but decidedly un-Clarabelle like. And then she realised what was bothering her most about this whole thing
"Why are you calling me Stephanie?"
Clarabelle didn't answer her. She was typing another message into her pager.
Valkyrie's gaze turned towards the other people in the canteen. They were a mixed bunch, varying in gender and age, but they had one thing in common: all wore hospital gowns. A hospital. She was in a hospital canteen.
Her stomach dropped as she recognized the woman sitting on the table nearest her. The woman's body was scrawnier than it should have been. Her tousled blonde hair had lost its lustre, and the face it framed was more drawn and sallow than Valkyrie had even known it. But there could be no mistaking her identity.
"Tanith?" Valkyrie called out.
The woman didn't look up. Her gaze was on the cup of tea in her hands, vapid and unseeing. A blonde man wearing sunglasses sat opposite Tanith. He was looking at her with a lost dreamy smile on his face. Valkyrie took another step back. This didn't make any sense, the last she had heard of Billy-Ray and Tanith they had been chasing after four God-Killer weapons. How had they wound up here, in a hospital? It didn't make any sense. It was a dream. It had to be.
"Tanith?" she called out again, a little louder, this time.
The couple turned to look at her; neither spoke. Their blank stares held no signs of recognition.
Clarabelle reached out to Valkyrie, putting a comforting hand on her forearm.
"It's alright. You're fine. You're safe. No one here is going to hurt you," she said in a soothing voice.
Valkyrie shrugged off the hand and her eyes flickered to the other tables. She knew these people too. She knew all of them. The tattooed man sitting by the mural humming happily to himself was Finbar Wrong. A few tables away sat Argeddion, tucking into his breakfast. The group of three sitting together and talking were the Diablerie: Murder Rose, Gruesome Krav and Jaron Gallow. On the other side of the room, China Sorrows sat peacefully, sipping a cup of tea. The young blonde girl next to her with scars etched onto her face near her was Melancholia. And there were others... Springheeled Jack, Solomon Wreath, Nefarian Serpine, Dexter Vex, Eliza Scorn, Anton Shudder... Some of them were her friends, others were her enemies but all were familiar to her.
How could this be? Half these people dead. Nobody looked right, they were all pale imitations of the people she knew, and they certainly weren't behaving like the real thing. It was most certainty a dream. A really creepy dream. When she'd woken up earlier, well, that must have been part of the dream. A dream inside a dream. Any minute now she'd wake up for real.
A door opened. Reverie Synecdoche entered the canteen. A draft entered the room behind her. The breeze played with Valkyrie's hair. It felt cool on her bare legs and face. It felt real.
Doctor Synecdoche looked worried. She bustled towards them. Her lab coat in a flurry. Heels clicking on the floor. Clarabelle drew her to one side of the canteen, and the two women exchanged hurried words out of Valkyrie's earshot.
The sight of Synecdoche was still unnerving. The whole place was unnerving. She wanted to go home. She wanted the nightmare to end.
Valkyrie closed her eyes and waited for the canteen to disappear. The background noise faded. She fancied she could hear the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway now.
"Stephanine? Stephanie, I need to give you your sedative. Okay?"
Valkyrie opened her eyes. Doctor Synecdoche was standing in front of her now. She held another needle in her hand.
Part of Valkyrie wanted to protest. She was sick of needles. But, instead, she gave a curt nod. It was a feverish dream. It wouldn't hurt her. Hell, it might even wake her up. Like last time.
The needle went in her arm this time. It stung. Dimly, she remembered someone telling her that you couldn't feel pain when you were dreaming. She couldn't remember who had told her that, or even if it was true. But before she had the chance to question it the world went quiet.
A/N: I just want to warn you that I may update less frequently and/or have a break before I post the next chapter, because I need to focus on academic commitments for the next couple of weeks. Sorry.
P.S. A big thanks to everyone who has taken time out of their day to leave a review. You're all awesome and I've found your messages really encouraging.